Page 3 of Seaside Cowboy's Second Chance

Why did her thoughts keep returning to him?

Grimacing, she considered going to the bathroom to clean up her blouse, now decorated with dirty streaks. Although itching to clean up, she squeezed her teeth and slipped into the driver’s seat. She’d have to carry the injured golden retriever to the veterinarian’s office anyway, so her blouse would just get dirty again.

Maybe she thought about Dallas so much because she was on his turf now, in several senses.

Or was her guilty conscience speaking? Though what could she have done differently? She couldn’t go back, not after... She shuddered as she took off from the gas station. But she should’ve talked to him instead of avoiding him every time she’d visited Grandma.

On her hands-free phone, she made a quick call to her grandmother about the delay.

Minutes later, she pulled up to the vet clinic, familiar from the times she’d visited it as a girl with Grandma’s cat. The cat had seemed to weigh a ton then.

A few vehicles occupied spots in the parking lot, including a rusty navy-blue truck she’d recognize from a million others. Her heart skipped a beat, and if there was another vet clinic in town, she’d have gone there.

No. Lots of people drove such trucks. And the truck’s window didn’t have the usual decal with the ranch logo.

Drawing a deep breath cleansed with peach car air freshener, she parked and opened the door for the dog. “You probably won’t agree, but I want that paw checked out first.” Her left arm started itching. “Hmm, we’ll check you for parasites, too. Then we’ll get you a bath and some food at the pet store.” She should’ve bathed her already, but she’d been too afraid to damage that paw. The awkward angle the dog held it at almost looked broken.

“That means I shouldn’t let you walk, either, okay?” She’d have to kiss her pristine blouse goodbye later, but she lifted the dog and harrumphed. Office work as an accountant did nothing for her biceps.

She wobbled toward the L-shaped stucco building—one of the few buildings in town without an ocean and/or a pirate theme. Instead, a kitten and a puppy got along fabulously on its front wall. She’d painted it that way, and Dallas had helped, mostly by coloring within the lines she’d drawn. At that age, she’d sometimes had difficulty coloring within the lines. Her rib cage contracted. How very carefree and happy she’d been then. Happy with Dallas.

The puppy’s once chocolate-brown floppy ears had faded in the sun, and the paint on the kitten’s pink nose was peeling. But otherwise, it appeared painfully familiar, just like so many other buildings in her hometown. Nostalgia tugged at her.

Enough.

Okay, this dog didn’t seem to weigh a ton, but her arms strained under the weight. She almost wished she’d encountered a stray Chihuahua instead. Or a stray kitten. Her grandmother’s cat from childhood seemed light as a feather right now.

Skylar slowed and frowned at the massive front door painted to match the puppy’s ears. With her hands occupied, how was she going to open the door? Okay, she’d done it with her elbow before. Then footfalls inside reached her. Or she could wait for someone to leave.

The front door opened, and she stepped aside to let them pass.

Only nobody stepped out. She looked up, and her heart started beating faster.

Seriously? Of all places on earth—okay, in their small town—why did Dallas have to end up at the clinic right this moment?

Was he... was he still angry with her? She’d broken off their engagement fifteen years ago. A long time. But it still made her heart ache, so his could be worse.

He gaped at her as if unable to believe his eyes. Well, welcome to the club.

Great. He looked great. No matter how grudgingly, she had to admit it. Outdoor labor at the family ranch sculpted muscles a black T-shirt did nothing to hide. The ranch logo stretched over his now-broad chest, and the sun had generously tanned his skin. Jeans bleached by the sun and not by chemicals hugged his trim waist and muscular legs and were tucked into cowboy boots.

His eyes, blue like the proverbial ocean, had once been open and cheerful. Half hidden under a brown Stetson, they were guarded now, and most likely, she was the reason for it. He was no longer the teenage boy she’d fallen in love with. Even promised to marry.

The dog lifted her head and growled at Dallas as if sensing animosity. Then she wiggled in Skylar’s arms, awarding a clump of dirt onto Skylar’s cheek. Bathing the stray seemed like a better and better idea, but then hindsight was twenty-twenty.

Always had been. But no time to think about regrets, even if her biggest one was standing in front of her. She stepped inside the building that smelled of fur and medicines.

Maybe because of the early hour the hall was empty, except for a woman in a wide-brimmed straw hat sidestepping them, holding a cat that hissed at the stray. Then another one with a turtle. Probably tourists. Though would Skylar recognize all the locals now?

Now she was alone with Dallas in the hall, and she felt it sharply.

She was the first to come out of a stupor and move forward.

But he was the first to find his tongue as he tipped his Stetson. “Hello, Skylar.” Although he kept his voice neutral, a muscle twitching in his cheek gave him away. His telltale sign. Yup. He was still angry with her. “I can hold the dog for you if you’d like.”

Guilt stabbed her. She’d hurt him, and he still wanted to help her.

She moved her tongue, even though it felt like a swollen log in her mouth. “Hello, Dallas. Thank you. But no thanks.” She hefted the dog, her muscles straining even more. “I’m fine. We’re fine.”

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