The Rancher's Second Chance: Rock Creek Ranch (Parker Ranches, Inc. Book 1) Page 2

  Her soft tears afterward were his undoing.

  “Dammit.” John pounded the steering wheel. Where did this leave him now?

  Them?

  The leaving had been awkward. She’d slept curled against him, and he’d woke with the scent of her shampoo in his nostrils. Immediately, he’d felt a deep sense of guilt. Had he cheated on Annie? This wasn’t right. Was it?

  He wasn’t sure if he liked another woman’s scent in his nose upon waking.

  Abby had roused and without a word or backward glance slipped out of bed, pulling the sheet with her, and tucking it around her body as she padded off to the bathroom. He dressed quickly while she was in there, ready to bolt, but waited. When she’d come out a few minutes later, tying her robe around her soft body, they both found it difficult to make eye contact.

  He’d approached and given her a quick kiss on the forehead, mumbling a few words about needing to go, and that he’d had a nice time. She nodded, and he didn’t look back as he left her place.

  A kiss on the forehead. He felt like a damned heel.

  Pulling up to his house now, his gaze settled on the black diesel pickup truck parked off to the side. He sat for a minute, pondering why in the hell his brother-in-law was here before six o’clock in the morning. His shoulders slumped in semi-defeat.

  “Shit.” The word whistled through his teeth.

  ****

  “About time you showed your face this morning, old man. We were beginning to worry about you.”

  John exhaled and pushed through the back door. He did a quick assessment of the kitchen to determine if he needed to be on the defensive, or not. Only one person there that he could see, anyway.

  “Mornin’ Tom.” He nodded to his brother-in-law, hung his coat on a peg by the door, and set his hat on the shelf above it. “What in the world are you doing here this morning?” He glanced to the stove. “And cooking breakfast, no less.”

  A woman’s voice called out from the pantry. “Oh, hell, John. You know, Tom. He got a wild hair last night and decided to drive up for a visit.” Tom’s wife, Sally, bustled out of the adjoining pantry with a bag of flour and a carton of baking powder. She sidled up next to John and leaned up for a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t be mad,” she added, “you ought to know by now he never calls first.”

  He knew that. Annie’s brother, Tom, carved his own way in life. Made his own rules. Most of the people around here did that, although Tom was a man not to be reckoned with. The Parker men rivaled the Rankins in stubbornness. There were times John wondered how Anne and Sally had put up with them all these years.

  Sally sat the products down on the kitchen island. “By the way, we sent Buck back home. Kris stayed the night with Callie.”

  He nodded. “That’s fine. I’m sure Buck was glad for an evening to himself. Thanks.” John pulled out a chair and sat. “And of course, I’m not mad. Surprised, though. Everything okay?”

  Tom’s ranch was a couple of hours due east, toward Billings. The Parker family had originally owned two large tracks of Montana land. When Anne and Tom’s parents were killed in a car accident fifteen years ago, Tom ended up with the Billings area ranch, and Anne inherited the western tract, near Yellowstone, now Rock Creek Ranch. Their younger brother, Noah—the wanderer of the family, who worked ranches from Idaho to Texas—had no desire to be tethered to a piece of land and was happy enough to inherit cash. They’d not seen Noah for several years until Annie’s funeral.

  John and Tom were closer than most brothers-in-law, although they didn’t see each other nearly enough. He thought of him more as a blood relative, than by marriage.

  Sally nodded. “Oh, we’re fine. Gage wanted to see Parker, and it’s been a while since we’ve been up, so we just took a ride.”

  Tom and Sally’s adopted son, Gage, was just a year older than Parker. Curious, John asked, “Have you heard anything about Savannah’s whereabouts? Just wondering about Murphy. I know Gage likes to see his brother when he can.”

  Sally shook her head. “We can’t find her, or Murphy. I worry about that boy. I wish she had let us adopt him, too.”

