Page 3 of Embracing Hope

“What can I get you, cowboy?” Her dark brown eyes soaked up the flashing neon lighting above their heads.

“Are the wings as good as that sign boasts?” He jutted his chin toward the chalkboard on the wall with a list of the specials.

She rested on her elbows, swiping her gaze left to the right, then leaned in a little closer to tell him in a lowered voice, “The wings are a bit dry, but our triple-decker rodeo cheeseburger with the fixings will have you crying to your mama.”

“Sold. And I’ll also take whatever you have on tap.”

“Coming right up, handsome.” She winked and sashayed off in a flurry of a barely-there red top and booty shorts.

Isaac swiveled on the stool and took a closer look at the crowd. This was where he would be for the next… well, however long it took for them to finalize the merger or pull out of the disaster. He would miss the simple life—working hard, sleeping harder, drinking beer around the fire, and casting a line on Sundays.

Most everyone he saw wore a cowboy hat and boots, along with worn jeans and button-downs, and Isaac fit right in, except for his size. Growing up, he’d always been at least a foot taller than everyone else, and at nineteen, he reached six-foot-five and had finally stopped growing. His school friends had dubbed him the nickname "Giant," which he was known by until he joined the military, where everyone called him "Markie." That name was as much a tribute to his last name as to his excellent shooting skills. He’d quickly made a reputation for himself as consistently hitting his mark.

Unfortunately, not always.

At a table near the stage, two women were standing toe-to-toe in what looked to be a heated confrontation. Isaac couldn’t hear the brunette and blonde yelling at each other over the loud music and chattering from patrons, but their angry gestures at the man who was trying without much success to break up the exchange told a story. The cowboy, who couldn’t be a day older than twenty-five, looked about as useless as tits on a boar.

“Cody got caught cheating again, looks like,” the man sitting on Isaac’s right droned.

“My bet’s on the brunette. She’s a firecracker.” Another cowboy chimed in.

The shorter woman pointed her finger in the brunette’s face, who retaliated by grabbing a fistful of dishwater blonde hair, evoking a squeal from her opponent that rattled the antler horn chandelier above their heads.

“Can these kids ever grow up?” The bartender whipped out from behind the bar and pushed through the crowd gathered to watch events unfold, swiftly taking control of the situation. The blonde and brunette were parted and forced into separate corners of the room. Neither seemed interested in giving the bartender a problem.

Laughter andhoorahsdrew Isaac’s attention to the mechanical bull. His gaze locked on the current rider, a stunning blonde with nice tits. Her thick, wavy hair hung down to kiss the waistband of the tight jeans that encased her shapely form. Her long legs seemed to go on for miles to her brown leather boots with a pointed toe. She had one arm high in the air as her curvy body moved effortlessly in the saddle. She now had every eye on her and Issac knew precisely why. Her smile radiated sunshine in the room. If Isaac had to guess, it was the cause of countless broken-hearted men in the small town.

Watching her, he felt a familiar twitch below his belt. Once upon a time, it didn’t take much to gain the attention of that part of his body, but nearing forty, he’d found himself pickier these days. It had become a lonely life, but he found that keeping his circle small meant less drama.

In his twenties, he’d been known to raise the roof at parties and honkytonks. He’d sought the companionship of any woman with curves. It was interesting how maturity and tragedy could make a man rethink his behavior.

He journeyed his gaze back down to the cowgirl’s backside that lifted and rolled with the shimmy of the mechanical bull. She moved in a way that spoke of her skill in the saddle and Isaac’s overactive imagination worked hard. Some things were like train wrecks. Seeing the trouble barreling down but for whatever reason there was no turning away.

The bull whirred to a stop and the pretty blonde slid off, smiling as a group of cowboys whistled and clapped. She gave a flirty bow. One lanky man stepped forward, scooped her into his arms, and swung her around until she laughed. Isaac caught a bit of the melodic sound, or had he imagined it?

Just as Isaac figured, she probably had any man in Sagebrush Pine that she wanted.

Every small town had one.

He had to stay focused on business, not the nagging ache in his groin. He lacked the motivation to get caught up in something that would only lead to a roadblock.

“Order’s up, cowboy.” The bartender set his loaded plate in front of him. After breaking up the catfight, she didn’t have a hair out of place.

“Does that happen often?” He referred to the fight.

“Oh, you know how it is. Where there’s a combination of an urban cowboy, alcohol, and jealousy, there’s bound to be a fight. They’re harmless. Just letting off some steam. Can I get you anything else? Another beer?”

“I’ll take another.” He scanned his plate and everything looked delicious.

Five minutes later, as he was wolfing down the last bite of his juicy burger and minding his own business, the cowgirl from the bull slid up on the stool next to him and sighed. He couldn’t quite remember the warning he’d given himself earlier—something about lack of motivation and staying focused. It was all lost in those amazing blue eyes.

Up close, she was more stunning. A thin white scar along her left cheek made him curious about how she got it. If she had her scars, maybe she wouldn’t be so turned off by his. The story of that itty-bitty scar couldn’t compare to the baggage he carried.

“You’re missing out,” she said in a soft, semi-husky voice that lifted the hairs on his neck.

“Really?” He pushed away the remaining basket of fries and wiped his fingers off a napkin. “What am I missing?” He couldn’t stop staring at her sparkling eyes, reminding him of a clear blue sky on a pretty summer day. She had a scattering of light freckles across her nose and the tops of her cheeks, the same color as the bronzed highlights in her hair. And that smile…no doubt stole some hearts along the way.

He wondered how old she was? Thirty, maybe? Something about how she carried herself gave the impression that she could be older.

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