Last Chance (Chances Novel Book 1) Page 2

  Anywhere you can make a buck, that's what his stepfather had taught him. One of the many lessons he had learned from him. None of them particularly good considering Rhett Wheeler was a con man and an alcoholic. He would never be up for father of the year, but considering his own upbringing, in his own sad and pathetic way Rhett had tried.

  He was a better father than Shep had been. At least Rhett was around for baseball games and dance recitals. Instead, Shep had bemoaned those affairs, trying instead to buy off his children with lavish vacations in the spur of the moment.

  "Buying off" was a harsh way of considering his well-meaning gestures, Shep reflected. He'd never seen it like that. He'd wanted to spoil his children, give them the things he had been forsaken at their age and provide a better life for them. He realized now that a better life didn't necessarily mean ritzier life.

  But he had learned that too late.

  There was one lesson Rhett had always drilled into him. How to be a "real" man. Real men had hair on their chest, they weren't ‘nancy-boys,' and real men always brought home the bacon. The woman stayed home, and she took care of the house duties and the children. Those weren’t the affairs of a real man.

  Now at his age, he still wasn’t confident about the definition he had known all his life. Experience had taught him that perhaps all those lessons Rhett had cherished so much were stereotypical and ill-informed.

  Showing feelings, expressing love; these things fell into the category being a ‘nancy-boy.' He could almost hear his stepfather's mocking sneer every time he told Adam or Holly that he loved them over the phone. Casual expressions of sentiment were signs of weakness and had no place in the world of a real man.

  Now widowed with two children, Shep knew different. Saying I love you got more comfortable every time. Not only because he realized, like the damn cliché he was, how short life was.

  But also because he understood that showing sentiment made you stronger, not weaker. No one, yet, had begrudged him for telling them he loved them. If anything, it had strengthened the bonds he had already built with his cold and aloof demeanor.

  Each hit of the cigarette brought sweet relief to the tension that had settled on his shoulders. Before long he was feeling better with less of a sick knot in his stomach. A place shouldn't cause so much anxiety. Shep realized, belatedly, that in not thinking about Pleasant Lake for thirty years he had also never thought about how comfortable he had been walking away from the love of his life.

  Chapter 3

  1989

  “Can I buy you a drink?” She looked down at her wine glass, considering it for a moment before looking back up at him and nodding. He grinned, pleased that she agreed and headed through the crowd to get back downstairs to fetch her drink. He was starting to feel the effects of whatever had been in the mason jar and the mixture of shots that the crowd had offered him.

  He swayed down the stairs, heaving at one point through bodies to grab the railing and steady himself. It was unlike him to not be able to hold his drink, a side-effect of the army where drinking was a form of social sport. However, drinking endless amounts of beer versus a collection of whatever he had absorbed that evening were probably two different cases.

  At the bar he ordered himself a glass of water first, downing it almost in one single gulp before asking for a glass of wine and a local beer. With both hands full, he began his slow return back to the upper deck. From below he could see the wood throbbing with the weight of all the people partying upstairs, years of abuse wearing it down.

  The stairs were worn too, he noticed, as he made his way back up, needing to focus on the knotting in the wood to keep himself from feeling dizzy. Maybe he should have gone with another glass of water instead of another glass of something alcoholic.

  Scanning the crowd for Honey, she had returned to the rail with her friends, looking less concerned for his return than she was about having a good time. How strange, he wasn’t used to women being so aloof about him. He prided himself on being a bit of a stud.

  Undeterred, he worked his way over to her careful not to slosh any of the drinks before barging through the space between two of her friends to reach her.

  “Here you go, doll,” she looked a little alarmed to see him return; as though she hadn’t expected it. Her recovery was good as she shifted her expression and smiled.

  “Thanks,” she took the wine glass from him and exchanged a kind of secret glance with her girlfriend before sipping the wine, “I’m Honey.”

  “I know,” Shep said proudly, pleased with his detective work. Honey, instead, looked surprised once more as she lowered the glass from her lips. She rested it on the railing beside her and looked once more to her girlfriends who slowly had begun making their way across the deck to leave them alone. “I’m Shep Wheeler, I’m new in town.”

  “Well, you’d have to be or else we’d already know each other.” She teased him, those bright blue eyes shining with mirth. Not because she was flirting but because she found amusement in making fun of him. How strange, was he not having an effect on her?

  “I guess that’s true. My friend mentioned you’re a local.”

  “And who is your friend?”

  “Jeremy Fisher,” he said with a nod in Jeremy’s direction.

  “I know Jeremy,” she said with a coy smile before picking up the wine glass once more and sipping from it.

  "Would you like to show me around some time?" Shep's version of asking a girl out was to make a suggestion, so it made it seem like she asked him out. He found it worked every time because women loved feeling in charge.

  "Not really." She laughed into her wine glass, and the reply surprised him, causing him to look twice at her.

  “Really?”

  “Not really, really.” She reaffirmed as she sipped the wine again.

  “Why?” It was a narcissistic question, but he was genuinely surprised she didn’t want to spend more time with him.

