Second-Chance Cowboy & The Texan's Twins

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Carolyne Aarsen

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17.7K

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highlight_author

Carolyne Aarsen

highlight_reads

17.7K

highlight_chapters

😊 Low Spice 🏙️ Contemporary

Chapter One

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.

She knew the second he recognized her. His steel-gray eyes grew cold as ice and he clenched his jaw.

“Hey, Tabitha.” His voice was curt. Harsh.

The anger in his expression hurt her more than she thought it could.

“Hey, Morgan.” She didn’t add “good to see you” because it wasn’t that good to see him.

“You almost hit my son.”

He ground out the words, his voice gruff. Well, nothing like getting directly to the point, which shouldn’t surprise her. She knew seeing him again wouldn’t be a happy reunion of old high school friends.

The last time she’d talked to him was on the phone when she told him she was breaking up with him. He’d asked for a reason. All she would tell him was that she was over him, even as her heart and soul cried out a protest at the lies she spun.

Sure, their relationship had been a high school romance, but their feelings for each other had been deep and strong enough that they’d made plans for their wedding.

But on that horrible day she had to push all that aside. Had to prove to him that she wasn’t the girl for him and that she had changed her mind about the two of them.

He tried reasoning with her but she wouldn’t budge. And she couldn’t tell him why. It was for his sake, she had told herself. She was doing it for him.

Then packed up and left town.

They hadn’t spoken to or seen each other since.

Tabitha’s phone rang again. She pulled it out and hit Decline. She’d have to call Leanne once she got to town to find out what her sister needed so badly.

“Were you talking on your phone while you were driving?” His words held the sting of accusation.

Tabitha shook her head. Mistake. Her cheek throbbed and she lifted her hand to touch it. It felt warm. It was probably already changing color.

“No.” She left it at that. She’d learned too many times in her life that the more she talked, the more trouble she got into.

Case in point: Morgan’s mother, who had been her high school teacher and who thought Tabitha was an unsuitable match for her vet-school-headed son. Who had warned lowly Tabitha Rennie, high school dropout, away from Morgan Walsh. He was too good for her, Mrs. Walsh had told her, and Tabitha knew it was true.

Tabitha held Morgan’s gaze, then shifted her scrutiny to his son, who watched her with interest.

“You sure you’re okay?” she asked Nathan.

He nodded, staring at her as if trying to figure out who she was.

“Good. And your dog is okay?”

Nathan nodded.

“Also good. Glad we don’t have to bring you to the hospital or the dog to the vet. Though your dad is a vet, so maybe he could fix it himself. I usually work at the vet clinic, but not today.” She caught herself, blaming her chatter on nerves. She was tempted to ask Morgan why he hadn’t started work today, like she had been told, but figured that was none of her business.

So she gave the boy a semblance of a smile, then took a step back.

“Do you need a hand getting your truck out?” he asked.

Frankly, given his attitude toward her, she was surprised he offered. But country manners always took precedence over personal feelings when you lived in the ranching country of Southern Alberta. Houses were far apart and people depended on each other for help.

“No. I should be okay,” she said with more bravado than she felt.

She got into her truck and waited until Morgan and his son walked away from the road, but they didn’t go directly into the house. Instead Morgan stayed by the driveway, watching.

Please, Lord, let me get out of here in one go.

Then she twisted the key in the ignition.

Her truck wasn’t its usual temperamental self and the engine turned over only twice before it caught.

She prayed the whole time she had her foot on the gas, her back tires spinning, tossing mud onto the road and spitting it out beside her. Her pride was on the line and she could use a win.

Finally, her tires caught the gravel, spun again, and then with a lurch she was out. She slammed on the brakes and the truck rocked to a halt.

Thanks for that, Lord, she prayed, feeling foolish that she wasted the Lord’s time with such trivial things.

But it was important to her to not look bad in front of Morgan. A man who once held her heart. A man she had been forced to toss aside.

She put the truck into first gear and drove past Morgan and his son at a sedate speed.

Both of them were still watching her. One with interest, the other with a frown.

Life had just become much more complicated, Tabitha thought as she stepped on the gas and shifted into second. Hopefully she wouldn’t lose her job at the café.

Again.

So, that was over and done with.

Morgan watched as Tabitha’s truck drove down the road, a plume of dust roiling in its wake. Since he decided to come back to Cedar Ridge, he knew meeting Tabitha was inevitable. When Dr. Waters told him that Tabitha worked as a vet assistant in the clinic some mornings, he had almost not taken the job.

It was only when he heard she was planning on selling her place and moving eventually that he agreed. He would only have to put up with her for a short while.

“Why were you so mad at that lady?” Nathan asked, watching Tabitha leave as well.

