Page 13 of The Cowboy's Second Chance Bride

Sabrina Holloway. Boom. She was a roundhouse kick to the solar plexus. I’d walked into my office and nearly tripped over myself when I saw her standing by my desk.

And then I panicked. How she’d come to be here I’d find out later. But she had to go.

And then she was leaving, and I wanted her to stay. She calmly strolled out of my office like there wasn’t history between us, and I was no more important to her than a pesky gnat she’d taken a second to squash before moving along. Her backside was just as lovely as her front. Sabrina Holloway had been a knockout in college, but now—holy shit, she took my breath away. I’d walked into my office, never expecting she would be in there, and nearly lost my mind when I saw her. My body immediately betrayed me. My heart jumped into my throat, and my hands itched to renew themselves with how she felt. I wanted to hug her. I wanted to smile and tell her what a shitty twenty-four hours I’d had. She’d always been a good listener. I experienced a familiar flush of want that I hadn’t felt in years.

I should let her go. That was the best—the smartest—move for both of us. I would not drag her into this dogfight with my father. She’d been his target once before. I wouldn’t let that happen again.

But it hurt to watch her leave. I’d followed her career over the years, and no matter how many pictures of her I stared at, none captured just how remarkable her midnight hair, blue eyes, and cherry lips were. She was so much better in person.

And she was doing what I wanted. She was leaving.

I pounded my desk twice as I fought the internal struggle between what I wanted and what was right. I wanted her to stay. She needed to leave to stay out of my dad’s crosshairs.

I stared at the words she’d written in her loopy cursive:

Three things this room tells me about you.

1.You’re cold inside, which can also mean bitter and lonely.

How a man constantly surrounded by people could be lonely, I wasn’t sure. But bitter, yeah. I was bitter. Other than this company, nothing had turned out the way I wanted. I knew why, and it had been a choice I’d made, but yeah, I was bitter about it.

2. There are no pictures to celebrate your business success. None even on your book. I think it’s because you’re mad at yourself. Is it hard to look in the mirror? How can you open yourself up for dating if this is in the way?

For me, reflecting meant regretting, and I didn’t do that, so looking in the mirror was a waste of time.

3. The Cal I knew and the Cal you are today are not the same person. And something tells me this Cal isn’t very happy.

She’d gotten all that from my office. Or maybe, like me, she’d done an internet research. Either way, she’d gotten it right. And that infuriated me.

I pounded the desk one more time, then pushed off, giving in to my wants. In six long strides, I was outside my office and closing in behind her as she maniacally pressed the down button as if that would make the elevator car come quicker.

“Would you really be a love consultant for me? Set me up with other women? Watch me date?” I stood perpendicular to her and pressed one hand on the wall by the elevator doors. I leaned closer.

She side-eyed me once, then kept her attention on the elevator. “Why is it you have the slowest elevator on the planet? It’s three lousy floors. The Empire State Building’s elevators travel twelve hundred feet per minute. Your building is, what, thirty feet? Travels at a sloth’s speed.”

“The Empire State Building is one hundred two floors. If it didn’t travel fast, people on the higher floors would have to live there, going out once a week, or else spend their lives on the elevator. Answer me. You could really set me up?” Each thud of my rapidly beating heart echoed in my ears.

The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open. She walked into the elevator and turned to face me, a haughty look on her face. “Of course. That’s my job. That is what I was hired to do. Why wouldn’t I be able to?”

I stepped to the threshold and stuck out a hand to stop the door from closing. The last thing I needed was for everyone to find out the extent of our history and jump on it. This train wreck was already off the rails. Bringing Sabrina in was a total derailment catastrophe. So I kept my voice low.

“Because of everything between us.” I gestured to her and then to myself. “I’m the guy who took your virginity. That’s why.”

Her lips parted, hinting at a gasp, her cheeks going pink. Then her eyes narrowed, and I knew I’d sparked her temper. Sabrina had a tell. She stepped forward and rested a slender hand over the left side of my chest. It took everything I had to not flex.

“Calvin.” She looked up at me through sooty lashes. “Calvin, Calvin, Calvin.” She used my full name because she knew I hated it, and with each iteration she drummed her fingers against my chest in a distracting manner. What she said next gutted me. “You may have been the first explorer, but you weren’t the last.”

And then, to get me out of the elevator, she shoved me hard, her hand on the center of my chest, pushing me backward. I was over six foot three and a solid two hundred twenty pounds, and she still managed to knock me off-balance. I caught my footing as the doors to the elevator were sliding shut. I could tell by her stance she had a finger on a button, probably the one for closing the doors. She gave me a finger wave right before they snapped together, and the hum of the machine indicated its descent.

I stared at the steel doors. I had no right to be angry. She wasn’t my girl anymore. Yet the scenarios my imagination created weren’t kind to me. Logically, I knew I’d relinquished any right to have her. And I knew doing so meant she would find happiness elsewhere. I just didn’t want to think about it. Each internet search I’d done had been an act of torture. Yes, I was a masochist. With bated breath, I scanned the information from my searches, expecting at any time to see a wedding announcement or Sabrina in the arms of another.

Sabrina Holloway. She’d been everything—breath, laughter, warmth, and hope. I put a hand on my chest over the spot where hers had been and thought I could still feel heat.

“We need her, Cal. We need to get on top of this story,” Paul said behind me.

I stared at the closed doors, my racing heart returning to normal under my palm. I let out a slow exhalation, then turned to Paul. “Why do we need her specifically?”

My own father had tried to control me by threatening the one thing I wanted to keep safe. Then, because he still couldn’t control me, he’d struck again, only this time, his actions had brought that very person he’d worked so hard to erase from my life right back into it. What a fucking mess.

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