The Cowboy’s Second Chance Family (Wells Brothers Book 3) Read online

  She’d been a little worried about getting so close to Tucker’s family, but watching those two girls together made it clear that the worry had been unfounded. If Joey and Shanna had met at school, Avery wouldn’t have thought twice about it. It was time to let that go, too. And focus on the bigger issues at hand. Like the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about Tucker. And her pressing need to get the business up and running in a way that would actually sustain them.

  It was time to go in and give Tucker his mail.

  Cade had handed it to her when he came up to the truck to say hello, and there was one piece that had stuck out more than all the others. It was a thick cream-colored envelope embossed with Tucker’s name and address and closed with a wax seal that had been pried open.

  “It was like that when it arrived,” Cade had told her. “I’m guessing the seal got stuck in the sorting machine at the post office. The whole thing came apart when I picked it up—it’s an invitation to a photography exhibit in New York City.” He’d given a little shrug. “Don’t forget the Post-it note.”

  The note, stuck to the invitation, poked a curled edge out of the envelope. It read Tuck, hope to see you there.

  It made Avery’s stomach turn.

  Tucker’s old life was reaching out to claim him—to take him away from her just as she was staring to fall for him again. It was almost inevitable, wasn’t it? He’d leave, the way he had before. But first, he’d make it impossible to forget him. Tucker had fixed the dented siding around the house, focusing especially on the clinic portion. It still needed a coat of paint and some plants come spring, but everything was in far better shape than when he’d started. And he’d managed to salvage most of it, giving the old materials new life.

  Avery rubbed at her forehead. She’d definitely romanticized how easy it would be to take over an existing practice. That was why she’d bought the place sight unseen when she heard Doc planned to retire. Her memories of working there as a teen hadn’t quite matched up with the reality of the property. Too late to go back now. She slipped her notebook out of her glove compartment and frowned at the pages. Now that Tucker had done so much to fix it up, she needed to decide on the exterior sign. And that meant choosing a name.

  She flipped to the back of the notebook, revealing a crumpled sheet of paper. It was ten years old, maybe eleven—and she’d saved it since high school, when Tucker had drawn out a logo for her future business. Avery traced around the drawing with a fingertip. The oval sketch featured the silhouettes of a cat, a dog, and a horse. Could she bear to look at it every day when he left?

  Ah, never mind. She didn’t have to decide right this minute. Avery could stand to wait until all the work and been finished. She could stand to wait until she’d found the money to get a new X-ray machine. Then, when she was set to open, she’d worry about the sign, and not before.

  Avery put her notebook away and hopped out of the truck. For fun, she went around to the side door—the one that served as the clinic’s entryway. It opened easily under her hand, without a squeak from its hinges. Tucker had fixed that.

  The reception room itself gleamed. He’d taken out the old wood countertop and refinished it so that it looked marble, then reinstalled it. She dropped the invitation on the counter—Tucker would see it when he went by to go home. The entire place smelled of fresh paint with a hint of sawdust. New tiles covered every inch of the floor, gray and trendy. She suspected that Tucker had called in a little help from his brothers—it was a lot of work in a short period of time, but he’d managed it. Well, that was fine. If the Wells brothers didn’t have anything else to do, she wouldn’t fight them off. It was exhausting enough trying to figure out a way to pay for all of it.

  Avery made her way down the narrow hall, peeking in the three patient rooms. Across from these was a fully equipped surgery, and behind that a hospital area. Doc had needed a huge property to fit all of it, and despite the stress, she was glad for it now.

  At the end of the hall, the door to the X-ray room was closed.

  That was the largest room of all, because it housed the X-ray equipment. Doc Oates had installed a machine big enough to accommodate large dog breeds and even some smaller horses—definitely sheep and goats. It had been massive. The equipment would have really come in handy while she treated the farm animals from the surrounding ranches. But that was a lost cause, now. She’d have to make up for it by treating the smaller animals only and hope they could make it. With the move and all the renovations, she didn’t have enough money for even one of the smaller machines.