  “Have you seen Pleasant Lake?” she set the glass down again, crossing her arms over her belly, “it’s tiny. There’s nothing to see unless you’d like me to point out the corner store and the gas station, which happen to be the same thing.” She grinned at him like she thought he was a joke. He was concerned that nothing he was doing was working on her. Was his face not working for her? This was the first time it had let him down when it came to women.

  “Hm,” he mumbled to himself before looking back at the new male friends he had made that evening. “I guess that’s true. I’ll probably be working too much for a date, anyways.” He turned the rejection around on her and shifted his body to indicate he was finished with the conversation. “Nice meeting you Honey,” he nodded his head slightly before weaving back through the crowd to Jeremy and the others.

  Honey was left standing there her bemusement still on her face, but the racing in her heart seemed like it wasn't in any hurry to stop. Her girlfriends returned and began to bombard her with questions on who the new hottie was and what he had said. She deflected their questions and was thankful when the group of guys he had returned to began to make a scene once more.

  “Nah, I bet you can’t do that," Jeremy smirked at Shep who shook his head. He wasn't one to turn down a challenge, so he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up past his elbows and grabbed the railing, hauling himself up onto it.

  “How much is the bet?”

  “Twenty.”

  “Nah, that’s nothing.”

  “Okay, ten from each of us. So, fifty.” The other boys nodded in agreement, all looking up at Shep who was beginning to get his balance.

  “How long?”

  “A minute.”

  “Who has a watch?”

  “I do," one of the others held up his wrist. Jeremy glanced at him to make sure he was ready before he nodded.

  "Alright Shep, on the count of three." They counted, and at one, Shep lifted one foot up, balancing himself on the rail with his arms spread wide. Even though she had rejected him, he couldn't help but l
ook over at Honey. Their eyes met, and he grinned at her.

  His drunk mind decided he was going to impress her. She was going to be so blown away by this daring act of balance that she was going to rush through the crowd, grab him by the face and kiss him so deeply it would steal every ounce of air from his lungs.

  He was so busy imagining this outcome that Shep didn't realize he had begun swaying slightly and the crowd, who had turned to watch, was counting along to the tick of the watch, laughing because he looked like a drunk fool.

  When the swaying got worse, his arms flailed trying to right the imbalance, but it wasn’t enough. He groaned, shifting his foot a bit to correct the angle he was standing at, and that was the worst thing he could do.

  For him, it felt like slow motion as his body tipped backward but, for the crowd, it only took a split second to see him kilter sideways, and the rest of his body follow suit. He began free falling into the water below. Desperate to try and correct the damage, Shep attempted to shift into a diving position, but it wasn’t enough.

  From above, the crowd surged to the railing to watch his landing, and they all witnessed his glorious belly flop into the water below. It left him breathless as water soaked his clothes and pulled him under slowly. Floating amidst the algae and other plant life, Shep did not want to resurface knowing people would be watching still. Humiliation and Shep Wheeler did not mix. When his lungs began to burn, he had no other choice.

  Bobbing back up, his head broke free, and the first pair of eyes he met were Honey's. At first, they were filled with concern before mirth bubbled up and she covered her mouth to hide the laugh she couldn't resist. He decided to make a show of it as he pulled his wet shirt off with effort, balled it up and tossed it up toward the crowd. Shrieks echoed in the darkness, and someone caught the shirt, but he couldn't see who. Paddling to the rocky edge, he carefully pulled himself out of the water and shook his head like a dog, his hair spraying water everywhere.

  “You coming back up?” Jeremy shouted down to where Shep had disappeared into the shadows.

  “I’m soaking wet!”

  “I'm sure there are a few ladies up here happy to warm you up." Jeremy's voice was filled with laughter as he spoke and despite the likely truth behind his words, Shep was practical, and he wasn't the kind to stand around soaking wet, getting everyone else wet too.

  His jeans hung heavy on his hips, water trailing behind him as he began the slow walk toward the Grant Farm a mile up the road. He ran a hand down his abs, brushing the water off them before shaking his head again and slicking his hair back. He wanted a smoke, but any cigs he had in his pocket would be waterlogged now. He resigned himself to waiting until he got back to the farm to have one.

  As he walked back, his mind returned to Honey and that playful smile that seemed never-ending on her lips. She may have rejected him, but he still couldn't help his attraction to her, and now she had seen him make a fool of himself. He stood no chance in persuading her to go out with him. She probably thought he was a ridiculous city boy.

  Damn.

  But when he closed his eyes that night, it was her face he saw, and the dreams that came to him were dreams of her and that beautiful laugh.

  Chapter 4

  2019

  Walking back into the house, Shep heard the soft ding of his email going off again in the office. Impressed at the timeliness of their response, he returned to the computer and sat down. Except it wasn't a reply to his winery inquiry, instead it was a hit for a dating website his kids had signed him up on.

  You have a wink, he sighed and clicked on the link opening up the profile his daughter had set up. Staring back at him was a photo of himself that he thought looked entirely too staged. Apparently not since all he’d gotten since signing up was winks and flirts. He even had a date, which he wasn’t entirely thrilled about.