  John agreed. “Yes. I know.” He fiddled with an empty coffee cup on the table, thinking.

  Sally ripped open the top of the bag of flour and filled a canister. “You’ve not been doing much cooking, have you, John?”

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  She angled her body and looked back at him. “You doing okay?”

  He dropped his chin in a slow nod. “I’m hanging in there.”

  Sally turned back to her task. He saw her glance up at Tom, who turned back to the pan. A few silent moments passed.

  John got up, went to the counter, and pulled down a clean coffee mug. He reached for the carafe. “Thanks for making this. I may need the entire pot this morning.” Then he turned and faced them both. “So why don’t you tell me why you are really here.”

  Tom lifted the last piece of bacon out of the pan and laid it on a paper towel. He moved the skillet off the burner and faced John. “We’re just checking in, John. Wondering how you are doing. I know it’s only been a few months since Anne left us, and it’s understandable that things are still out of whack. We just wonder if there is any way we can help you out.”

  John sucked in a deep breath and glanced from Tom to Sally. Shaking his head slightly, he leaned back against the counter and took a sip of the hot coffee. After a moment he said, “Some days are rougher than others. Callie’s having a hard time.”

  Sally patted his hand. “I spent some time with her last night. We looked through some picture albums and talked about Anne.”

  A lump formed in John’s throat. Why hadn’t he ever thought of doing that? “Thanks, Sally. I’m sure that meant a lot to her.”

  “It meant a lot to me.”

  He nodded. “So, what time did you get here last night?”

  “Not long after you left,” Tom said. “Gage and Parker immediately went to the barn—I think they took a quick ride up the hill on the Gator—then later they disappeared upstairs to Parker’s room to do whatever teenage boys do. Callie and Kris stuck to Sally’s side.”

  He imagined so and looked to Sally. “Thank you. I’m sure both girls needed to be with a woman. I swear, sometimes I just don’t know what to do with Callie.”

  “Look, John, she’s a pre-teen girl and they can be just awful. Olivia, well…” She shook her head.

  John asked, “Where is Olivia? She didn’t come?”

  “No. She’s at a sleepover with a friend from her dance school. All that girl wants to do is dance. I sure hope it pays well one day because she sure isn’t doing well in school, otherwise.” Sally laughed, and they both sat at the table. “But back to Callie. John, she needs a woman to talk to now and again. There’s no one on this ranch except for the housecleaner and Kristin. Why don’t I plan to come up a little more often, and maybe she can come and spend some long weekends with us at our ranch? What do you think? It would probably do Olivia good, too.”

  He figured Sally was right. “Might be a good idea. I’m not sure how to thank you.”

  “John Rankin, we’re family. It’s what we do. You can thank me by taking Gage off my hands one of these weeks. Now, that boy can be a handful.”

  “Anytime.” He was grateful for the offer.

  Tom cleared his throat. “So, are you going to tell us where you were all night last night?”

  John lifted his gaze to connect directly with his brother-in-law’s. He pondered several responses but then said, “No. I am not.”

  ****

  Later that evening, after Tom and Sally had gone, and the kids were in bed, John sat in his bedroom staring at the television set with the sound turned off. He wasn’t interested in the show, and the dialogue was grating on his nerves. But he didn’t want to turn off the picture because, for some crazy reason, the people on the set were some company in the room—even if he couldn’t hear them.

  He’d found it difficu
lt to get Abby off his mind for most of the day. He’d debated calling her. He had her number. Buck had given it to him after he’d arranged the blind date. That day he’d nearly thrown it away, convinced he would not go on the date to begin with.

  Now, he fiddled with the piece of paper, flipping it between his fingers. Contemplating.

  Finally, he picked up his landline phone and dialed.

  One ring. Two. Three.

  “Hello?”

  He cleared his throat. “Hi Abby. This is John Rankin.”

  “I know,” she said. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Silence. Awkward.

  John began again. “Abby, I owe you an apology.”

  More silence. “Oh?”