  Aside from that, nobody was going to let her make payments on it. And even if they did, she didn’t have the cash to cover those hypothetical payments and keep up with the rest of her overhead. And her mortgage. And her other bills.

  Avery went to the door and pushed it open, just to complete her circuit of the clinic.

  The room wasn’t empty. She couldn’t make out what was in there in the darkness, but something jogged in her mind. Tucker had pulled the old machine out, piece by piece. Surely, he hadn’t put it back in?

  She flipped on the light.

  Avery blinked hard, trying to get her eyes to work properly. The X-ray machine that had taken the place of the old one wasn’t as big, but she could tell that was because it was newer, with sleeker lines. And that wasn’t all. A portable machine sat in one corner, gleaming in the light. The whole place seemed to shine. It all smelled so new and nice.

  She took one step forward, then another. The machine was cool under her palm, and definitely real. It looked brand-new aside from one very minor scuff on the side.

  How? The question echoed around in her mind, along with an overwhelming sense of relief. How, how, how? This was how she’d felt as a kid on Christmas morning—disbelieving and grateful. And a little confused. With the nagging sense that it shouldn’t be possible, not by a long shot. Who? How? Avery stood next to the equipment, taking it in. This could save her from months of stress and worry and struggle. She’d been awake nights trying to figure out a way around this problem. And here it was, the solution, sitting right in the place it was meant to take up.

  The voice behind her shocked her out of all these thoughts. “So, what do you think?”

  12

  Avery whirled around, her blue eyes wide with shock. She looked gorgeous. Her cheeks were pink from the gentle cold outside, and her coat hugged her curves so nicely that it made Tucker forget he disliked winter most of all. Her dark hair was swept back in a neat ponytail, and he had the sudden urge to wrap his arms around her and spin her in a victory whirl.

  “You did this?” The words pierced him, their tone low and sharp. He felt it in his gut. Something was wrong.

  “I did.” He stuck his hands in his pockets.

  Avery looked from him to the machine, shaking her head. “Take it back.”

  He let out a laugh. “I can’t take it back.”

  “Well, I don’t want it.” Anger flashed in her eyes, clear and hot as lightning.

  “Yes, you do.” Wow. He’d expected her to be slightly uncomfortable with a gift as big as an X-ray machine, but not like this. “In fact, you need it. Your business won’t run without it. At least not how you want it to.”

  Avery stormed out, brushing past him and stomping down the hall to the reception area. She went behind the counter and started stacking up piles of paper they’d kept there—invoices, bills, and plans. He could tell from the set of her jaw that she was grinding her teeth, her cheeks now a bright red. She swept some mail from the top counter, which he’d cleared earlier, and thrust it at him.

  “Here. You got an invitation.”

  Her seething tone reminded him, as it was probably meant to, that he hadn’t been invited to replace her X-ray machine. Avery folded the papers into her arms and held them tight to her chest, eyes sweeping over him. She clearly expected him to open it. As if he’d stand here and open his mail when she was so angry. His own body reacted to the waves of tension in th
e air—heart racing, heat covering the back of his neck. Tucker shoved the envelope in his back pocket. It had a thick heft to it, and something poked out of the top, but he didn’t care.

  Nothing mattered except having this conversation with her, right here, right now. Deep in his gut, he knew the snap decision had been wrong. He should have run it by her first, even if he intended to pay for the whole thing—which he did. He’d never have dangled the equipment in front of her if there wasn’t a real way to get it. She’d asked him to consult her, and he hadn’t.

  “Avery—”

  She didn’t let him finish. “What were you thinking, Tucker? I can’t afford payments on that kind of equipment. I told you that. I told you that time and time again, and you just stomped all over my decision to do without for now. I can make my own decisions, Tucker!”

  “There aren’t any payments. I paid cash for it.”

