Page 42 of Second Chance with the Rancher
Nate inched forward, slid his fingers along her arm and hand, sending tingles of awareness careening through her. Then he looped his fingers around the collar and she let go.
They all let out a collective sigh of relief.
“Fucking goat,” Nate murmured as he took the carrot from her, as well, and let Fumble finish eating it.
“My auntie has a great recipe for jerked goat,” the dark-skinned ranch hand said, revealing a slight Caribbean accent. “I bet Fumble would taste delicious. Maybe a little tough because he’s a tough old bastard, but we could tenderize him first with our fists.”
Nate snorted. “Don’t tempt me, Ray.”
“Let’s go, Houdini,” Nate said, keeping a tight hold on Fumble’s collar and leading him back to the goat barn. “I don’t know how you keep getting out.”
“Sheer determination, boss,” Hank said with a chuckle.
Nate merely rolled his eyes.
Mieka wasn’t sure if she should follow him or just stay there, so she chose to wait for him to return. She picked up the basket of eggs and stood there watching the chickens peck and scratch. It was oddly therapeutic to just zone out and watch animals happily live their lives free of responsibility and burden. All the chickens had to do was live their best lives and lay some eggs.
“If only I could have such a simple purpose,” she murmured.
But she didn’t have any purpose. Her purpose used to be dance. It used to be performing, but now … now she couldn’t even do that. Nobody wanted her. So what was her purpose? What did she have to offer anyone?
Would any dance company hire her? Or was she really too old and washed up?
Before she knew it, the tears were falling again and she was walking toward the farmhouse. She barely registered Nate calling her name behind her before she stepped inside the house, toed off her shoes, set the basket of eggs on the kitchen table, then went to her room.
He was just entering the house when she closed her bedroom door and collapsed onto her bed.
The knock on her door came a moment later. “Minx? You okay?”
She didn’t say anything. She was bone-tired, sore and so deep in the mosh-pit of her pity party she couldn’t even see the exit sign if she wanted to. She knew that there were bigger problems in the world than her lack of direction, but she couldn’t stop herself from feeling this way. Dance was all she knew. She had no home, no job, and no idea what to do next. Then the guilt of feeling this way swamped her hard and fast. An avalanche of remorse burying her alive. How could she feel so sorry for herself when there were children starving in Africa and floods in Pakistan and global warming?
Her tears continued to fall.
There was another knock, then another.
“Minx? What happened?”
She still didn’t say anything though. What could she say? I’m sad because nobody wants me anymore. I have no purpose and I’m old, decrepit and washed up.
She was thirty-four years old. Nobody would understand how she felt. They’d say she had her entire life ahead of her. She could go back to school and do a million things.
But they just didn’t get it.
Nobody did.
Dance had been her life since she was six. She’d never had a job besides dancing. It was all she knew. It was the only thing on her resume. Even if she could start over and get a job elsewhere, who would hire her with a resume that was so niche-specific? And going back to school? She’d struggled to get through high school with her ADHD, no way in hell was she going to put herself through that again.
Eventually, she heard Nate’s footsteps disappear down the hallway, then the front door opened and closed.
He deserved a response, at the very least. She knew that. He’d been nothing but kind to her since she arrived. He’d been nothing but kind to her since the moment she met him. But she also knew that now he had an ulterior motive. He wanted her to give him a second chance. He wanted to show her how good life on a ranch could be and that maybe, just maybe, she’d consider giving them, and the ranch, a chance.
But as much fun as she was having, she just couldn’t see herself living here for good.
What good was a dancer on a ranch?
Sure, she could help with the goats, collect eggs, and hold a warm compress against a horse’s teat, but those were also jobs that a ranch hand could do. Nate was only getting her to help so she didn’t feel useless. She wasn’t really needed there.
Not truly.
