Page 3 of Cowboy and the Convict

Daily.

“I just discovered the fob for my car is out of batteries.” She lifted the offending item and gave it a wiggle. “You don’t have any button batteries hanging around, do you?”

It was a stretch, but Paige was one of the most put-together women she’d ever met. The chick had the game of life down to a science. She owned a business, a house, a nice car. And didn’t fuck with men.

She was brilliant.

Paige’s smile fell. "I don't have anything like that here. Did you try the general store?"

She'd been around the block enough times that her hopes hadn't been up, so finding out Paige didn't have what she needed came as no surprise. "I went there first. They're already closed."

"Of course they are." Paige shook her head. "I know it sucks to stay open longer hours, but damn."

The bartender tipped her head to one side, eyes widening. "Wait a second." Her bright smile from earlier returned as she spun away and hustled down the bar. After digging around under the counter for a few seconds, she came back, a fob dangling from her hand. "I forgot I had to take one of the ranch hand’s keys away last night." She went to work opening the fob. "Cross your fingers." After prying off the front, she popped the silver, circular battery free and held it up. "Is this the right size?"

"You've got to be shitting me." Janie took the battery. The thing was exactly what she needed. After switching it for the dead one in her own fob, she passed the juiceless battery to Paige. "Won't that guy be pissed when he comes back and his keys don't work?"

Paige smirked as she poked the dead battery into the ranch hand’s fob. "Probably should've thought of that before he grabbed my ass."

Janie shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Those ranch hands do get a little wild, don't they?"

"You have no freaking idea." Paige carried the keys back down and tossed them where she found them. "If they keep it up, I'm going to have to hire a bouncer."

Janie leaned against the counter, wiggling her brows. "Let me know. I'd like to fill out an application." She made a show of cracking her knuckles. "I've got some rage I should probably try to get out."

Paige cackled, head tipping back. "You'd think that would be a great stress reliever, but these idiots like it. You'll end up with three marriage proposals before the end of your first night."

Janie wrinkled her nose, disgusted. "Never mind then. I've decided I'm done fucking with men. They’re way more hassle than they're worth.” She shrugged. “Guess it’s time for me to embrace my spinsterhood and be everyone's honorary, shit-show of an auntie." At least that was something she could excel at.

After spending a lifetime chasing down dreams only to discover she lacked the skills to catch any of them, she'd found some semblance of peace in giving up and simply accepting herself for what she was.

A fucking failure.

"A-fucking-men to that." Paige eyed her. "You want a drink before you go?"

Yes. She absolutely did. Unfortunately, it wasn’t in the cards. "I have to get up early tomorrow to help Mariah set up for a big event at The Inn." She slapped the counter, backing away. "I will take a rain check, though." She grinned at Paige. "Let me know how butt-grabber likes having dead keys."

Imagining one of the fly-by-night idiot ranch hands standing there pushing the button on his fob like an ass brightened her spirits a little. Made her feel incrementally better about being that same sort of ass not so long ago.

She ducked out of the bar, eyes watering as she again had to adjust to the change in light. Her vision was clear by the time she made it to the employee parking lot behind The Baking Rack. Like the coward she was, Janie paused at the edge of the building to peek around, letting out a sigh of relief when there was no sight of Peters or his car.

Just in case he was making a lap and planning to come back, she ran across the blacktop, thumb punching the unlock button five times just to be sure her car really was accessible when she got there. But, instead of immediately jumping in and starting the engine, she stopped dead in her tracks and stared.

"Fucking asshole." She snatched the paper wedged under her wiper free, crumpling it with one hand as she yanked open the door and fell into the driver's seat. The prick really couldn't help himself. It was almost like he thought she was incapable of figuring out how to replace the tires on her own. Granted, their current condition might make him wonder, but that didn't mean he needed to leave her the name and number of his own personal tire guy on her windshield.

Tossing the paper into the passenger side floorboard, she started the engine and shoved her foot toward the floor, getting out of the area as fast as she could manage, relaxing a little more with every second she put between herself and the last spot she saw Peters. By the time she made it to her place twenty minutes later, the tension in her shoulders was all but gone.

When she first moved to Moss Creek, the lack of affordable housing was irritating as hell. Anything decently close to town was snapped up in an instant, or way above her price range, leaving her stuck at the very edge of the city's limits. Her drive to The Baking Rack wasn't terrible, but getting out to The Inn at Red Cedar Ranch was brutal. Especially at five in the morning.

But right now, the location felt fantastic. Far away from the latest reminder of just how much she sucked.

After parking in the dirt spot allocated to her, she started to get out, remembering Peters’ crumpled note at the last second and leaning across the console to grab it.

Her life might be a mess figuratively, but that didn’t mean she was going to let it become a literal translation.

2

Devon

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