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The Cowboy's Destiny
Marin Thomas


IT WAS FATE…Destiny Saunders is tough, but being left at the altar makes even the toughest gals do some strange things. When she stumbles upon a stranded cowboy–Buck Owens Cash, the best thing to arrive in Lizard Gulch, Arizona, in a long time–she arranges things so they can have a little fun before he rides off into the sunset. The sexy, shapely auto mechanic is just one surprise after another, so Buck plays along to see what will happen.What happens is love…the kind that makes a man want to prove himself. Then Buck discovers Destiny's secret–one that will tie her to another man for the rest of her life. Betrayed, he returns to the rodeo circuit determined to forget Destiny…but fate has other plans!







IT WAS FATE…

Destiny Saunders is tough, but being left at the altar makes even the toughest gals do some strange things. When she stumbles upon a stranded cowboy—Buck Owens Cash, the best thing to arrive in Lizard Gulch, Arizona, in a long time—she arranges things so they can have a little fun before he rides off into the sunset. The sexy, shapely auto mechanic is just one surprise after another, so Buck plays along to see what will happen.

What happens is love…the kind that makes a man want to prove himself. Then Buck discovers Destiny’s secret—one that will tie her to another man for the rest of her life. Betrayed, he returns to the rodeo circuit determined to forget Destiny…but fate has other plans!


“Buck, there’s something I need to tell you.”

The despondent tone in Destiny’s voice sent up a warning flag in Buck’s head. Was she ready to come clean about the broken axle? Well, he wasn’t ready to hear her confession—not after their kiss in the desert. “Go upstairs and rest. We’ll talk later.”

“But—”

He pressed his finger to her lips and swore he saw a spark in her blue eyes. There was definitely something happening between them, whether either of them were ready to admit it or not. She gave in and climbed the fire escape to the apartment above the garage. At the door she glanced over her shoulder, and the longing in her gaze stole the air from his lungs. Then she disappeared from view.

Buck had never been with a girl like Destiny—she was everything he’d never wanted in a woman—or so he’d thought anyway. There was no denying the Harley princess made his motor race. He wanted—no, needed—to take a walk on the wild side with her.

And let the chips fall where they may.


Dear Reader,

Welcome back to The Cash Brothers series! You’ve watched Johnny Cash fall in love with the girl next door, Conway Twitty Cash fall in love with his best friend and Willie Nelson Cash fall back in love with the girl he got pregnant in high school. Now it’s time for Buck Owens Cash to find his lady love.

After Buck has a falling-out with his brother Will, he hits the rodeo circuit. But he doesn’t get far because his truck breaks down. Buck finds himself at the mercy of a redheaded mechanic who rides a Harley and an old Route 66 town full of eccentric retirees. When their whirlwind ride on her Harley comes to a stop, Buck will never look at life the same way. And isn’t that what love is all about? Seeing life in a new light—a light that leads down the road to happy ever after.

If you missed reading previous Cash Brothers books, The Cowboy Next Door (July 2013), Twins Under the Christmas Tree (October 2013) and Her Secret Cowboy (February 2014) are still available through online retailers. To find out more about my books and where I hang out on social media, please visit www.marinthomas.com (http://www.marinthomas.com).

And if you enjoyed this book I’d very much appreciate your help in spreading the word about The Cash Brothers series. The best way to do that is by leaving a short online book review at Goodreads, Amazon or Barnes and Noble, or by recommending this book to a friend or family member. Thank you for your support and help in building my readership one reader at a time!

Happy Ever After…The Cowboy Way

Marin


The Cowboy’s Destiny

Marin Thomas




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Marin Thomas grew up in Janesville, Wisconsin. She left the Midwest to attend college in Tucson, Arizona, where she earned a B.A. in radio-TV. Following graduation she married her college sweetheart in a five-minute ceremony at the historic Little Chapel of the West in Las Vegas, Nevada. Over the years she and her family have lived in seven different states, but they’ve now come full circle and returned to Arizona, where the rugged desert and breathtaking sunsets provide plenty of inspiration for Marin’s cowboy books.


To the 2013 members of The Cash Brothers Cowgirl Posse—Denise, Nancy, Susan, Teresa, Sabrina, Gaby, Renee, Linda H., Linda S., Kim, Granny and junior posse member Karlie—thank you for your friendship and the amazing support you give me and my books. You cowgirls rock!


Contents

Chapter One (#u67cfcd66-8cfe-5510-a58c-a7450f9df220)

Chapter Two (#u982b8e1e-ad9a-5e5f-937b-207c8275f45c)

Chapter Three (#u1d486e47-8fa4-584e-96cd-f5ddd7658457)

Chapter Four (#u80b6dd2c-1d1a-51cb-8403-1167ba8036b9)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

Late Thursday afternoon Destiny Saunders stuck her finger beneath her borrowed wedding veil and scratched her prickly scalp.

Daryl Rivers, where are you?

She stared at the open chapel doors willing her fiancé to magically appear.

The bald, rotund minister, who had a habit of clearing his throat every ten seconds, wiped the top of his sweaty head with a handkerchief. The Sunset Desert Chapel did not have central air. A gust of hot August heat blew up the aisle, sending the lace veil soaring into the air.

“Perhaps you’d like to call your young man one more time?” the minister said.

She’d like to call her young man a name that began with a four-letter word. Destiny walked over to the pew where she’d set her purse and removed her cell phone then pressed three.

You’ve reached Daryl. I’m rockin’ ‘n’ rollin’. Leave me a message.

“Daryl, where are you? We were supposed to get married thirty minutes ago. Call—” Beeeep. Ignoring the queasy feeling in her stomach she marched down the aisle and poked her head out the door. She didn’t want to believe Daryl had stood her up.

The sound of a car engine met her ears and relief swept through her—but it was short-lived when she spotted the minister’s Cadillac driving off.

And still she waited.

Waited and watched as the afternoon sun dropped lower in the Arizona sky. Her thoughts drifted to Lizard Gulch. What concerned her more than Daryl abandoning her was losing the town she’d grown to love—the one place she felt she belonged.

She fingered the frayed edges of the veil. Violet Hemp would be upset that she hadn’t married. The older woman had offered the use of her 1950s headdress as the something borrowed part of Destiny’s bridal outfit.

Blast you, Daryl.

Even though they’d known each other only six months, she hadn’t expected him to leave her high and dry. She closed her eyes and recalled their first date. Daryl had taken her to a tattoo parlor in Kingman. And since she’d decided to call Lizard Gulch home, she’d gotten a colorful lizard tattooed on the back of her shoulder. Daryl had picked a two-headed snake for his arm. Afterward they’d stopped at the Sonic for shakes and that’s when she’d discovered they had more in common than new tattoos—they’d both experienced crummy childhoods.

Destiny hadn’t had any contact with her mother in ten years. She’d been thirteen when she’d walked out of the Tomahawk Truck Plaza in Phoenix with only the clothes on her back and ten dollars in her pocket. She rarely reflected on her childhood—growing up in truck stops where her mother entertained men in bathroom stalls wasn’t the stuff of fairy tales.

She rubbed her belly. At barely two months pregnant it would be several weeks before she showed. Destiny admitted she didn’t love Daryl, and he’d never confessed to loving her, but she’d believed they could make a go of a real marriage for the baby’s sake.

Well, crap. Now what?

