Brenda Minton - Second Chance Rancher

Essie leaned to kiss the top of his daughter’s blond head. “You sure can, Issy girl. I’ll be right back. Lucy, why don’t you help me get drinks? Dane will want sweet tea. Chet, what can I get you?”

“I think I’ve had enough.” Chet leaned back and patted his rounded belly.

“Do you want pie?” Essie asked.

“Nope, can’t keep a figure like this by eating pie.”

Essie’s hands went to her hips. “Now what kind of nonsense is that, Chet Andrews? You’ve been eating my pie every day for as long as I can remember. And you haven’t been worrying about your boyish figure.”

Chet let out a long sigh. “Doc said I have to cut back on sugar.”

A waitress flitted past, saw Chet’s empty coffee cup and refilled it. Chet winked at her and reached for the sugar jar but Essie moved it away from him. The maneuver earned her a scowl from the older man.

Essie didn’t back down. She pointed a finger at Chet. “You put five spoons of sugar in every cup of coffee, old man. I guess it’s time you put a stop to that.”

“You’re a hard woman, Essie.” Chet lifted the cup in salute.

“Yes, well, I kind of like having you around. Even if you’ve never left more than a fifty-cent tip, you’re a good neighbor.”

Chet ignored her and sipped his coffee and grimaced. As he set the cup down he turned his attention to Lucy. “Are you back for good, Lucy?”

Dane watched her flick a glance in the direction of her younger sister, a hesitant look on her face. “I’m back for now.”

It wasn’t much of an answer. Not that it mattered to him. But it probably mattered a lot to her sister. A tug on his sleeve brought his attention back to the table. Issy’s small hand was on his arm and she leaned close.

“Do I get cake now?” she whispered.

“Yes, you get cake.” He kissed her cheek. “After you eat dinner.”

She came up on her knees, wobbling a bit on the seat. He steadied her, making sure she was firmly planted in the middle of the chair. “Daddy, is it a party?”

“Kind of.”

A hand reached past his shoulder. He glanced up as Lucy placed chocolate cake in front of his daughter. She leaned over, whispering in Issy’s ear that the cake was right in front of her. With a gentleness that belied her tense expression, Lucy guided his daughter to a fork and helped her locate the cake.

Lucy Palermo was an enigma. But then again, she wasn’t. There was a scar on her cheek, small and faded. She’d had that scar since the night her father caught them in town together. Another scar on her arm was more recent. He knew about the attack in Afghanistan.

There’d been years of abuse and no one in town had stepped in to stop it. His own family had been guilty of turning a blind eye to the problems on the ranch next door. His dad hadn’t wanted to get involved. His mom had commented that it was a shame and Mrs. Palermo should have taken the kids with her when she left.

Lucy started to step away but her gaze caught his. He schooled his features with an easy smile. Lucy froze, her dark eyes holding his captive. Finally she shook her head, as if shaking free from memories.

As she walked away he had an uncharacteristic thought, one that had nothing to do with the past and everything to do with the present. But their history belonged firmly in the past. It had been a summer romance that ended with casualties.

They were different people now. She had come home with more scars. He had his own scars and his own motivations for making wiser choices. They were both wounded, and in this situation two halves didn’t add up to a whole. Instead it would just be two broken people making a mess of not just their lives, but the lives of the people who counted on them.

But there were certain things he couldn’t deny. She still looked good in jeans. And she could still get his attention with a look.

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