Page 16 of The Cowboy's Second Chance Bride

Jace rubbed at the inner corner of one eye with his thumb while he avoided eye contact. His expression bothered me, like he was trying to hide his pity or poking himself in the eye to keep himself from saying something.

I crossed my arms. “I know y’all don’t think I should adopt, but I am tired of being alone. You know this. I have tried waiting. I have tried dating. I’ve tried in vitro. None of those are working out for me. It’s time I take charge of my life.” We’d had this discussion a bazillion times.

“It’s not that. It’s the single parenting. Hell, coparenting is rough. These kids eat us alive every day. You know, my sister refuses to babysit them. They switched out her expensive face cream for mayo.”

I smothered a laugh. “That’s your kids, Jace. Not all kids are like that.”

“Yeah, but you don’t get to choose, and you’re getting a kid who essentially was abandoned. Mere was reading up on attachment disorder. She said if you do adopt, you’re just gonna have to move next door. You can’t be all by yourself in Texas.”

Tears stung my eyes. “That’s so sweet. I just…” I pressed my hand to my mouth to keep from crying. I really did have great friends.

“Hell, woman, I don’t know what part you thought was sweet.” He shook his head, confused. “Where are you headed? Want to do…” He glanced at his watch. “Brunch?”

It was my turn to shake my head. “I want to get home. I have to call the potential client I came to town to see, and then I’m going to grab my bags and try to catch the next flight home.” I stood, and Jace did too. “I hope you get your fishing trip. I hope Cal survives this smear campaign too. And I hope that’s the end of my involvement. I’m going to focus on what’s ahead for me. Like trying to find another way to make twenty-five K.”

Jace lifted a brow. “What about that matchmaker documentary? Is it going to happen?”

I’d been asked to pair up with my good friend Nick Trask, an A-list actor, and help him find love. A widower for a handful of years, he’d asked me to help him get a second chance at love and had casually mentioned that to a director friend, who was now trying to sell it as reality TV.

“Magic 8 Ball says all signs point to yes.” I opened my arms for a hug. “But it won’t pay out for a while. Longer than I am willing to wait.”

He wrapped me up. “Well, if the Magic 8 Ball says yes, who can argue with that? Can I give you a ride?”

My phone chimed at the same time Jace’s did. We pulled them out.

“That’s interesting,” I said, looking at the screen. “Clever line. Optium says CEO will test dating safety on new app and will use a matchmaker. Ruse or desperation.”

Jace looked between his phone and me. “Since when did you turn on notifications for Cal?”

“When Morgan Baker approached me.” I tucked my phone back into my purse.

“Will you turn them off again?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. I probably should. Though I’m curious to see how this plays out. You should get to Cal. I’m guessing his PR person released the news about a matchmaker, but the smear campaign is getting the headlines. He could probably use a friend.”

He nodded and stuffed his phone into his pocket. He started to turn, then stopped. “Did you ask him why he did what he did back then?”

I knew what Jace was referring to. “Back then” meant when Cal had practically left me at the altar.

“I didn’t really get the chance. Why don’t you tell me now?” I quirked a brow.

“I only know the basics, and it leads to more questions than answers. Besides, it’s his story to tell. But, man, I wish he would tell it.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Call if you need anything, and I’ll still see you next month at the ranch.”

I placed a hand over his. I’d once been mad at Jace for knowing what he had known and not telling me, but my father had helped me understand that telling me would have been like picking sides. He was too loyal a friend to both of us to do that. And—I knew this to be the cruelest part of it all—whatever Jace knew, telling me would not make anything better. Jace couldn’t fix the break by spilling his guts.

So, whatever it was, it had to be bad. But not knowing nearly drove me mad. When the mind didn’t have the slightest idea of what to make of a situation, it created its own narrative. And the story—or the several stories I’d created—had been just awful.

I gave his hand a squeeze. “I’m looking forward to getting away. Cricket and I are already planning some girl-only retreats. So prepare yourself to single parent.”

We said our goodbyes, and I watched him walk out of the lobby. Then I went to my room and called my potential client, who didn’t answer. The client hadn’t responded to the two emails I’d sent either. Rubbing the pads of my fingers over my thumbnail, I considered my next step.

I moved to the window to look outside at the city. Mindy was busy, and it had only been half a day since we’d last talked. This wasn’t out of the ordinary, yet my gut told me something was off.

Ha. Something was definitely off. I’d just seen Cal Beckett for the first time in ten years. So, yeah, things were definitely off. And that was likely why my gut was all twisted up.

I pulled out my phone and read the article from the notification earlier:

CEO of Optium, Calvin Beckett, talk show’s favorite safety guru, is being called out for profiting from selling families on personal safety while not having a safety plan of his own. The accusation is that Beckett, known for his initiative rewarding women’s safety, avoids personal relationships, as he believes a family would be too hard to protect, and that there really is no such thing as safety.

---