She retrieved her purse then left the chapel, closing the doors behind her. After stowing her purse and phone in the bench compartment of her 1980 Harley-Davidson Wide Glide hog, she slid on her mirrored sunglasses and straddled the seat, careful to keep her white leather pants from touching the greasy engine. She positioned the two-inch heel of her black biker boot over the kick-starter and jumped down on it with all her measly one hundred and ten pounds. The engine revved to life, and she flipped the stand up then tore out of the parking lot, tires spewing gravel.

The hot wind in her face stoked her frustration, and she pushed the bike’s speed to seventy. She’d driven only two miles when she spotted a pickup parked on the shoulder of the road. Dollar signs flashed before her eyes. A stranded motorist needing a tow meant money in her pocket. She pulled off the road and scanned the area—a girl couldn’t be too careful these days and she was too smart to walk into an ambush. Assured no one hid in the brush along the road, she turned off the bike and set the stand.

A movement caught her attention and she zeroed in on the pickup, where a pair of cowboy boots stuck out the driver’s side window. She approached the vehicle cautiously and peered through the open window, finding a cowboy sprawled inside, his hat covering his face. Snoring sounds echoed through the cab—whether he was sleeping off a drink or resting while he waited for a ride was anybody’s guess.

She slapped her hand against the bottom of one boot then jumped inside her skin when the man bolted into an upright position, knocking his forehead against the rearview mirror. His hat tumbled to the floor, and Destiny got her first good look at him.

Wow.

There was a hint of gold warmth in his brown eyes, the color reminding her of high-grade engine oil. Dark eyebrows stood out on a face framed by shaggy brown hair with sandy highlights. Without the cowboy hat he might easily be mistaken for a California beach bum.

Destiny wasn’t used to running into sexy men—she lived in a town full of old people. “Need a lift?”

He glanced out the rear window. “Where’s the groom?”

“If I knew the answer to that question, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now.”

He shoved his hand out the window. “Buck Cash.” His deep baritone voice settled over her fringed vest like a soft caress. She shook his hand—thick calluses convinced her that he was the real McCoy, not some wannabe buckaroo.

“Destiny Saunders. Where are you headed?”

“Up to Flagstaff for a rodeo this weekend.”

“What event?”

“You mind if I get out of the truck?” he asked.

She backed up. Then backed up again when he stood. The man towered over her five-foot-four frame. She eyed his broad shoulders and deep chest. “Tie-down roping?”

“I ride a bull every now and then.” He settled his hat on his head, which added another two inches to his height.

“Where’s your horse?” she asked.

“Don’t own one. A buddy of mine loans me his when I compete.”

This cowboy must only rodeo when he felt like it. “What’s wrong with your truck?”

“Puncture in one of the hoses.”

She doubted he’d even checked the engine. Ignoring his wide-eyed stare, she walked to the front of the truck. “Pop the hood.”

He grinned—brilliant white teeth as straight as a ruler glinted in the sun. Self-consciously she ran her tongue over her crooked eyetooth. Once he released the latch, she secured the hood rod. “The cap looks fine.”

He peered over her shoulder and she caught a whiff of musk-scented cologne. There wasn’t a hint of wood or lavender or any other smell—it was pure raw male. A quiver that had nothing to do with the morning sickness she’d come down with a few days ago spread through her stomach. Steeling herself against the odd sensation she examined the engine.

“You’ve got a cracked hose.” She stepped back and unhooked the rod then let the hood drop into place. “The nearest mechanic with a tow truck—” her “—is a few miles up the road in Lizard Gulch. You want a lift there?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

She waited by the Harley while he closed the truck windows and locked his gear inside the cab. “Guess you’re going to miss your rodeo,” she said.

“There’s always another one.” He eyed the bike. “This your motorcycle?”

“You think I ditched my fiancé at the altar and then took off on his bike?”

“Kind of looks that way.” He kept a straight face but his eyes sparkled.

“Looks can be deceiving. Hop on.” Once he was situated, she jumped on the kick-starter and gunned the engine.

His chest pressed into her back and sweat beaded between her breasts. She’d yet to come across a man who intimidated her, but there was something about the cowboy that put her off-balance. “Where should I hold on?”

“Wherever you want.” She checked the mirrors then shot onto the highway. Once the tires gained traction, she shifted gears. When the hog jumped forward, his hands clasped her hips, his fingers squeezing until she felt the pressure against the bone.

Her driving made him nervous. Good.

She hit a straightaway and the hog’s speed edged toward eighty. She knew the road like the back of her hand—every pothole, bump and crack in the asphalt—and had complete control of the bike. The first time she’d given Daryl a ride on the Harley, he hadn’t been half as nervous as the cowboy.

Speaking of Daryl... Funny how she’d forgotten the father of her baby the moment Buck had stepped from the truck. Maybe things had worked out for the best when Daryl had chickened out at the eleventh hour. Had they tied the knot, they’d probably have been divorced inside of a year.

* * *

BUCK FELT LIKE an extra in a Hollywood movie. He’d woken this morning ready to rodeo and now here he was, hitching a ride on a Harley with a runaway bride. He swatted the lace veil away from his face. Life sure had gotten interesting since his older brother Will had all but kicked him off the family pecan farm and told him to get the heck out of Dodge for a while. Buck was the first to admit he’d deserved the banishment.

Will had learned for the first time this past June that he had a fourteen-year-old son. The mother had been a girl he’d taken to the prom his senior year. After Marsha Bugler graduated high school, she’d left Arizona to attend college in California. Buck had kept in touch with her through email and then one afternoon a year ago in March he’d surprised Marsha with a visit on the way home from a rodeo and had met her son for the first time—a teenager who’d looked suspiciously like Will.

Marsha had confessed that Will was the boy’s father, then begged Buck not to tell him until she figured out the best way to break the news. He’d agreed to keep Marsha’s secret, believing she’d follow through on her promise. A month passed then another and another, and it wasn’t until a year and a half later that she wrote Will a letter, informing him that he was a father. Buck didn’t blame his brother for kicking him to the curb, and he’d left willingly while Marsha and Will sorted through the wreckage of their past and figured out their future as a family.

Once in a while Buck checked in with his younger sister Dixie, but he never told her his whereabouts. Since leaving home in June, his brother Johnny and his wife, Shannon, had delivered a baby girl, named Addy in honor of Grandma Cash. And just last week Dixie had texted him the news that Will and Marsha had married.

Almost daily Dixie begged Buck to come home, but he wasn’t ready. He couldn’t say for sure what kept him away from Stagecoach. He only knew that he didn’t want to go back to the same-old-same-old—a rodeo once a month and working on cars in Troy Winters’s garage. His brothers were moving on with their lives, and he wanted to move on, also—to where and to what was anyone’s guess.

The road curved and Destiny slowed the bike. Buck relaxed his grip on her slender hips as the faint scent of lilacs drifted up his nostrils. He didn’t know if the scent came from her skin or the red locks she’d pinned to the top of her head. He dropped his gaze to the bare shoulder in front of him. Crawling out from the edge of the sleeveless vest was a red, yellow and green lizard, its tongue extended toward a tiny tattooed fly. Despite her petite size, Destiny was solid muscle. Maybe she was a personal trainer at a fitness gym—that would explain her toned arms.

One more mile and the bike slowed to a crawl then veered onto a dirt road badly in need of grading. It wasn’t until the bike crested a small mesa that he spotted the handful of buildings in the middle of the desert. Twin palm trees stood a hundred feet in the air above the buildings and looked out of place in the dusty barren landscape.

