Page 4 of Cowboy of Convenience
Evelyn stepped out into the night, breathing in the spring air. It wasn't exactly warm yet, especially at night, but there were no longer feet of snow piled up everywhere, and that was a glorious development. She glanced both ways even though the chances of getting hit by a car in downtown Moss Creek were slim to none. When everything was clear she hurried across the street to the little yoga studio she leased.
Surprisingly, there were a lot of things she liked about Montana, and having her own space to work was one of them. She'd bounced around her whole life. From man to man. From job to job. From apartment to apartment. Staying put for a change felt surprisingly good, even if her nightlife looked drastically different from the one she left behind in New York.
Her client base was no longer shallow socialites and trust fund babies. Now she was really helping people and making genuine connections. She kept retirees on their feet and offered new mothers a break and the opportunity to work on rebuilding their pelvic floors.
What she did mattered. It meant something. And no one gave a shit who she was or how they could use her.
She was almost to the little stoop of her shop when something moved in the shadows. She stopped short, staring at the tall, lean figure peering into the window of her rented space.
No. It couldn't be.
Glancing around, she looked for an escape. Some path to follow without being noticed by a ghost from her past. Of all the people she’d been hoping to get away from by moving across the country, his name was at the top of her list.
She took a slow step back, her Gucci flats silent against the sidewalk. Then another. And another.
But then her feet stopped. Not because she didn't want to go further, but because she couldn't. She was boxed in by a solid wall of muscle.
Evelyn didn't have to turn around to know who was behind her. She would recognize the familiar scent of leather and bergamot and man anywhere. Whether it was a good thing or a bad one remained to be seen.
On one hand, it meant she was completely safe.
On the other hand, it meant she was completely fucked.
CHAPTER TWO
GRADY
EVELYN WENT STILL in front of him. Her back was pressed tight to his front, initiating an amount of contact he'd been careful to avoid.
Not because he didn’t want it, he did.
He avoided the newest arrival to Moss Creek because it was clear Evelyn didn’t feel the same. She did her best to ignore him when their paths crossed, always darting away as fast as she could manage, so there was no denying the woman was as uninterested as it got.
Unfortunately for him, she was also about as interesting as it got. There was something about her that drew him in, and it wasn't only because she was new to town. There was a level of mystery to Evelyn that made him want to dig deeper. To uncover her secrets. Maybe it was the cop in him, or maybe it was a set of dark eyes and full lips that had him showing up whenever she was out on the town.
Like he did tonight.
Unfortunately, his fascination was irrelevant if it wasn’t reciprocated, so no matter how much he wanted both to know Evelyn better and enjoy the distraction a relationship would provide, it wasn't meant to be.
Grady took a step back, giving them both a little space.
To his shock, Evelyn followed, taking a step back of her own. He retreated again and, like the time before, Evelyn immediately followed.
He opened his mouth, ready to ask what in the hell was going on, when he noticed she was staring intently at her studio. He followed her line of sight just as the man standing at the door turned to face them. He was positioned in the shadows, making it impossible to tell who he was or what he was up to. It didn’t really matter. Lurking was easy to identify and almost always a sign someone was up to no good.
Years of training and a little bit of instinct had him grabbing Evelyn and pulling her body behind his.
He stood tall, focusing on the suspicious individual in front of him. "Can I help you with something?"
Grady discreetly flipped the snap free on his holster, just in case. He hadn't had to pull his weapon much in Moss Creek, but that didn't mean he wouldn't.
Grady kept his eyes glued to the man as the stranger stepped forward, moving out of the darkness and into the pale glow offered by the streetlamp. He could get a better look at him now, but still didn't recognize him. Which was unexpected. He knew just about everyone in Moss Creek.
And this guy was definitely not from Moss Creek.
Nothing about him fit in. Not the tapered cut of his over pressed pants or the tasseled loafers on his sockless feet. And then there was the wild print of his partially unbuttoned silk shirt. The deep slice in the front revealed a scrawny, but tanned, chest devoid of a single hair.
The man looked him over with an amount of disgust the situation didn’t warrant, his eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