  He continued. “The way I left this morning was inexcusable.”

  “It was just awkward, John. On both sides. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I haven’t been with a woman other than my wife in years. I don’t know what to do in these kinds of situations. Not anymore. And really, I’m sure you don’t think much of me because we’d only just met, and I was not much of a gentleman.”

  Her voice softened. “John, you were a perfect gentleman.”

  “A gentleman would have gone home. Resisted the temptation….”

  “I invited you. I wanted you to stay, John. I shouldn’t have, of course. But I’ve been lonely lately, too, and I felt so comfortable with you. John, it was my fault.”

  Now, that was a turn he hadn’t expected. “No. I should have waited. But Abby, I have to tell you that—”

  She interrupted. “It was awesome. Wasn’t it? I mean, it was for me.”

  John closed his eyes and exhaled. “Abby,” he whispered. “It was perfect. You were wonderful. I want you to know that I don’t take these things lightly and—”

  She interrupted again. “John, I understand.”

  “You do?”

  “You were my first in an awfully long time. I want you to know that. And even though I may have been a little bold and brazen, I don’t take it lightly either.”

  Suddenly, the entire conversation seemed a little surreal. How did this happen?

  Abby spoke again. “Would you like to have dinner at my place again next Saturday night?”

  Another crossroads. Move forward or retreat?

  “Abby. I would love to.”

  Chapter Four

  That one dinner turned into several. Usually they met on weekends when Abby’s son, Luke, was with his father. Sometimes they’d stay in at Abby’s and she’d cook, and other times he’d take her out to a nice restaurant in Bozeman. Occasionally, they’d catch a movie, and once they went to a rodeo in Billings, where Buck was competing in a roping event.

  “His ass is too old to be out there jumping off a horse and onto those calves.” John leaned into Abbey. “If he breaks his damn leg, he’ll be sorry. Besides, I need him healthy on the ranch.”

  Abby patted his arm. “Let him be. He enjoys it. Besides, he’s trying to impress that woman standing over by the fence.”

  John followed her gaze and spied the thirty-something looker making googly eyes at old Buck. “Hell. I’m not sure he would know what to do with her.”

  Laughing, Abby threw back her head. “I’m pretty sure he does.”

  Rotating to look at Abby, he enjoyed her smile and laughter. “How do you know so much?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t, really. We just chat when he brings Kris to the library.”

  John eyed her. “He ever ask you out?”

  Again, she grinned. “About every other week for a year. I politely refused him every time.”

  That surprised him. “Why?”

  “Rodeo,” she said, and glanced off to watch the cowboys. “I enjoy it and all but I’m weary of the lifestyle. Luke’s dad is a bronc rider. I had eight years of it when we were together.” She looked back at him. “Besides, I think I was waiting for you.”

  Unsure whether to be happy by that statement, or to run away fast, John did know one thing—her saying that made his heart gallop. Maybe it was time to change the subject.

  “By the way,” he said, breaking eye contact. “Thanks for that book you gave me last week about helping children deal with grief. I found it helpful. Appreciate it.”

  Her gaze landed on him and she studied his face. “Did you read any of that one I gave you for you, too?”

  Clearing his throat, he glanced off, staring into the arena. “Not yet.”

  After a moment of silence, she reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I’m glad the book for Callie was helpful, John.”

  ****

  Later that evening, over burgers at a pub close to the arena in Billings, Abby raised another subject that surprised him, saying she thought it was time to, “Take things to the next level.” Pausing, he slowly placed his beer on the paper coaster on the table and lifted his gaze to make eye contact.

  “What are you saying, Abby?”

  Leaning across the table, she elaborated. “John, it’s been a couple of months since we’ve been seeing each other. Don’t you think it’s time we tell the kids?” She peered at him over her beer, while picking at her French fries.

  He’d thought he could keep Abby his little secret—evidently not. “It’s too soon, Abby.”

