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Second Chance Courtship
Glynna Kaye
Never Trust a Cowboy That's what Kara Dixon's mother always warned her. Back home in Canyon Springs, Arizona, to care for her ailing mom, Kara comes face-to-face with rodeo cowboy Trey Kenton. Her former flame - and one-time bad boy - is finally ready to settle down and start a family, and he's got his heart set on Kara.But she's determined to head back to her big-city life in Chicago once her mother's on the mend. Can the charming cowboy convince her to trust him and give their love a second chance?
“I’m sorry for not telling everyone that you were nowhere near the Logan property when it caught on fire…”
Kara took a ragged breath, voice quavering as her tear-filled eyes sought his. “Can you ever forgive me?”
“Already did, darlin’,” his low voice assured her. “A long time ago.”
She stared at him. Not comprehending the kindness reflected in his eyes.
“I knew you were scared.” His words washed over her in a reassuring wave. “Understood why you didn’t want anyone to know you were with me.”
“I’m so sorry. I hate myself for what you had to go through.”
“No need for that.” His eyes grew thoughtful as if mentally traveling back in time.
She clenched her fists in an effort to warm ice-cold fingers. To stop their trembling.
“It’s all in the past.” Gentle eyes echoed his smile. “Let’s leave it there.”
Wonder filled her. “Thank you. But you never liked this town, even before the fire. Why did you come back?”
He smiled at her. “Guess you might call it unfinished business.”
GLYNNA KAYE
treasures memories of growing up in small Midwestern towns—in Iowa, Missouri, Illinois—and vacations spent in another rural community with the Texan side of the family. She traces her love of storytelling to the many times a houseful of great-aunts and-uncles gathered with her grandma to share hours of what they called “windjammers”—candid, heartwarming, poignant and often humorous tales of their youth and young adulthood.
Glynna now lives in Arizona, and when she isn’t writing she’s gardening and enjoying photography and the great outdoors.
Second Chance Courtship
Glynna Kaye
I run in the path of your commands,
for you have set my heart free.
—Psalms 119:32
To my sister and best friend, Sheryl,
who faithfully reads all my drafts—
and never complains even during
the third or fourth round.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you again to Steeple Hill Love Inspired senior editor, Melissa Endlich, for enthusiastically allowing me to share Canyon Springs with the world.
Thanks also to my agent, Natasha Kern, for her words of encouragement and vote of confidence.
And as always, an extra special thank-you to my “Seeker Sisters” at www.Seekerville.blogspot.com.
I’m still amazed at how God brought us all together.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
Cowboys ain’t nothin’ but trouble.
The oft-heard parental warning echoed through Kara Dixon’s head. No surprise, for in the dim light and blowing snow outside a Canyon Springs, Arizona, restaurant, her eyes had fastened on the back of a broad-shouldered, dark-haired specimen of the cowboy variety. The Western hat and shear-ling jacket might be mimicked by wannabes, but the horse trailer hitched behind a big, silver Ford pickup vouched for his authenticity.
A cowboy. Yet another reason she had to get out of this town and back to Chicago. The sooner the better, too. She’d yet to run into a bona fide wrangler on the streets of the Windy City, which suited her just fine.
But how could she not take pity on the poor man? A man who valiantly endeavored to hand-brush fast accumulating snow from his crew cab pickup—while juggling a wailing toddler in one arm and making frequent grabs for a wandering preschooler with the other. Poor guy. Women shouldn’t send their helpless men out into the world without adequate kid training. And back up.
She sighed. She didn’t have time for this tonight. Customers straggling in late with cross-country ski rental returns had delayed the closing of her mother’s general store, Dix’s Woodland Warehouse. Much longer and Mom would start wondering why she hadn’t brought home the promised Friday night dinner from Kit’s Lodge. A quick call would put her mind at ease, but being accountable to Mom again was already getting old. It was bitter cold, too, with wind whipping out of the northwest in buffeting gusts. No, it wasn’t a good night to stop and offer a helping hand.
Nevertheless, she returned to the SUV she’d borrowed from her mom and retrieved a heavy-duty snowbrush. Then, securing her jacket’s insulated hood, she approached the struggling male and raised her voice over that of the squalling child.
“Could you use some help?”
He swung toward her, his face in shadow.
She waved the snowbrush.
“Oh, man, thanks.” His own raised voice held a note of grateful surprise as he endeavored to calm the unhappy little girl now flinging herself back and forth in his arms. “Didn’t know it snowed so much while we were inside.”
“That’s mid-January in mountain country for you.”
Before Kara could register what he was intending to do, the man stepped forward and thrust the flailing toddler at her. What? She didn’t want to hold the kid. All she’d intended to do was help clean off the guy’s truck. But the bundled-up, squalling tyke was stretching out arms to her. Even though she was irritated with “Daddy,” Kara reluctantly relinquished the snowbrush and gathered the tiny screamer into her arms. Lovely.
The man snagged the sleeve of the older child and gently pushed her toward Kara as well, then turned to the truck and set to work. Through the passenger-side front window, she glimpsed a lop-eared, mixed-breed mutt taking in the outside activity with interest. Almost as if laughing at her.
Kara awkwardly jiggled the bawling little one and fished in her pockets—in vain—for a tissue to wipe the miniature nose. She winced as slobber-wet fingers brushed her face. Where was the kid’s mitten? Kara glanced at the snow-covered ground but saw no sign of it, then caught the tiny, sticky hand in her own.
Hurry it up, Cowboy.
As she warmed the little hand, she caught the older child staring at her. Even in the dim light it was clear she didn’t think this stranger was handling her sibling with any degree of expertise. Kara bestowed a weak smile. It was hard to tell through the dim light and pelting snow, but the face peeping out from under a hood looked familiar.
Kara made shushing sounds at the youngster in her arms, then raised her voice over the howls. “What’s your name?”
“Mary.”
“Mary what?”
“Mary had a little lamb.” The preschooler giggled and danced away.
Kara forced another smile. A comedian. She turned her attention again to the toddler who, for whatever mysterious reason, had abruptly quieted. Thank goodness. She’d pulled her tiny hand free, rubbed her nose and was now studiously exploring Kara’s facial features with the tip of a moist finger. The girl giggled. Sniffled. Then hiccupped.
Kara turned her face aside to see what had happened to Cowboy. She shifted the kid and squinted through the steadily falling snow. Oh, there he was. On the far side of the pickup.
“Uh, you about done over there?”
“Almost. Hang on.” He said something else but the wind snatched away the words.
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.
