Page 14 of Seaside Cowboy's Second Chance

“I understand, Auntie.” Skylar made her voice chirrupy. Maybe too much. “Some other time. We can reschedule. Unless... unless you don’t have an opening in your schedule?”

“Are you kidding me? When would I have no time for you?” Auntie coughed as if realizing she’d said just that. “Meet me in an hour at the restaurant, all right? I should be done by then. I’m glad you’re here. I’m not going to pass up the chance to see you.”

Skylar perked up and pressed on the gas pedal, guiding the car toward Main Street. She could breathe easier now. “Great. I can pick up some desserts in the interim. Get chew toys for my new dog.”

Aunt laughed. “She’s going to be spoiled rotten.”

“As she should be.” Skylar stopped at one of the few traffic lights in town, then swallowed hard. Some difficult words had to be said. “I’m sorry for being away so much.”

“Don’t mention it. I understand. Children grow up. Leave the nest.” A note of sadness coated Auntie’s words.

Skylar had a feeling her auntie didn’t mean just Skylar. The light changed to green, and she drove forward. “See you soon.”

“Sounds great.” Auntie disconnected.

As Skylar made it to Main Street, her heart shifted to give space to a familiar guest—guilt. She woke up accompanied by guilt and brushed her teeth with it by her side. She shared her morning coffee with guilt.

Even if her aunt couldn’t hear her now or maybebecauseshe couldn’t hear, Skylar whispered, “I’m sorry, Auntie, for what I did. Or rather, for what I didn’t do.”

Inaction was as much a choice as action.

Growing up, she’d sensed some guilt on her aunt’s part, too, as if Auntie had somehow blamed herself for her sister falling in love with someone other than her husband. Or maybe Skylar was a painful reminder of the tragic past. Could they ever mend those bridges?

In those days, Skylar had felt closer to Mrs. Lawrence, Dallas’s mother, who’d become sort of a substitute mother and didn’t have Auntie’s qualms. Skylar grimaced as she made a left turn. She might’ve burned her bridge with Mrs. Lawrence beyond repair. Mrs. Lawrence adored her sons, and Skylar had done a lot of damage to Dallas.

She pursed her lips and did what she’d learned to do over the years—redirected her attention to something else. Something to stay in the present and semi productive.

This time, it was local businesses. She took her foot off the gas pedal as she guided her car along the main district.

In her previous visits, she’d always rushed to do as much as possible for Grandma, from scrubbing floors to catching up on laundry and trying to spend all their time together, so she didn’t have time for anything else.

She passed the stationery-souvenir store where Dallas’s brother worked sometimes. Once upon a time, it had carried her paintings and watercolors.

Okay, fine, she’d avoided stores here because she’d been scared to run into Dallas. Even if he spent nearly all his time on the ranch.

Her gut tightened again. But what other choice could she have made fifteen years ago?

Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

She sighed as she drove past a clothing store. Mannequins in the shop window displayed bright-colored shirts and teal or salad-green shorts and raspberry-hued sundresses and yellow straw hats. The T-shirts didn’t have her prints with local scenery anymore, and they shouldn’t have. Regret uncoiled in her stomach, nonetheless. She’d been so thrilled when the local businesses had started to carry her designs, and Dallas had celebrated it with her with peach ice cream and lemonade in their little cove, so hidden away it had somehow stayed undiscovered by tourists.

Once upon a time, she’d made matching T-shirts for the two of them. To tease him, she’d put her prints on blushing pink T-shirts, but he wore his proudly. If anyone questioned the color, he’d say, “It’s not pink. It’s salmon.”

Regret was another familiar guest. In some ways, she welcomed it. The moment she stopped feeling regret about the choice she’d had to make would be the moment she stopped respecting herself.

She parked near the only pet store in town and ran inside to get a couple of chew toys. As she paid the young cashier, her gaze flicked to a row of cars parked on the opposite street.

One of them attracted her attention, and she studied it as she walked outside, met with warm and humid air and a cloudless sky.

Hmm. A black SUV with tinted windows. The latter wouldn’t be a surprise but a wise decision here in summer if one wanted to wear shorts but avoid getting blisters from leather seats. But mud oddly covered the license plate, which was unusual as it hadn’t rained here for a while.

She drew a deep breath and slid inside her sedan, then turned on the engine. The SUV was probably out of state. They had people from all over the country here. Yet the dirt didn’t seem to be spread evenly over the vehicle.

Maybe she was just paranoid. The SUV didn’t take off when she did, and she released the air she’d held in her lungs. She paid attention to the rearview mirror, but the SUV didn’t follow. She considered making several right turns, then scolded herself.

At a crawling pace, she drove by the store titled Pirate’s Treasures. They still sold fashion jewelry made from seashells and more upscale pieces like pearl necklaces and bracelets. The sun shone brightly, showcasing those treasures in the shop window together with a mini treasure chest. That same sunlight played off the glass and metal ridges.

Then there was the barbershop that couldn’t be named anything other than Black Beards and More. It still had her drawing of a pirate on the shop window. Not many things changed in her hometown.

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