Page 40 of Seaside Cowboy's Second Chance

“See, Earl was supposed to return from his business trip by now. But he hasn’t shown up and isn’t answering his phone. Maybe he returned, and something’s wrong with his phone?”

Skylar doubted the latter, but it was kinder not to point it out.

Grandma sighed as Skylar helped her back in the car. “I could’ve saved myself the difficulty of getting in and out if I just stayed in the car.”

Skylar’s rib cage contracted as she slipped into the driver’s seat, and this time it wasn’t from the things that couldn’t be between her and Dallas. Grandma was such a permanent fixture in her life and the most necessary one. Skylar refused to think she could lose her. It would tear her apart worse than she’d torn apart that napkin.

All the years she’d spent away from Port Sunshine and the only family she had left weighed heavily on her shoulders. She’d told herself she had no choice. But maybe she was just placating her conscience. She’d studied art. She knew how differently artists could paint the same thing.

It was all about how you look at it.

But no matter what way she looked at it, her feelings for Dallas were returning. She waited for him to get in his rusty truck, her gaze taking in his muscular form while her entire being begged to be in his arms again. Then she started the engine.

“You miss him, don’t you?” Grandma clicked her seat belt closed.

Why deny the obvious? Especially to the person who knew her the best? “Yes.” Skylar pulled onto the gravel road, checking that he followed her.

“Then why don’t you—?”

“Grandma, please!” Skylar’s throat clogged up. Too many things, too many realizations were happening at once. “I’m here for you, not to rekindle a love that can’t be.”

“One thing doesn’t have to exclude the other,” Grandma muttered. “One day, you’ll realize how precious time is and how fast it flies.”

Skylar had already realized it. She just didn’t know how to change anything. Her throat clogged up further. But it wasn’t her grandmother’s fault. “I love you, Grandma.”

“I love you, too, Little Miss.” Her grandmother’s voice softened, and she sounded like she wanted to say more but chose not to.

Minutes later, they were all walking tothatcottage, the dog included. The closer they got to it, the more Breeze tugged on the leash. And her bark turned anything but friendly.

Dallas and Skylar exchanged glances.

“Do you think she senses something?” He voiced her thoughts.

“Or maybe she’s spotted a seagull she wants to chase.” She infused light notes into her words since she didn’t want to worry her grandmother, but her heart was heavy.

Her grandmother’s face looked ashen as it was, and Skylar suggested turning back several times. But Grandma put on her resolute expression and hurried forward, albeit in small steps.

Up close, the place still appeared menacing. Even if Skylar no longer saw it through the eyes of a terrified child, shivering from pouring rain and wincing from every rumble of thunder, who couldn’t outrun what she’d seen no matter how hard she’d tried.

The house squatted as if embarrassed by its sad history, especially against the spectacular backdrop of a gorgeous ocean, like a speck of dirt on a postcard. The roof missed a few shingles, and the windows were dark like gaps in teeth punched out in a fight.

A web on one of the windows with a fly in it made Skylar wince, and she jumped back.

“It’s okay,” Dallas whispered in her ear, his breath hot on her skin. He shielded her. “There’s no spider I can see.”

But she couldn’t hide behind his broad back. So even as her heart was beating fast for several reasons, she moved forward, carefully staying away from the web, though.

What flourished here were the weeds eagerly hugging the house, and the breeze brought a faint scent of stale french fries someone must’ve thrown there that might be moldy by now.

She eyed the porch warily. She remembered the porch from underneath as she’d huddled on the cold ground in the dark but dry place, howling an unhappy duet with the wind. Knowing she could never, ever go outside again.

But this wasn’t about her.

Concerned, she glanced at Dallas. No matter how painful what had caused her to run here had been, the porch had been a refuge from that horror. While what had happened inside the cottage for Dallas was something no teenager—no, no human being—should ever have to see.

“Are you okay with being here?” She shifted toward him.

“I don’t think either one of us is okay with being here. But what needs to be done needs to be done.” A muscle jerked in his jaw. But it was the only sign of his distress, and she forced herself to stay in one place instead of reaching out to him.

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