The Second Time Around Read online

  “What the hell did you do now?” pretty much summed up all the messages from his older brother, Will Jr., and “What’s going on? Why doesn’t anybody tell me anything?” was about all his little sister, Gemma, had to contribute.

  This time the notification on the screen was a calendar reminder he’d put in months ago.

  July 16: Call mom re: B STAR trip

  Today he was supposed to give his mom an answer about whether he’d be joining her for a week at the rescue ranch that was one of his family’s pet charities for as long as he could remember. She’d planned the trip during one of her empty-nest moments, now that Gemma had started college, as a bonding experience for the two of them. He’d kind of blown her off at the time and then totally forgotten about it.

  Staring at the screen, he choked up a little, despite being pissed at his mom for not even trying to stand up for him. He wouldn’t be making that call. They wouldn’t be bonding over anything anytime soon… maybe not ever.

  “Fuck!”

  He threw his phone on the passenger seat and thumped his head on the steering wheel. He would not cry in public. He would not cry in public.

  He took deep breaths until the need faded. Then he grabbed the phone again and worried his lower lip.

  Some of his happiest memories from childhood were from the B STAR. It was one of the few actual “family” vacations they took together. He couldn’t remember why his parents had stopped going, especially given the size of the check they still wrote the place every year and the fundraising his mother did on their behalf. Maybe the “kids” had just gotten too old for it.

  The name stood for Better the Second Time Around Rescue, and as he stared at the letters on the screen, his lips began to curve up for the first time in days.

  He’d asked for a sign. What better place to go to figure things out than a home for the unloved and unwanted… his very own island of misfit toys?

  It wasn’t a permanent solution, but it was a place to start. He’d been around horses his whole life. He knew his way around a stable, at least enough to be useful. Texas was a long drive, but he could feel the weight on his chest lifting the more he thought about it. He had a plan, somewhere to go, somewhere with nothing but fond memories and plenty of work to keep him out of his head for a while. It was like fate had thrown him a lifeline.

  “Perfect.”

  Scanning through his phone until he found the address, he started the engine again. After putting it into the navigation system, his phone connected to Bluetooth, and he cranked up his road-trip playlist. With a deep breath and a silent prayer, he joined the stream of bustling humanity and headed for the highway.

  Chapter Three

  THE BUTTERFLIES started a mosh pit in his stomach as soon as he pulled off the main road and drove under the rusted-metal scrolling B and five-pointed star mounted between weathered wood posts. Much of the place was the same as he remembered from fourteen years ago, like the rows of fences and pens filled with animals and the big red barn next to the house. But a lot had changed too. The main house had been repainted a deep green with white trim and shutters. There were new outbuildings and shelters scattered among the old. And llamas, alpacas, a camel, and an ostrich had joined the horses, donkeys, goats, and cows beyond the fences.

  His little red convertible stuck out like a sore thumb among the dusty, beat-up trucks and SUVs in the gravel lot. Fixing his gaze straight forward, toward his goal, he ignored the men and women he passed as they turned to mark his approach, so his nerves wouldn’t get the better of him. As messed-up as he was right now, his mask was going to be fragile enough. He couldn’t afford any distractions.

  He parked in front of the main house, next to a white pickup with the B STAR logo on the side. The two people sitting in rockers on the front porch stood up as he pulled in, and an involuntary “Helllloooo cowboy” escaped his lips before he could rein it in, momentarily distracting him from his nervousness.

  Although she was a bit older, he recognized the silver-haired woman from his childhood and the ranch’s promotional materials—Phyllis Wharton. She’d started the rescue with her husband thirty years ago. But the cowboy next to her was all new, and all beefcake. Older than Jordan usually went for, maybe in his late thirties, the man was still damned fine, so exceptions could be made. Tall and lean, with worn jeans and a thin T-shirt that hugged him in all the right places and showed off tanned muscled arms, Jordan could almost imagine those hard hands, lips, and stubbled jaw on every inch of his body.

  Damn.