His escort coasted into town—if the place even qualified as a town. He counted six structures. The towering palms guarded the entrance to the Flamingo Inn Resort—a seen-better-days motel that had been converted into a trailer park. A gas station with one repair bay and one pump sat at the end of—he read the street sign—Gulch Road. Carter Towing and Repair had been painted in red block lettering across the front of the whitewashed brick.

The Florence Pastry Shoppe, a two-story Victorian-style home, faced the motel on the opposite side of the street. A giant-sized croissant twirled atop a pole mounted to the roof. Three white rockers sat on the front porch.

Instead of driving to the garage, Destiny parked outside Lucille’s Smokehouse Grill and Saloon, which sat next to Dino-Land, a nine-hole miniature golf course whose entrance was guarded by giant plaster dinosaurs, their green paint faded and cracked.

She cut the bike engine and Buck heard the faint sounds of piano music. “What’s going on?”

“My wedding reception.”

Uh-oh. Even though Destiny didn’t act upset, he doubted the jilted bride looked forward to informing her wedding guests there was nothing to celebrate. He caught her arm when she stepped past him. “If you want, I’ll tell them the wedding was called off.”

For the first time since they’d met, she removed her sunglasses. Buck sucked in a quiet breath as he felt himself being dragged into the undertow of Caribbean blue waters. The eyes staring up at him were perfectly round and easily the largest feature on her freckled face. “Thanks, but it’s not a big deal.”

Not a big deal? What kind of man had she been engaged to? She climbed the steps to the saloon and he couldn’t help but notice that the white leather pants fit her firm little fanny like a glove. The groom had a screw loose if he let a woman like this get away.

“You’re welcome to come inside for food and drinks,” she said.

The other businesses appeared deserted. The entire population of Lizard Gulch, including the mechanic, Buck guessed, waited inside the bar.

“What’s it gonna be?” She tapped her boot heel against the wooden boardwalk. He took the steps two at a time then held the door open for her. As soon as she entered, the piano music switched to “Here Comes the Bride.” A group of geriatrics stared—mouths hanging open, their gazes swinging back and forth between Destiny and Buck.

A barrel-chested man who wore his long gray hair in a ponytail eyed Buck suspiciously before speaking to Destiny. “I thought you were marrying Daryl? Where’d you find this guy?”

“He’s a whole lot better-looking than Daryl.” A skinny man with gray sideburns and a receding hairline patted his chest beneath his cobalt-blue silk shirt.

“This is...” Destiny sent Buck a blank look.

Holy cow. She’d forgotten his name—that had never happened to him before. Not only was his moniker memorable, but most ladies thought his face was, too. “Buck Owens Cash.”

“Buck Owens? Why Buck is one of my favorite country-and-western singers.” A blonde lady wearing a strapless rhinestone dress that pushed her wrinkled bosom up to her chin batted her eyelashes.

“Heel, Sonja.”

“Go soak your head in a bucket, Ralph,” Sonja said.

“Whoever thought to name their kid Buck Owens Cash must have been a dimwit.” A man closer in age to Buck moved to the front of the group. Dressed in a gray suit and red tie, he assessed Buck. “Is Cash your real surname or one you made up to go with your Vegas stage name?”

Stage name? “All three names are for real, and I doubt my deceased mother would appreciate you calling her a dimwit,” Buck said.

“Knock it off, Mark. Buck’s pickup broke down near the chapel and I gave him a lift into town,” Destiny explained.

“You look very...hot.” Sonja handed him a bottled water.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Buck guzzled the drink.

“Where’s Daryl?”

“What happened?”

“How come you’re late?”

Questions were fired at Destiny from all directions, and she raised her hands in surrender. “Daryl was a no-show.”

An elderly man with grizzled cheeks dressed in polyester slacks and a plaid dress shirt appeared at Destiny’s side. He tapped his finger against what appeared to be a toy sheriff’s badge pinned to his shirt. “Want me to bring him in?”

Was this guy for real?

“Thank you for your concern, everyone, but I’d rather Daryl have changed his mind about marrying me now than after we tied the knot.”

The redhead didn’t act the least bit heartbroken, which Buck found hard to accept. Then again a woman who sported a lizard tattoo and biceps muscles was probably as tough on the inside as she appeared on the outside.

“Violet.” Destiny removed her veil and handed it to a lady with blue hair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to break the curse.”

What curse?

“Never mind, dear,” Violet said. “I shouldn’t have loaned it out. I probably passed my bad luck on to you.”

“Good Lord, Violet.” A woman standing by the piano spoke. “That wedding veil has made a dozen trips down the aisle and not one of those marriages lasted more than a few years.”

“Eleven, and none of the divorces were my fault.” Violet winked at Buck. “Can’t help it if I’m attracted to bad boys.”

Buck felt his face heat up.

Destiny came to his rescue. “No need to let all this food and drink go to waste.”

“We never celebrated Destiny’s mayoral win,” the sheriff said. “We should turn this into a victory party.”

The biker chick was the mayor of Lizard Gulch?

“Three cheers for Destiny!”

Hoots and hollers echoed through the bar then folks crowded the buffet table, loading their Chinet plates with every kind of casserole known to mankind.

Someone pushed him toward the food line. “Go eat.”

He did as he was told, then stood in the corner and watched Destiny make the rounds, chatting with her constituents and listening to their complaints and concerns as if she really cared.

“Is this your first time in Lizard Gulch?” Mr. Suit-and-Tie held out his hand. “Mark Mitchell.”

After he shook Mitchell’s hand, Buck said, “Until a few minutes ago I wasn’t aware the town existed.”

“Lizard Gulch used to be a lively place in its day.”

“And when was that?” A century ago?

“Five decades of prosperity before the Interstate took all the traffic north of the town. Lizard Gulch was a popular overnight stop on the old Route 66.” He pointed to a lady a few feet away, whose shoulder-length black bob looked like a wig. “Melba’s parents ran the Flamingo Resort. Travelers stopped here on their way to California, because the motel had an outdoor pool and slide for kids.” Mitchell wiped his brow with a napkin. “Once they finished construction of the Interstate, people drove straight through to California.”

“I’m surprised the town wasn’t abandoned.” How did anyone make a living? Then again, the average age in the saloon had to be sixtysomething. Maybe they were all retired.

“The town sat vacant for years. When Melba’s husband died, she quit her job as a bank teller in Kingman, then took his insurance money and renovated the Flamingo. Turned the parking lot into a mobile home park and invited friends to visit. Her friends told their friends and before you knew it the place filled up with old farts.”

Buck eyed the bride. Why would a young woman want to live with all these gray heads? “How long has Destiny lived here?”

“About a year.”

“Stop hogging the newcomer.” The guy wearing the disco shirt slipped his arm through Buck’s and squeezed his biceps. “We haven’t had a cowboy as handsome as you come through town in...forever.”

“Enrick’s one of those homosexuals, but you probably already figured that out,” Mitchell said.

Buck choked on a swallow of water.

“It’s called being gay, Mark.” Enrick motioned to the big man with the ponytail. “Frank’s my partner. We met at a pastry competition in Phoenix and it was love at first sight.”

Buck barely heard Enrick drone on about his partner—Destiny had caught his attention. She’d taken the pins out of her hair and long fiery locks cascaded down the back of her white leather vest. She was nothing like the women he normally dated. Maybe that weekend rodeo in Flagstaff wasn’t so important after all.

