Last Second Chance (16 page)

“I have to go,” he announced abruptly.

“Van, it’s handled. Just because she knows you’re here doesn’t mean she’ll—”

“No, I mean, I need to run down to the barn,” Van said, interrupting his manager. “I’ve been helping out down there and I just remembered I was supposed to handle a few things.”

Number one thing he wanted to handle was reassuring a certain beautiful brunette that he wasn’t engaged to a fucking lunatic. At least, not anymore.

Dr. Ramirez opened the door and nodded. “Well, crisis averted. I’m glad we didn’t offend someone dear to you. That would be the last thing we would want to do.”

Except they had. Or Vanessa probably had. Van nodded and forced out a breath. “Yeah. No harm, no foul.”

He wanted to trample the damn doctor to get him out of the way. But when brown eyes met his, Van was struck with a worrisome thought. Could this man possibly know that he was just heading down to the barn for Stella? No. No one could possibly know anything. There wasn’t much of anything to know. Yet. But he wanted to change that as soon as humanly possible.

“Please let us know if there’s anything else we can do for you, Mr. Walker,” Dr. Ramirez said as he lingered in the doorway.

You can get the fuck out of my way.
“Thank you. I appreciate everything you’ve done already.”

With a nod, the man finally left.

Van turned to Sid with what he knew was probably sheer panic spinning wild patterns in his eyes. “I have to go.”

His manager scrubbed a hand over his bald head and sighed. “Anything I can say to change your mind?”

“Not a chance in hell.”

Leaning back on the couch, Sid let his head fall as he closed his eyes. “That’s what I was afraid you’d say.”

Van barely heard the last part. He was out the door and down the hall before the words were completely spoken.

Speed walking like a madman, Van made his way around a group of nurses who giggled as he passed. There was an elevator, but he didn’t have time for that so he sprinted down a back stairwell and navigated the maze that led him out the front doors of the building. No one was manning the sign-out desk so he didn’t bother.

Jogging out of the doors, he managed to hold off on breaking into a dead run until he was fairly certain no one could see him. The sun was setting quickly, and there was a light on in the stables.

She was in there, probably telling Shadowdancer what a colossal dick Van was. Not that he’d disagree with her. The horse was probably nodding along and plotting to flatten his ass next time he got close enough.

Slowing to a walk and catching his breath, Van approached the stables. Catching his breath had been pointless though. As soon as he saw her, she took his breath away, even more so than running had. Her back was to him, but the glow around her, the goodness and the emptiness that radiated from her, hit him just as hard as it did when she faced him head-on.

Her hair had been tied back when he’d seen her earlier that day. But now it hung long and most of the way down her back. The silky chestnut locks were mostly straight with just a little rebellious curl at the ends. Snug-fitting jeans hugged her perfect ass and those long, slender legs. The tips of her cowgirl boots peeked out from underneath.

She held a clipboard and seemed to be counting bags of feed. She knew he had joined her—he could tell by the way her shoulders had stiffened as the tension rolled across them. But she didn’t acknowledge him in any other way. She did, however, stop and love on Shadowdancer as she passed.

They had a connection. He could see it. Even before she leaned forward and kissed the damn thing on its oversized head. Never in his life had he been so jealous. And it was of a damned animal of all things. Shadowdancer huffed out a loud breath, raised his eyes to Van’s, and—Van could’ve sworn—chucked his chin at him as if to say, “Find your own girl, asshole.”

She loved that giant black beast. Clearly. Despite his moody and nearly abusive ways. A thought came unbidden into a dark corner of his mind. Could she ever love him that way? Unconditionally? Without judgment? With the capability of complete forgiveness for a lifetime of sins she’d be hard-pressed to even imagine?

Only one person had ever loved him that way, and it had been more than even she’d been able to handle.

He wanted to kick his own ass. They were so far from love that it was ridiculous to even think the word in her presence. He wasn’t sure he was even capable of it. Much less interested in finding it.

Suddenly he had no idea why he’d been in such a rush to get down here. What could he say?
I’m not actually engaged anymore, so let’s resume our plans to fuck and forget each other.

What a pointless waste. And he was running out of energy for it all. It was the first time he’d ever thought about getting high in her presence. That hollow ache, that familiar acidic, internal corrosion that reminded him he’d never be good enough and would only taint someone as pure and beautiful as Stella Jo Chandler, began to consume him.

He had no clue what the hell he’d ever been thinking. This woman deserved a fairytale, a Prince Charming who’d ride in on one of these fucking four-legged creatures and sweep her off into a happily ever after. That wasn’t him. Could never he him.

He released an imprisoned breath. In a way, letting the fantasy of her go was a relief. He never could’ve lived up to what she’d expect or deserve. Well…maybe when it came to making her scream as he gave her orgasm after orgasm, he could have. Other than that, no fucking way.

But as she turned to the side and gifted him a glance at her profile, he couldn’t help but see how sad she looked. He noticed how the rounded swells of her breasts peeked at him from above the deep neckline of her white tank top also, but surprisingly, that wasn’t what caught his attention. Not entirely, anyways. It was the way her mouth was drawn downward, the way she chewed her bottom lip, almost like she was worried. And when she finally turned to face him, that light in her eyes—the one he usually credited himself for—was gone.

“I’m pretty much done for the night,” she said softly, avoiding his direct gaze. “I don’t really need you.”