  He figured at his age he wasn't meant to be dating. He'd been married, had kids, and now it was time to settle into his golden years and enjoy his grandchildren who should be along in a few years or so. Going out on the town and looking for love was not something he ever thought he would have to do.

  "But Daddy, you're 55, not 95. You have enough time ahead of you to spend another life with a woman who makes you happy." His daughter had protested, and while she was right about the lifetime, he knew he couldn't love another woman. His heart had only belonged to one in all these years, and it hadn't been to his wife. He'd taken care of Elle, enjoyed her company and built a life for her. But the passion he was supposed to feel for his wife had never been there. And that emptiness had haunted him.

  "Hey, Dad!" The front door slammed shut, echoing through the quiet house as Adam entered.

  "In the office." He replied gruffly, realizing now that he had forgotten to put the coffee on like he said he would. He flicked the tab for the dating profile and looked over the woman smiling back at him. She seemed nice enough. She was a few years younger than him and had a smile on her lips that reminded him of Honey, but maybe that was merely because she was on his mind.

  She had beautiful blue eyes, wide and shining. Her hair was on the shorter side, not styled like most city women preferred. It was dyed a light blonde to camouflage grey hairs he had long since come to accept as a fact of life. Her face bore laughter lines that spoke of a life well lived and happily. Beyond that, her face was stretched and sun-kissed, also suggesting a life mostly lived outdoors. He liked that. He considered himself an outdoorsy person, although he had always been a bit too busy to go outside.

  From the threshold of the office, Adam watched the distant, faraway look appear on his father's features and he wondered where he had gone. It was so rare to see such a tender and emotive expression on the man's face which was well known for his stoicism. Nothing ever seemed to shatter the carefully guarded features of Shep Wheeler.

  He walked into the room and came around the desk to see what he was looking at. Adam couldn’t help the small smile on his face, pleased his father was still participating in their attempt to get him up and out of the house for companionship.

  “Dad?” Adam reached out, tenderly brushing his fingers on the other man’s wrist drawing him back to the present. “You alright?”

  "Hm? Yeah… Yeah, I'm fine." He looked back down at the profile. What were the chances?

  "Pleasant Lake, huh?" Was the universe trying to tell him something? Or was it looking to punish him with relentless thoughts and reminders of his life's biggest regret?

  Shep grumbled absently as he closed the browser, Adam was talking cheerfully, but he wasn't truly listening. He was still lost in the woman's eyes, unable to shake how familiar they looked. But it was too much to hope it was her. Too bad this dating site dealt in usernames and not real names, that would've eased his mind considerably.

  “Is that the woman you’re meeting for that date tonight?”

  He clicked onto the chat box, pulling up the conversation wherein he had agreed, despite his best judgment, to a date with a stranger. He confirmed the usernames were the same and nodded.

  “She winked at me, maybe she doesn’t want me to forget. I’m not that old yet, am I?"

  "I don't know, you forgot to make coffee, and it's only been ten minutes."

  Leave it to Adam to not miss a damn thing.

  “I’m going now.” He pushed back from his chair and rose, frowning only slightly when he noticed Adam had an edge on him in height. When had that happened? Was he shrinking in his old age?

  “Well, just serve yourself, I’ve got mine.” He held up the latte cup in his hand before picking up a bag off the desk and holding it out to him. “Your scone. Don’t tell Holly.”

  “My lips are sealed.” He took the bag and walked out, heading back to the kitchen.

  “Are you excited about the date tonight?”

  “About as excited as a deer gets over hunting season.”

  Adam laughed as he followed him into the kitchen, “are you the deer?”

  “I used to be the hun
ter.”

  “Ah yes, the good old days when you had woman aplenty.”

  “I was a stud.”

  "Sure you were," Adam smirked, goading his father on purpose like his mother used to. It must've been a habit he had picked up, watching Elle and him banter all the time.

  “Really, women couldn’t keep their hands off me.”

  "And then you met mom." Shep froze at the sink, distracted as he stared out the window thoughtfully. No. It hadn't been Elle who had taught him to settle down. The woman before her had tamed him first, but Adam didn't know that. He never had so much as uttered Honey's name after he met Elle.

  Adam watched with interest as his father moved through the motions of making coffee, the kettle overflowing as Shep lost himself in his thoughts. He stepped forward, arching an eyebrow but not saying anything as he shut the water off for him and stood there watching. There was a story, he could see it written all over his father’s face. He just couldn’t read it.

  “Who was she?” Shep stopped moving for a moment as he paused and turned around to face his son, still holding the full-to-the-brim kettle in his hands. Shep knew there was no escaping this story time, Adam had his doctor face on.

  “It’s a long story.” He turned back around, dumping some water out before putting the kettle on to boil.

  “We have time,” Adam stepped away from the counter and returned to the table where he sat, getting comfortable. “I’d like to hear it.”

  Shep frowned, looking for something to say that would convince his psychologist son not to open this can of worms. But it was futile, and Shep knew it. Adam could smell the regret on him, and like the doctor he was, he wanted to encourage healing and growth by communicating. Damn if all those school bills weren't coming to bite him in the ass.