“Where are you from?” Mitchell asked.

“Stagecoach. Small town southeast of Yuma.”

Enrick leaned in and sniffed Buck’s neck. “You smell good. What cologne are you wearing?”

Buck inched sideways, inserting an extra foot of space between himself and lover boy. “I can’t remember.”

“I’ve never cheated on Frank—” Enrick sighed dramatically “—but right now I really wish I was single.”

Frank made his way through the crowd toward Enrick and Buck. “Quit pestering the guest,” he said as he turned Enrick toward the buffet table. “Go eat. You’re too skinny.”

“I just love how you worry about me.” Enrich stood on tiptoe and kissed Frank’s cheek then was off to join a group of gossiping women.

“Sorry about that,” Frank said. “He comes on a bit strong.”

No kidding.

“You’re not gay, but watch yourself with Enrick. He has a way of making a man think twice about his sexuality.” Frank walked off, leaving Buck shaking his head not knowing what to think.

The sheriff wheeled a cart carrying a wedding cake across the floor and everyone oohed and ahhed over the green frosting lizards crawling up the white monstrosity. A plastic bride and groom riding a motorcycle sat on the top tier.

“This is beautiful, Frank.” Destiny hugged the pastry chef.

“The lizards were my idea.” Enrick beamed.

Frank wielded the knife. “Who wants a piece?”

After all the guests were served, Destiny brought Buck a slice. “Wild bunch, aren’t they?” She smiled fondly at the group.

He kept his opinion to himself and sampled the cake. “Hey, this is good.” When he finished the dessert, he asked, “Is the town mechanic here?”

“No.”

“I’d better head to the garage and talk to him about my truck. Thanks again for the lift.” Buck handed Destiny his empty cake plate then left the bar. As he walked down the middle of the street he noticed a cemetery tucked behind the miniature golf course. Three marked graves occupied the plot. A sign on the gate read Ghost Tours Daily at Dusk.

A shiver racked his body when he stopped and looked back at the saloon. The people in there hadn’t been ghosts, had they? Shaking his head, he continued to the garage, wondering if he’d just landed in The Twilight Zone.


Chapter Two

Destiny braced herself when Mark Mitchell, the former mayor of Lizard Gulch, approached her. The sleazy lawyer found satisfaction in others’ misery and she’d love to slap that condescending grin off his face.

“So...I wonder why Daryl didn’t show up at the chapel?”

“I guess he decided he didn’t love me enough to marry me.” Too bad she wasn’t heartbroken over being jilted.

“You know,” Mitchell said, “if there were opportunities to make a decent living in this town, he might have taken a chance on you.”

Money had never been an issue between her and Daryl. He did his thing and she did hers. When they could coordinate their schedules they hung out together.

“There’s time to win Daryl back. All you have to do is convince your constituents to take the deal Wyndell Resorts is offering.” Mitchell’s grin widened. “Once you have all that money in your pretty little hands, your fiancé will come running back.”

Mitchell had arrived in town a year ago, claiming he was searching for a place to retire. She hadn’t bought the lie—a man in his late thirties was too young to be thinking about retirement, but he’d sweet-talked the residents into believing he was a nice guy before he’d convinced them that the town needed a mayor. Of course he’d insisted he was the man for the job. The five-member town council swore him in as mayor and thirty days later Mitchell presented a proposal from a land developer who wanted to buy the town and replace it with a resort and golf course.

The issue divided the town—half wanted to sell, the other half insisted the developer shove his proposal where the sun didn’t shine. Destiny sided with the shovers.

“What if I don’t want Daryl back?” She sipped her water.

“Think of all the things you could buy with the money Jack Custer is offering.”

Even though the town was torn over the buyout offer, the residents had all agreed that Mitchell had misrepresented himself. The council recalled him as mayor then selected Destiny to replace him. The very next day she’d driven to Phoenix and had met with Wyndell Properties. Custer had treated her like a petulant child, sending her back to Lizard Gulch with a new offer to present to everyone.

When Destiny explained Custer’s proposal—a $75,000 per person payout—those in favor of saving the town snubbed their noses at the money and those in favor of selling wanted to sign on the dotted line right then and there.

The town was at an impasse with Destiny caught in the middle. As mayor she represented every resident, but she hated to see the buildings bulldozed. The residents had welcomed her with open arms and she considered all of them her family. That family would dissolve if Custer got his way.

Now that she was pregnant, it was more important than ever that she change the minds of those siding with Wyndell Resorts. She refused to raise her child the way she’d been brought up—traveling from one place to the next. Living in public restrooms and truck stops. Eating in soup kitchens. Destiny had never attended school. Waitresses at various truck stops had taught her to read and write, and after she’d run away and the Carters had become her foster parents, Sylvia Carter had homeschooled her. Eventually, she’d earned her GED—an accomplishment she was very proud of. Yet a GED did little to help her fight off bullies like Mark Mitchell and Jack Custer.

“You know,” Mitchell said. “Maybe Daryl got a better offer from another girl?”

Destiny wouldn’t put it past the lawyer to have paid her fiancé to ditch her at the church just because he was miffed she’d thrown a monkey wrench into his plans. She was well aware that Mitchell would earn a handsome bonus if he closed the deal between the land developer and the residents of Lizard Gulch.

“Don’t be such a donkey butt, Mitchell.” Melba slid her arm through Destiny’s. “The poor girl’s heart has just been broken.”

“My heart will be fine.” Destiny squeezed the older woman’s veiny hand. If she had any remorse about Daryl’s abandonment, it was for their baby. Her mother had never talked about Destiny’s father and always brushed aside her questions about him, suggesting she hadn’t known which of her customers had fathered her child. Whether or not Daryl chose to be involved in their baby’s life was up to him, but she’d make sure her son or daughter knew who his or her father was.

“I think Violet’s looking for you, Mark,” Melba said. After Mitchell walked off, she asked, “Where did that handsome cowboy go?”

Well, shoot. Destiny had forgotten that Buck Owens Cash was waiting at the garage. “I better leave. I need to fire up the wrecker and tow his pickup.”

“You two stop in later,” Melba said. “We’ll be here all night.”

Destiny slipped out the back door, walked past the cemetery and came up behind Carter Towing and Repair. She climbed the fire escape to the apartment above the garage and entered the one-bedroom dwelling. The place needed major renovations. She’d like to paint the walls, replace the linoleum flooring and install a shower in the bathroom, but with a baby on the way, her money would be better spent on a crib, car seat, diapers, clothes and a million other things.

In the bedroom she stripped to her skivvies and changed into her work jeans and her favorite Arizona Cardinals T-shirt. She secured her long hair in an elastic band then shoved her ponytail through the opening at the back of her Diamondbacks baseball cap. Lastly, she tugged on a pair of thick socks and stuffed her feet into her work boots. Simon Carter had taught Destiny the ins and outs of the towing business, including the importance of wearing steel-toed boots. Safety was her number one priority—even more so now that a child would be depending on her in seven months.

Truck keys in hand, she paused in front of the mirror to check her reflection—she’d never really cared what she looked like before. Why now? Maybe because Buck was unlike any guy she’d dated in the past.

For a girl who was supposed to get married today you’ve moved on pretty quick.

Destiny had no experience with boy-next-door types—they normally passed her over. But when Buck turned those warm brown eyes on her, she could almost believe that he saw something in her worth his time.

You’re pregnant.

