Love at Second Chance: Rough & Ready Country, #4

By Engrid Eaves

My feelings run hot and deep when it comes to Rebecca "Birdie" Jenkins. The only thing I hate more than admitting to these tempestuous emotions is the woman inspiring them. I remember a time when we couldn't keep our hands off each other. Now, I can barely stand to look at her… let alone see her every day at Rough & Ready Ranch, working as my dad's home healthcare nurse.

 

My brothers think I'm stubborn—that I should give her a break. But the break she gave my heart is something I'm still not over ... and not about to repeat. Despite years on the PBR Circuit, millions made rodeoing, and a constant entourage of buckle bunnies, Rebecca's first cut remains the deepest and in imminent danger of busting back open.  

 

I have trouble squaring the pretty little rodeo queen from my youth with the combat-tested Navy corpsman she's become, a hometown hero and compassionate caregiver who puts others before herself. But how will I ever trust her with something as big as forever after the way she brutally tore me from her life the last time?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Engrid Eaves
• Release date: Mar 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9798990168282

Book preview

PROLOGUE

BIRDIE

The sky is awash in millions of glittering lights, and the moon sits low on the horizon. I lean back on a thick riding blanket, sitting cross-legged, the cold metal of the truck bed chilling my legs. Thankfully, I’ve got my jean jacket on because a spring chill in the air has raised goosebumps on my arms.

You cold? A gruff voice whispers next to me.

A little, I reply, smiling at Zane. I’ve been crushing hard on him for years, and as my clothes started filling out, I caught his eye, too. He’s by far the hottest guy in school and, up until recently, the star bullrider on the high school rodeo team. Now, he’s graduated and making his way into the professional circuit.

My dad is one of his coaches, so I see Zane often. He and his brothers are our neighbors, although hundreds of acres stretch between us. He’s always been the shyest of his brothers, so even after he started noticing me, he never said much. Even now, dragging words out of him feels like a chore. His eyes make up for it, though, all warm, liquid love. Yes, I know it’s too soon for that last four-letter word, but there’s no other way to describe how he looks at me.

As for my feelings? I can’t put any one word to them. Whenever I catch a glimpse of him gazing at me with that newfound intensity, I can’t help but feel like my heart’s going to burst. And I pant like I’ve been hiking up the trail to Wild Horse Falls. He’s got dark hair and dreamy indigo eyes, and there’s a ruggedness to him that leaves an odd pull in my lower stomach. He smells of spicy, woodsy cologne, and he’s sitting so close to me that I can hear him breathing. It seems like it’s coming faster for him than it should, too.

There’s thick tension between us. And the more we make out, cuddle, and let our hands roam, the thicker it gets. At this moment, I feel like the whole world’s stopped, and the Earth is just hanging in orbit, unsure of its next move.

God, you’re beautiful by the light of the moon, he remarks, and I bow my head, my cheeks flushing.

Honestly, I’ve been called pretty my whole life. My mother’s a stage mom of the worst kind—a rodeo queen stage mom. In other words, I’ve spent my life paraded around in fancy duds and boots and far too much makeup for a girl my age, although at seventeen, my age is finally starting to catch up with the look. I made queen this year, so Mom came up with new plans for me. To marry me off to one of the church elders, ideally a lawyer, doctor, or businessman. She never asks me what I want when she’s making plans like this.

But sitting here, next to Zane—hearing his breath catch in his throat as he tells me I’m beautiful—floods me with an exhilaration I’ve never felt before. Like I’m skydiving at 35,000 feet, the world spinning around me as I float on the clouds.

My voice barely works as I squeak out, Thank you.

He turns towards me, holding my gaze until I can’t bear it, and I have to look down. My heart thuds against my ribcage, and I’m sure he can hear it. His left hand rests on my right knee, and I watch as he pokes his finger into the hole in my jeans, tracing slow circles. If a wildfire spontaneously sprang up at this moment, it would be beneath that finger and how it lazily strokes just the tiniest fraction of my skin.

