Second Chances (4 page)

“Grey,” Matt confirmed with a grin and a nod.
God she’s beautiful.
She was so…small. Not chubby, yet not skinny. She was curvy and delicate; almost fragile. Her skin was like a flawless silk. Her starched, white blouse formed to her body, tucking smoothly into the tiny little waistband of her brown slacks. He bet he could wrap her up twice in just one arm. The faintest hint of her lacey bra showed through her shirt and his fingers itched to reach up and trace along the swell of her breasts. She was elegant. She was…she was…
perfect
.

“Grey?”

“Huh?” Matt fought to lift his gaze back to her eyes, only to lose the battle as they caught on the sight of her plump bottom lip as she worried it between her teeth. His gut twisted as he held in a groan, his cock screaming for release.

“Grey?” Claira repeated.

“My brother,” Matt blinked to clear his head. He couldn’t think for shit with her standing in front of him. “He picked the boys up yesterday.” At least he thought that sounded right. Right now he felt lucky to remember his own damn name.

“Oh, your brother,” Claira let out a sigh. So the
twins belonged to one Matt McLendon, not his brother. Maybe that’s why Principal Dawes hadn’t fired her. Well, at least now she had a first name to go with those green eyes, and a pair of blue ones to add to her dreams.

“So, what are you doing for dinner tonight?” Matt asked before he could stop himself.
Smooth
. This woman was different.
She probably eats ten syllable words for dinner, idiot.

Her gaze shot to the twins who were attached to either of Matt’s legs and had latched on to every word of their conversation. “I’m sorry, Mr. McLendon.”

“Matt,” he quickly corrected, proud that he actually
had
remembered his name.

She nodded
and glanced back at Con and Car before fixing her eyes on the wall behind him. He could see her internal struggle with her reply. She finally brought her gaze to his and shook her head. “Matt, I’m sorry. I don’t date my student’s parents.”

Of c
ourse she didn’t, but that didn’t deter him. “I make a mean lasagna. And the boys would love the company.” So would he and Mason.
Mason
. God, if she stirred Mason’s libido into the same frenzy… Could it be possible?
Could she be the one?

“The one, what?”
Claira asked, her brows furrowing at the sudden shocked expression on his face.

“What?” Oh, God.
He had to get out of there and regroup. He had to talk to Mason before he screwed this up more than he already had. “The one and only woman who could refuse my lasagna,” he quickly covered. “They always told me that I’d be rejected one day. I mean, that my lasagna would. I mean…” Matt felt his throat close up and sweet Jesus, it was getting hot in there. “I guess it’s just us tonight, boys.” He grabbed Con and Car’s hands and made his way to the door. Before he left he paused and turned to drink up one last sight of her. Before he blurted out another of his wayward thoughts, he smiled. “I won’t give up.” He studied the small dimples at the corners of her mouth. “Have a good evening, Miss Claira.” With those brilliant words he was gone.

Relieved
, Claira sunk down into the cold, metal chair behind her desk. She had just been asked out by, and turned down, possibly the most outrageously male
man
she’d ever met in all her twenty four years. What the hell was wrong with her? Her blood raced, her lungs pumped like pistons to deliver oxygen to her brain and her body had ached to accept his invitation.

“
No!” She shook her head. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t bring her troubles to them. Her kind of trouble only caused death and sadness. Those boys didn’t deserve that. Neither did their father. No one did.

She hoped he was wrong about not giving up. She wasn’t sure if she was hormonally capable of resistin
g him if he ever really tried.

Mason had spent the entire day working with a three year old paint gelding. Beautiful mount, but he kept bucking his rider. Mason was the best known horse breeder and trainer for three hundred miles and his owner had hired him to work out the kinks. Mason was known for his ability to read both animals and people. At times he’d swear he could hear a horse’s thoughts; feel what they felt. People were a little different, but he always seemed to see through things well enough.