She cursed the voice in her head. She didn’t need her subconscious to remind her that she was carrying another man’s baby and that any guy in his right mind would steer clear of her. So be it, but she was entitled to her dreams, and it had been longer than she remembered since she’d fantasized about any man including Daryl.

She left the apartment and walked to the front of the building where Buck sat on the bench outside the office door. If only there was more than a broken hose wrong with his truck. She couldn’t think of a better-looking distraction than the cowboy hanging around town for a few days.

As soon as he noticed her, he flashed his sexy white grin. Then his gaze roamed over her outfit and the smile vanished. “I thought you were celebrating your mayoral win?”

She shoved her fingers into the front pockets of her jeans. “They’re celebrating without me.”

“Do you know where—” he glanced at the side of the garage “—Mr. Carter is?”

“There is no Mr. Carter.”

He removed his Stetson and ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. “I thought you said—”

“Simon Carter is deceased. I named the business after him.”

“You named the business?”

Destiny spread her arms wide. “I run the garage.”

His eyebrows arched.

“What?”

“You’re the tow truck driver?”

“I’m also a decent mechanic.”

Buck stared at Destiny, his mind trying to reconcile the redheaded biker bride with the tomboy standing before him in ragged jeans, a faded T-shirt and men’s boots. In all the years he’d worked in Troy Winters’s garage, not once had he run into a woman who knew car engines. Go figure the one time his truck breaks down a woman mechanic comes to his rescue.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” she said.

“I’ve never met a lady mechanic before.”

Her baby blues narrowed, as if she expected him to sling insults at her.

“How did you become interested in fixing cars?” he asked.

Tiny wrinkles formed across her tanned forehead. “Would you rather stand here and chat or do you want me to tow your truck?”

“Where do you plan to tow it?”

“Wherever you want. Kingman or...here.”

He heard the hitch in her voice when she said the word here. Kingman was a safe bet—but maybe it was time he rolled the dice.

“If you’ve got replacement hoses in stock, it would be quicker to fix the truck here,” he said.

Destiny paced a few feet away, leaving a trail of scented perfume in her wake. “It’ll be a hundred dollars for the tow and a hundred for parts and labor.”

The sassy little mechanic wanted to rip him off. “That’s highway robbery.” Troy charged his customers twenty bucks for a new hose and fifty for labor, but he doubted Destiny got many customers this far out in the desert. He couldn’t blame her for making the most of the opportunities that came her way.

“Have you ever had the hoses in your truck changed before?” She crossed her arms over her chest—she was cute when she got all feisty.

“No.” He wanted to see how much she actually knew about engines. “This is the first time I’ve had a leaky hose.” His gut tightened at the lie, but he kept a straight face. “Where’s your wrecker?”

“This way.”

He followed her behind the building then stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed the vehicle. Holy cow—the thing was a monster and in pristine condition. He watched Destiny climbed into the cab, admiring her athleticism as she hopped onto the running plate, took hold of the bar behind the driver’s seat and hoisted herself into the cab.

He got in on the passenger side and shut the door. “What year is this?”

“It’s a 2007 freightliner with a 12,000 pound integrated wheel lift, two 15,000 pound planetary winches and a Mercedes 250 HP engine.” She quirked an eyebrow. “Any more questions?”

“This machine won’t have a problem towing my Ford.”

Like a pro, Destiny fired up the wrecker, shifted gear and drove onto Gulch Road.

“What’s the deal with only three people buried in the cemetery?” he asked when the truck passed the burial ground.

“Melba says—”

“Who’s Melba again?”

“She owns the Flamingo.” Destiny waved at a man standing outside his mobile home next to the motel. “Back before Melba was born and her parents managed the property, there was a woman in town named Maisy Richards and she was engaged to a Victor Candor. Before the wedding took place, a stranger named Antonio Torres showed up in town and fell hard for Maisy.”

“A love triangle,” Buck said.

“Victor caught Antonio stealing a kiss from Maisy and threatened to kill him.”

“Did Antonio go to the police?”

“No. Antonio waited for Victor to show up at his motel room and when he did, Antonio drew his gun and they shot each other dead.”

“What happened to Maisy?”

“She hung herself from the tree that stands in the cemetery. Witnesses say she wanders through town after midnight calling for her lovers.”

Buck laughed out loud. “That sounds made up.”

Destiny shrugged.

“Have you heard Maisy call her beaus?”

“No, but there’s rumors that people who stayed at the motel after the murders complained about hearing gunshots in the middle of the night.”

“Interesting.”

Destiny slowed the wrecker as she navigated a bend in the road.

Buck was amazed a woman her size handled the truck with such confidence. He’d never met a female quite like Destiny—she was a puzzle he wouldn’t mind solving.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Just thinking.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you look mad when you think?”

He relaxed his facial muscles. “I don’t get how you can go from being left at the altar to towing my truck without missing a beat. Most girls would be bawling their eyes out and inconsolable.”

“I’m not most girls.”

That was for damn sure.

“I’ve had my share of disappointments and it began early in my life.” Her fingers clenched the steering wheel. “Guess I’ve developed a thick skin.” She slowed the wrecker when she passed the Ford then checked her mirrors and made a U-turn before merging onto the shoulder of the road in front of his truck. “This will only take a minute.”

No way was he waiting in the cab. He had to see the pint-sized mechanic in action. “Can I help?”

“Sure.”

“Tell me what to do.”

“Stay out of my way.” She lowered the boom arm in the back of the wrecker then attached the wire cable from the tow winch to the front end of his pickup. In less than ten minutes she had his vehicle secured on the flatbed and ready to haul.

“I’m impressed.” And he meant it. “Where did you learn to drive a wrecker?”

“Simon Carter. He showed up one night to tow an abandoned car beneath an overpass in Phoenix and found me sleeping inside.”

“How old were you?”

“Thirteen.”

Holy smokes. “Why were you hiding in an abandoned car?”

Destiny started the engine, and after she pulled onto the road, she said, “I don’t like to talk about my childhood.”

“That makes two of us.” His comment drew a sharp look from her, but she didn’t prod him for details.

“Back to my original question, how—”

She glared at him.

“You don’t have to tell me about your childhood. I just want to know how you ended up in a broken-down car beneath an overpass.”

“I hitched a ride into Phoenix with a trucker and he dropped me off there. When Simon found me, he offered to call the police, but I refused, so he took me home with him and fed me.”

“How old was Simon?”

“Sixty. Sylvia, his wife, is a sweet lady. She insisted I sleep in their guest bedroom. The next morning I expected social services to pick me up, but Simon and Sylvia said I could live with them until I figured out what my next move was.”

“Generous people.”

“Sylvia offered to homeschool me, and when I had free time I went out on calls with Simon in the wrecker.” She shrugged. “After a few months they asked if they could adopt me and I said yes.”

“How long did you live with the couple?” Buck asked.

“I was nineteen when Simon died of a heart attack.”

Even though Destiny showed little emotion, he got the feeling Simon’s death had affected her deeply. “I’m sorry.”

“Sylvia sold the house and moved to Florida to live with her sister. She gave me Simon’s truck, his tools and a little money. I advertised on Craigslist and made enough cash towing to pay for an apartment and keep gas in the truck.”

“How did you end up in Lizard Gulch?”

“I’d been searching for a place to set down roots,” she said.

“And when you ran across Lizard Gulch, the town shouted Home Sweet Home?”

“It’s not such a bad place.”

