Second Dance Cowboy (Second Chance) (2 page)

BOOK: Second Dance Cowboy (Second Chance)
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“Probably, bu
t you’ll see things differently in time.” Deckland motioned for Dillon to sit on the nearest stool at the bar. “Give us two shots here, Starkey.”


I won’t see this as anything but Dante’s betrayal.” Dillon sat but the tension remained in his muscles.


Why are you fighting over something that’s already gone? Time to face the facts. Cassie and you were never meant to be together.”

Dillon
shook his head as Starkey set two filled shot glasses in front of them. “Just because Dante can’t keep his dick in his pants doesn’t mean I should face anything.” He picked up the small tumbler, brought it to his lips and sucked the liquid down. The fire burned all the way into his stomach, and thankfully, he felt layers of his anger release.

“Dante’s only half responsible for this, brother.” Deckland sipped his whiskey. “He hasn’t forced Cassie into anythin
g. She has gone willingly into all of this. In fact, she’s been after him for quite some time now. Just as soon as you took off, she was coming around the house. And it’s all history. You and Cassie may have had some good in your relationship, but it lacked that certain spark. You know what I’m saying is true.”

“I beg to differ,” Dillon mumbled.

“Besides the sex.”

Dillon
shrugged and ordered another shot. “When was the last relationship you had? Hell, when was the last time you had sex?” Of course, Dillon couldn’t consider himself a man with a lot of relationship experience to base his beliefs on, but things had been pretty hot between the sheets with Cassie and everything else just sort of fell into place.


This ain’t about my love life, partner. It’s about yours. You need a woman who knows what she wants. Cassie has always been confused about her life, unless she was making a choice for a new pair of shoes,” Deckland said.

Dillon didn’t even wait for Starkey to set his drink down. He took it from
the bartender’s hand and, like the last, as soon as it touched his lips it was emptied. He set the glass down with a crack.

“You may want to sl
ow down there. This stuff isn’t your watered-down whiskey.” Deckland finally finished his first.

“Don’t need you to worry about me. A good drunk is just what this cowboy needs.”

****

“Okay, so tell me again
, why we are out in this weather?” Peyton Keller asked her friend, Aspen, as they pulled up in front of the country bar. “You know this isn’t my thing.”

“And that’s why we’re doing this.
Look, you wouldn’t go with me to that new club in San Antonio, so you should be able to handle this place.”

Peyton glanced across the se
at of the car and caught her dearest friend with a pensive eye. “We should be home tonight. Didn’t you listen to the weather forecast? There’s a tornado warning for our area.”

Aspen rolled her eyes and moaned
. “You’re home every evening. Come on, Pey. How often do you get an evening out? You’re home with Oliver night after night.”


That’s because he’s my son and my responsibility.” She’d never once regretted not having a social life and realized that Aspen, who didn’t have children, didn’t understand. “If you ever settle down, your priorities will change.”


Don’t get me wrong, I love Oliver, too. But, you’re the oldest thirty-year-old I’ve ever met. Wouldn’t you like to start dating again? Don’t you miss the feel of a man’s—”

Peyton threw up her hand. “You can stop right there, thank you
very much. Between taking care of Oliver and running the dance studio, I don’t have time for dating.”

Aspen huffed. “Okay, let’s not talk men
tonight. Let’s go in and have a glass of wine. Does that sound good?”

“Yes, a glass of win
e does sound appealing.” Peyton looked through the windshield at the pouring rain. “Think we can get inside without looking like we’re competing in a wet T-shirt contest?”

“No worries for me.
The girls are nice and cozy in this padded Victoria’s Secret bra.” She chuckled and drove her words home by cupping her breasts.

“At least one of us came prepared.” Peyton shook her head. “Ready?”

