Second-Chance Cowboy. Carolyne Aarsen

We could meet at the Brand and Grill.”

      He hesitated. “What about the pizza place?” He wasn’t so sure he wanted to meet in the same place he knew Tabitha worked.

      “I hate pizza. Ate too much of that in my bull-riding days.”

      Morgan had to smile. His father often used his bull-riding days as a convenient excuse.

      “Isn’t there another place we could go?” Morgan said.

      “We could do Angelo’s but it’s too quiet.”

      “Guess it’s the Brand and Grill, then.”

      His father was quiet as if acknowledging how difficult going there could be for him.

      “May as well get it over with,” Boyce said. “You’re going to run into Tabitha sooner or later.”

      “I suppose.”

      “Good. I’ll see you and Nathan then.” His father hung up and Morgan tucked his phone into his pocket, blowing out a sigh.

      He certainly hadn’t figured on seeing Tabitha twice in one day.

      He would see her at the clinic tomorrow as well. Maybe the more often he saw her, the quicker he would get used to seeing her around.

      And the quicker he could relegate any feelings he still had for her to the past, where they belonged.

       Chapter Two

      There they were again.

      Tabitha hung back, hiding behind the wall of the kitchen as she watched Boyce, Morgan and Morgan’s son, Nathan, walk into the café.

      Seriously? Twice in one day?

      She rolled her eyes heavenward as if asking God what He was trying to tell her.

      “You going to just stand here daydreaming?” Sepp Muraski growled at her. “We got customers and supper rush is starting.”

      Tabitha gave her boss a forced smile. Sepp glared back at her, his dark eyebrows pulled tight together, a few curls of brown hair slipping out from under the chef’s hat he wore over his hairnet.

      Some might consider him good-looking. Tabitha didn’t, and she suspected that was the reason he was always so grouchy with her. She had turned him down twice and he hadn’t seemed to have forgiven her.

      “On it,” she said, straightening her shoulders and sending up a quick prayer for strength, the right words and attitude.

      She would need all that and more after her encounter with Morgan and his son this afternoon.

      The Walsh men were already seated when she approached them, coffeepot in one hand, menus in the other.

      “Coffee?” she asked as she set the menus down in front of them.

      “I’d love a cup,” Boyce said with a grin, pushing his cup her way. “Pretty quiet in here,” he said, making casual conversation.

      Boyce stopped in at the Brand and Grill from time to time, as did Cord, Morgan’s brother, so Tabitha was accustomed to seeing Walshes around. But she still had to fight a sense of shame every time she saw Boyce. She felt like she had a huge L written on her forehead because of the money her father had cheated Boyce out of.

      I’m working on repaying it, she reminded herself, thinking of the renovations she was doing to the house she’d inherited from her father. Each new cabinet, each piece of flooring, each lick of paint made the house more sellable, which would mean more money to give to Boyce to repay him for what her father had done.

      Then she could tackle the yard, a job that seemed so daunting she avoided thinking of it most of the time.

      “It will get busier,” Tabitha said as she turned to Morgan. “Coffee?”

      He just nodded, looking at the menu.

      Okay. She could do the avoiding thing too. She glanced over at Nathan, who was looking at her. “Can I get you anything?” she asked him.

      “You’re the lady that almost ran over Brandy,” Nathan said, his tone faintly accusing.

      “Not quite,” she said, her ribs still sore from hitting the steering wheel of her truck. “How is your dog?” she asked.

      “She’s fine.” Nathan just held her gaze. “I got the dog from my gramma and soon I’m getting a horse too.” His eyes brightened for a moment.

      That was some generous gramma, Tabitha thought.

      “What horse is this?” Boyce asked as Tabitha poured Morgan his coffee.

      “Gillian’s horse,” Morgan put in. “She was training it before...” He paused, glancing over at Nathan.

      She quickly spoke up with forced cheer. “So, Nathan, we have chocolate milk, orange juice and pop. What can I get you to drink?”

      “Chocolate milk,” he said, looking down at the menu again.

      “Be right back.” She scurried off to take care of that. She snagged a coloring book and a pack of crayons, wondering if he was too old for that, but she figured it was worth a try.

      When she came back, Boyce and Morgan appeared to still be talking about the horse Nathan was expecting.

      “You could get the horse trained?” Boyce said.

      “But who could do it?” Morgan asked.

      “My mommy was training it already.” As he spoke Nathan looked more animated than he had in the past few minutes. “She loved that horse. Said it would be a real goer.”

      “Here’s your chocolate milk,” Tabitha said to Nathan. “And I thought you might enjoy this.”

      She set the crayons and coloring book in front of him. To her surprise, he grabbed them and opened up the book.

      “Tabitha knows about horses and horse training,” Boyce said suddenly, looking up at her. “She could help you out.”

      Tabitha shot him a horrified look. What was he trying to do? Surely he knew the history between her and his son?

      “Would you be able to train my mom’s horse?” Nathan chimed in, looking suddenly eager as he leaned past his father. “I so want to be able to ride Stormy.”

      Tabitha felt distinctly put on the spot. And from the glower on Morgan’s face, she suspected he felt the same.

      “I’m pretty busy,” Tabitha said, and that wasn’t too much of a stretch to say. “Two jobs, and I’m renovating the house.”

      “We can find someone else,” Morgan said, giving his father a knowing look.

      “Tabitha is capable.”

      “She said she was busy.”

      Morgan’s dismissive tone shouldn’t bother her. It was better for everyone if they kept their distance. Though his mother, with her relentless disapproval of Tabitha, had passed away many years ago, the shame of what her father had done to his hadn’t.

      When Floyd Rennie left town three years ago, he had also left a number of citizens of Cedar Ridge high and dry when he decamped with money they had invested with him for the building of a new arena. It was all part of Cedar Ridge’s great hope to become part of the Milk River Rodeo Association circuit, thereby raising the profile of their local rodeo.

      The arena was only half completed when her father left, taking the investors’ money with him.

      The most prominent of whom was Boyce Walsh. Morgan’s father.

      Her father died a year later, leaving Tabitha the house she was working on now. She had hoped to sell it but the real-estate agent said she could get double for it if