Page 1 of Hard Knock Hero

CHAPTERONE

Aiden

Snow blastedmy windshield faster than the wipers could brush it away. The forecast had said a storm was headed for Western Colorado, but it was supposed to hit tomorrow, when I would be warming my hands at the fireplace of my rental cabin. Not when it was already dark, and I still had a long way to go.

I could barely see the car in front of me. Then two brake lights lit up, and I slammed on mine. More red materialized out of the whiteout conditions. Next came flashing yellow.

Damn it.

Snow settled on the hood of my truck. I was going nowhere. Not the ideal start to the vacation I’d been envisioning. Five blissful days in the woods, cooking just for myself. A luxury I didn’t often get in my line of work. No roommates. No family, as much as I did begrudgingly love them. I was a loner, and I refused to apologize for that. When I’d been a soldier, my Army brothers had given me the call sign Solo. It wasn’t a Star Wars reference. It just fit. If you’d asked any of my ex-girlfriends, they would’ve agreed.

At an agonizing pace, my truck inched forward. Then I spotted a sign.

Hartley, Next Exit. Gas, Food.

The car ahead of me veered right to take the exit ramp. I wasn’t much of a follower, but I figured this was one time to embrace what my neighbor was doing. I took the exit. Hopefully I’d be able to find a warm place to sit and some halfway decent food to wait out whatever snafu had jammed up the highway.

The gas station was just off the ramp, and several highway refugees had stopped here. The town was further afield. Fading signs directed me to Hartley’s Charming Historic Business District.Pop in and stay awhile.

“No thanks,” I muttered. “Just passing through.”

My truck rolled slowly down Main Street, wipers droning rhythmically. If there was historic charm on offer, I couldn’t see it. But then again, not much of Hartley was visible for all the snow. The sidewalks were deserted, most of the other Main Street businesses dark. A couple had plywood over their entrances.

There was a lonely-looking diner down at the far end of the commercial strip, and the warm glow of its lights called to me. The place looked completely empty, which didn’t bode well for the quality of its provisions.

Later, I would understand how deceptive that first impression had been. The diner might’ve been lonely, but the reason wasn’t the food.

The car in front of me made a u-turn, probably heading back to that gas station. But I preferred to risk the diner than to burn gas and go nowhere on the highway. Or far worse, eat warmed-over convenience store burritos. I would rather have starved.

So I pulled my truck into the lot to one side of the building. I did my best to park between two of the dividing lines, though I could barely see them under the rapidly collecting snow. I pushed out into the swirling wind, not bothering with the hood on my canvas coat. My boots left tracks in the white on my way to the diner’s door.

A little bell jingled as I entered. “Be right with you,” a breathless female voice called from the back.

As far as I could see, she was the only person in the entire place. No patrons. Nobody manning the griddle in the open kitchen, though I could smell something hearty cooking and heard the distinctive gurgle of coffee as it brewed.

I inhaled deeply. Notes of red wine and thyme. Promising.

The place was warm and tidy. Lots of feminine touches, like little lace things hanging over the windows and a collection of tea pots and cups decoratively arranged on shelves like a display at an antique store. The chrome and formica were straight out of the middle of the last century. Everything a bit worn, but fresh paint brightened the walls.

I left wet footprints across the tile floor, choosing the last booth by the long window. There was a hook on the wall, so I hung my snow-damp coat to dry. The leather bench creaked as I eased myself onto it. I’d chosen the seat facing the wall, where a landscape print of summer mountains hung.

The table already had a menu, old-school laminated, and I snagged it with my finger and dragged it toward me.

Jessi’s Diner. Please ask about our daily specials.

My skin prickled. I glanced up to find two large eyes fringed with dark lashes and eyeliner peeking out at me from around the side of the opening to the kitchen.

A small gasp, and she vanished.

Something crashed.

“Everything okay back there?” I asked.

“Yes! Sorry. Be right out.”

“You are open, right?”

“I am. We are.”

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