Page 1 of Hard Rain Coming

Chapter One

The honky-tonk in High Wind, Wyoming, looked the same as any other honky-tonk within a one-hundred-mile radius. Perched a stone’s throw from a motel that looked older than Elvis, it boasted tired neon Budweiser signs, dark tables and chairs, and floors that stuck to the bottoms of your boots. Or, in this case, Vivian Bridgestone’s four-inch stilettos.

She glanced around and shook off the cold as a blast of early October wind followed her inside. The old jukebox in the corner played low, though the unmistakable sounds of Patsy Cline reached her ears. The music, she could appreciate. She just wished it didn’t come with a side order of grease and stale beer. But, with no other place to grab food this close to midnight, she’d have to make do.

Aware that as the lone woman in the place (other than a server behind the bar) she was the focus of most of the men, Vivian adjusted her jacket, held her chin high, and kept her gaze forward. Male attention, she was used to, but it had been a long-ass day, and she didn’t want to make small talk with a bunch of cowboys who were six beers deep or more.

She found a small table not far from the bar and set her purse down. There was enough distance between her and the men gathered near it that she would be able to relax. She doffed her coat and slid onto the seat. The bartender made her way over and, after fumbling for a small notepad, gave Vivian a smile.

“Evening. I’m Jenny.”

“Hi.”

“You’re not from around here,” the woman said.

“No.” Not in the mood for conversation, Vivian kept her reply short and sweet.

Jenny appeared to be in her early thirties, with dirty blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail and enough makeup on her delicate features to make a dance mom proud. She wore faded jeans and a pink tank top, and eyed up Vivian’s pale blue dress with interest. A vintage Dior, Vivian had thrifted it the previous year, though she hadn’t had the chance to wear it until tonight.

What a waste.

“That is the prettiest dress I ever seen.” Jenny winked and shook her head. “Where in heck are you coming from looking like that?”

“Some place I wish I’d never been.” Vivian attempted a smile, but it fell short.

“One of those nights, hon?” Jenny winked. “Well, let’s get you a drink, and you’ll feel better. The beer is cold though if you’re looking for wine we don’t have none.”

“A soda is good. And a burger with fries.”

“Coke?”

“Root beer.”

The server got busy scribbling in her book. “Anything else?”

“That should be good. Thank you.”

“All the fixings on your burger?”

Vivian nodded. She watched as the woman walked to the kitchen and disappeared from view, then sank back, her bones so tired, they ached. Jackson Hole had been a disaster. Why she’d ever agreed to meet up with her old girlfriend, Cassidy Buchanan, was anyone’s guess, though if she were being honest with herself, she knew it was nothing more than an excuse to leave the ranch. To get away from the memories she couldn’t seem to shake and a family she didn’t feel she belonged to anymore.

If she were really being honest, the trip to Wyoming was to get away from him.

Him.

She couldn’t even think his name without getting riled. Vivian had been back in Montana for well over a month now, and not once had Dallas Henhawk come to see her. Or talk to her. Or even check to see if she was alive. Or okay. Or something. It was as if she’d been erased from his life. Like he’d pressed the backspace on a keyboard until she was gone.

It was a bitter pill indeed, because as long as Vivian had been away from Montana, and it had been years, she’d thought about him most every day. Even now, tonight, at the tail end of what had been a miserable day, he was on her mind.

“Here’s your soda. Dave will have your burger up in a jiffy.”

Vivian accepted the root beer from the server and checked her phone to see if her brother had responded to her SOS. The truck she’d borrowed to drive to Jackson Hole had died. It had begun making weird noises about ten miles back, and luckily, the motel’s sign had been a beacon. She’d managed to limp it off the interstate before it died.

She’d booked a room, but hoped that her brother Benton was on his way to get her. If she had to spend the night, Vivian supposed it was better than pulling over on the side of the road and hoping for the best.

“But not much better,” she muttered, just as Jenny came back with a large platter of fries and a burger that smelled like heaven.

She dug in and ate quietly while she listened to some of the conversations at the bar.

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