He
preferred training horses from green. It was always easier to teach good etiquette then to break bad habits. Within just a couple of hours he figured out the paint simply had a case of ticklish flanks. Too much pressure or a quick heel to the flank would set him off. He’d put money on his suspicion that the owner had a few bad habits of his own.

Even though this particular job had been an easy fix, after
a few hours in the pen with the paint, the last two of which he’d spent listening to Matt go on and on about one Miss Claira Robbins, Mason was hot, sweaty and his dick was hard enough to hammer horseshoe nails.

Hell, the damn thing didn’t even so much as twitch for nearly two years after they lost Sarah. He knew, though reluctantly, they had all slaked their needs on a one night stand or two at some time or another since they
’d lost her. He wasn’t completely resigned to a solitary life and had grown accustom to the occasional fuck with friendly benefits, but he had never allowed himself to hope they could ever have again what they once had with Sarah. He knew for a fact that Grey had given up on that possibility all together.

What if Matt was right?
Was it possible to love someone like that again? For them
all
to love her? He had thought many times of what would happen if one of his brothers found someone else. Would they move on, go their separate ways? What would happen to the twins? How would they share them? No way could he ever think about splitting them up or living without them. That was the main reason Mason had never allowed himself to entertain the idea of finding someone else to share his life with. His boys were enough. But, what if? Could this Claira woman heal them?

“Okay, I’ll go.”
Mason hung the lead on the tack hook next to the paint’s stall and turned back to fetch the water pail. “But I’m telling you right now, Grey will never go for it. And if I don’t see what all the hoop-lah is about then you’re on your own. By that I mean you can fuck her, flirt with her, hell, you can pick daisies with her for all I care. Just get her out of your system before you go and do something that we’ll all be regretting.”

Matt felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. “
Don’t talk about her like that, bro. She’s different. You’ll see. She deserves better’n that.” He could barely believe it, but the protectiveness that pricked at his heart over Claira nearly overwhelmed him. It felt right. “I need you to convince her to come to dinner. I know once you and Grey see her you’ll both feel it, too.”

Mason hung the pail of water
in the stall and dumped a bucket of feed in the trough. “Do you really think it’s possible? I mean, you don’t feel guilty or anything?”

Matt shook his head
with confidence. “Sarah’s gone. I hate it and I miss her like crazy some times, but she would want us to be happy again, Mace. I don’t think any of us could ever be happy in a relationship on our own. Our home is here, with each other, like mom and the dads. It wouldn’t be fair to the twins or whoever was left behind.”

Mason nodded his agreement. At least he knew he and his twin
were on the same page as usual. He had an almost nauseating feeling in his gut that told him his life was about to change. He only hoped it was for the better. He had a sneaky notion that it could go either way. “If I agree to do this, you’re doing the cooking.”

Matt rolled his eyes
and slapped Mason on the shoulder. “So what else is new?” As they were walking out of the barn Matt noticed a trickle of dark fluid running out from under one of the empty stalls. He stopped and flipped the latch on the bay door, slowly pulling it open to peer inside. “Jesus!”

“What the hell?” Mason pushed him out of the way and knelt beside a bleeding and laboring Bernie.
“Call Doc Fisher!” He winced at the amount of blood she’d lost. Two small pups were rooting around blindly but something was terribly wrong. No way was all that blood from birthing two puppies.

Matt pulled out his cell and called the vet
, then moments later knelt beside Mason. “Fisher is on his way. What the hell happened to her?”

Mason
carefully felt around the mutt’s neck and pulled back a bloody hand. “She’s been cut up by something.” He shook his head and with a gentle touch continued to probe the area. “It’s a clean cut. Almost looks like a stab wound. Grab that lamp in the tack room and get me some water and clean towels.”

“What the fuck? Who would do something like that
to Bernie?”
He He

Matt raced to the tack room and back to Matt and Bernie
with the supplies. He wasn’t particularly close to the old cur dog but he hated to see anything in that much pain.

