Page 1 of Dirty Cowboys
Chapter One
Indie
I pull into what I’m presuming is the main street of Copper Creek, Westland. Population 2,147 according to the faded welcome sign, though I’ve seen no sign of life yet. Maybe that’s the total number of people who have lived here.
Three buildings make up the town’s main street. There’s a general store that looks like it hasn’t been updated since long before I was born, a diner with a hand-painted “Best Pie in Town” sign, and a bar called Dust & Whiskey. It seems to be the only place that has people coming and going. Yay for signs of life; I was a little worried for a second.
After pulling into the parking lot, I locate an emptyspot and park my car. Grabbing my phone, I head toward the bar, wearing my vintage cowboy boots, bought specifically for my move.
The bar’s door creaks as I push it open, and all conversation pauses as everyone looks my way. So much for the boots making me fit in; clearly, I still stand out like a sore thumb.
The interior is exactly what you’d expect for a small-town bar—dim lighting, worn wooden floors, a bar that has seen better days, and the lingering scents of dirt, leather, beer, and stale cigarettes.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” the bartender, a woman in her fifties, says with a smile. “We don’t get many strangers in here, especially not ones as beautiful as you. What can I get you, honey?”
“Vodka and soda with lime, please,” I reply, sitting on an empty stool beside the bar. “And thank you for the compliment. I’m Indie Monroe—I just rented a place in town.”
“Marge,” she replies, pouring way more vodka into the glass than I’d get in the city. “The Patterson’s place, huh? It’s been empty for nearly two years. What brings you to our little corner of the world?”
She slides the vodka and soda my way, and after I squeeze the lime in it, I take a quick sip, feeling the burn of the alcohol. “I’m a content creator. I was tired of the city and wanted to see what it’s like to livesomewhere...” I pause to think of a word that won’t offend her. “Authentic.”
A low chuckle comes from the booth behind me, and I turn to see a group of men who look like they stepped out of a cowboy movie. The one in the middle has dark hair that peaks out from beneath his cowboy hat, and he locks his eyes with mine, making my skin prickle. To his left, a man with a cocky grin lifts his hat as he winks, then tips his head, revealing his unruly blonde hair. The third man studies his drink, unconcerned about what his friends are looking at. The other men at the table just nod their heads at me.
“Authentic,” the blonde repeats, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. “Now that’s a city-slicker word if I ever heard one.”
“Nash, be nice,” Marge warns with a smile. “Don’t mind him, honey. He’s got more charm than sense, but he’s harmless.”
“Harmless is debatable,” the man with the intense stare says.
“That’s Duke Callahan. He owns the Callahan Stone Ranch just outside town. And blondie is Nash Wilder, then Walker Rhodes beside him.”
Nash raises his beer in a mock salute. “Welcome to Copper Creek, Indie Monroe. Hope you find all theauthenticityyou’re looking for.”
There’s something in the way he says my namethat makes heat pool in my stomach. I take another sip of my vodka to cool myself down. “Thank you. I’m sure I will.”
Walker finally looks up from his drink, his gray eyes meeting mine. “The Patterson place needs work. Roof’s probably leaked through the last two winters.”
“He’s right about the roof. If you need help with anything, just ask,” Duke offers. “We’re neighbors.”
“That’s nice of you,” I reply politely.
I finish my drink and ask Marge for another. I hadn’t planned to have more than one drink before venturing up to my new life, but no one warned about the cowboys here. Or that they would make me want them to do some very dirty things to me. “So you’re all ranchers?”
“Duke owns the place,” Nash says, which I already knew. “Walker and I work for him. Best boss in town, even if he can be a hard-ass.”
“I pay you well enough not to complain,” Duke replies, slapping Nash on the back of the head, making his hat tip forward.
Someone changes the music on the jukebox, and a couple of girls squeal. I swivel on my stool and watch as they laugh and dance together. I decide to go live from my account and let my followers know I’m alive.
“Guess who made it in one piece. Yes, that’s right, it’s your girl Indie.”
I tell them about the drive and spin around in a circle so they can get a feel of the atmosphere.
“Yes, there are cowboys, but it wouldn’t be cool to film them without their knowledge.”
A body presses close to mine, and whiskey invades my senses as Nash appears next to me, throwing his arm around me and pulling me tighter into his body.
“If you say cowboy, I will appear.”
