Second Chance Cowboy Read Free Page B

in the doorway, a strong whiff of smoke
accosted his nostrils. How many cigars had Harry smoked before he
got there? Evidently, the man wasn’t himself.
    Chance shot a look around the room.
Some of Harry’s greatest loves lined the walls. The older man
called this room his open scrapbook. Antique guns, dating back to
the Civil War, were on proud display in glass cases. Bookshelves
with works of famous writers, many autographed, filled the wooden
shelves, and an expensive collection of limited edition fountain
pens held a special place in a container on a small
table.
    The man liked precious and rare
finds.
    His first memory of coming to the
McAllister ranch involved Harry’s valuable collection of souvenirs.
Harry had given Chance a tour of the many exquisite items he’d
collected over his lifetime.
    Pain developed deep in his chest each
time he thought about the past.
    Being divorced took some getting used
to.
    He hadn’t wanted to come see Harry.
However, the sense of urgency in the man’s voice made it difficult
for Chance to dismiss the seriousness.
    Chance wondered if he was going to get
his balls busted by his ex-father-in-law. He hoped the guns weren’t
loaded. Harry had a temper and wasn’t afraid to flaunt it if the
need arose.
    Did Carly tell her father they’d spent
the night together two nights ago and about the argument that
followed?
    Rejecting the thought, Chance knew
that wasn’t like Carly. She wasn’t the type to kiss and tell, but
how well did he know her now? He hadn’t sat and had a conversation
with her in two years. When he’d met with her the other night,
talking wasn’t of importance. They’d been too busy exploring one
another for words.
    The part of his anatomy behind his
zipper twitched alive with the memory.
    If Harry knew and planned to unleash
his anger, Chance wouldn’t have a problem telling him to mind his
own damn business.
    Carly had opened up to him two nights
ago, only to turn around and slam his ass right out the door, all
in a course of eight hours. He didn’t need Harry’s input added to
the unpleasant mix.
    Uneasiness crawled down Chance’s
spine. Sweeping his glance around the lustrous space, he looked for
the changes he knew Carly would have made, and then he spotted a
big one.
    Missing photos.
    Once upon a time, one wall of shelves
held a row of framed photos of Chance and Carly from their wedding
day. Now the only pictures remaining were of Carly, a stepstool
arrangement of each of her birthdays, from her first to her
thirty-second, which she celebrated only a few weeks
ago.
    The top shelf stretched arms-long with
Devon’s smiling, dimpled baby face. Several from the smoldering
July afternoon when he’d made his entrance into the world and a
couple taken with Carly holding him. Only a few more. Too
few.
    Harry’s gray eyes followed Chance’s
line of sight. His sigh of displeasure sounded vast. He went to the
aged box on his desk, took out a Cuban cigar, and lit it. Chance
knew he’d tried to quit numerous times, but after his sixty-seventh
birthday, he said his greatest gift to himself would be to enjoy
life, one cigar at a time.
    “ Carly took the wedding
pictures down a while ago,” Harry explained through a cloud of
smoke.
    Chance shrugged. “Makes sense. We’re
divorced now.”
    Heading to one of the overstuffed,
brown leather chairs by the window, Chance sat and positioned his
back to the pictures. Being there was difficult enough, but to have
to stare into the faces of his lost loved ones would send him over
the edge.
    Harry followed suit, sitting on the
matching chair across from Chance, separated by a small glass-top
table that held a frayed-edged copy of Horse Illustrated .
The deep worry lines around Harry’s eyes and mouth and his pale
color concerned Chance. His age showed.
    “ I came when I could,”
Chance said and he removed his hat and hooked it on his
knee.
    “ I’m glad you did, son.” He
took a long hit of the cigar before