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Second-Chance Cowboy
Carolyne Aarsen
Rancher DaddyMorgan Walsh will do just about anything to connect with the son who continues to keep him at arm’s length. Even ask a favor of ex-fiancé Tabitha Rennie. And what young Nathan desperately wants is for Tabitha to train his late mother’s horse. But Tabitha is also determined to keep her distance. As soon as she’s paid off her father’s debts, she’ll leave town and the painful memories of the real reason she abruptly left Morgan all those years ago. Yet spending time together with Morgan and his son is sparking dreams they can’t deny: of family, fresh starts, and first loves that last a lifetime.
Rancher Daddy
Morgan Walsh will do just about anything to connect with the son who continues to keep him at arm’s length. Even ask a favor of ex-fiancée Tabitha Rennie. And what young Nathan desperately wants is for Tabitha to train his late mother’s horse. But Tabitha is also determined to keep her distance. As soon as she’s paid off her father’s debts, she’ll leave town and the painful memories of the real reason she abruptly left Morgan all those years ago. Yet spending time with Morgan and his son is sparking dreams she can’t deny: of family, fresh starts and first loves that last a lifetime.
Tabitha laid a gentle hand on Morgan’s shoulder.
It was only supposed to be a show of comfort. But then he looked over at her, and as his eyes met hers, a quiver of attraction grew deep in her soul.
She didn’t want to break the connection. In fact, she wanted to put her other hand on his other shoulder, like she used to. Tease him. Like she used to.
Her breath caught and it wasn’t until they were jostled by someone wanting to get past them that the moment was over.
He looked momentarily taken aback as he broke her hold. Then he strode away.
Tabitha struggled with the confusion of her emotions. What was she doing? She had to stay in charge. It wasn’t fair to Morgan.
She’d had her chance with him and she’d made her choice.
What if you told him what actually happened and why?
She held that thought as she made her way out the door.
Morgan was gone, and Tabitha knew there was no way she would be able to tell him what really happened. She was on her own.
Dear Reader (#u248486d8-9204-5429-abaf-ca38b9cc86af),
Tabitha struggled all her life with feelings of self-worth brought on by her father’s actions and her own difficulty with reading. Both come together to create a situation where she feels she has to make up for what her father did in order to hold her head up. In the process of the story, she learns that her worth is in Christ, and not in doing things to fix what her father did.
I think there are times in each of our lives that we feel we have no value. No worth. It’s not a good place to be because, as the Bible verse I quoted at the beginning of this book tells us, in God’s eyes we are valuable and loved.
I pray that you may feel God’s love and care and that you may place your worth in Him.
P.S. I love to hear from my readers. Drop me a line at caarsen@xplornet.com and tell me what you liked about my book. Or you can go to my website at carolyneaarsen.com (http://www.carolyneaarsen.com). If you sign up for my newsletter you’ll get a free book.
CAROLYNE AARSEN and her husband, Richard, live on a small ranch in northern Alberta, where they have raised four children and numerous foster children and are still raising cattle. Carolyne crafts her stories in an office with a large west-facing window, through which she can watch the changing seasons while struggling to make her words obey. Visit her website at carolyneaarsen.com (http://www.carolyneaarsen.com).
Second-Chance Cowboy
Carolyne Aarsen
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
So don’t be afraid;
you are worth more than many sparrows.
—Matthew 10:31
To my nieces Amber and Chelsey who inspire me with their loving devotion to their parents.
And with thanks to my nephew Daniel Aarsen who helped me with the vet stuff.
Family is everything!
Contents
Cover (#uf0beda03-1803-5c8f-8b49-d54a32881795)
Back Cover Text (#u0f541cff-4a9d-5d5a-90e7-5ca463ba5e43)
Introduction (#ud4e114c2-3f54-533b-89be-1825b553238b)
Dear Reader (#u47f0c37f-5b6e-5b11-8356-808247ca582a)
About the Author (#u7640eb56-4ce7-5639-bb2c-f5e44cfb530b)
Title Page (#u9d6de711-fce3-5cde-9ec0-174a24c6acc4)
Bible Verse (#u43fdee48-5975-53cd-b548-3d885bca6d79)
Dedication (#ufe2aae75-dd6e-5118-b980-d0da6c370e7f)
Chapter One (#uefe7cddb-35a8-584a-b2f9-dc9d60e348cd)
Chapter Two (#uf5b8949e-fd82-5dda-bfde-c602b6ff5512)
Chapter Three (#ua3332a7e-872a-5ee4-83c7-b2f4c9fd57d9)
Chapter Four (#ua43bbf33-4b2e-5a3b-930c-20b7c4950ac8)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u248486d8-9204-5429-abaf-ca38b9cc86af)
She was late for work. And not a sorry I’m late apology she could toss off while breezing into the café, flashing a contrite smile to her boss as the clock showed a few minutes past.
