Page 3 of Second Chance with the Rancher
“Spring chickens are made of rubber, old stewing hens like me are apparently made of porcelain and break easily.” Her tone was full of anger and sarcasm and Nate one hundred percent understood why.
“Huh?” Triss glanced at her husband, then at Nate, her brown eyes— slightly darker than Mieka’s but with the same gold-flecks—narrowed in confusion.
“I did a move I’d done a million times when I wasn’t a washed-up old hag and my brittle bones couldn’t handle it, so they shattered like fine crystal on a tile floor,” Mieka said. “Now, I’m jobless, homeless and according to my asshole choreographer Martin, I’m also washed-up.”
“What the fuck?” Asher muttered. “He said that?”
“Martin has no filter,” Mieka replied. “We’ve never really gotten along since he took over for Stefan last year. I was dance captain and Martin just came in with a chip on his shoulder and a hate-on for me. Apparently, he treated all the dance captains he’s ever worked with like they were dirt.” She shrugged. “I never let him bother me, until he called me washed-up, that is.”
“We have a baby sister with no filter, but even Rayma wouldn’t be so mean as to call you—or anyone washed up. A broken arm does not mean you’re incapable. It will heal and you can go back to dancing on the ships, right?” Triss rubbed her sister’s back affectionately.
Mieka sniffed and shook her head. “They wouldn’t renew my contract. I’m old.”
“Oh my God, you’re not old. You’re thirty-four. That’s not old.” Triss rolled her eyes. “They’re idiots. You’ll get hired on by another cruise line or production company or whatever, no problem. I know it.”
Uncertainty shimmered in Mieka’s eyes, along with fresh unshed tears. As much as she hoped her sister was right, Nate could see that Mieka was convinced her dancing days on the luxury cruise ships were over.
Nate knew nothing of that world or industry, so he wasn’t planning to weigh in, but the look of pure defeat and sadness in Mieka’s eyes had his protective instincts kicking in. He was a fixer. He fixed things. Broken vehicles, injured animals, rickety fences. He fixed.
But a sad woman—who he had carnal knowledge of—was a completely different thing and he wasn’t sure he even knew where to begin when it came to mending her broken heart and tattered spirit. He sure as hell wanted to try, though.
“So, I’m here to drink until I forget how to dance, cuddle foals and bake bread, or pies or whatever. Put me to work. I don’t know how much use I’ll be mucking stalls and stuff with only one arm, but I’m happy and willing to pitch in wherever I can. And we can get shitfaced every night and talk trash about our parents and Royal Olympian Cruise Line.”
Triss’s mouth twisted in a funny way and she cast a cursory glance at Asher who shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, then rocked back on his heels. “I um … I won’t be getting shitfaced with you, unfortunately,” Triss said.
Mieka studied her sister in confusion for half a second, then her eyes went wide. It took Nate a couple more seconds to clue in, but then he did, too, his eyes shot to his brother who was all cocky grins.
“A baby?” Nate asked, all excited.
Asher smiled wider. Nate knew that his brother and Triss had been trying to conceive for the last six months, so the fact that it’d finally happened, had joy replacing all the anger that he’d felt in his heart a moment ago over the injustice of Mieka’s circumstances. His brother also looked happy enough to explode, and that was saying a lot since Asher was typically always mildly irritated in some way.
“We’re going to have a little cowboy or cowgirl,” Triss said softly, resting her hand on her flat belly.
“Rancher,” Asher corrected.
Triss smiled and rolled her eyes. “Right, rancher.”
Mieka swallowed, blinked and forced the fakest smile Nate had ever seen on anybody ever. “That’s amazing. I’m so happy for you.” Then she threw herself at her sister and hugged her tight.
When they broke their embrace this time, Mieka was teary-eyed, so she wiped her fingers beneath her eyes and smiled. “This calls for a celebration. You might not be able to drink, but I sure can.” She turned to Nate and Asher. “Boys, don’t make me drink alone.”
“I’ve got some stuff to do in the barn still,” Asher said.
Mieka turned to Nate. “Nate?”
It was only four o’clock in the afternoon, he still had shit to do, too, and his truck was making that weird clunking sound and he hadn’t been able to figure out where the problem was. But the look of pure desperation in Mieka’s eyes tugged at his heart until he thought it might be ripped clean from his chest, so he nodded. “Sure.”
She beamed, but it was all fake. “Excellent.” Then she linked arms with her sister and the two of them headed off toward the house through the barn.
Asher turned to Nate. “A little early to start drinking.”
“She’s in pain,” he said plainly.
“From her arm? Can’t she just take some ibuprofen? I’m sure the doctor prescribed her some fun painkillers like T3s or oxy.”
“Not her arm,” he said, shaking his head as he watched the two women continue to walk away. “It’s her heart.” And he was determined to find a way to fix it, even if it broke his own in the process.
Chapter Two
