Page 7 of Cowboy's Way

The biker had moved closer to us and lets out another chuckle when he hears that. “Don’t worry too much. My brothers and me have been itching for a hunt. You should come to the pig roast.”

“Are zombie piggies safe to eat?” I ask him, trying to keep the grin off my face even as multiple eavesdroppers let out a laugh of some form.

Studying his face, I casually dart my eyes down to the name on his cut. Demolition, right above the word President. His gaze catches mine and I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes so dark. I imagine he’s got a decade or two on me but considering the fact that his clean-cut looks seem more military than motorcycle club, I pause remembering some of the junk mail that was filling my mailbox.

All but a few were addressed to Logan, and many of them were flyers from a military credit union or other related services, so I briefly wonder if they served together.

“Of course, we don’t have to wait that long to see each other again,” he says with a grin, and Hans shifts uncomfortably on the stool between us. “Happy to stop out at your place tonight, make sure you get all tucked in.”

Blood rushes to my cheeks, but I quickly shake my head, and Demolition throws me a wink as he shrugs his wide shoulders. “Never hurts to ask, does it?”

The man who had been tossing his cookies outside, returns, looking ashen and rattles off a takeout order to Walt. Thankfully, he uses Demolition’s frame to block the view of my plate, so I quickly create a second French toast taco; barely paying attention to the townspeople’s continuing chatter about where the hogs might be hiding.

“I’d better get out to your place,” Hans says to me after he finishes off his coffee. “The roofers should be there by now and we have that four-hour window for your new appliances to be delivered.”

“So, you got a rich ex-husband somewhere, or did you rob a bank?” Demolition asks, sliding into Hans’ seat the moment he leaves.

I cough, pretending I swallowed wrong in the hopes he didn’t notice me almost flying out of my seat. He slides my untouched glass of water closer to me as I keep my eyes on the counter, unable to meet his face as I feel him studying me with something more intense than checking out the angle of my cheekbones and my cleavage.

That I can deal with, but not a man looking into my soul.

And possibly seeing me for what I am.

“Demo, I’m gonna wait outside,” the other guy says, pulling the large biker’s attention away from me for a moment.

“You want anything else?” Walt asks me, holding the coffee pot at the ready in case I indicate my mug.

“No, thank you. Just the check.”

“Add it to mine, Walt,” Demolition says, andnowI have no problem facing him to give him a piece of my mind, but he cuts me off when I open my mouth. “No strings, just awelcome to town. Besides, me and the boys might be on your land a bit as we take care of the hogs.”

Taking a twenty out of my pocket, I lay it on the counter between us as I stand up and lean close enough so the other diners won’t hear me.

“Gifts without strings tend to cost the most,” I tell him, trying to keep years of anger out of my voice. Failing miserably at that, I straighten my shoulders and walk out without another word.

Chapter 3

Cowboy

After seeing to my chickens, I look up when I hear a quick horn sound and throw out a wave to Hans, he’s barely paused as he heads up the road and I gotta say, even though he’s married, I’m a little jealous of the time he must have been spending with Faith.

Grabbing my axe, I get to work on my own pet project. There’s an old tree stump with a diameter just under four feet, and while there are easier and quicker ways to remove it, I like the work. Depending on the day and what’s going on in my life, I can easily pass an hour swinging at it.

I’ve barely started when the object of today’s musing approaches, drives past in her red Jeep without slowing down, or even the blare of her horn in greeting.

City girls. Even the ones smart enough to move to the country take a while getting used to the pace.

Shaking my head, I focus on the wedge of the stump that I nearly have cut through and wonder about her. There’s no doubt she has some money, based on what she’s already spent on that house.

And that her Jeep can’t be more than a year or two old, I think, considering the facts at hand.

That’s when it hits me—my work is really bleeding into my life. It’s one thing to work up a profile on someone who I’ve been hired to find, another to catalog what I know about a hot chick who happened to move in next door.

There was a time the only thought going through my mind would’ve been if I had a shot of bedding her. Now here I am, trying to figure out how to track down more information on her.

Which brings to mind the softness of her lips, right before she bit my tongue, at least. The sound of motorcycles approaching makes me realize that I’m standing there grinning, with the axe raised—just waiting to be swung.

Resting it against the stump, I reach into my pocket for the remote to release the gate just in time for Demo and Havoc to ride through without pause.

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