“I wasn’t mad,” he said, his voice quiet, controlled as he fought down a beat of disgust at his reaction to Tabitha. Since she broke up with him all those years ago, leaving him with an engagement ring and a broken heart, he had moved on. He’d got married to Gillian. Got a degree and a son, whom his wife had kept away from him.

Three weeks ago he buried his wife and got custody of his estranged son.

A lot of changes in his life that had taken up a lot of emotions.

Yet all it took was one glimpse into those aquamarine eyes, one flip of Tabitha’s copper-colored hair, one crooked smile from those soft lips for the old flame to reignite.

He had to keep his guard up if they would be working together at the clinic.

“I was scared for you,” he said to Nathan, giving him a lopsided smile. “You shouldn’t go running out into the road like that.”

“I thought Brandy would get run over.” Nathan glanced around, looking for the dog that had disappeared again. “Where did she go?”

As if on cue the dog reappeared, bounding over to Nathan, jumping around him, tongue out, tail wagging with glee.

Nathan tried to pet her but the golden retriever wouldn’t stand still. His grandmother had given Brandy to Nathan as a puppy but the dog had never been properly disciplined.

Which had made the long drive here from Arizona, where Nathan’s grandmother lived, even more tedious.

“That lady sure was pretty,” Nathan said in a matter-of-fact voice as he picked up a stick for Brandy to fetch.

“Yeah. She was.” That much he could admit.

He had a ton of things to do and to occupy his mind. Getting his son settled in and dealing with the new complication his mother-in-law had thrown at him this morning.

Gillian’s mother, Donna, couldn’t keep Gillian’s other horse, the one she was training when she died, at her place. Could Morgan please help her out?

He would have preferred that Donna simply sell the horse, but when she asked to talk to Nathan, she’d told him about his mother’s horse. And suddenly Nathan insisted that Stormy come to live with them at the ranch.

Now he had to find a way to make that happen.

“So should we start unpacking the boxes we put in your room?” he asked.

Nathan tossed the stick and Brandy took off after it. “I guess so,” he said, his voice holding little enthusiasm.

“We can finish decorating your room if you want,” Morgan said with a hopeful tone. “Hang up some pictures.”

This got him a lackadaisical nod as Nathan watched Brandy return.

“Drop it, Brandy,” Nathan commanded, but the dog wouldn’t relinquish the stick.

“I think we should tie Brandy up again while we unpack,” he suggested as he caught the dog by the collar. The dog immediately sat down.

“She doesn’t like being tied up,” Nathan protested. In fact, he had untied her a few moments ago, which was the cause of Brandy’s sudden flight across the road.

“Probably not, but until she gets used to this place, it might be a good idea. You don’t want her to get run over.” Brandy tugged at Morgan’s restraint, but he was used to handling uncooperative dogs and kept a steady pressure on the collar. “Sit,” he said, and once again, she did as she was told.

“Can I untie her when I’m done?”

“If you make sure you stay in the yard with her.”

Nathan stared at the dog and heaved out a long-suffering sigh. “My mom never made me tie her up.”

This didn’t surprise Morgan. Gillian had always prided herself on being free-spirited.

Which was probably why she never told Morgan that Nathan was his son until the boy was two years old.

“I know, but we live on a road and we don’t want anything to happen to her.” Morgan kept his tone even as he told Brandy to heel and led her back to the rope attached to the veranda and tied her up.

Nathan didn’t reply but followed Morgan into the house. He trudged up the stairs behind him, his footfalls heavy. Morgan knew he shouldn’t expect more enthusiasm from the boy over the situation. Thanks to Gillian, the kid barely knew him.

Morgan and Gillian had met during his first year of vet school. She was in town to compete in a rodeo. They fell hard for each other, got married quickly, and then, after a year, she left him, claiming that she didn’t want to be tied down.

Gillian moved back to her mother’s place in Idaho and returned to the life she’d lived when she and Morgan had met. Driving around the country, pulling her horse trailer behind her, entering any rodeo she could.

Two years after she left Morgan, he found out, via her mother, that he and Gillian had a son. A five-year-long battle for visitation rights followed soon after.

For some reason, Gillian kept Nathan away from him with her constant movement, chasing her dream of being a champion barrel racer. Gillian’s mother had no explanation either since she had become as estranged from her daughter and grandson as he was.

Then, this spring, as Gillian was competing in a rodeo up in Grande Prairie, her horse’s feet went out from under him around the second barrel. Gillian fell beneath him and, in a freak accident, was crushed and in a coma. Gillian’s mother, Donna, had flown in from Idaho to be at her daughter’s bedside and was with her when she died hours later. Donna had also arrived with Nathan.

Thus it was at the hospital, at his wife’s bedside, for the first time in the seven years Nathan had been alive, Morgan finally met his son.

They were complete strangers to each other. It was a horrible time. Nathan was withdrawn and grieving and clung to his grandmother, the only other person he was familiar with.