  She sighed. “So how long do you think you can keep sneaking me off to Bozeman or Billings, where no one knows us? I sort of feel like you’re hiding me. Is it the kids, or is it really me?”

  He felt a little stunned at her words. “Hell, Abby. It’s not you.”

  “It’s not? Well, maybe then, it’s you.”

  Shaking his head, he said, “No, it’s the kids. All three of them. We need to wait.”

  Sitting back, she glared. “John Rankin, it’s you. What are you afraid of?”

  Those words took him aback. “I—”

  Abby gently slapped the table in front of him, interrupting. “Now don’t you go saying you’re not afraid, John Rankin. Tell me.”

  Damn, she knew him already. Just like Annie did.

  He cleared his throat. “Abby, making us public… Well, it means dealing with the kids. And it means we have to tell people when they see us out. You know how these kinds of things can get.”

  Her facial expressions didn’t move. “No, I guess I don’t. Tell me.”

  “Sure, you do. People start talking.”

  “And?”

  “Well, they will say things.”

  “Like?”

  He blinked. Was she challenging him? Suddenly, he wasn’t sure how to respond. Shifting in his seat, he stared at the wooden tabletop for a few seconds, then lifted his gaze. “Abby, you know, the gossip.”

  She leaned in. “Are we doing anything wrong, John?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then you feel guilty.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “Because of Anne. People will say it’s too soon and tsk-tsk behind your back. People will wonder who I am. How you met me. They will ask questions and you are not sure how you would respond. People will say what a shame it was that you couldn’t wait to replace Anne. I can go on. Should I?”

  He sat back. “No. Yes. All that.”

  “We are doing nothing wrong, John.”

  “I know.”

  “But you’re not ready to say, to hell with what people will think, yet. You’re not ready to proudly walk into a restaurant in Livingston with me on your arm and introduce me to your friends. And of course, you’re not ready to introduce me to your kids.”

  “Well, I’ve not met Luke yet, either.”

  “But he knows about you. Do Callie and Parker even know about me?”

  Stunned, John sat back and perused her. She’d told Luke about him? He’d not dared broach the subject with Callie and Parker. “I, uh… No, Abby. They don’t know about you.”

  “Is there a reason?”

  “Not really. I just—”

  “I see.” Her head ticked. “Do you have any plans
to tell them? Or, is that not even on your radar?”

  To be honest, he hadn’t even considered it. Should he have? It’s only been a couple of months. But he couldn’t tell her that, could he?

  He had to. “Abby, I’m not ready.”

  She straightened in her seat, sucked in a breath, and held it. For a moment, she glanced into the restaurant crowd, as if carefully measuring her next words. Hell, she likely was. Finally, with an exhale, she faced him. “I understand.”

  Standing, she dropped her napkin on the table, holding his gaze. “And that’s okay. When you are ready, John, let me know. I think you need to take me home now.”

  She turned and headed toward the exit.

  John stood and tossed a hundred-dollar bill on the table, then followed her out. He tried to hold her hand on the walk back to the truck, but she gently pulled it away and pushed it into her jacket pocket.

  That didn’t sit well with him, tugging at his heartstrings.

  The drive home from Billings to her small house in Livingston was a long and silent ride. When he pulled into her driveway, he turned her way. “Abby, talk to me for a minute.”

  She stared out the passenger side window. “I don’t really have anything to say, John.”

  “If I hurt you, I’m sorry.”

  She sniffled. “I somehow feel rejected and I’m not sure what to do with those feelings. Don’t mind me,” she said, and continued to stare at the window.

  “Dammit.” The word slurred on a breath from his mouth. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. Please believe me when I say it has nothing to do with you, Abby.”

  She whirled, looking at him. “It has everything to do with me, John!” Finally, she looked directly at him. That’s when he saw the tears. Hell.

  “Oh, Abby….” With a forefinger, he smoothed a few tears on her cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m just not good at this relationship thing. You’re better off without me.”