They darted from the car and raced up the sidewalk, pushing open the door in record speed. They were only slightly damp and Peyton did a quick check at her reflection in the mirror at the entrance to make sure her thin bra did the trick.
No nips showing
. Of course, with barely-there-boobs, she never had to worry much, not like Aspen who had bragging rights. Of course, anything that could be enhanced, Aspen would. Peyton had given up long ago on enhancing any of her body parts. Probably about the same time Oliver’s dad had walked out on them, leaving her to care for their young child. She’d been working hard since, going through life focused, careless if she ever met another man.

Once bitten was enough for her.

As they walked further into the bar, Peyton noticed a few heads turning and ogling. Not at her, of course. Aspen’s pert Cs always stole the spotlight. Peyton giggled as a sloppy drunk almost fell off his barstool from gawking at the main attraction. Poor fellow.

“How about there?” Aspen pointed
to two empty seats at the bar.

“I say there.” Peyton
started toward a table in the corner, not waiting for Aspen’s refusal, which she knew would come. But when it did, it was too late because Peyton was already sitting.

“It’s just like you to sit a
way from the crowd.” Aspen pulled out a chair and plopped down. “We can’t see anything from here.”

“And what is it about this crowd that you’d like to see? Maybe the drunk sitting at the bar
who almost fell face first into your cleavage…or the couple of cowboys who are sitting at the bar nursing their shot glasses…wait…” She narrowed her eyes, wanting to get a better look. “Oh my. I know him.” Her mouth went dry.

“Who?”
Aspen craned her neck.

“Him. The cowboy in the blue shirt. I went to school with him.” Peyton swallowed the sudden ache in her throat.

“Wow…I wonder if he’s single.” Aspen wriggled her thin brows.

“I’m not interested.” Peyton shook her head.

“I’m not talking for you, sweetie. I’m most definitely interested.” Aspen purred. “Hang on, I’m going to get us a drink.”

Peyton chuckled as her friend took the long way around
the bar, gliding toward the cowboy duo and made her presence with a broad smile. Only one of them glanced, and it wasn’t the one Peyton knew—Dillon. Memories flooded back and her skin heated. Where had time gone so fast? She hadn’t thought of Dillon in, well, at least the last twenty-four hours.

S
he wished Aspen would hurry with her drink.

Suddenly, Peyton couldn’t keep from squirming in the wooden
chair and tossed her long hair over one shoulder. Why should it matter now that she’d had a crush on Dillon? After all, she didn’t know too many girls in high school who didn’t fall for him. He’d never glanced her way or knew she existed—until after graduation. She’d been waitressing at a diner, saving every dime to head to New York to fulfill her dreams of becoming a professional dancer.

One
particular night, Peyton had been working alone, the restaurant was empty, and she’d dropped quarter after quarter into the jukebox as she’d danced with a broom, practicing routines. She’d looked up from her stick companion and there he was, sex appeal in cowboy boots. He’d tipped his hat at her and she’d felt her virgin body come alive. As foolish as it was, she’d lost control. One smile her direction had turned her panties wet. Even at eighteen, Dillon had projected manly status. Tall, slender and confident. What wasn’t to like?

He’d
taken the corner booth and ordered a large slice of apple pie. Her hands had been shaking when she brought him his order and, in her haste, she’d spilled hot coffee on the crotch of his Wranglers. Without thinking, she’d grabbed the towel from her apron and quickly dabbed at the liquid—and she’d almost passed out when his zipper bulged.

“Earth to Peyton…”

Aspen’s voice jarred Peyton from her thoughts. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She relieved her friend of one glass of wine and took a long, needed sip.

“You okay? You look a little flustered.” Aspen sat down.

“I’m fine.” No, she wasn’t.

“Is it the cowboy? I could see getting all hot and bothered over a man that looks that good.”
Aspen sighed as she slid her mascara-rimmed gaze across the room, catching Dillon in her sights. “The other one’s not so bad either.”

