Her Second Chance Hometown Groom Read online

  Her Second Chance Hometown Groom

  Bachelor Texas Rebel Romances

  Amelia C. Adams

  To my family, who make my life so much fun.

  Foreword by Taylor Hart

  Just — wow! I cannot tell you guys enough how much I love this book!

  Austin has endured a lot from this woman and, even though he’s tough on the inside, I love how Angela gets past his defenses every time.

  Angela has so much goodness inside of her but she had something happen to her that—damaged her. Ah-it breaks my heart thinking about it!

  This book will make you put off whatever you had planned for today and you’ll just get lost. And, I wish I could unread it and start again—yes, it’s that good!

  Enjoy!

  Taylor Hart

  Best-selling Amazon Author of Her Second Chance Groom: Bachelor Texas Rebel Romances

  Acknowledgments

  With thanks to Taylor Hart and the other great Texas Rebels authors for being such a great team to work with!

  Also, much thanks to my beta readers—Amy, Barbara, Bonnie, Cindy, Dorothy, Joseph, Lisa, Mary, Melissa, Pamela, Renee G., Renee L., Robin, Rose, Sandy, Shelby, Suzy, Tammy, Teresa, and Tina.

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Her Second Chance Dream Groom by Emma St. Clair

  Also by Amelia C. Adams

  About the Author

  Copyright

  All rights reserved.

  © 2019 Amelia C. Adams

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews. The reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form whether electronic, mechanical or other means, known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written consent of the publisher and/or author. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This edition is published by ArchStone Ink LLC.

  First eBook Edition: 2019

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the creation of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Austin Mayhew, cornerback for the Texas Rebels football team, shifted in his chair, trying to get comfortable. He didn’t mean to be disrespectful—he’d just never been good at sitting still for any length of time. He’d much rather be out on the field tackling a receiver or back home riding one of his father’s horses than stuck at a fancy Christmas dinner for their annual charity party.

  It also didn’t help that he and his teammates had just been through a shock—the team owner, Terry Jones, had passed away a week and a half previously, and they were honoring his memory at the event. His picture had been plastered up on the big screen above the gathering, and every time Austin looked at it, the knot in his stomach tightened. He’d miss Terry, but he also wondered what would happen to the team. Terry had been their motivation and driving force. With his sudden loss, it was hard to stay excited about the game.

  The other guys were obviously feeling it too. Usually pretty tight, they’d been snapping at each other all evening. He hoped their upcoming ten-day break would help them get their heads on straight again so they could play some decent ball—things hadn’t gone their way for a while now.

  He looked down the length of the table. DJ, Sy, Jett, Rev—these men were like his brothers. He didn’t know what he’d do when DJ retired after that season. When he’d first joined the team as a fuzzy-faced baby, it was DJ who had walked him through those first awkward games until he figured things out. Who was he going to turn to for advice when DJ hung up his cleats?

  The tension around the table was building as the guys poked at each other. This wasn’t the time or the place—they were supposed to be raising money for charity, not letting off steam. Austin was just as bad as the rest of them, though—he couldn’t seem to shake the cloud that was hanging over him. He scratched his beard, feeling edgy, wanting to leave and yet knowing this was where he should be.

  DJ’s phone had been going off with texts, his family wanting him to come home for Christmas. He didn’t have any intention of going, and Austin couldn’t understand that. He couldn’t wait to get home to Frogwater and see his family, but DJ hadn’t given an explanation for his decision. He’d just growled whenever he was asked about it, and he finally got up and left the table. Austin felt bad about that. Maybe he’d poked DJ a little too hard, but sometimes that was the only way to get an answer out of him when it came to emotional stuff. Some people weren’t comfortable with ooey-gooey feelings.

  He glanced over to see a blonde reporter and her cameraman working their way through the crowd toward their table. The media loved this event—local football heroes giving of themselves to help the community. He couldn’t see her face, but he appreciated the sheen of her hair and the way her gray pantsuit was fitted to her waist. Appreciating her looks didn’t make him interested in talking to her, though. He really enjoyed the charity work they did, but he wished they could do it without microphones being shoved in their faces. He just wanted to play football, not make fancy speeches.

  He concentrated on folding his napkin into a million different shapes as the woman moved down the table, chatting with his teammates. If he kept his head down, maybe she wouldn’t notice him, and he could fly under her radar. But then he glanced up, caught sight of her face, and laughed outright before he could stop himself.

  “Angela Dingle, as I live and breathe! What brings you here from Frogwater, Wyoming?”

  Her head jerked up, and her cheeks flooded bright red. “I . . .” She took a step backward. “Hello, Austin. I . . .” She struggled to find words, obviously flustered. Then she turned and ran for the hallway.

  “What was that all about?” Sy asked.

