The Cowboy's Second Chance. Christyne Butler

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      Zero.

      Those were his chances of getting another job in this dot-on-the-map town called Destiny. Great place for an out-of-luck cowboy like him.

      Landon walked across the teeming fairgrounds. The sun had set, and clusters of teenagers and families enjoyed the game booths and carnival rides that twirled in bright splashes of neon color.

      He sidestepped an excited little girl carrying a prized stuffed animal and a breath-stealing squeeze compressed his chest. Shoving a hand deep into his pocket, his fingers curled around a familiar oval object. His boots shuffled to a stop and he closed his eyes against the memory before it had a chance to bring him to his knees.

      It took a long moment, but he succeeded. Breathing deep, he opened his eyes and spotted the sheriff chatting with a group of men. Giving a tug on his Stetson, Landon pulled it lower on his brow. If there was anything he’d learned in the last few months, it was that the law was best avoided.

      Hunger gnawed at his belly as he ducked into the food aisle, but he ignored the battling aromas of fried hot dogs and spun candy. The fifty dollars tucked in his pocket would have to last until he was employed again. After standing up for that lady, he was hell and gone from his next possible job three hundred miles away.

      But what a lady.

      Honey-colored hair and a sweet, fresh scent. Despite a shapeless dress, he could attest, thanks to having her body pressed to his, she had curves in all the right places. He hadn’t meant to get so close, but the weight of her body against his and the feel of her hair catching on his whiskers stayed with him.

      Then she’d looked at him. A flash of something—longing, maybe—came through the anger and fear. A warning bell had gone off inside his head.

      Leave. Now.

      He’d ignored his own advice long enough to make sure she was okay, then followed his former boss to make sure the jerk didn’t come back.

      Damn, he needed a job.

      Greeley’s ranch was the largest in the area. The man meant it when he told him to get out of town. Big ranches and their owners carried a lot of power in small communities.

      Landon headed to the far end of the parking lot where he’d left his truck and horse trailer. The dark shadows and relative quiet were the most he could offer his best friend right now. Hell, G.W. was his only friend, and the main reason for pulling off the highway earlier today.

      “Hey, boy,” he said as he stepped inside the trailer and moved beside the stallion. “How’s the leg?”

      He crouched down, murmuring softly as he ran his hands along G.W.’s forelimb, checking the area around the shipping boot. The horse snorted softly and shifted away.

      “I know you hate these things, but it should help with the swelling.”

      It wasn’t.

      Landon had first noticed the horse favoring his leg the night he’d been not-so-politely told to leave his last job. Being on the road the last seven days meant he’d done a piss-poor job of icing the injury. He needed to find a place for the two of them to bunk down for a while, so he could take care of G.W. properly.

      Three jobs since his release, three times told to move on.

      He’d been foolish enough to reveal his conviction the first time. Never again. Now he did his best to keep to himself, but somehow the news always got out.

      His stomach growled again. He opened the chest in the corner and found it empty. The ice packs were only slightly cool.

      He leaned his head against the side of his horse. “I’m going to grab some chow and another bag of ice. Be back in a few.”

      He stroked a hand over G.W.’s smooth coat, then exited and locked the trailer, heading toward the market across the street. Bright fluorescent lights shone on a woman behind the counter when he entered.

      Was that wariness on her face?

      He offered a quick, polite nod then walked to the first aisle. Five minutes later, he’d moved back to the cashier when a dog-eared piece of paper on a bulletin board caught his attention. The words “Wanted: Cowboys” jumped out at him.

      Damn, he must be crazy.

      He yanked the paper off the board and shoved it into his pocket. After paying for his stuff, he crossed the road back to the parking lot with a sandwich, a cold soda and a bag of ice. He peeled back the plastic wrapping around the day-old bread with his teeth. It was stale, but he hoped it would cover the bad taste in his mouth left by the store clerk’s apprehension.

      His hair was too long and he was a week away from his last shave. Maybe that’s all it was. Or maybe it was because he was a stranger in a small town. She’d beamed at the two clean-cut cowboys with pressed snap-buttoned shirts and shiny belt buckles who’d come up behind him, obviously knowing them.

      Landon shrugged off his mood and finished the sandwich in two bites. He wasn’t usually filled СКАЧАТЬ