Page 1 of Want You Back (Second Chance Ranch #1)
Chapter 1
Colt
Now
The black luxury import with California plates was begging for a ticket. I’d spent enough years as a deputy in the Disappointment County Sheriff’s office that I accurately clocked the driver doing eighty in a fifty-five even before I used my radar. As sheriff, I didn’t usually get involved with traffic stops, but I was more than happy to make an exception for the out-of-towner. Honestly, my job was way more meetings and personnel matters than law enforcement, and I missed being out in the field something fierce.
The chance to flip on my lights was a fun novelty, as was chasing down the little import. Clearly a tourist because a sports car wouldn’t make it through a single Colorado winter. I did take a moment to admire the zippy handling as the car hugged the curvy county road. I’d first caught sight of the car coming off Highway 491, and if anything, he’d sped up once free of the area’s main highway. The driver took his sweet time noticing me in his rearview, making my admiration slide right into irritation.
The driver finally got the idea to pull over onto a side road shortly before the turnoff for Lovelorn Ranch. Oh. With Melvin Lovelorn’s death a week ago, chances were high that this city slicker was a vulture here to circle. The family had opted not to hold public services, not entirely a shocker for the town patriarch few would miss. However, the Lovelorn Gazette had a pretty little write-up on the front page, and in a state with ranch land at a premium, more than a few savvy real estate types were known to comb obituaries.
I ran the license plate, but as usual, the system was beyond slow. I called in the stop to our dispatch in case I needed backup and asked Dolores to run the plate for me while I went and talked to the driver.
Well and truly irritated, I didn’t have to work to put on my meanest glare along with my cowboy hat as I strode toward the sports car. Always paid to be cautious, so I approached nice and slow, senses on red alert for potential problems. Dude certainly knew the drill, though, both hands on the steering wheel, window already rolled down, gaze straight ahead behind designer sunglasses. Heck, he even had his wallet out and open on the seat next to him.
I couldn’t wait for Dolores to get back to me on those plates. This guy was likely sitting on a stack of tickets in multiple states. No way was I letting him off with a warning.
“Do you know why I pulled you over?” I asked as I approached the driver’s side window. My pulse sped up because this was always a critical moment during traffic stops. If he was armed, inclined to be a runner, or ready to be belligerent, now was when he’d play his hand.
“Reckon I was a smidge over the limit.” The guy had a smooth voice, more Western than the typical California accent. No slur to his speech, but I hadn’t ruled out a field sobriety test. He kept his hands on the wheel, no visible tremor, so I moved my observations to his face. The sunglasses obscured what looked to be a slim, chiseled Caucasian face. Scruffy jawline like he hadn’t shaved since California. Not a kid. Likely somewhere between thirty-five and forty-five, judging by the short brown hair with no signs of gray.
“A smidge,” I agreed, tone coolly amicable. “Eighty-three in a fifty-five. Watched you blow right by a speed limit sign, so I reckon that’s not a shock.”
“Not entirely.” The guy was just this side of sarcastic. “May I hand you my ID, Officer?”
“Slowly. Hands where I can see them. And go ahead and take those sunglasses off.”
As I’d ordered, he moved deliberately, hands out in front as he plucked his sunglasses from his face and set them next to his wallet. He reached for his license next, but I no longer needed the ID. The face was older, and the voice deeper and smoother, but I’d know those pale-blue eyes anywhere. Schooling my expression, I whistled low.
“Maverick Lovelorn. Should have known you’d finally grace us with your presence.” I accepted his license anyway because I fully intended to run the sucker. Old times sake be damned.
Maverick squinted at me. “Colt?”
“Yep. See you still like to go fast,” I drawled, not inclined to let him off the hook, not after all these years.
“Oh fuck.” Shoulders slumping, he tipped his head forward. “I forgot you were a deputy.”
“Sheriff.” I gestured at my jeep behind us. “My how the years have flown.”
“I’m late to meet Faith and Dad’s lawyers at the ranch.” Maverick gave me the same sheepish smile that had worked to smooth over any number of transgressions in high school. “Faith was smart and flew in last night with her kid. I had this stupid idea that the drive would clear my head.”
“Hell of a drive.” I was long past being swayed by his smile.