“
I’m afraid to guess, but I have to tell you. Tom Grunion was pissed as hell when I out bid him on that stallion last month.” The Grunion and McLendon families had feuded over land, horses and women since they first settled in the Montana Territory back when the Salish Indians still occupied most of the land. Their sordid and volatile history seemed to settle a little as the generations passed, considering some of the bloody stories told by their grandfathers. The Dawes’ had taken on the brunt of the Grunion’s hostilities when Tom’s great aunt had eloped with the territory’s newest settler, but there was obviously still plenty of bad blood between them all.

“
He knows we didn’t need him for our stock, but I couldn’t stand the thought of such a beautiful animal going to an abusive son of bitch like him. Rumor has it, he’s been making some threats and Grey caught one of his hands poking around the barn last week.”

“I
n our barn?”

“Yeah,” Mason winced as Bernie let out with a whimper of pain.
“Gave him a song and dance about looking for work. Grey recognized him from Grunion’s place. He got the feeling he was just snooping for something.”

Matt watched as Mason tried to clean out the wound. There was so much blood. “I can see him
gettin’ all surly, but this? God, Mace how did she get locked up in here?”

“I have no idea.”
Mason dipped his hand in the water and brought it to Bernie’s mouth, careful to only drip a little on her tongue. “There ya go girl, just a little water.” He picked up one of the pups and noticed it wasn’t breathing. Placing it between his palms, he vigorously rubbed the pup between them, trying to massage him to life. “Come on, little one. You can do it. Just breathe for me.” He dipped his head and covered the pups nose and mouth with his own and blew in a short breath. After a few more rubs the pup screeched out a cry. “There ya go lil’ bit. You’re a fighter aren’t you?” He handed the pup off to Matt and turned his attention back to Bernie and the other pup.

Matt kept rubbing, keeping the puppy
stimulated, awake and breathing. “I’ll tell you one thing. If Doc Fisher confirms Bernie’s been purposefully cut up, Grunion’s goin’ to pay for this.” Matt felt violated. No one came onto his land and hurt one of his own. Not even a dog.

“Don’t go borrowing trouble just yet, Matt. Even if
she makes it, there’s no way of telling who did this. We’ll just need to keep an eye out for trouble is all.”

Bernie’s breathing picked up to a heavy pant as another contraction hit her. Mason knew he had to keep his cool about Grunion before Matt went off half
-cocked, but damn it, if he found even one shred of evidence that he was behind this, he wouldn’t have problem breaking that no-good, bastards neck himself.

**************

Four more puppies and twenty four hours later, Matt was standing in the middle of their kitchen staring at a completely dumbstruck Mason. “She’s really going to be here tomorrow night?” No matter how many times Mason had told him, he still couldn’t bring himself to truly believe it.

Mason nodded, grinning like an idiot.

“Tomorrow? Friday night. You sure?” Matt felt like he was an untried fifteen year old nervous about his first date. Mason had done it. Claira was coming to dinner and if he had his way she’d never leave. He knew it was stupid. He didn’t know the first thing about her, but something inside him recognized her as his. As theirs.

“Yup.”
Mason nodded again. It hadn’t been difficult to keep his thoughts from Grey at dinner. Since he’d left the school he’d been incapable of more than one syllable words. Matt had been right. From the moment he’d laid eyes on Miss Claira standing by the swing set on the playground he’d lost all his blood and more than half of his brain cells to the demands of his cock.

Damn, she had been like a goddess beckoning him to her.
A brisk wind had blown in the night before and it teased her shoulder length curls as they billowed around her heart shaped face, reflecting the sun like a bronzed halo. A sudden gust caught her flowing, ankle length skirt and pressed it against her delicate, shapely legs, leaving nothing to his imagination. He nearly came in his jeans with the thought of those legs wrapped around his hips as he plunged balls deep into….
Fucking A.
He had to get a grip!