  He really should’ve found somewhere to sow his oats before driving into the middle of nowhere, even deeper into the heart of the Bible Belt, for a prolonged stay. More poor planning on his part. But to be fair, he’d had other things on his mind right up until this very moment.

  Luckily, Jordan was still wearing his sunglasses, so his ogling wasn’t quite so obvious. He’d hate to get punched before he’d even gotten a chance to plead his case.

  Focus, Thorndike. You’ve got a little old lady to charm.

  He got out of his car, and Phyllis’s weathered face split into a welcoming smile as she descended the steps to greet him.

  “Hey there! Welcome to B STAR rescue!”

  In her crisp plaid short-sleeved pink blouse, jeans, and boots, she looked almost exactly how Jordan remembered, though her hair had gone from washed-out blonde to silver. Her open smile and cheerful voice eased some of the ache in his chest, and the broad smile he gave her in return was only partially forced.

  “Hi. I’m sure you don’t recognize me, but my family used to come here all the time when I was a kid. I’m Jordan Thorndike. My mother might have talked to you about coming out this summer?”

  Phyllis’s eyes widened a bit, and Jordan held his most winning smile. Just because his family had disowned him didn’t mean he couldn’t use their name to get what he wanted. He wouldn’t abuse it to get special treatment. He didn’t want special. He wanted to be worked into exhaustion every day so he didn’t have to feel anything at all for a while. But he wasn’t above using his family to get his foot in the door.

  “Oh my word, Jordan! I haven’t seen you since you were a little thing, tagging after your big brother and spending so much time with the horses we thought we should set you up a bed in the barn.”

  More tension leeched from his shoulders. Phyllis was a saleswoman. She had to be to keep the donations flowing, but genuine caring lurked beneath her mask, unlike most of the people in his parents’ circles. She was a good person. She had to be to give her whole life to the rescue, and it was nice to be remembered.

  “That was me,” he replied, shifting so he stopped catching the hottie on the porch out of the corner of his eye. The man hadn’t moved or said anything yet, and Jordan was still finding him a little too distracting for his own good.

  “Your momma did send us word she was thinking of coming down for a spell, but she said she’d prefer to wait ’til fall when it’s not quite so hot,” Phyllis continued, her smile undimmed.

  “Yeah. I know. I’m not exactly sure if she’s still going to make the trip at all, but I decided to come down anyway.” He shifted and shot a nervous glance toward the man on the porch before lifting his sunglasses and holding Phyllis’s gaze. “I’d actually like to talk to you about maybe staying on here for a little while… volunteering with the animals, if possible.”

  Her smile slipped, and her silver eyebrows lifted, stark against the brown of her skin. “You want to volunteer?”

  “Yes. I’m not looking for any special treatment or tours of the facilities like before. I want to work, just like the rest of the volunteers, and maybe stay in one of the bunkhouses or something. I don’t need anything fancy, just a roof and maybe some meals,” he said, upping the wattage on his smile.

  Her eyebrows drew down in confusion, and she pursed her lips. After shooting a quick glance at the man behind her, she said, “I’ll be honest with you, Jordan, you surprised me. But… why don’t you come ins
ide for a drink and we’ll talk?”

  She lifted her arm, indicating he precede her, but he shook his head.

  “Ladies first.”

  At the top of the stairs, she stopped in front of the hottie in the straw cowboy hat and said, “Jordan, this is Russ Niles, my foreman and right-hand man. Russ, this is Jordan Thorndike. His family has been a very generous contributor to our little operation here for forever, and longtime friends.”

  Russ’s hand was warm, hard, and calloused as he shook Jordan’s, and damned if Jordan didn’t feel it all the way to his cock. The man was even yummier up close. Thick brown hair peeked out from under his hat, and chocolate-brown eyes held his for far too short a time before turning back to Phyllis.

  “Nice to meet you,” Russ replied shortly.

  Not a single spark of interest had lit the man’s eyes, crushing any fantasies Jordan might have dreamed up.

