Page 1 of Hard to Love
Chapter One
Motherfucking fan belt.
Standing on Texas Highway 29’s grassy shoulder, Alex braced his hands against the front of his beater car and stared at what he’d known was inevitable. He wasn’t normally a stupid man, so why the hell hadn’t he picked up a replacement belt before leaving Montana?
Probably because all he’d cared about was getting to Prophecy and the potential opportunity waiting there.
Yesterday, he’d crossed the state line just west of Dalhart and had let himself enjoy—just for a minute—the pleasure of being back home.
But Texas was the dead last place he should allow himself to become careless. Yet his temperature gauge, when its needle climbed from normal to you’re-about-to-blow-your-engine-dumbass, proved he’d been exactly that. And the inevitable had come around to shoot him a big, fat middle finger.
Just his luck, he’d already driven through Llano and wasn’t quite close enough to the Horseshoe Bay turnoff to be back in civilization. Considering that Prophecy was still a thirty-minute drive and he had an appointment in an hour, he was screwed.
At least the sun shining down on his freshly shaved head was a relatively mild ball of April warmth rather thanan August heat blast. He slammed his car’s hood and resisted the urge to kick the tires like a cranky toddler. That would just mess up his boots, and they were the nicest thing in his wardrobe.
From his car he grabbed his wallet, a plain blue ball cap, and his pay-by-the-month cell phone. Not a damn thing to do now but start walking and make a call he didn’t want to make.
But if he didn’t, he could kiss the leather tooling contract with Prophecy Boot Companyadios.
Not an option. Because that contract was his future. His family’s future.
He stared at his phone and took a deep breath to fortify himself. Here he was, Alejandro Luis Enrique Villanueva, scared to call a girl. Oh, the mighty hadn’t just fallen, the mighty had lost hiscajonessomewhere along the way.
He punched the button to redial the most recent incoming call. Three rings later, a smooth feminine voice drawled, “Prophecy Boot Company.”
“Delaney Shields?”
“She’s not in yet.” Thatdulce de lechevoice on the other end of the line was making him sweat in a way the weather never could. “Can I take a message?”
“This is Alex Villanueva. I have an appointment with Ms. Shields this morning.”
“Yes, we’re expecting you.”
We?“I’ll be late. A little fan belt trouble.”
“Oh?” Ms. Dulce de Leche’s voice lost a teaspoon of sugar, sounding strangely disappointed. “Do you need to reschedule?”
Hell, no. He knew Delaney Shields was interviewing at least three toolers for a shot at a contract to carve leather for Prophecy Boot Company. And not just random leathertoolers. Three of the best in the business. And he was one of them.
The difference between him and the others was this gig could allow him to set up shop near his mamá and younger brother. Maybe even buy them the house his mamá had wanted for so long.
Alex swiped a hand over this face. “It won’t take me long to take care of this. If we could just push the appointment back an hour—”
“What kind of car do you drive?”
“A ’96 Pontiac Bonneville.” Thrown off balance by her question, he answered instinctively. “But why do you need to—”
“And where are you?”
How had this conversation jumped the tracks? “Look, I can be in Prophecy once I get this fan belt fixed. Noon at the latest.”
“You wouldn’t want to disappoint Delaney, would you?”
“No, but—”
“Then what road are you on, and how far are you from Prophecy?” she asked cheerfully.
“Are you a tow truck driver?”