  Avery’s face went even redder, redder than he thought possible, and she pressed her lips into a thin white line. “You what?” Her voice had gone so deadly he looked down at his gut to see if he’d been stabbed.

  “I had the money, and I paid for it. It’s all settled. There are no payments.”

  She drew herself up, her mouth opening and closing. Finally, Avery settled on the words she wanted to say. “Call them right now.” She stabbed a finger at the phone on the reception desk. “Call them and tell them it was a mistake. Get your money back.”

  He took a step toward her, but Avery put up a hand to stop him. Her teeth clicked together. God, she was mad. He hadn’t seen her this mad in all the years he’d known her.

  “Don’t handle me, Tucker.” She looked like she wanted to scream, wanted to fight, and was holding it back. It might have been easier if she’d let loose. Tucker wished she would. “While I’ve been appreciative of the work you’ve done around here, this is way too much. I don’t need you—I don’t need anybody—to fix everything in my life.”

  “I’m not trying to fix everything in your life.” Tucker ran a hand through his hair and let his fingers clench for a brief second before he let it go. “You said you were willing to do without the X-ray machine, but we both know it’ll make getting your business up and running that much harder. You’ll be telling people to wait for the equipment, but they can’t wait. They’ll find another vet in the meantime, and then…” He made a circling motion with his hand. “It’s a downward spiral. Do I think you could come back from it over time? Of course I do. But I had the money, and I didn’t want you to have to do that.”

  Avery had started shaking her head midway through his speech, and she kept on shaking it. “This is too much. You’re not hearing me. It’s too much for one person to give another person. It’s especially too much for you to give me.”

  “It’s a gift, and I already gave it.”

  “I can’t accept it. For all the reasons I’ve listed.” Avery’s chin quivered, but she quickly got it back under control. A flare of frustration burned a path through Tucker’s belly. It was one thing to want to be independent. He wanted to be independent. But why would Avery shoot herself in the foot just to prove it? Why take on a setback if she didn’t have to?

  “Why not? What’s wrong with me wanting the mother of my child to have what she needs to open her practice?” Couldn’t she see? Couldn’t she see that this was about Shanna as much as the two of them, and probably more?

  “Well,” Avery snapped. “Up until a few weeks ago, you hadn’t thought about me in years. You didn’t know you had a child.”

  Too far. “And whose fault is that, Avery? You chose not to contact me.” A surge of grief almost stopped him from speaking. Yes, he’d been a jerk ten years ago. He’d been young and impulsive and he’d wanted to get out of Benton Ridge. Everybody did. Tucker had had no way of knowing that life would put him right back at home, where he wanted to be. He’d had no idea what he had until it was gone. And he’d have made a different decision if he’d been in possession of all the facts. “You didn’t bother to tell me you were pregnant, and after she was born, you didn’t bother to tell me I had a daughter. You never gave me a chance.”

  She flicked her eyes at the ceiling, biting her lip. “Let me guess. You’ve conveniently forgotten everything you said to me when we broke up.”

  “I remember some of it,” he shot back.

  “You said you didn’t want a family. You said you didn’t want to stay in town. But more than that, you didn’t want to be tied down. Especially not to someone from Benton Ridge. I offered to go long-distance while I was at college, so you could have your freedom, but that wasn’t good enough. You said I’d always drag you back to this place, and you didn’t want that burden. You said our time together in high school was a fling. That it was puppy love.”

  “Aw, Avery—” He searched his memory, but he couldn’t come up with words like that. He’d said some things about town and being tied down, yes—he remembered that. But the rest? Putting her down? He wouldn’t have. “I just can’t believe it. There had to be more too it. Are you sure you’re remembering it right?”

  She let out a high, painful laugh. “I’m not the one claiming to have amnesia! You know what? Get out. Go. I’m done.”

