Shelley Galloway - Austin - Second Chance Cowboy

Duke cocked an eyebrow. As usual, his low-key way complemented her inclination toward drama. “Don’t see why he called you. Puking’s unpleasant, but last I heard, it wasn’t a crime.”

“It wasn’t just that. Two good old boys got in a fight about where a dart landed or some such nonsense. They broke a pair of chairs and seemed intent on getting their hands on those darts for darker reasons.”

Duke winced.

“Yeah. It got ugly.” She sighed. “But I think Ted would’ve dealt with it all on his own if I hadn’t just paid him a visit. Somehow I must have conveyed that truly no problem was too small for our department.”

“That sounds like something you’d do.”

“Actually, I think Ted just wanted someone to listen to him.”

Duke curved his lips up slightly. “And you did.”

Boy, had she. Shaking her head, she said, “Sorry, Duke. What you got?”

He slid a paper over her way. “Another missing bridle and saddle, this one a Silver Royal from the Neiman ranch.” Whistling low, he added, “Craig Neiman says it’s worth a grand. At least.”

Dinah knew the prices of some saddles. And though Silver Royal was a good brand, all saddles weren’t created the same.

A theft was always treated seriously, but she knew Craig Neiman had a propensity to exaggerate when he could.

She had an idea. “Look, how about I go visit with Austin and see if that estimate is correct? It’s a perfect excuse to pay him a call and give him a gentle reminder about behaving himself out in public.”

“While you do that, I’ll go visit with the Neimans. See how the rest of their tack looks.”

“Great. Call me if you need me to stop by, too.”

Duke nodded. “Sounds good.” Pausing on his way out, he looked back at her, his brown eyes full of brotherly concern. “You okay with seeing Austin? You’ve got some history there.”

“That history is as old as the dartboard at the Open Range. And as full of holes, too.”

Duke grinned at her reference, then sobered. “Just be careful you don’t get stuck with anything, D. Those darts can hurt like a son of a gun.”

So did a lot of things, she thought to herself as she grabbed her purse, her gun and a candy bar for good measure.

Experience had taught her that a bite from a Snickers bar could do a girl a world of good.

Even when seeing Austin Wright.

Chapter Two

No man should look as good as Austin Wright, Dinah decided.

Blessed with a dreamy pair of blue eyes, dark wavy hair and a striking resemblance to Blake Shelton, he’d stopped more than one girl in her tracks. A long time ago, she’d kissed him in the moonlight on the outskirts of town.

That kiss had been hot enough to make her step back in a hurry. And hot enough to make Austin smile just a little too darkly.

Though she’d surely kissed other men since—and Austin had done a whole lot more with a whole lot more girls—that kiss never failed to pop up in her memory whenever they crossed paths.

It was a real shame, too.

“Hey, Dinah,” he said as she stepped into his shop, Wright’s Western Wear and Tack. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. You need something?”

Oh, that drawl! She blinked, and before she knew it, she was smoothing her left hand down the front of her tan sheriff’s shirt.

“No. I’m not here to shop.”

“Oh?” Gone went that teasing glint in his eyes. “What do you need?”

His voice was low. Gravelly and cool. And it affected her like it always had—with a zing right to her middle.

With effort, she opened up her spiral notebook and pretended to study her notes so he wouldn’t see her expression.

And so she wouldn’t start thinking about his blue eyes. And the way he did love to wear those Wranglers of his just a little low and a little tight. “I did come in here for something.”

“What?”

Lifting her chin, she strived for confidence and equilibrium. “I came to see what you knew about Silver Royal saddles.”

“For riding or show?”

“Show.”

“Other than they cost the earth?”

“Are they that much? I mean, how much earth are we talking about?”

“Easily a grand.” He looked at her curiously. “Why? You gonna start showing horses or something?”

Sidestepping the questions, she edged farther into the store, her boots clicking softly on the wooden floor. Took a peek toward the back of the shop where the tack was organized. “Any chance you got one of them around? My family never believed in spending that much on a saddle.” Their money had always been marked for stock.

Austin shook his head. “I can’t help you there, Dinah. You’re looking at a one-man show here. I ain’t got a lot of cause to be showcasing expensive saddles. Most folks who come in are looking for something a little more practical—more like something from King.”

Looking around a little more closely, Dinah realized she’d never spent much time in the place. Not enough to really study his merchandise, anyway.

In the front of the store there was a decent selection of shirts and Carhartt coats. A couple of racks of socks and gloves and hats. In the back was the “tack” section. Hanging neatly on pegs were bridles and reins, bits and cinches. Some new, but mostly used.

There were also six saddles. Even from the front, she could tell they’d seen a lot of action. Kind of like the man in front of her, she thought wryly.

She walked on back. Austin followed. “You here on official business?” he asked. “Or do you suddenly have a yen for a fancy new saddle?”

She thought everyone and their brother knew her family was having financial difficulties—like the rest of Montana. Plus, with her job and all, she never had time to ride.

Correction, she’d never taken the time to ride. “Business.”

“I see.”

Did he?

Her brothers expected her to be tough. The folks who’d elected her counted on her to be that way. The city council certainly paid her to be. But Austin? He was looking as though it would make his day if she revealed she was just a woman. Just like the girl she’d used to be, before she got her act together and figured out what she really wanted in life—to be respected.

Her mouth went dry as she looked blankly at the merchandise surrounding them. When was the last time she’d even thought about being just a girl? Just Dinah?

“See anything you like?” he drawled from behind her back.

She turned on her heel, opened her mouth to give him what for, to tell him that she’d heard that line before. Why, maybe even a dozen times.

But he was standing a whole lot closer than she anticipated. Actually, they were standing so smack-dab close that she could smell his cologne. And the starch on his shirt. And the worn leather of his old, scruffy boots and belt. And, well, everything else about him that made him distinctly Austin Wright.

Reading her mind, he grinned slowly. “Brings back old memories, don’t it?”

Her chin snapped up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A fresh set of lines showed up at the corners of his eyes. “Sure you do…and I do, too.” Leaning so close that it was almost uncomfortable, he whispered, “Remember when we used to see each other at the honky-tonks? When we used to flirt a little too much? Stand a little too close?”

Oh, yes, she did. At any age, Austin Wright had held the right combination of heat and bad-boy charm that she’d always found next to irresistible.

Back when she’d been eighteen? She hadn’t even tried to deny a thing with him.

Lifting a hand, he curved a stray lock of hair around her ear. “D, remember when we danced to Bon Jovi and thought we were cool?”

Glad for the memory, she laughed. “I was an idiot. I used to wear ridiculous band T-shirts.”