“If you say so.” Peyton didn’t want to reveal her secret crush for Dillon, or the fact that he’d
warmed her soul only to stand her up. She took another lengthy drink. Why did it matter anymore that he’d asked her out but left her sitting at the restaurant alone? After all, enough time had passed, as well as life had moved on.

Aspen’s gaze narrowed over the rim of her glass. Setting it down, she said, “Peyton, is there something you’re not telling me?”

Peyton quickly shook her head. “No. What would I be hiding? If you like Dillon, ask him to dance.” She told herself that she didn’t care one bit.

“Oh, that’s his name? Dillon
? Nice. I dated a Dillon while I was in Florida. Too bad I found out two weeks into our relationship that he was gay. He was talented in many ways.” She rolled her tongue along her bottom lip. “And too bad this Dillon didn’t even look at me when I approached. He’s not interested. However, the bigger one certainly did seem attentive. I should ask him to dance. Think he’ll say yes?”

Peyton barely heard her
friend over her own thoughts of gloom. “You’ll never know unless you ask.”

“True.” Aspen tapped a long red nail against her glass. “Do you mind?”

“Go on, hun. I’m a big girl and am fine sitting here alone.” She didn’t want to keep her friend from having fun. Peyton wasn’t much in the mood for a good time anyway. Aspen’s point that everyone could use socializing made sense, because it’d been so long for Peyton that she now felt like a fish out of water.

There was
never enough hours in a day for entertainment. And she knew time was always the go-to excuse she used.

Peyton
made a decent enough living as owner of Season of Dance Studio, but just like most people she knew, she lived paycheck to paycheck. Oliver’s dad hadn’t paid child support in three years and she’d given up on ever seeing a check. In truth, what she wanted, more than his money, was for Richie to participate in Oliver’s life. She’d also given up on ever seeing that happen. Some men weren’t meant to be fathers, Richie included.

She couldn’t change the past, but she could make a future for her son. That’s what mattered. She did
n’t have time for fun and games, especially with men like Dillon. He was a smooth talker and she’d had enough charm to last a lifetime.

Peyton watched as the cowboy sitting next to Dillon slid off his stool, took Aspen’s hand and they moved toward the small dance floor. Aspen gave
Peyton a wink and thumbs up. She doubted she’d see her friend for the duration of the night.

 

CHAPTER TWO

DILLON HAD SEEN
her walk in. He’d known immediately who she was.
Peyton Keller
. He’d wanted to turn to watch her pass, but he didn’t want to come off as one of the other drunks who’d almost fell from their stools when she’d walked in with her friend.

Her frien
d, he thought she’d called herself Aspen, had stolen Deckland and now Dillon was left alone to smother his despair in alcohol. He was feeling the effects, and his anger had subsided, for now at least.

He’d recover in time. Hell, if he hadn’t already.

He brought the whiskey to his mouth and stopped as he caught a movement of blue in his peripheral. Peyton was passing.
Damn!
He didn’t remember her being so, well, so damn shapely. He kept his gaze on her and her nice-fitting jeans. She’d filled out, and had lost the severe bun she’d worn through school. Her hair was a shiny color of black and hung effortlessly down her slender back. He wondered if she remembered him. Probably not. It’d been years since they’d seen each other.

She disappeared
into the women’s restroom. A few minutes later, she came back out.

Not in the mood for
socializing, he lowered his chin as she started to pass for a second time, but inadvertently his gaze came up at the worst possible time and met hers. He wasn’t a rude man, and he certainly could have allowed her to walk on by because she didn’t seem to recognize him, but he went against better judgment and said, “Hi.”

“Hi, Dillon.” One
corner of her glossy lips lifted.

He stared into her mocha eyes
. Why didn’t he recall them being so deep and amazing? Was it the alcohol? No, he didn’t believe so. And hell, she even knew his name. “You remember me?”

“Are you surprised?” she asked.

Did he sense a bit of sarcasm in her tone? “Yes, I am.”

BOOK: Second Dance Cowboy (Second Chance)
2.31Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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