Page 12 of Seaside Cowboy's Second Chance

He asked the question he didn’t want to ask as if he just needed to put all the salt in the ocean into the wound. “Did you... did you love him?”

“It’s not...” She turned tormented eyes to his, blinking furiously. Yet a tear escaped her. She just nodded.

Pain and compassion warred in his heart. Did she love that man still?

Then Breeze took off in the direction ofthatcottage. It had a sad history, and locals avoided it. It had changed owners often until the legend started reaching even prospective out-of-town buyers.

“Breeze, no! Come back!” Skylar screamed.

Dallas took off running after the dog. Once another owner died a mysterious death, the heirs wanted nothing to do with the small house and couldn’t sell it. They’d rented it out through a local agency, but guests had trashed the house repeatedly until, after a few tries, the heirs let it be. Rumor had it someone had rented it again, but the renter had asked that their identity be kept confidential.

The town had scoffed. Nothing stayed a secret here for long. But of course, the locals never liked hanging out close to the out-of-the-way cottage, anyway, and the few who’d dared didn’t stick around in the twilight or darkness. So nobody had seen anyone driving up or walking to the cottage, and the town was shocked they still had no clue which of the tourists in town was the mysterious renter.

There was no car near it now, either.

Dallas caught up to the golden retriever and clipped her back on the leash. “It’s best not to go there, Breeze.”

Breeze gave out a whine and stayed standing, her head cocked on alert. It took three tugs on the leash to get her to trudge back to the ocean. Even then, she growled in the cottage’s direction.

Panting, Skylar leaned over and tried to calm the dog as she rubbed Breeze’s back. “Look, I don’t like it, either.” Then she looked up at Dallas. “Thank you for catching her.”

“You’re welcome.”

As expected, the place was deserted. Yet a weird feeling made the hairs stand up on the back of his head. As if... as if he were being watched. Not like people watching each other’s backs, like many would here. In a completely different way. But nothing seemed out of place. So why was he getting this strange feeling? After all, this was a peaceful town.

Still, he moved closer to Skylar protectively. The whiff of her peach shampoo still wreaked havoc on his senses.

“We’d better head home. I need to unpack, and I’m already way behind on Grandma’s wedding preparations.” Without looking at him, Skylar tugged at the leash.

“Okay.” His heart skittered strangely, especially for someone who totally, definitely, absolutely didn’t want to see Skylar any longer.

Breeze dug her paws into the sand, and after about ten tugs, it took Dallas’s help to get her moving. Maybe Skylar was affecting him this way, but as they left the shore, it was as if someone’s gaze sent a shiver through him.

––––––––

“Why don’t you justtell him?” Grandma’s words made Skylar look up from her porcelain teacup that evening.

Drinking tea on the terrace and watching the sunset or sunrise used to be their tradition. Every time, it was spectacular. Skylar had just had to paint it. Her heart shifted. She missed those days. Then it registered. Grandma had asked her a question. “Tell who what?”

“Tell Dallas about—you know?” Grandma’s eyesight behind thick glasses might not be the same, but she still saw everything. Even things Skylar didn’t want others to see.

“You know why.” Skylar clattered her smooth dainty cup onto its saucer, nearly sloshing the liquid over. Though she’d asked herself the same question many times. She repeated the words she’d told herself. “Besides, it’s no use anymore. It’s too late.”

“I saw the way Dallas looked at you today.”

Hope stirred her heart.

No. “What you saw was annoyance. I made my choice all those years ago. I have to accept the consequences.”

A spectacular play of peach, gold, and crimson reflected off the choppy waves. She’d painted it many times before, but her skills would never be enough to show its beauty. The gorgeous hues used to distract her. But not any longer.

How long had it been since she’d put anything on canvas? Nearly fifteen years. Ever since one painting had nearly brought her downfall and put her grandmother’s life at risk. Would being back here put her grandmother’s life at risk again?

Skylar winced. But how could she say no when Grandma asked for help with the wedding?

“Why do you keep punishing yourself? For something that wasn’t even your fault.” Grandma’s pale eyes, amplified by glasses, were kind, as always. Somehow, it only hurt more.

“I’m being realistic.” Skylar closed her eyes.

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