Glynna Kaye - Second Chance Courtship

Cowboy made a few more swipes with the brush, then limped around the front of the truck to open the passenger-side back door. He motioned to the older girl. “Hop in, Mary.”

With a boost from him, the child obeyed. Then, tucking the snowbrush under his arm, he leaned inside the truck to harness her in a car seat.

“What’s your phone number, sweetheart?” he called over his shoulder to Kara. “9-1-1-Kid-Help?”

He chuckled.

Her heart dipped. Then stilled.

She knew that laugh.

She shook her head, in part to loosen the toddler’s fingers now snaking into the hair under her hood, but mainly to dash away the foolish imagining. Being back in Canyon Springs made her jumpy. Paranoid. And at the present moment, a little sick to her stomach.

It couldn’t be him. No way. She’d have heard if he was back in town, wouldn’t she? Then again, for the past six weeks she’d been buried alive managing the Warehouse for her mom. Taking on the household tasks and transporting her parent to out-of-town physical therapy appointments. There hadn’t been a single moment to catch her breath, let alone catch up with in-the-know locals.

But maybe that’s why the little girl looked familiar? He’d returned after all—had kids now? Her mind flashed back a dozen years to a tall, lean high school senior who’d moved to town her sophomore year. He’d had her female classmates swooning over a slow, lazy smile that she remembered well. T-shirt. Jeans. Western boots. Attitude.

But although she’d lain awake far too many nights dreaming about him, she’d steered clear. Mostly anyway. After all, he was a cowboy. Just like her no-good dad. That “troublemaking preacher’s kid” the townspeople had labeled him.

Thanks mainly to her…

Please, God, don’t let it be him.

“Ouch!” Cringing, she grabbed her earlobe and pried away tiny fingers. “Not the earring, kid.”

The child pulled back and frowned, studying her a long moment. Big dark eyes. Another hiccup. Then the tiny face crumpled and the wailing began again.

Kara stepped to the open truck door. “Okay, Daddy, time to reclaim your kid.”

“That’s not Daddy,” the older girl objected from the backseat, her tone indignant. “That’s Uncle Trey.”

Kara’s breath caught.

The man backed out of the truck and turned to her, both of them now illuminated by the vehicle’s interior light. Steady blue eyes met hers. In that flashing moment his gaze reflected the surprise of mutual recognition. A recognition that rocked her to the core, all but knocking the wind right out of her.

He’d changed. Filled out. Matured. Laugh lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes. The crooked nose he’d broken from a fall off a horse still imparted a rugged, reckless air to his countenance. Same strong jaw, now in need of a shave. Every bit as handsome as he’d ever been. And then some.

“Kara?”

Her gaze riveted, struggling for breath, she could only nod. He didn’t try to jog her memory as to who he was. He knew she’d remember. He’d have read it in her eyes.

Oh, yes, she remembered Trey Kenton.

After a too-long moment, he gave a wry chuckle. “Didn’t figure I’d ever run into you again.”

She swallowed and held out the now-whimpering child. “I don’t imagine you did.”

He accepted his niece and handed over the snowbrush, but his eyes searched Kara’s. For what? Confirmation that she was sufficiently ashamed of the cowardly lurch she’d left him in those many years ago?

Oh, yes, she remembered. Would never forget. Or forgive herself. So why should he?

She broke eye contact and motioned to the child fussing in his arms. “She lost her mitten.”

How lame. She owed him an apology, not an evasive, impersonal observation.

He dug out a handkerchief and wiped the sniffling toddler’s nose, then enveloped the tiny bare hand in his large gloved one. “She hasn’t had a nap in days and now we’re all paying for it.”

Could he be as uncomfortable as she was? After all, the last time they saw each other… Her cheeks warmed at the memory.

“Come on, Uncle Trey. Let’s go home.”

“Hang on, Mary.”

He focused again on Kara with a look she could only interpret as wary. Couldn’t blame him.

“So, Kara, you’re back in Canyon Springs.”

She tightened her grip on the snowbrush. “Not for long. Helping my mom get back on her feet. She hasn’t been well.”

“Heard about that. Sorry.”

Was he? Sharon Dixon and Trey Kenton hadn’t exactly been a match made in heaven. Cowboy types didn’t easily endear themselves to her mom. Or her.

The wind kicked up again, swirling a stinging mix of snow and ice pellets into their faces.

“Need to get these kids home and tucked into bed.” He turned to the truck and eased the toddler into the empty car seat next to that of her sister.

Kara stepped away on unsteady legs. Was he visiting? Just babysitting for his brother and sister-in-law? Surely he hadn’t moved back to Canyon Springs. No way. From the moment he’d set a booted foot inside the city limits as a teen, he’d been determined to put the mountain community in his rearview mirror.

With speed that likely rivaled his best record at roping and tying a calf, Trey buckled in his niece. Then he shut the back door and turned to Kara once more, his face again shadowed. “Thank you kindly for your help.”

With a brisk nod and a tip of his hat, he limped around the front of the truck to the driver’s side and climbed in.

He didn’t have a limp in high school.

Heart pounding in an erratic rhythm, she could only stare stupefied at the pickup as another gust of wind slammed into her. She hardly felt the cold creeping in around the neckline of her jacket or the wind-driven snowflakes pelting her face.

That was it? A coolly polite “thank you kindly for your help”? She took another step back, absently glancing down at the frosty ground—and spied a pint-size mitten lying half-buried in the snow. She knelt to pick it up with a trembling hand.

But before she could return it to its diminutive owner, the truck started—and the man whose life she’d all but ruined drove away.

Whoa. Trey gave a low whistle as he and the girls headed out of town to his brother and sister-in-law’s place, the windshield wipers battling the pummeling snow.

Kara Dixon. Hadn’t bargained on that one tonight.

He’d been in and out of Canyon Springs the past several months and knew she’d returned at Thanksgiving. Heard she was an interior designer with some big firm in Chicago. Had even glimpsed her a few times, helping her mother out of a car at the grocery store. Unloading boxes at the Warehouse. Dashing coatless across the street to Camilla’s Café.

He’d intentionally kept his distance—even stayed away from town most weekends—but she wasn’t a woman who’d be easily overlooked. Not with that toned figure and long, red-blonde mane of hers caught up in a ponytail. Strawberry blonde. That’s how his sister-in-law described it. And Kara was model-tall and leggy, too, like a thoroughbred. He’d forgotten how it initially amused his seventeen-year-old self that ill-fated night when, in a sassy show of bravado, she’d walked right up to him, all but able to look him straight in the eye.

Just like her old man did to him now.

Well, maybe not just like. Her father’s blustery shot at intimidation didn’t send his heart galloping off like a wild mustang or his brain hurtling into a bottomless, fog-filled canyon. Didn’t make his mouth go as dry as the Sonoran desert before summer monsoons kicked in.

Trey took a deep breath, still reliving the shock of turning to face her. No, he hadn’t bargained on running into Kara up close and personal. And he sure hadn’t bargained on feeling as if he’d collided with rock-hard Mother Earth, compliments of an irritable bronc. Even after all this time, even after what she’d done to him, he couldn’t shake the impact of those beautiful gray eyes.