He drawls, Your last barrel ride was amazing. Don’t know how you lit a fire like that behind your mare’s ass, but you were brilliant.

I’ve always loved barrel racing. It’s the most fun part about the whole rodeo queen thing, and I thrill at having someone notice me for what I love. You thought I did good?

You were fucking amazing. I love watching every minute of your riding.

That means a lot to me. My voice cracks over the last words. That one little point of contact at my knee has my whole body ablaze, and I can’t think straight. I don’t fully understand what he’s doing or what’s happening to me, but I love it.

I feel greedy, like I want more than one finger on me. I want all ten and the palms, too. But first, I want to feel his lips on mine again, more than anything. Up to this point, it’s been mostly stolen kisses at school or our make-out spot by the river in the afternoon, but now we’ve got the night to cover us as we explore each other.

I snuck out of my house to meet him here, which means I’ve got at least an hour or so before I need to get back inside. He draws closer to me, his face just inches from mine, and it takes every ounce of courage not to look down or away. He’s ridiculously handsome, and he still makes me nervous.

I’ve never been timid, but the gravity of this moment, whatever’s happening between us, has my insides jittery. I feel his hot breath on my cheek and look up, caught in his dark gaze. His lips hover over mine, and I hold my breath, waiting.

I want you to be mine, he says softly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small box. I watch his cheeks turn a shade darker as he hands it to me with an apprehensive look. It’s not much, but it’s a way of letting the world know you belong to me.

My heart flips as I open the box, finding a pretty little silver and turquoise ring.

I got it when I was competing in Denver. There’s an inscription inside the band, he says almost inaudibly, pointing. Tough to see in this light, though.

What does it say, Zane? I ask in a breathy whisper.

He swallows hard. Forever.

I don’t know what to say, but the smile that plasters itself from ear to ear communicates the warmth spreading from my chest throughout my body.

Do you like it? he asks. Did I do okay with the inscription?

I slide it on my finger, and it’s a perfect fit. I love it. It’s perfect.

No, you’re perfect, he says. Finally, his soft lips touch mine, and I let out a shocked sigh because it feels like he’s brought the flames from my knee to my mouth. Covering the distance between us, he wraps his left arm around me, pulling me towards him and pressing his lips to mine. It’s a tender kiss, sweet as wild strawberries, that makes my whole body tremble. He pulls me closer, and his lips move over mine now, gently tying my insides in knots.

Rebecca, he says softly, and I thrill at the name on his lips. I’ve been known as Birdie my entire life. No matter how many pairs of boots and jeans and cowboy hats I outgrow, I can’t escape the name. Zane’s making it clear, though, that I’m no longer the little girl playing in mud puddles in front of the barn.

His lips are more urgent now, and I feel the blood rushing through my veins as he pulls me tightly against him. Unlike my soft curves, his are rock-hard planes. My body melts into him, and I wrap my arms around his neck as his hands rove over my back.

Sighing against his mouth, he takes the invitation, claiming me gently with his tongue. My heart’s in my throat, and I don’t know if I’ll ever breathe again or even need air. I’m riding on a high I can’t begin to understand, but it feels absolutely right—perfect.

He angles his head, deepening the kiss, and the tension between us ratchets sky-high. There’s a tightness at the top of my legs that I don’t fully understand, but the boy causing it also seems like the only cure. I moan against his mouth, and he lets out a groan of desire. His hand comes up to my cheek, changing the angle of the kiss, and my head swims through a sensual fog.

He guides me gently back onto the riding blanket, sticking a leg between mine to uncross them and gently lowering himself on top of me. I’m hungry for his weight and warmth, thirsty for the feel of his arms around me. I palm his back, pressing him into me, and I can feel a hard lump behind the zipper of his jeans that makes me feel equal parts scared and ravenous.

His hands are in my shirt, and I feel his fingers come up, grazing over the lace of my bra. He lets out a hiss as his knuckles brush over my pebbled nipples. I arch my back into him, exhaling sharply. My hips knock into his, and he returns the sizzling motion until the throbbing between my legs becomes painful.