Buck had a hunch Destiny was looking for another Simon to replace the one she’d lost, and there were plenty of geezers in the desert hideaway to fill the role. “How do you get enough tows in this area to stay in business?”

“I answer calls for car accidents between here, Kingman and Flagstaff. I average about three tows per month.”

“How many car repair jobs come along?”

“I’m lucky if I get one every sixty days and those usually come from referrals.”

Destiny’s towing business could bring in a lot more money in Tucson, Yuma or Phoenix. It didn’t make sense for her to live in Lizard Gulch.

“Where are you from?” she asked.

“Ever heard of Stagecoach? It’s southeast of Yuma.”

“Sounds like another little town.”

“It is. My six siblings and I grew up on my grandfather’s pecan farm.”

“You have six siblings?”

“Five brothers and one sister.”

“Wow. You kept your mother busy.”

“Not really. Our grandparents raised us.” He guessed he and Destiny had that in common—depending on old people.

“So you chose rodeo instead of farming?”

“My brother Conway manages the pecan orchard. He and his wife and their twin sons moved into our grandparents’ house. My eldest brother, Johnny, recently married and had a daughter.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Kidding about what?” he asked.

“Your brother...Johnny Cash?”

Buck grinned. “My mother named my brothers and me after country-and-western legends.”

Destiny grinned. “Tell me the names.”

“I’m glad we amuse you.”

“C’mon...”

“In order of birth,” he said. “Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson Cash, me, Merle Haggard Cash, Conway Twitty Cash and Porter Wagoner Cash.”

“Wow. You guys must have taken a beating on the playground with those names.”

“I’ve had plenty experience defending my moniker.” He smiled grimly. “Johnny and his wife live on his father-in-law’s ranch, where he’s the foreman. Earlier this summer Will married the woman he got pregnant in high school and met his fourteen-year-old son for the first time.”

“She kept their baby a secret from your brother?” Destiny’s shock appeared genuine. “That’s not nice. Your brother had a right to know he was a father.”

Destiny’s statement made Buck feel all the more guilty that he hadn’t told Will right away about Ryan when he’d found out the truth.

“But I guess he forgave her and they worked things out if they got married,” Destiny said.

“They did. I didn’t go to the wedding.”

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated,” he said.

“You said you have a sister?”

“Dixie. She’s married and had a baby boy named Nathan. She’s a businesswoman like yourself. Runs a gift shop in Yuma and sells soap.”

“What kind of soap?”

“Fancy girl stuff. My grandmother’s relatives were soap makers in France, and Dixie uses the family recipes for her homemade suds.”

“Cool.”

Buck felt bad talking about his family when Destiny didn’t have one of her own. “Do you keep in touch with Sylvia?”

“We call each other once in a while and she sends me a keepsake of Simon’s every now and then. This past Christmas she gave me his military flag.”

“They never had any children of their own?” he asked.

“No. Are you real close to all your brothers?”

“I guess.” Then he’d gone and screwed things up with Will, and now they weren’t talking.

When they arrived in Lizard Gulch, Buck noticed the lights were on in the saloon. “The reception hasn’t died down.”

“Old people never sleep. They’ll party until they run out of liquor.”

She backed his Ford into the repair bay like a pro then hopped out and released the lift. While Buck waited inside the garage for her to park the wrecker behind the building, he examined the collection of auto parts stored on a utility shelf. She had three boxes of hoses and it took thirty minutes to swap out a hose. He’d be back on the road in an hour.

“There’s a chair in the office if you want to wait in there. The TV remote is on the counter.”

He’d rather watch Destiny change his hose. He went into the office and switched on the TV. After fifteen minutes he lost interest in the home improvement show and returned to the bay. Destiny lay on a creeper beneath his truck. “Almost finished?”

The clanking sounds stopped, and she rolled into the open then got to her feet. She avoided making eye contact with him. “You’ve got a bigger problem than a ruptured hose.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You must have driven over some debris, because the axel is broken.”

“What?”

Destiny wiped her hands on a rag. “I don’t have a spare axel. I’ll have to order one.”

“How long will that take?”

“A few days. Maybe a week.”

“I’m stuck here until my truck is fixed?”

She nodded.

“Where am I supposed to stay? The Flamingo isn’t even a motel.”

“Melba has one room she rents to guests.”

“How much does she charge?”

“Fifty dollars a night,” Destiny said.

This was becoming one hell of an expensive breakdown. “I guess I’m staying.”

“I’ll order the part now.” Destiny went into the office and shut the door.

Buck dropped onto the creeper and rolled himself beneath the truck. Sure enough. The damn axel hung crooked. He couldn’t remember hitting anything on the road. He examined the break.

Well...well...well... The axel wasn’t broken, it had been loosened.

Destiny had stranded Buck in Lizard Gulch on purpose.


Chapter Three

“What are you doing under there?” Destiny’s voice echoed through the garage.

Buck used his feet to move the creeper out from beneath his truck. “I wanted to see the damage.” He studied her face, but her nonchalant expression gave nothing away. She didn’t come across as the kind of girl who’d swindle others, but maybe she was in a bind and needed money.

“I ordered a new axel. It should get here in three to five days,” she said.

Kingman was an hour west of Lizard Gulch. She could drive into town tomorrow, buy the part and install it by noon, then he’d be on his way. Buck considered calling her bluff—mostly because he didn’t want her to believe he was a dunce she could easily dupe—but he held his tongue. He wanted to find out what her game was.

The jilted biker bride with tattoos was a tough cookie, yet whenever she made eye contact with him the vulnerability in her blue gaze tugged at his heart, which confused the hell out of him because she wasn’t his type. He was attracted to the girl-next-door, who in his experience had always been reliable, dedicated and loyal—the exact opposite of his mother, who’d abandoned her children on and off through the years while she chased after her next true love.

“Not much to do in town while I wait for the truck to get fixed.” He scrambled to his feet.

“The Lizard Gulch annual pool party at the Flamingo is tomorrow.” She scuffed the toe of her work boot against the cement floor.

Buck decided to give her one more chance to come clean with him. “Are you sure the axel isn’t just loose?”

“You’re a cowboy not a mechanic.” Her chin jutted. “I know what I’m doing.”

He didn’t doubt that for a minute. “I’ll head over to the motel and see about renting a room.” Neither of them moved, and he swore tiny heat waves wiggled in the air between them. His cell phone beeped with a text message, breaking the spell. “See you tomorrow.” He’d look forward to viewing Destiny in a bikini and discovering if she had more tattoos on her sexy little body.

“Good night.” She went into her office and shut the door behind her.

Buck left the garage and walked down the street. When he passed Lucille’s Smokehouse, the self-appointed sheriff of Lizard Gulch stepped outside.

“Hey, Bernie,” Buck said.

“You get your truck repaired?”

Buck stopped. Destiny’s Harley still sat parked in front of the bar. “Broken axel.”

“Sounds expensive.”

“Destiny had to order a new axel, so I’ll be in town for a few days.” He motioned to the Flamingo. “I was on my way to see about renting a room.”

“Melba’s in the bar. Wait here.” Bernie disappeared inside then a minute later the motel owner appeared.

“Bernie said you need a place to stay while your truck’s being fixed.”

“Destiny said you might have a room to rent.”

“C’mon.” Melba sashayed across the road, the strands of her black wig swinging back and forth across her face. She entered the lobby, and Buck swore he’d stepped into the late 1950s.