  The good ones are always straight.

  Even as wounded and fragile as Jordan was, the man’s lack of interest only stung a little. Straight was straight, and trying to change that was a waste of time. Besides, he wasn’t there for sex. He could find a club or bar within driving distance if he really needed to scratch an itch. Houston was less than two hours away, and he’d never had trouble getting picked up. He spent countless hours grooming himself and sweating at the gym to make sure of that.

  His loss.

  He still smoothed a nervous hand over his flat stomach and tugged at the waistband of his shorts to make sure nothing was out of place. But he needn’t have bothered, because the man only turned on his heel and headed down the stairs without another word.

  Alrightee, then. I didn’t want to talk to you anyway.

  Jordan still watched him go, enjoying the view, until Phyllis cleared her throat, offered a slightly more forced smile, and said, “Come on in out of the heat, and I’ll get you somethin’ to wet your whistle.”

  At the enormous wood-plank kitchen table, Phyllis served him a tall glass of lemonade before taking a seat on the bench across from him.

  “How’s your mama doin’ these days?”

  “She’s well… busy with all her charities as usual,” Jordan answered automatically.

  “Yeah, I remember. She’s got a good heart, and we’re grateful for all her hard work. So, you want to come work with us for a while?” she asked, studying his face with faded blue-gray eyes.

  “Yes. Like I said, I’m not a complete novice. I’ve worked in your stables before, and others as well. I know how to handle horses, and I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty or learn how to help the other animals too. I want to work.”

  A trickle of sweat slid down his side, and he shifted uncomfortably before downing a gulp of lemonade. He felt like he was on a job interview instead of offering to be a volunteer, but if they wouldn’t let him stay, he had no idea where he’d go.

  “Oh, I know that, darlin’. If I remember right, you had quite a way with the horses. I guess I’m just not sure why you’re here now exactly. Your mama sends us the Christmas letter every year, catching us up on the family, and she’s right proud of how you’re doing in college. You’re gonna be a lawyer, right? Is this a summer break before you go back to school?”

  He stifled a wince and gave the woman a wry grin. “Something like that.”

  “I don’t know much about becomin’ a lawyer myself, but I woulda thought you’d want to be doing some sort of apprenticeship or internship or something, now that you’re getting so close to finishin’.”

  Jordan shrugged as his stomach twisted around the syrupy-sweet drink. Telling the woman to mind her own business wouldn’t exactly win him any friends, so he said, “I’m just taking a little break before the final plunge, you know? A chance to do some real work out in the open air before I get stuck behind a desk.”

  She nodded sagely, but Jordan wasn’t completely sure she believed him. He was racking his brain for something more convincing to say, when she thumped her palm on the table and grinned. “Well then, Jordan, welcome to the B STAR. After you finish up that lemonade, go get your gear, and I’ll show you a room upstairs where you can bunk down.”

  He was so startled by the sudden change that he just blinked at her for a few seconds before smiling his relief. “That’s great! Thank you. But are you sure about upstairs? Like I said, I don’t need special treatment. I can stay out in a bunkhouse or something, if that’s more convenient.”

  She waved a dismissive hand, her smile just a little sad. “We got plenty of room upstairs. It’s just me and Russ rattling around in the old house now. There are only a couple of other full-timers, and they have their own places in town. The part-timers and weekenders don’t stay overnight too often, so we converted the old bunk into kind of a hospital area for some of the newest additions. Guests of the ranch stay here, upstairs, like a real-life B and B, now that my Sean’s gone and Lacey’s moved out. We keep changing with the times, so it’s no bother.”

  After he finished his lemonade in a few gulps he’d probably regret later, Phyllis led the way out to the porch again so he could grab his stuff. Russ, the hottie, was nowhere in sight, but Jordan paused at the top of the steps anyway as ingrained Southern manners pushed their way past his nervousness and self-involvement. “I was sorry to hear about your husband’s passing. I remember Sean was a good man, always patient with an annoying kid who wanted to know everything there was to know about horses.”

