Page 2 of Falling Hard for the Billionaire Cowboy

Then, snap, the moment passes. I snap back to reality and realize with growing horror that the car isn't slowing down at all. It's already several feet past me and showing no signs of stopping.

"Uh?" I mumble, stunned for the second time in as many seconds, but this time for a completely different reason. I stare after the disappearing vehicle, my mouth hanging open in disbelief. I can see the driver's mouth moving in the rearview mirror, but I can't make out what he is saying. The loud rumble of the engine and the increasing distance makes it impossible to hear his words.

As the car disappears into the distance, I can't help but feel shocked and betrayed. "Hey, mister…" I begin, then pause, lowering my hand in defeat. I replay the moment in my mind, remembering how we had made eye contact. There is no way he hadn't seen me. And then I recall how he had looked back, almost as if he was mocking me. For some reason, I can imagine him smirking at the end of whatever he had said.

"That jerk!" I grunt, frustration boiling over. I wipe my hand down my face, grumbling under my breath. If I ever see him again, I'll be sure to smash something over his head – preferably something hard and heavy.

I stay by the side of the road for a few more minutes, but as I had feared, no other cars come by. This stretch of highway is as deserted as it gets. "Fine. I'll just do it by myself. I don't need anybody," I grumble, my anger growing with each passing minute. I stomp back to my car and pop the hood again, determined to fix the problem.

I move around various parts of the engine, but without the proper tools, I know that only a miracle will get it started again.As I struggle to remove the bolt on the fuel pressure regulator, a sizzling sound fills the air, and then – puff! A puff of exhaust smoke flies up into my face.

"Ack!"

Coughing and spitting out the bitter taste from my mouth, I stumble backward, my eyes watering from the fumes. My face is now covered with a fine layer of soot – if I can call it that. I can feel the frustration and anger welling up, threatening to spill over in the form of tears.

Do I even have to say it? Earth 4, Hayley 0, if you count the jerk.

Without another word, I climb back into the car, wiping my face with my hand but not bothering to do much else. I am defeated, exhausted, and utterly fed up with this whole situation.

Thirty minutes later, the heat inside the car has become unbearable. My throat also tastes bitter, and I’m feeling lightheaded from dehydration. Before I know it, I have drifted off to sleep.

I don't know how long I’m out, but I’m jolted awake by a sharp knock on the window. I shoot up, disoriented and groggy, trying to regain my bearings as I see a figure standing outside the car. The sun has moved across the sky, and it’s now late afternoon.

"Hi," I mumble, wiping drool from the corner of my mouth as I stare at the newcomer. He’s an older man, at least in his late sixties or maybe more. Wearing a cowboy hat and chewing on a blade of straw, he looks like he has stepped right out of a Western movie.

The man tips his hat and speaks in a thick Texan drawl. "Well, I'll be. I almost didn't recognize you there, miss. You're Martha's girl, ain't ya?"

My eyes widen in surprise. "Yes, yes I am," I rush out, filled with hope that I have finally found someone who can help me.

The man chuckles. "Thought so. Name's John. Your mama's told me all about you. What in tarnation happened to your face, though? You look like you've been wrestling with a chimney sweep."

I touch my cheek, remembering that I hadn’t cleaned my face earlier. "Oh, um, just a little car trouble," I say, feeling embarrassed.

John nods sympathetically. "Well, if you don't mind hopping in the back of my truck, I can give you a lift into town. It ain't much, but it'll get you there."

I look in the direction he’s pointing and see an old, beat-up buggy with only a driver's seat and an open bed in the back. At this point, I am willing to ride on the back of a donkey if it means getting out of this heat.

"Thank you so much, John, I'm really grateful." I grab my heavy case from the back seat and, with a grunt, heave it into the bed of the truck. It isn't the most comfortable-looking ride, and I may fall off once or twice, but at least I'll be closer to town.

As we set off down the long road, the wind whipping through my hair, John keeps up a steady stream of conversation. "Your mama told me you'd gone off to the big city," he calls over his shoulder. "How'd that treat you?"

"It was... an experience," I shout back, trying to make myself heard over the rush of wind. "But I missed home more than I thought I would."

John nods as if he had experienced city life himself. "Ain't nothing like small-town living. You city folks always come back. Speaking of which, did you hear about old Mrs. Thompson's cat? Got stuck up in the church bell tower last month. Whole town came out to watch the fire department try to get it down..."

For the next thirty minutes, John regales me with tales of all the gossip and goings-on I'd missed during my time away. And yet, he happens to miss the two most important tidbits of gossipI need to know. Despite the discomfort seated in the truck bed, I find myself smiling and even laughing at some of his stories.

By the time we roll into town, the setting sun is painting the sky in that deep shade of orange and pink.

Is it beautiful? Yes.

But all I can afford is a glance to check how much time I’ve wasted on the road.

I am so hungry and tired, and my hair looks like I've stuck my finger in an electrical socket, but I’m finally back. I’m back in Redstone after eight years: the shops, the street… the ambiance. Every single thing looks the same as before, perhaps even better.

John pulls up to the town square and cuts the engine. "Well, this is where I leave you, miss. Gotta get home to the missus before she thinks I've run off with some young filly," he says with a wink. “Actually, she has a doc appointment that I need to get her to. Sorry, I can’t take you all the way.”

I climb out of the truck bed on shaky legs. "Thank you so much, Mr. John. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along."

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