“Most people get that look on their face when they come in here,” she said. “My mother put her heart and soul into decorating this place, and I haven’t changed a thing since I took over.”

Green carpet with tiny pink flamingos woven into the design covered the floor. A pair of white bubble chairs sat in a corner next to a modern olive-colored sofa and rectangle coffee table with stick legs on which a large chrome pelican ashtray rested. And there was a no smoking sign above the couch next to a mirror made of overlapping circles.

A vintage solid-state radio took up half the space on the pink laminate check-in counter. A starburst chrome clock that had stopped ticking at three-fifteen who knows how many years ago was mounted to the wall next to the desk. And above his head a large chrome Sputnik chandelier (http://www.vintagelooks.com/detail.asp?product_id=hw-9315) hung from the ceiling. Buck opened the guest register and perused the names and dates of past motel guests, noting George and Mildred Hunter from Saint Louis, Missouri, had been the motel’s first customers and had stayed the night of September 5, 1953. The last guest to sign the book had been Howard Nicholson June 12, 2013. Melba held out a pink flamingo-shaped pen. Buck scribbled his name and the date.

“Mr. Nicholson was a reporter for a travel magazine called Out West,” Melba said. “He wanted to include the Flamingo in a feature story covering Route 66 motels.” She reached beneath the counter and selected a pink bath towel, washcloth, bar of soap in the shape of a flamingo and small bottle of shampoo. “If you need anything else, let me know.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a razor, would you?”

“I’ll check.” She left the lobby through a back door and reappeared a few minutes later with a lady’s pink disposable razor.

“Thanks,” he said.

She walked out from behind the counter and went to the lobby door.

“Don’t you want my credit card number?” he asked.

She waved him off. “We’ll settle the bill when you leave.”

Trusting woman. He followed Melba along the walkway to the last door. “This is the only room I rent to guests.”

“What about all the other doors we passed?” Buck had counted seven.

“I knocked down the walls between those rooms and made the space my private living quarters.”

“Wait a minute.” Buck blocked Melba’s hand before she slid the key into the lock. “Is this the room where Victor and Antonio died?”

“How’d you hear about that?”

“Destiny told me the story behind the people buried in the cemetery.”

“Don’t worry.” Melba opened the door. “The blood was cleaned up years ago and my parents replaced the carpet and repainted the walls.”

Buck entered, wondering if he was about to embark on a Caribbean adventure. The room had a floor lamp in the shape of a palm tree, flamingo bedspread and matching curtains, bamboo headboard and nightstand and the same green-and-pink flamingo carpet that was in the lobby. He peeked behind the bathroom door—a pink shell-shaped sink, pink toilet and tub with pink-and-white tile.

Melba turned on the air-conditioning unit beneath the window. “If you keep the room at eighty, I’ll give you a break on your bill when you check out.”

Eighty? “Sure,” he said.

“Lucille’s is the only place that serves food in town—unless you just want to eat pastries.” She went to the door. “The Lizard Gulch pool party and barbecue kicks off at four tomorrow.”

“Destiny mentioned the party. Where’s the pool?”

“Behind the motel.”

“I’ll be there.” He had nothing better to do while he waited to see what Destiny was up to.

After Melba left, Buck stared at the flamingo bedspread, wondering how many people had slept beneath the cover or if it had ever been dry-cleaned in the past two decades. His phone jingled, reminding him that he hadn’t answered the text his sister had sent earlier.



Guess what? Marsha’s teaching physics at the Yuma Junior College and Ryan got accepted into the accelerated program at the high school. Come home. We miss you.

Even though things had worked out between Will and Marsha, that didn’t mean his brother was ready to forgive Buck.

He texted back.



Thanks for the update. Hope little Nate is well.



Buck figured he had two brothers pissed at him now. Will, and Johnny after he’d missed the birth of Johnny’s daughter Addy in June. He left the room and headed back to the garage to fetch his rodeo gear and duffel bag.

One of these days he had to go home—whether he was ready or not.

* * *

DESTINY REMOVED HER dinner from the microwave and sat outside on the stoop to eat. From her vantage point above the garage she had a great view of the town and the Flamingo Motel at the opposite end of Gulch Road. Her gaze zeroed in on the room farthest from the main office, and she imagined Buck moving around inside. Was he taking a shower? Or resting on the bed watching TV?

What in the world had gotten into her—loosening the axel on Buck’s truck? Maybe Daryl ditching her at the altar bothered her more than she cared to admit. No. She honestly believed he’d done them both a favor by not showing up at the chapel. He’d yet to respond to any of her calls. He might not have his act together, but he wasn’t heartless and eventually he’d show up in town with an apology.

Daryl was the least of her worries. Without health insurance, finding care for her and the baby had been difficult. At least she’d located a women’s clinic in Kingman that had charged her next to nothing for her first prenatal appointment. Afterward, they’d sent her on her way with a free bottle of prenatal vitamins and several pamphlets on nutrition and the stages of the baby’s development, which she was instructed to read before her next appointment.

A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she squinted into the darkness. The door at the end of the motel opened and Buck emerged. When she’d come across his truck on the side of the road, she’d suddenly forgotten about Daryl, the baby she carried and the town’s problems. And then he’d smiled and her heart had stumbled.

Buck walked across the street to Lucille’s—he probably needed a drink. The first thing she’d learned when she’d moved to this town was that there was never a shortage of alcohol. According to the residents, whiskey cured hundreds of old-age ailments.

Destiny finished her dinner then showered before settling into bed and reading Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. Melba had loaned her the book, insisting Austen was a highly acclaimed author. Destiny didn’t understand the book at all or any of the behaviors of the Bennett sisters. If it had been left up to her, she’d have told both Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley to kiss her ass then she’d have left town and struck out on her own.

A banging sound in the garage below the apartment interrupted her reading, and she bolted to the window. Buck left the repair bay, his duffel bag in one hand and his saddle propped on his shoulder. She watched him make his way back to the motel, wishing she could go with him.

She wasn’t the kind of girl most boys took home to meet their mothers, and she wasn’t a saint—she’d spent a night or two in motel rooms with men she shouldn’t have—but Buck made her yearn to experience the teenage milestones she’d missed out on. Like a girl’s first crush—that moment when she saw the guy of her dreams and her breath froze in her lungs. And a girl’s first kiss—hers had been from a drunk who’d mistaken her for her mother in the truck stop restroom.

Men had come and gone from her life but never once had any of them, including Daryl, made her yearn for more than what was right in front of her.

She and Daryl had been friends who’d ended up in bed together one night. Even though Daryl had made her feel less alone in the world, hours would pass by when he wouldn’t cross her mind. Unlike Buck, who’d been in her every other thought since she’d first come upon him sprawled inside his truck.

You don’t even know if Buck has a girlfriend or if he’s married.

The cowboy wasn’t wearing a wedding band but that didn’t mean squat. This was all foolishness on her part. Whimsy. She’d be better off reading thrillers than filling her mind with fantasy.

Tomorrow she’d tighten the axel on Buck’s pickup and replace the hose then send him on his way—after the pool party.

Seeing the cowboy without a shirt on would provide her with a lasting memory after he left Lizard Gulch in the dust. To hell with Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley—when she went to sleep at night she’d conjure up an image of Buck and drift off to dreamland.