While Morgan was tempted to leave Nathan with Donna, he also knew the sooner he could take care of his son, the sooner they would bond.

And he also knew he needed to come back to a place where he had family and community.

Cedar Ridge.

So he contacted Dr. Waters, the local vet, about a job and managed to snag a commitment. He was supposed to start today but he’d asked if he could begin tomorrow instead.

He and Nathan had moved back to Cedar Ridge only yesterday and were barely unpacked. He wanted to spend one more day with Nathan before he went to school. Though it would be a scant three weeks before school was out, Morgan wanted to get Nathan used to the kids he would be attending school with. That way September wouldn’t be as much of a shock.

Thankfully Morgan’s father lived in Cedar Ridge and was willing to let Nathan come to his place after school. Cord and Ella, his brother and his fiancée, had also offered assistance as needed.

It was a patchwork support system but it would do for now.

He hoped by the time summer vacation began that he would have found a nanny or someone to help out.

“So, it’s a good thing that Uncle Cord and Auntie Ella came to help us get the house organized yesterday,” Morgan said to Nathan with forced joviality. “I’m sure you’ll get to be good friends with your cousins Paul and Suzy.”

“I never met them before.” Nathan’s tone indicated that he didn’t care if he ever met them again. He flopped on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if the conversation was now over.

“But you’ll get to know them better,” Morgan replied, struggling once again with a sense of sorrow. Ever since he met Nathan, the boy had been prickly and angry and rejected every advance Morgan made.

He knew Nathan was grieving and confused and upset, and that it would take time. Morgan tried hard to understand but each rebuff was like a blow.

“When do I get to see Gramma again?” Nathan asked.

“In a couple of weeks.” Donna had asked if Morgan would be willing to drive down to Idaho for her fiftieth birthday and he had agreed. The counselor he talked to had underlined the importance of maintaining contact with the one constant in Nathan’s life. “But for now, let’s see about making this room cozier.” Morgan pulled out his jackknife to cut the tape on one of the few boxes of personal items Nathan had.

Nathan charged to life and yanked the box away from Morgan. “Don’t touch my stuff,” he cried.

“I was trying to help,” Morgan said.

“Don’t need your help.” Nathan pushed the box under his bed, grabbed the other two larger ones and pulled them closer.

Morgan was too taken aback at the fury in his son’s voice to reprimand him.

“Okay. You can put what you want in the dresser. There are hangers in the closet for your other clothes. Any toys you have can go in the toy box.”

“Toys are for babies” was all Nathan said, shoving his hands in his pockets as he turned away from him.

His rejection was like a hit to the stomach. Morgan waited but Nathan didn’t turn around.

So he left, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the wall, dragged his hand over his face and uttered a prayer for strength and patience. He simply had to give him time.

For now, Morgan had his own unpacking to do.

He was fortunate that his father owned this house, giving Morgan a place to stay. The house had been part of a ranch that Boyce and Cord had purchased a few years ago and his father was willing to subdivide the acreage and sell it to him.

And thanks to his share of Gillian’s life insurance policy and his own savings, he had a down payment to put on the place. The irony of it all hadn’t escaped him. Gillian had given him more in death than she had in life.

Morgan pushed away from the wall and headed down the hall to finish setting up his bedroom. The bed, dresser and the bedside table his father and Cord had picked up at a yard sale were the only pieces of furniture in a room that looked like it could house a small family.

While he worked, Morgan listened for any sounds coming from Nathan’s room.

Nothing.

He was finished putting his own clothes away when his cell phone rang. It was his father.

“So, does the place feel like home yet?” Boyce Walsh asked.

Morgan looked around the bare room and chuckled. “Let’s just say I’m unpacked.”

“It’s a start. Do you want to go out for supper?” his father asked. “I don’t feel like cooking and I’m sure you don’t either. We could meet at the Brand and Grill.”

He hesitated. “What about the pizza place?” He wasn’t so sure he wanted to meet in the same place he knew Tabitha worked.

“I hate pizza. Ate too much of that in my bull-riding days.”

Morgan had to smile. His father often used his bull-riding days as a convenient excuse.

“Isn’t there another place we could go?” Morgan said.

“We could do Angelo’s but it’s too quiet.”

“Guess it’s the Brand and Grill, then.”

His father was quiet as if acknowledging how difficult going there could be for him.

“May as well get it over with,” Boyce said. “You’re going to run into Tabitha sooner or later.”

“I suppose.”

“Good. I’ll see you and Nathan then.” His father hung up and Morgan tucked his phone into his pocket, blowing out a sigh.

He certainly hadn’t figured on seeing Tabitha twice in one day.

He would see her at the clinic tomorrow as well. Maybe the more often he saw her, the quicker he would get used to seeing her around.