  Her smile was a little sad, but her eyes shone with pride. “He liked you too. The flowers and wishes your family sent were much appreciated.”

  With a nod, he continued to his car, closed the roof and windows to keep out some of the dust, and grabbed his bags. Once upstairs, Phyllis showed him to a room at the end of the hall.

  “Like I said, it’s only us now, so you can have your privacy down here. But if you need anything in the night, I’m downstairs, down the hall past the kitchen, and Russ’s right there,” she said, pointing to a blue door three down from where they stood.

  “Thank you. Let me get cleaned up a little and changed, and I’ll be ready for you to put me to work.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Nonsense. Not tonight. You look a little worn out from your trip, and we’re really almost done for the day. Get yourself some rest. Supper’s at five, and I’ll introduce you around to whoever stays for it. Then we’ll get you going in the morning, okay?”

  He didn’t exactly relish the idea of being left alone again with his thoughts, but it didn’t look like he had much of a choice. “Sounds good. Thanks, Phyllis.”

  “Thank you for coming to help out. See ya at supper.”

  After she’d left, Jordon kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the green-and-white quilted cotton bedspread with a groan. The lacy curtains on either side of the windows swayed softly in the steady breeze from the floor vents, and every once in a while, the muffled call of an animal outside broke the silence. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but the nerves and the long hours of driving must’ve suddenly caught up to him, because he didn’t even remember closing his eyes.

  Chapter Four

  AFTER RUBBING a few proffered noses as he walked past the line of stalls in the barn, Russ settled on a bench halfway down the aisle and kicked his feet up on a straw bale to wait. Phyllis would be coming after him, once she’d dealt with the trust-fund brat, sure as God made little green apples.

  Everybody knew she was grooming him to take over the place someday, but the one area she despaired of ever getting him ready was in groveling for the patrons, and she was right. If the spoiled baby had come to him, throwing his name around and expecting special treatment, Russ would’ve laughed in his face and sent him packing. The last thing they needed was a whiny little princess to coddle night and day when they had real work to do.

  “Russ!”

  He winced. The woman might be small and pushing seventy, but she had a voice like a bullhorn when she wanted.

  “Here.”

  W
ith a sigh, he rose to receive his tongue-lashing. He’d be damned if he took it sitting down, even if he knew she was right.

  “Got anything to say for yourself?” she challenged with her hands propped on her denim-clad hips.

  “Nope.” Best not to give her any more ammunition.

  “You’re gonna have to do better than that if you want to keep this place running for more than a year after I’m gone,” she scolded.

  “You’re not going anywhere. You’ll outlive all of us,” he sent back with a wink and a smile.

  “Bull hockey,” she snorted, but a smile crept across her face no matter how hard she tried to fight it.

  “So, what’d you do with him?” he asked to distract her.

  “He’s in the green room, close enough he can find you if he needs something.”

  He groaned and rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t you roll your eyes at me, mister. You know as well as I do his parents have donated more to this place over the years than any other single donor. You’ve seen the checks. Plus, they happen to be friends of mine.”

  “Friends?”

  She glared at him a second before rolling her eyes too. “Of a sort. They’ve always been kind and real generous. What they give helps us keep doing what we do here, and if that ain’t a friend, I don’t know what is.”

  “But they’re not really friends,” he pressed. “They’re rich people who chose us as their pet project, somewhere to throw their money to feel good about themselves. That doesn’t make them friends… not real ones anyway… not like us, and Jon and Ernie.”

  She sighed and threw up her hands. “One of these days you’re going to realize not everything in this world has to be all or nothin’. You can care about somebody, call ’em friend, but not have your heart crushed to pieces just ’cause they don’t give as much as you. Without us to do the work, the animals would suffer, but without them to pay the bills, they’d suffer just as much. Both are necessary. That young man upstairs is necessary. Besides, I should think you’d be pleased to see one of them pitching in and doing the dirty work. Isn’t that what you’re always preachin’?”