Page 10 of Her Cowboy Hero
Austin
The taste of her lingers on my lips, the scent of her in the air. Even a couple of days after our morning together I’m still experiencing it. I can’t get her out of my mind, and frankly, I’m going a bit crazy from it. I must have her, claim her, make her mine.
I don’t give a fuck about our age difference. If I was the thirty-seven-year-old and she was twenty-five no one would bat an eyelid. But because the woman is older suddenly it’s taboo? No. Fuck that. Small town judgment sent my brother running as fast and as far as he could go. I’m not letting it govern how I run my life.
“I’m cutting out early today,” I tell Mom in the lunch hall. “Got some stuff to take care of in Oakwood Falls.”
“I see.” Mom’s brows lift before she asks one of the other ladies to take over what she’s doing then gestures for me to follow her outside. “This doesn’t have something to do with the woman on the Harley from the other day?”
I rub a hand against the back of my head as I produce a sheepish smile. “Possibly.”
She leans against the exterior wall and smiles back at me. “The town is abuzz over her.”
“Yeah. I saw. But she’s different, so…” I shrug, and Mom gives me an understanding nod.
“This town hates different as we well know.”
“Doesn’t help that she’s got a complex about our age difference.”
“Is it big?”
“Twelve years.”
“Could be worse. She’s older, I take it.”
I nod.
“Well, you know me, I don’t care if a person is capable of slinging a bale of hay.”
“Oh, she’s well and truly capable. You should have seen her with the feed bags. She’s stronger than most guys around here.”
Mom rubs her hand up and down my upper arm. “Sounds like I’m gonna like her then. Will you be home for dinner?”
I lean down and press a kiss to her cheek. “I hope not.”
* * *
A little overan hour later and I’m pulling my pickup into a spot outside Star Custom Bikes. This place has been here for as long as I can remember, although it’s gone through a name change in recent years since Derek Star took over and put his mark on our corner of the globe. Between him and the lead singer of a band called Crash, Rewind bringing business to what once was a sleepy little town, Oakwood Falls is slowly turning into a thriving metropolis—unlike Cedarwood Valley, which seems caught in the dark ages by comparison.
I spot Harper as soon as I enter through the workshop door. She’s crouched on the ground, surrounded by dirty engine parts, a wire brush in hand. The moment she sees me, she freezes.
“Can I help you?” A stereotypical biker steps in front of me—leather jacket, tattoos, and silver rings—and folds his arms like he’s the gatekeeper of this place. I’m a good few inches taller, and it’d take two of him to bring me down, but I was raised to have manners, so I remove my hat and pay him the same respect I’d pay anyone else.
“Good day to you, sir. I was hopin’ I could have a moment of Miss. Jones’s time.” I lean past him so I can meet her eyes. “If she’s willing to share it with me, of course.”
The guy looks over his shoulder at her. “You know this rancher?”
“Yeah,” she says, rising to her feet. “I know him. Thanks, Wyatt.”
“Well, you give me a holler if he gives you any trouble,” he says, giving me one last threatening glare. I fight the amusement pulling at the corner of my mouth, but I do appreciate that Harper has someone in her corner.
“What do you need?” she asks as she moves toward me, wiping a rag at her grease-stained hands.
Now the smile I’ve been fighting takes over as I reach out and give that braid of hers a tug. “I’d a thought that part would be obvious,” I say, my voice warm and intimate because she makes me feel all those things and then some. “Have you got time for a coffee?”
“Ah,” she says, looking around the shop like she needs permission.
The other guy, Wyatt, who’s sticking close by says, “Pop’s is just down the road.”