  “I don’t know, but I’m gonna find out.” Austin got up and chased after her. She’d gotten a head start, but she was wearing high heels, and he met up with her not too far down the corridor.

  “Angela, wait!”

  She turned slowly and faced him, the tracks of tears visible on her cheeks. “I’d hoped . . . I’d hoped that maybe you would have forgotten me, or that you’d at least act like a gentleman when we saw each other. But no—you couldn’t even do that much for me.”

  Wait. What was she talking about? Austin held up both hands. “Now, just a second there. I don’t know what you mean.”

  She gestured impatiently toward the party. “Angela Dingle from Frogwater, Wyoming . . . out here in San Antonio, I’m Angela Hathaway, and I’m from Laramie. Yes, that’s still pretty small potatoes, but it’s a step up, and I’ve worked hard for that step. You just ruined everything for me.”

  “I ruined everything by saying hello to you?” Austin couldn’t wrap his head around what she was trying to say. “Do you want me to pretend like we don’t even know each other? Come on, Angela. I can’t do that. Not after everything we used to be.” How could she ask that of him?

  “You ruined it by giving me away—not only in front of your team, but on camera. There’s no way for me to put a lid on that.” She let out a puff
of air. “Listen, I have a job to do here. I’m supposed to interview the team and put together a nice piece for the news. Where’s DJ Madden? Did you see where he went?”

  “No, but I imagine he’ll be back soon.”

  She exhaled. “All right, I’ll do the best I can with comments from the other three.” She held up a hand. “No, I’m not going to interview you. I’m keeping as much distance between the two of us as humanly possible, and that means forever. I do need to finish speaking with Sy, though—I’ll come back just that long, and then we can go our separate ways for good this time. Frogwater isn’t who I am anymore. I’m better than that now.”

  She spun on her heel and strode off. Her cameraman scuttled after her—Austin hadn’t even realized the young man was nearby.

  He stood there and watched them go, trying to sort through everything that had just happened. He was angry, sure, but also confused. He’d always thought that seeing Angela again would be a good thing—he had no idea she’d push him away so hard and so fast, and it had left him reeling. And what did she mean, she was better than that now? He pulled in a deep breath, trying to shake it off. She must have misspoken—the Angela he’d known wouldn’t say something like that.

  He returned to the table slowly and sat down, reaching for his glass of ice water and draining it. Angela was speaking animatedly with Sy, her shoulder turned so Austin would be blocked out of the camera angle.

  She really did hold grudges, didn’t she?

  “Is everything okay?” Rev asked in a low tone, leaning over to speak in Austin’s ear.

  “No, and I don’t have any idea how to fix it.” He hated that feeling, knowing that he’d hurt someone, but not knowing how to set things right. He couldn’t build a time machine out of the silverware on the table and keep his mouth shut on the second go-round. He’d just have to hope that she could recover from his slip of the tongue. A slip he didn’t even know was a slip because he wasn’t aware that she was keeping her real identity a secret. Was she Batman now or something? Honestly, what was the big deal?

  DJ came back to the table a moment later. Austin thought Angela would take the opportunity to speak to him, but instead, she walked away. That was weird, but then again, she never had made a lot of sense. He’d be tempted to say the same about girls in general, but his sister, Maggie, wasn’t that way. He didn’t know what made the difference.

  DJ pulled in a deep breath, and Austin turned his attention away from Angela. He wanted to hear what DJ had to say.

  “Austin, you asked me about regrets,” DJ said, his voice somber. “Yeah, I’ve got regrets. My dad passed away this fall, I lost a brother a while back, and I haven’t gone home for Christmas in ten years. But I’m going this time.” He turned and pointed at the wall, where Terry’s picture shone on the giant screen. “Terry lived his life without regrets, and that’s what I intend to do. I’m going to fix some things in my past so they aren’t hanging over me anymore. I’m sure you all have regrets too—are you with me? Let’s make this the Christmas vacation we’ll always remember, the one where we mend some fences and stop looking backwards.”

  The other team members started giving their assent. Austin wasn’t sure at first—his regret would involve getting a certain blonde to forgive him, and that would be entirely her choice. But he could try, couldn’t he? He was a moment late to chime in, but he did, thinking that if he gave it his all and she still wouldn’t forgive him, that would be on her shoulders, not his.

  The problem was, he had a lot more to apologize for than just that night.

  Once everyone on the defensive line had agreed, they raised their fists in the air. “Rebels!” they yelled, and for the first time since Terry died, Austin felt their sense of brotherhood return. He might not be able to set things right with Angela, but making the attempt would set things right with his team, and that would certainly make it all worth it.

  Angela climbed into the news van, pulled the door shut, and closed her eyes. What a mess. What a big, horrible, embarrassing mess. She’d been so harsh—she’d said things she didn’t even mean because she was so flustered, and it had built and built until she just couldn’t be there anymore. She couldn’t even stay long enough to interview DJ—she needed to be alone, to sift through her thoughts in private, and to chastise herself for being so awful. What had come over her? She hadn’t even recognized herself during that conversation.