  “No, we’ve got to talk about this. This is important, Avery. There’s Shanna to think about now. I’m not going to give up on her, or you, because we had a fight ten years ago—”

  “Get. Out.” Avery’s eyes bored into his. Tucker didn’t see an ounce of mercy there, or forgiveness. He only saw a deep, endless anger. “I don’t want to have to say it again, Tucker. Get your stuff, and get out of my house.”

  “What about Shanna?” Fear gripped him, cold and unrelenting, like the winter storm had settled back in around them. “Can we at least discuss plans about Shanna?” He had only just discovered her. He had only just started to make up for lost time. An impossible task, yes, but he was going to try. He had to try.

  Avery came toward him, arms out, ushering him toward the door. “My lawyer will contact your lawyer.” She reached around him, opened the door, and shoved him out of it, into the fresh breeze and the cool air and all the emptiness of a world without Avery and Shanna. “Goodbye, Tucker.”

  13

  Tucker left.

  What choice did he have?

  Everything in his body wanted to stay in that clinic and fight it out with Avery, but he couldn’t. She didn’t want him there, and everything was upside down. His stomach churned. The cold bit into his jacket as he walked out to his truck. Avery had parked next to him, their two vehicles snugged up next to each other. There was just enough room for him to walk between them. He spotted a piece of paper on the snow and picked it up, tucking it into his pocket without looking at it.

  He took one deep, long breath after another while he drove the short distance back to his cabin on the Wells property. Tucker was trying to stop the anger, or at least force it down, but it burned high and hot. Fine. She could be mad at him, but she shouldn’t do it at her own expense. He wanted to help her. He wanted to help Shanna. She couldn’t blame him for that. And yes, maybe he should’ve gone about it in a slightly different way, but the bigger picture was that she had an X-ray machine.

  Tucker steered down the road to his cabin, feeling like a thunderstorm crammed into the cab of a truck. The clouds dissipated when he saw Shanna and Joey playing outside, bundled up in thick coats and hats. What were they doing? Joey threw her arms up over her head and jutted one hip out. Taking pictures. They were taking pictures. He pulled into the drive. Shanna’s eyes went wide, and she bit guiltily at her lip. What was there to feel guilty about?

  He hopped out of the truck, the fresh air clearing his head.

  “What are you up to, girls?”

  They exchanged a look, and Shanna stood tall. “Well, we found this on one of the shelves.”

  She held out one of his old cameras.

  Tucker took it in his hands and the memory of it flooded back into him as if he’d never put it down. T
his was one of his first cameras. An old Nikon. He’d gotten it in high school for cheap, since it used film. Shanna must’ve been taking pretend pictures, because it had been out of film for years. The last time he’d used it—wow. The last time he’d used it, he’d been taking pictures of Avery on the football field out behind the high school. She’d posed for him, laughing, a month before they graduated. It had been so warm, the sun heating the back of his neck and his entire soul lighting up just from being close to her.

  “You found a good camera, but you don’t have any film.” He frowned. “I bet I can do you one better.”

  Both girls whooped, and Tucker turned back to his truck. His camera bag lived on the back seat, and he dug through it for only a few moments before he found what he was looking for. It was a small digital camera, just the right size for Shanna to hold.

  The three of them spent the next hour outside, ignoring the cold as Tucker gave Shanna lessons on how to take the photos. He ran her through the basics of composition and light and was pleased when she picked up the techniques faster than he could have hoped. Both girls posed for him, and then he handed Shanna the camera. They ran toward the fence behind Tucker’s place, and Joey jumped up on one of the rungs. They were set.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He turned to find his brother Cade standing on the porch of the cabin, offering him a beer.

  Tucker slung the old camera off his shoulder and took the beer. The two of them stepped into the cabin and went wordlessly to the small sitting area. Tucker took a long drink of beer, then set the bottle on the table. He played with the camera absently, going through all the features. He popped open the film chamber. A little thrill went through him. A roll of film, used all the way up, sat inside.