Caisey Quinn - Last Second Chance

“Speaking of questions, any chance you wanna tell me your name? Or I can just call you Beautiful. Either way.” He almost groaned out loud. But she rolled her eyes and smiled. She’d been crying when he found her, and he’d made her laugh and smile. Twice. Not that he was keeping track. Oh, who the fuck was he kidding? Hell yeah he was keeping track.

“It’s Stella. Stella Chandler. My family calls me Stella Jo but, um, I haven’t been home in a while.”

Even her damn name was beautiful. And good God, that sexy Southern drawl was more addicting than any drug had ever been. He could listen to her talk forever. Maybe Hell wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“And where is home, Stella Jo Chandler?” He rocked on his heels as she leaned against the door of her little house.

“It’s here. I mean, not here here, but near here. Shit.”

She shook her head, and he could tell she was embarrassed. But he couldn’t think of much else because her perfect mouth forming the curse word and the flush in her cheeks that followed made him instantly hard. Jesus, he had to get away from her before she noticed.

“A ranch several hours north of here is home, or where my parents live, or whatever. I went to college at Texas A&M and then came straight here so…”

So she only lived a few hours from home and she didn’t go back. Ever? He wondered why. Not that he didn’t understand. He’d grown up in New York and taken off for LA as soon as he could afford a car that would make the drive. He’d never been back either.

Silence stretched out between them, and she glanced back at her door. It was getting dark and he didn’t know the land well enough to get back to where he was supposed to be. Even though leaving her felt like a horrible idea, something told him that whatever was singeing between them wouldn’t last much longer.

“I better get going. It was nice to meet you, Stella Jo.”

He held out a hand and she shook it. When her fingers grazed his palm, he had to square his shoulders to keep from letting a shiver through. “Nice to meet you too, Mr. Walker, um, Mr. Ransom.”

“Van,” he told her with a grin.

“Van,” she repeated softly.

Damn, his name sounded so good in her mouth. Nearly made him as hard as hearing her curse had.

“Goodnight.” Beautiful, he wanted to add but figured it would come off like a lame attempt at a pick-up line and he’d already reached his quota for the evening.

“Goodnight,” she whispered. She smiled and turned her back on him, letting herself into the house and closing the door.

“Sweet dreams, Beautiful,” he said quietly to no one.

Stella Jo closed her door and leaned against it.

Van Ransom. His name sounded as dangerous as he looked.

He’d caught her in a moment of weakness, reminiscing about home after an excruciating phone call with her mother. And unlike most men, he hadn’t run at the first show of tears. He’d been sweet. Surprisingly gentle. Kind even. And something about him… She couldn’t even explain it to herself. His rough exterior pulled at overpowering urges within her. She’d bet she could smooth out some of those jagged edges. It’d probably be a lot like breaking a horse. But a hell of a lot more fun.

Lying in her new bed later that night while trying her best to fall asleep in unfamiliar surroundings, she succumbed to the desire to learn more about the mysterious man who had taken possession of her thoughts. He’d seemed to have a direct line to her thoughts—and a few other parts of her anatomy.

The new employee manual she’d been reading was sitting on the night table, and under it was the MacBook she’d brought from college. Thankfully the ranch had Wi-Fi that extended to the employee residential area.

Sitting up and turning on the bedside lamp, she fired up the computer. Her generic background greeted her. A nagging thought about how Tess always had a million photos of her friends collaged on her background tugged at her for a second. Ignoring it, she opened the browser and went to her usual search engine. After typing in his name, she waited for the results to load. Mid-yawn she choked on the breath escaping her throat.

The results were in and they were not good. The first article’s title read, “Lead Singer of Hostage for Ransom Collapses. Drugs and Alcohol a Factor.” Okay, well, he was in rehab. She’d expected as much. But as she scrolled down it got worse. So much worse.

According to the headlines, Van Ransom had been in rehab three other times. All three times, he’d been kicked out for one reason or another. He’d punched orderlies and photographers, and he’d even faced assault charges against an unnamed female. Jesus.

And the images. Heaven help her, the images.

A few were tame—tabloid shots of him carrying a cup of coffee, crossing the street, and some seriously hot ones of him and his band. But some wrenched her stomach into a twisted mess of disgust. A cell-phone-quality photo of him being arrested for drunk and disorderly, another of several uniformed officers dragging him from the middle of what looked like a bar fight, and a horrific mug shot.

She clicked on the image of his face from where he was featured on the cover of Rolling Stone . His steely eyes stared up at her and she was lost in him. The tagline read: Van Ransom, Madman or Just Misunderstood?

She had no intentions of finding out. Whatever had happened between them today, that was history. Probably mostly in her imagination anyways. From now on, she’d be strictly professional when it came to all things involving Van Ransom.

Monday morning, Stella had new employee orientation. During the presentation that covered much of what she’d already read in the manual she’d been given, she learned that SCR was also owned and operated by a company called Alliance Health. Alliance had faced some financial difficulty, and a country singer whose name was familiar had backed a complete renovation last year.

After filling out paperwork for health and life insurance, tax purposes, a retirement plan, and stock options, she was feeling like quite the grown up. And she was more than ready for the break for lunch.

The Atrium was a glassed-in café-style enclosure behind the welcome area. Stella purchased a grilled chicken salad and a bottle of water using her shiny new employee badge and seated herself at a back corner table. Several of the new employees in her training session were nurses. Either they’d already known each other or just formed fast friendships. Laughing loudly as they converged on the table beside her, none of them even glanced in her direction.

She wondered how people bonded so quickly. She’d never been so hot at relationships with humans. Animals were another story. They needed you, trusted you unconditionally unless you gave them a reason not to, and never set out to hurt you. Even though, like people, sometime they did. She had the scars to prove it.

“…so hot, bet his dick is pierced.”

“I plan to find out. I’ll report back to y’all. Soon.”

Giggles erupted, and Stella had the odd sensation of warping back in time to high school. The conversation from the table full of nurses spilled over onto her, nearly causing her to choke on her water. They weren’t even trying to be quiet. So much for professionalism.

“Not if I get to him first,” an attractive blonde in black scrubs announced.

Possessive jealousy pinched her nerves. She had an overwhelming feeling of certainty that they were talking about Van. Or maybe she just thought they were talking about him because he’d taken up permanent residence in the back of her mind.

“This seat taken?” A deep male voice startled her out of her thoughts.