  She listened as Bobby put the camera in the back of the van, knowing that when he climbed into the driver’s seat, he was going to be full of questions. She didn’t want to answer questions. Maybe she could hop out, run down the street, and get on a bus to . . . well, anywhere. Anywhere far, far away from here.

  She’d known when she was given this assignment that she’d be seeing Austin. She’d been avoiding that eventuality ever since she got the job as one of the sports reporters for the evening news. She’d managed to arrange for the other reporter to cover the Rebels’ games, to attend their other charity events, and even to comment on their personal lives. But tonight, she hadn’t been so lucky. The other reporter was out for gall bladder surgery, and now everything was crashing down around her.

  Bobby closed the back doors of the van, and just seconds later, he climbed in and fastened his seat belt. She took a breath. She wouldn’t wait for him to bring it up—she’d take charge of the conversation herself. That way, she’d know how it would go.

  “What you saw in there was my overreaction to an awkward situation,” she began. “It was unprofessional, and I assure you, I’ll never let it happen again.”

  Bobby turned and looked at her, his kind eyes matching the brown of his suit coat. “Angela, it’s all right. I wasn’t going to ask.”

  “You weren’t?”

  “No. I could tell you were upset, and as far as I’m concerned, this is your private business. I’m not turning in that part of the tape.”

  Relief washed over her, and if she’d been standing up, her knees might have gone wobbly. “Thank you, Bobby. I really appreciate it. More than I can even tell you.”

  “No problem.” He put the key in the ignition, but paused before turning it. “You realize, though, that this puts me in a pretty decent position to ask you for a favor.”

  She raised an eyebrow. This might not be so great after all. “Oh, so this wasn’t just out of the goodness of your heart?”

  “My heart is plenty good, but if I could get you to go to the station’s Christmas party with me, that would be awesome too, wouldn’t it?” He winked.

  Angela grinned in reply. “I’d love to, Bobby. I was dreading going, but if we’re together, it won’t be nearly so horrible.”

  He gave a fist pump. “Hooray for not being the most horrible date a girl could have! I’m the king of the world!”

  She laughed outright as he started the engine. “Yes! Now let’s get back to the station so I have something to turn in. It won’t be great, but I did get a few quotes, at least.” Just enough to fill the time slot, she hoped.

  Time to stop thinking about Austin Mayhew and get busy salvaging her career.

  Chapter 2

  “You didn’t get the interview with Austin Mayhew.” Fred Wiltbank looked at Angela over the top of his glasses, then took his glasses off altogether so he could stare at her even more pointedly. “How did that happen, Angela? I sent you in there with specific instructions—you knew what I wanted out of this piece. And then I turn my back for one night so I can go to my daughter’s ballet recital, and what do I see on the news when I flip it on? Not Austin Mayhew. Not DJ Madden. I’m surprised you got anyone at all, the rate you were going.”

  Angela looked down at her hands. She’d folded them neatly in her lap when she sat down, hoping that would keep them from trembling, but it hadn’t worked. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wiltbank. Things didn’t go as I’d planned.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “You remember my old friend Steve over at channel five? They had a reporter there too. Told Steve you saw Mayhew and f
roze, and then you turned and ran out of the room. Steve was laughing when he called me this morning. Asked me what I thought I was doing, sending a scared little girl into the big, bad world like that.”

  Angela closed her eyes. This was not good . . . This was so not good.

  “And then Steve said Mayhew followed you. I have to say, Angela, in all my years, I’ve never heard of a football player chasing a reporter. It’s always the other way around. It’s part of your job, what you get paid to do.”

  “I’m sorry,” Angela said again. “I . . . messed up.”

  “You bet your boots you did. I called Bobby in here a minute ago and asked him what happened. He said he didn’t film it because he had a feeling there was something else going on, and he didn’t want to invade your privacy. I’m not sure if he fully understands what it means to be a cameraman, but you can rest assured that he’s a good friend.”

  “Yes, he is.” There just wasn’t a way to get out of this. She’d have to plow right into the heart of it. “The truth is, sir, I was embarrassed, and I handled it poorly. I apologize, and I assure you, it won’t happen again.”

  Mr. Wiltbank shook his head, looking exasperated. “Apologies are nice, but they don’t pay the bills. Our viewers were expecting an interview with Mayhew. They’re fascinated by him—his humble beginnings, his Cinderella-like rise to the top. Yes, they enjoy hearing from all the members of the team, but they’re still trying to figure out what makes him tick. They want to know if he’s as down-to-earth as he seems or if it’s all just for show. I was counting on you to help feed that fire.”