Page 3 of Her Cowboy Hero
Harper
The little hairs on the back of my neck stand up as my food is set in front of me and I begin to eat. I’m of half a mind to get this meal to go and hide out in my cottage for the night, but if I’m to live in this town, they’re going to have to get used to the sight of me.
As much as I was annoyed when the real estate agent scrutinized me earlier, I now realize her warning was somewhat of a kindness. Had I walked into this diner expecting that small-town hospitality you hear about on the TV then I would have been sorely mistaken and left sitting feeling wounded by all the stares and whispers that are being directed my way. As it is, the warning gave me the chance to steel myself, so I’m sitting here—still irritated—enjoying a hot meal I didn’t have to prepare myself, focusing on the positives of the situation I’m in. I have a beautiful home, an exciting new job, and the quiet I’ve craved. I didn’t come here looking for new friends, I came here to learn happiness on my own. So really, the townsfolk treating me like a pariah off the bat is doing me a favor. If I can’t find contentment in my own mind, then I’ll be forever sad and lonely.I suppose I could get a cat…
About halfway through my burger, a deep rumbly voice catches my attention as a giant of a man—the first, besides my father, who’d actually dwarf me—approaches the register and pays for his meal. My heart picks up just by looking at him, and I stop chewing. He’s beautiful. Strong jaw with a smattering of stubble, golden brown skin, dark brown hair that’s a little overdue for a cut. I figure he’ll just turn and go, ignoring me like the rest of them. But when he tucks his wallet back into his jeans pocket, he clears his throat and turns my way.
“Nice choice of bike,” he says, my skin heating as he steps close enough that he’s leaning on the counter next to where I sit.
“Thanks,” I squeak, meeting his ocean-blue eyes with my bright green ones. I offer a smile, and I’d probably say something more if my voice wasn’t caught in my throat.It should be illegal for men to be this ruggedly handsome.
“A 1946 Knucklehead?” he asks, looking out the window to where it’s parked in the street, my brain lights up. Very few people ever pick up the model and the year like that.
“Yeah.” I smile. “I, uh, got it at auction years ago. My dad and I restored it, but it still takes a bit of upkeep to keep it on the road.”
“There’s a bike shop next town over to help you with that,” he says, his eyes dropping from my eyes to my mouth then back up again. My cheeks heat.
“That’s where I’m working,” I say, my voice coming out as a breath instead of actual words. With the entire diner listening to every word, I feel even more self-conscious of the way I’m reacting to this guy. I imagine they all think I’m foolish. A guy like this—young, confident, and easy to talk to—probably has a revolving door of women his own age falling at his feet. What on earth would he ever want with someone like me? I’m at least five years his senior, and I’m probably the least girly girl he’s ever set eyes on.
“An hour commute each way. That’s a big commitment.”I can’t stop staring at his mouth.
“I like riding. Clears my head,” I say, shifting my focus to my fries so I don’t make this awkward.
“Me too,” he says. “But my horsepower is far less than the Knucklehead you have out there.”
“Oh, yeah? What do you ride?” I ask, curious as I meet his eyes again.
He grins. “A horse,” he says, before stepping away and placing his ten-gallon hat on his head and giving me a nod. “Nice to meet you, Harper.”
“You too, er…”
“Austin,” he says, before heading out the door. I watch after him unashamedly for a few beats before I force myself to return to my food. I know I don’t have a chance in hell with a guy like that, but just knowing someone like him is willing to be kind to me when everyone else is treating me like I don’t belong, well, it made my day.Maybe there is such a thing as small-town hospitality, after all.