The fuck she didn’t. Maybe she didn’t need him to help take inventory of supplies and shit, but this woman needed him. He wasn’t even sure in what way exactly. When her searching stare finally landed directly on him, he didn’t care if all she ever needed from him was raging orgasms. He’d give them to her—gladly. For as long as she’d let him.

“Stella Jo, listen, I—”

Her hand up stopped him mid-sentence. “I’m kind of tired, Van. It’s been an exhausting day. Thanks for coming down, but as you can see, everything’s already taken care of. Excuse me.”

Bullshit.
She
hadn’t been taken care of. Watching her force her shoulders back and her chin up, he suspected she’d never really been taken care of. By anyone. Likely she was the type that always took care of herself.

He’d never taken care of anyone before. He’d always been more the selfish type that remained oblivious to what other people needed. Look out for number one and all that. Because with the exception of Val, most everyone else seemed to be out for themselves. But he damn sure wanted to take care of this woman. In every way imaginable.

Remembering how she usually backed off when Shadowdancer got riled up—and the near disaster from the one time she hadn’t—Van decided to give her some space. Like that day with the nurse, she’d jumped to a conclusion that had pissed her off. Granted, Vanessa had probably shouted her lies from the fucking rooftop, so it was a natural conclusion to jump to. And while he hated hurting her, in a warped sort of way, it made his dick brutally hard that she was jealous. It also provoked a strange tightness in his chest, but he was ignoring that for the most part.

“What about you, Stella Jo? Are you taken care of?”

She raised an eyebrow as she passed him but exited the barn without a word.

Following her out of the stables, he kept a step behind as he walked her to her door. Like the overly obsessed creeper he was quickly becoming.

“Hey,” he said as she opened her door. “For the record, I’m not engaged.” He shrugged when she said nothing, and just stared at him impassively as if she couldn’t give two shits if he was engaged or not.

“Your personal life is none of my business.”

His hand struck out and caught the edge of her door before she could close it. “Okay. But I’m not and I haven’t been for a long time. I wanted you to know—whether you actually give a damn or not is up to you.”

“Okay,” she said quietly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Stella Jo.”

He let go of the door and she closed it in his face with a gentle click.

She was mad. Or hurt. Or both. And quite possibly, she was done with him and their little flirtation altogether.

But her words from a few nights ago haunted him.

“But now, after…after that… If we don’t, if you never so much as touch me again, I’m afraid I’ll lose my mind.”

Then that would make two of them.

S
tella Jo was functioning on autopilot.

It was her fourth twelve-hour shift in a row, and she was running out of steam. After tossing and turning all night, picturing Van Ransom and Rock Star Barbie together, she’d barely gotten a few hours of sleep. And even then, he’d invaded her dreams.

For the past few hours, she’d preserved the miniscule amount of energy she possessed by performing her job-related tasks without talking or smiling or maintaining her usual forced demeanor. She was communicating like a cavewoman, primarily with head nods.

She took another stack of files from Dr. McLendon and handed over the ones she’d completed transcribing.

“Feeling okay, Miss Chandler?” the blonde asked before Stella walked away.

“Stella, please.” Irritated that she’d let her Van Ransom-induced exhaustion show, she painted on the widest smile she could. “Oh, yes. Just a little preoccupied is all. Lots to do before the weekend.”

The therapist sighed. “Tell me about it.” She offered Stella a sympathetic smile, and Stella noticed that the woman looked a little sad. Maybe that smile was more empathetic than sympathetic.

“You okay, Miranda?”

Quickly brightening in a way Stella suspected was forced, she nodded. “Yeah, it’s just… You know. When you live where you work, sometimes it’s like you’re always carrying it around. The stress, the pressure, the never-ending to-do list.”

Stella agreed wholeheartedly. “You live on-site also? I’m in the Homestead cabin, near the stables. I help out with the horses.”

It was the most words she’d spoken all day. The woman had the kind of eyes that made Stella feel comfortable sharing. Which wasn’t really something she did with anyone. Well anyone without four legs and a tail.

“I’m in the Wild Catter, whatever the hell that is.”

Both women chuckled. But as soon as he entered the room, Stella felt her muscles tighten, felt the tension pulling her hard enough to cause physical pain.

“Be right with you, Mr. Walker,” the doctor called over her shoulder.

“I should let you get back to work. Nice chatting with you.” Stella pushed the constricting lump down her throat and nodded her goodbye.

“Hey, you want to grab a drink sometime in the near future? Away from this place?” Miranda inquired too low for anyone else to hear.

Stella nodded. “Yeah, that sounds great actually.”

“Thank God. I don’t know how many more bottles of Merlot I can polish off alone before I have to check myself in.”

Surprisingly, Stella grinned for real this time. She had a feeling she and Miranda McLendon had a lot in common. She’d seen the attractive woman sitting alone at lunch and wondered what her story was. Looked like she was going to find out. And make a friend. Though the last friend she’d had ended up in bed with her ex-boyfriend.

She did her best to keep her eyes off of Van’s face as she moved toward him on her way out of the office.

Apparently he didn’t approve of being ignored. A warm hand encircled her wrist as she passed.

“You have dark circles under you eyes, cowgirl.” His observation was quiet but his voice was laced with inexplicable anger. “I can’t help but think they have something to do with me.”