“Fourteen hours.” Maverick’s attempt at a smile dimmed considerably. “Started out yesterday. Still doesn’t seem any more real that my dad’s finally gone.”
“My condolences to you and Faith.” I parroted the sort of manners my mama would want me to use.
“You sound real sorry, Colt. Go ahead. Write me the ticket. Chew me out for not coming when Dad first got sick. Let me have it for not visiting and keeping up with…folks.”
How could you forget about me so easily? The question had plagued me on and off for two decades now. If I was going to lay into him over anything, it would be how easily he’d left the town in his rearview, smoking his speed demon tires on the way out of the state. But revealing the old hurt would give him far too much power.
“Nah.” I handed him back the license. “Don’t speed in my county again.”
“Thanks.” He blew out a long breath, fine lines around his eyes and mouth revealing his exhaustion. “I am sorry. For everything. I wasn’t the son he wanted. I wasn’t the friend you deserved.”
“We were young.” I waved a hand, not eager to go down this path of regrets. “And as for your dad, I am sorry for your loss, even if you and Faith lost him a long time ago.”
“Yeah. He was a bitter bastard right up until the end.” Maverick’s gaze swept over the rugged landscape on either side of us. “Wonder how many around here will miss him. The man had a whole damn town and still couldn’t be happy.”
The same could have been said for Maverick, who was as much a Lovelorn as his father and all his relations, back to the first homesteaders in the 1870s. They’d founded the town, and the ranch had long been the largest taxpayer in the county. In addition to cattle and crops, the ranch had a world-class reputation for breeding and raising quarter horses. And now Maverick and his sister were the last of the Lovelorns, and the two of them hadn’t been able to leave the county fast enough. And for all that their father had been a cantankerous soul, he’d had a strong moral compass. He’d begrudged the hell out of the responsibility, but he’d ultimately done right by the town and his ranch.
I doubted Maverick could be trusted to do the same.
“What happens now?” I asked, already dreading the answer. “What are you and Faith going to do with the ranch?”
“Nothing left to be done.” He shook his head mournfully. “Place is cursed. Sell the whole damn lot.”
“Sheriff?” My radio crackled with an update from Dolores. “I’ve got those plates you wanted. You’ll never guess who the vehicle is registered to.”
“Maverick Lovelorn.” I stole a little of her glee and immediately felt bad for it. “I’m finishing up here, Dolores. No ticket. I’ll be back in time for that meeting with the insurance folks.”
“See you then. Over and out.” She didn’t sound too put out by my curtness, but then, Dolores was hard to ruffle.
“So I’m free to go?” Maverick asked.
“You follow real estate, I’m sure.” I ignored his question. “You know what’s happening all over the state. Durango wants to be the next Jackson Hole, full of part-timers and hobby ranchers pricing out the locals. Aspen. Vail. Jackson Hole. All major tourist destinations for the rich and richer. No one who works there can afford to live there.”
“Lovelorn is hardly as attractive as Durango to tourists.” Maverick scoffed. “It’s the bean capital of the world. The new biofuel plant was the major news of the decade.”
“Yep. Plant opened, brought a few new faces to town.” I was surprised Maverick had kept up with the town that much. Maybe there was hope for him yet. “Developers have been sniffing around. For people priced out of Durango, Lovelorn would do just fine. And if not land-grabbing developers, a corporate farm will swoop in and be just as bad for the area.”
Either choice would be terrible as a corporate farm meant profits over people with lower wages and worse land practices, especially regarding water rights, which Maverick’s father had always been generous with. Pricing out the locals with hobby ranches would dry up employment and affect many of my friends, family, and fellow townsfolk who lived paycheck to paycheck as it was.
“Change happens. Even in Lovelorn.” Maverick sliced right through any hope I had that he might see reason.
“Look, I know your dad did a number on you and Faith. But this town loved you both. Raised you.” I made my voice sterner. Compassion hadn’t worked, but maybe good old-fashioned guilt would. “Your dad wasn’t beloved by any means, but his loss is still gonna be felt by many. Don’t make it worse.”
“I’m sorry. Truly.” Looking down, Maverick studied his hands. “But we have to sell.”