No, this was a serious, half an hour, Sepp is going to fire me late. She knew explaining to him that she was busy laying down flooring in her house until midnight wouldn’t cut it. Nor would it help her case to tell him that she had to make a trip to return the nailer she had borrowed from Owen Herne.
Tabitha eased off on her truck’s accelerator to make the turn, gearing down as the dust cloud following her seeped into the cab. The engine protested the sudden shift.
Please, Lord, don’t let it break down, she prayed, as she shifted down again.
Her phone dinged, signaling an incoming call, then slid out of her purse and onto the floor.
Tabitha glared at the phone, then dragged her attention back to the road. No way was she hitting the ditch for the sake of a phone call.
In spite of being late, Tabitha eased off the accelerator as she turned the corner heading past the old Henry place. No one had lived in that house since Boyce and Cord Walsh bought it three years ago, but she always slowed when she drove by.
She used to dream of living there, pretending the top bedroom with its bay windows was hers and she could look out over the valley to the mountains. She had often imagined herself wandering through the many flower beds, picking lilies, daisies, lupines or lilacs to put in vases in the house. The flower beds were overgrown now, but she could still see the potential.
She preferred that dream to the reality of her place close to town. Work on the house she inherited from her father had taken up every spare moment of her time the past couple of years, and the yard was so messy and filled with junk that even thinking about it was too overwhelming.
Suddenly a large dog bounded across the road in front of her and right behind it ran a little boy.
Her foot slammed on the brakes. She wrenched on the wheel to turn the truck, her backpack falling off the seat. Her phone slid over the floor as her truck crashed into the ditch.
Her ribs hit the steering wheel with a sickening thud and her neck snapped forward. Dazed, she sat a moment, pain shooting through her ribs, radiating up her back.
She sat back, massaging her chest to make sure she hadn’t broken anything. All seemed okay.
Then panic clutched her as she looked around to see what happened to the boy or the dog.
Where had they come from? She didn’t know people had moved into the house.
Relief surged through her when she saw the boy standing in the middle of the road, eyes wide, staring at her as her own heart pounded in reaction to the close call.
Then the dog jumped out of the trees and joined the boy, its tail waving joyfully as he ran in a circle around him.
Okay. Boy was fine. Dog was fine.
Tabitha took a few seconds to gather herself, then got out, pain stabbing her chest as she did.
“You okay?” she called out to the kid.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice a feeble sound that showed her how afraid he was.
Then the door of the house opened and a man charged out.
“Nathan. What are you doing on the road?” he called, sounding panicked.
Then Tabitha’s heart pounded in earnest as she recognized the man dropping to his knees in front of the little boy, running his hands over his face, his shoulders.
Morgan Walsh.
Her ex-fiancé, and the man who still held a large portion of her heart.
As soon as Dr. Waters told her Morgan would be working at the vet clinic, where Tabitha worked part-time as well, she had prepared herself. Had a speech all figured out.
Nice to see you. Hope you enjoy working here.
She’d even decided how she’d look. She’d be wearing her lab coat, making her look all professional and educated, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, her makeup perfectly done.
But at the last minute she had chickened out, telling Dr. Waters that she needed the morning off. Truth was she needed a couple more days to adjust to the idea of working with her ex-fiancé.
Morgan was part of her most painful memories. Walking away from him all those years ago was the hardest thing she had ever done. But she had broken up with him for his sake. Now here he was. A veterinarian.
So the sacrifice was worth it. And though she knew she would come face-to-face with him sometime soon, she hadn’t figured on it being like this.
With her at the wheel of a truck in the ditch, her hair a tumbled disaster, her ribs aching with every quickened breath.
She gathered her wits, bending over to pick up her phone that, of course, started ringing again. She glanced at the call display. Her sister.
Tabitha tucked it in her pocket, letting it ring as she gingerly made her way through the thick grass of the ditch around the back of the truck, grimacing in pain.
Taking another deep breath, she lifted her chin and walked over to where Morgan still knelt by his son, talking to him.
“You sure you’re okay?” Morgan asked again, his hands resting on the boy’s thin shoulders.
“I’m fine.” The boy wasn’t looking at Morgan; instead he was watching Tabitha as she joined them.
Yeah, I know. I probably look like the bad side of a train wreck, she thought, delicately testing her cheekbone to see if there was any blood.
Then Morgan sensed her presence and turned, his hand resting on his son’s shoulder in a protective motion. Stubble shaded his cheeks. His brown hair, as thick as ever, curled over his forehead. His blue T-shirt stretched over broad shoulders tucked into blue jeans hanging low on his hips.
He still wore cowboy boots, but the deep furrow between his eyebrows was new as was the length of his hair. He used to wear it military short. But now it hung over his collar.
He had grown more handsome over time, and in spite of her steady self-talk, Tabitha’s heart twisted at the sight of his familiar, and once-loved, face.
