Page 10 of The Trail Boss

Gavin sat in the truck for a while, his phone glowing in his hand as he scrolled through public records and social media profiles. The pieces of her life started falling into place.

Financial struggles—unpaid bills, eviction notices.

Jeremiah Albright—her late husband’s name popping up in police reports tied to gambling.

The in-laws—owners of a string of successful businesses, but their hostility toward Roxie wasn’t hard to trace in old legal filings and local gossip.

A clearer picture emerged, one that left Gavin with more questions than answers.

Gavin called the office and assigned a twenty-four-hour watch on her apartment. She wasn’t to leave without someone following her, and the team was to run the plates of any cars that either were in the parking lot or showed up. If something looked wrong, they were to move into place to protect her and call him.

As he finally pulled out of the lot, his gaze lingered on Roxie’s apartment in the rearview mirror. Trouble followed her, whethershe saw it or not. And until he figured out who was behind it, she wasn’t going anywhere that he didn’t know about.

4

ROXIE

Roxie kicked the door shut behind her and winced—sudden, sharp movements were not her friend—the faint echo of the latch reverberated in the quiet apartment. She dropped her bag onto the wobbly kitchen table and leaned against the peeling wall, her chest heaving with breath as she tried to settle her nerves and acclimate herself.

The dingy room greeted her with its usual indifference: the faint scent of mildew clinging to the air, a flickering lightbulb in the corner, and the persistent drip from the kitchen faucet. It wasn’t much, but it was hers. At least until the next rent notice slid under the door.

Sliding down the wall, Roxie rested her elbows on her knees and stared at the scuffed floor. The day had been a blur of chaos and unwanted attention, and now, in the stillness, the weight of it all began to press down as tears began to trickle down her cheeks. She brushed them away angrily, but it did no good, they continued to leak from her eyes. It had all been too much.

The fall. The hospital. Gavin.

Gavin.

Her cheeks flushed, unbidden memories of his sharp dark eyes and commanding presence flashing in her mind. He hadthis way of looking at her, like he could see straight through her, past all the walls, all of her defenses, everything. It was as if he could see straight through to her soul. And that infuriating mix of confidence and protectiveness? It was equal parts maddening and… distracting.

“Nope. Not going there,” she muttered to herself, pushing off the floor.

The notebook caught her eye from where it sat on the edge of the table where she’d left it the night before, its battered cover a familiar comfort. Roxie grabbed it, flipping through pages filled with her messy scrawl. Stories. Dreams. Pieces of a life she wasn’t sure she’d ever have.

Settling into the chair by the window, she turned to a fresh page, the cool breeze sneaking in through a crack in the window frame brushing against her skin. The rhythmic drip of the faucet became her metronome as she let the world outside her apartment fade away.

Her pen moved, slow at first, then faster as an idea took shape. A heroine. A woman who’d been through hell but refused to give up. A man with a shadowed past but a fierce, unshakable loyalty.

She could see them so clearly—their push and pull, the way their worlds collided in a fiery mess of passion and danger. The hero was tall, rugged, and far too self-assured for his own good. His crooked smile could make the heroine’s knees weak, even as she swore to resist him.

Roxie paused, chewing on the end of her pen as her mind wandered back to Gavin. He wasn’t the hero in her notebook—not exactly—but he wasn’t far from it either.

“Get a grip, Rox,” she said aloud, shaking her head.

Her phone buzzed on the table, and she snatched it up, expecting a notification about another overdue bill. Instead, a text from an unknown number lit up the screen.

This is Gavin. Just checking in. You okay?

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