Page 19 of The Cowboy's Second Chance Bride

That was not what I’d meant, and he knew that. I tilted my head and studied him. “This plan your PR guy has is a good one. I think you know that, but I think trust issues are at play here.”

He put his foot down and pushed off the wall, coming closer to me. “I trust Paul immensely. Even though I think a love expert and me dating is a stupid idea.”

I chuckled. “I’m talking about you trusting Paul. Jace says your dad is behind this. He has some powerful alliances and is using them against you. I think that’s why you don’t trust yourself. You’re emotionally involved.”

Cal scoffed. His eyes darted from the cab back to me, and he opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

I turned and went back to my overnight bag. Then I stepped toward the street and waved at an approaching taxi. The car pulled to a stop in front of me. I opened the door and moved to get in, stopping to look at Cal one last time. There was something cathartic in being the one doing the leaving this time.

“Take care of yourself, Reenie,” he said quietly.

I didn’t know what to say to that. I could read a million things into those five words. Could that be regret?

“Good luck to you. You’re going to need it. If you don’t pull your head out of your ass and fight back, then you’ve already been beaten.” I got into the car.

I meant what I’d said. Events in his world looked to be spiraling out of control, and he didn’t have his hand at the helm. I didn’t want a front-row seat to watch him crash and burn. I would be too busy trying to stitch up my wound, which seeing him had reopened.

I did need to get a life. But to do so, I had to really and truly let him go, because if I’d learned one thing from this whole event, I’d still been holding on to the dream of him. Not anymore.

ChapterEight

SABRINA

Iwoke to pounding on my front door. I’d had a long layover in Denver followed by a flight with engine trouble that resulted in me getting home around four in the morning, and I’d only been asleep—I sat up slightly to look at the clock—four hours.

What maniac is at my door at the ungodly hour of eight? If it was a pest-control guy or solicitor, God help me, I might shoot them, and I wouldn’t feel bad about it either. I had a clear No Soliciting sign posted at the start of my very long drive, so for them to ignore it took balls. And stupidity. My house was set so far back off the street, no one would see me take out a solicitor and bury their body.

The pounding continued, followed by two presses to the doorbell in quick succession. Just for that, I wasn’t going to answer the door. Instead, I pulled the pillow over my head and cupped it around my ears as I tried to go back to sleep. And the silence was amazing. I drifted off as I mentally gave the person at my door my middle finger.

“Sabrina! Wake up.”

I sat up in bed and tossed the pillow in the direction of the man’s voice as I screamed. When I saw who was standing there I picked up another pillow and threw it at him.

“What are you doing in my house? Go away, Satan. Haven’t we had enough interaction?” I searched my nightstand for something else to throw.

On a ring dangling from Cal’s index finger was my hide-a-key. “Why have you kept the hide-a-key in the exact same place for, what, fifteen years now? Do you know how dangerous that is?” He picked up the tossed pillows and threw them back onto the bed.

I pulled the sheets up to clutch them over my chest. “I never once imagined you would be in my house, much less in the position to use the hide-a-key. Now, go let yourself out, and put the key back, and I won’t press charges.”

He frowned down at me as he stuffed the key into his pocket. “The key is the least of your problems right now.”

“Yeah, no shit. You being in here is a huge problem. Get. Out.” I pointed a finger toward my bedroom door.

He crossed his arms and stared down at me. “I’m serious. There’s something you need to see.”

I scoffed. “If we’re talking about the bend in your you-know-what, save it. I’ve seen it. I can confirm it’s a bit much but not really an issue, but you should talk to your doctor. If it’s still bugging you.”

Cal barked out a laugh. “Think about that often, do you?” From the back pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a large, folded manila envelope and tossed it onto my bed. “I’m talking about this.”

This was the Cal I knew. The long-legged, jean-clad, T-shirt-wearing type of guy with a quick smile and quicker laugh. He’d never been a suit-and-dress-shoes man. And though he still looked tired, and his frown lines were still deep and prominent, I saw a hint of who he used to be.

I picked up the envelope. “What’s this—a list with pictures of women you want to meet? Fat chance. Women like someone with a good sense of humor and who’s willing to spend time with them. You’re not that guy.” I lifted the prongs to open the flap.

“Yesterday, someone—a reporter, I guess—was watching our conversation. I can’t determine if they were close enough to hear, but I think likely not because all the speculation made in the included articles are not anywhere near what we discussed.”

I raised a brow as I slid out the papers. Cal wiped a hand down his face and sighed. He came to sit on the edge of my bed.

“Nope. Get up. Sit over there.” I pointed to a chair across the room.

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