* * *

BUCK WASN’T SURE what to make of the pool party. An assortment of old women wearing flowered swim caps played in the water surrounded by floating toys and chairs, while the other guests drank margaritas in red Solo cups with tiny umbrellas and flamingo stir sticks. A table in the shade held the leftover casseroles from Destiny’s wedding/mayoral reception the night before, and bottles of beer and water sat on ice in a rusted-out horse trough.

“The cowboy’s here!” Bernie waved from his inflatable dolphin chair floating inside a circle of heads covered with bathing caps. He’d pinned his sheriff’s badge to the front of his John Deere cap and wore a camouflage T-shirt and matching swim trunks along with white tube socks—the old man must be worried about getting his feet sunburned.

Buck searched the AARP crowd but didn’t spot Destiny.

“She’ll be here soon.” Melba stopped at his side. The twinkle in her eye suggested that she was aware of Buck’s interest in the mayor. “I imagine she’s catching up on sleep after going on a call at 3:00 a.m.”

He didn’t like the idea of Destiny alone on a deserted road late at night. There were too many weirdos out during those hours.

“The highway patrol asked her to pick up an abandoned car,” Melba said.

“I didn’t hear the wrecker.” Buck should have heard the tow truck since the town dead-ended at the garage and the only road in and out sat twenty yards from his motel-room door.

“When you get to be my age, you don’t sleep much. I was reading my gossip magazine in the lobby when she drove past. I called her, and she told me where she was going.”

So Melba played the role of mother hen as well as motel manager. She stared at his body. “Don’t you own a pair of swim trunks?”

He chuckled. “I knew I’d forgotten something when I packed for the rodeo.”

“I can help.”

Inside the motel office Melba set a cardboard box filled with mismatched clothing on the counter. “This stuff was left behind by guests. Maybe there’s a swimsuit that’ll fit you.” She left, and Buck rummaged through the clothing, finding a pair of blue trunks with giant yellow pineapples on them. “These might work.” No sense changing in his room. He stepped behind the counter and removed his jeans then yanked on the trunks. The suit was a little snug but covered all the important parts. He’d left his sneakers on the floor of his truck so he searched for a pair of men’s sandals or flip-flops but came up empty-handed. The thermometer hanging in the shade outside the office window read one hundred and two degrees—the asphalt parking lot would fry the soles of his feet if he walked to the pool barefoot.

He pulled his socks and boots back on, then tipped his Stetson over his forehead to block the sun, helped himself to a pink towel from the storage closet and left.

Wolf whistles greeted him when he returned to the pool. “Now that’s a sexy look if I ever saw one.” Enrick circled Buck, leering at his body. “Your ghostly legs and chest could use a little sun.”

“Quit criticizing him,” Frank said. “At least he’s got a chest.”

Enrick gasped. “What’s wrong with my chest?”

The two lovers engaged in a spirited argument over their physiques with Bernie threatening to issue citations for disturbing the peace.

“I think the boots are sexy.” Sonja shoved a margarita into Buck’s hand. She wore sunglasses with lenses so big they made her look like a bug from outer space. “Tell me, Buck...is there a Mrs. Buck at home?”

“No, ma’am.”

She squeezed his arm. “That’s too bad, but I—”

“Sonja, leave the man alone.” Ralph grabbed his wife’s arm and escorted her to the other side of the pool, where a group of women sat in the shade.

“Eat,” Melba said, nodding to the buffet table.

“I’m good right now, thanks.” Buck had eaten a sandwich at Lucille’s earlier in the afternoon while he’d listened to Hank’s civil war stories. The bar owner’s great-great grandfather had fought in the Battle of Picacho Peak northwest of Tucson, and the way Hank told the story his grandfather had been the last man left defending the mountain.

“C’mon,” Melba said. “I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Buck met the people who lived in the trailers next to the motel. Harriet and Bob Wilson from Bakersfield, California. Bob was a retired lineman, and Harriet had owned a beauty shop years ago. They didn’t have any children. Another retired couple—Bud and Dorothy West—lived next to the Wilsons. Bud had been a welder and his wife a bookkeeper for a clothing store. They had one child, three grandchildren and five great grandchildren. Next he met Edith and Guy Heinrich, originally from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Guy had owned a gas station before he’d retired. When Edith fell on the ice ten years ago and broke her hip, they’d packed their bags and drove south to retire in warmer weather. They had one child and four grandchildren.

After a while, Buck lost track of who was who and where they came from—his mind on Destiny, wondering why she’d settled among such an old crowd.

“Thought you’d be long gone by now.” Mitchell appeared out of nowhere, wearing Bermuda shorts and a Tommy Bahama shirt. Melba excused herself to talk to one of her tenants about a problem with their septic.

“The axel on my truck was damaged. I’m stuck here longer than I planned,” Buck said.

“While you’re here maybe you can talk sense into Destiny.”

“Talk sense into me about what?” Destiny stopped at Buck’s side.

Wow. Buck’s mouth dropped open. Destiny wore a black bikini with little white skulls and crossbones printed on the fabric. She’d pinned her long red hair to her head in a sloppy knot that begged for a man to stick his fingers in it and mess it up some more. His gaze roamed over her body, pausing on her breasts, where part of a tattoo peeked out from beneath the swimsuit top. As he stared down at all that sexiness crammed into a tiny body, he couldn’t recall why he preferred taller women.

“Ms. Mayor,” Mitchell said. Buck noticed the lawyer appeared oblivious to Destiny’s hotness. Idiot. “Why don’t you ask Buck to weigh in on the town’s situation? A stranger’s perspective might be helpful.”

“Or better yet,” Destiny said, “Maybe Buck can convince the recalled mayor to get the heck out of town and stay out?” Then she turned to Buck and said, “Take off your boots. You look ridiculous.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Buck sat in a lawn chair and removed his Ariats and socks then stood. When he noticed Destiny ogling his legs, he suddenly wished his trunks weren’t so snug.

Mitchell stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled. “I need everyone’s attention.” Once the Geritol crowd settled down, he said, “Jack Custer has put forth a new offer.”

Destiny ground her back teeth together to keep from pushing Mitchell into the pool. Damn him for using the party—an event intended to bring the town together—as a means to divide the residents.

“How much is he willing to pay us this time?” Frank shouted above the rumblings.

“Wyndell Resorts is prepared to pay each resident of Lizard Gulch $80,000 for their property.”

Destiny scoffed. “That’s only $5,000 more than the previous offer.”

“Eighty thousand dollars is a lot of money,” a woman in a swim cap covered in daisies said. “I could use the cash to move my home down south to my daughter’s property, and I’d have plenty left over to buy a new car.”

“That’s right,” Mitchell said. “The money would improve everyone’s standard of living.”

“There ain’t nothing wrong with my standard of living.” Bernie paddled his dolphin across the water and clung to the edge of the pool next to where Mitchell stood.

“What’s going on?” Buck asked.

Destiny had hoped he wouldn’t stick his nose into their business. The last thing she needed was a stranger swaying the town to take the developer’s side. “A group of wealthy investors wants to buy Lizard Gulch, bulldoze the town and build a resort in its place.”

“Lizard Gulch is in the middle of nowhere.” Buck frowned at Mitchell.

“Ever see the movie Field of Dreams?” Mitchell asked.

“Build it and they will come?” Buck said. “That’s what you’re banking on?”

“Route 66 properties draw thousands of vacationers each year. Jack Custer studied this area and it’s close enough to California that people will view an all-inclusive resort as a great weekend getaway.”

“There wouldn’t be much for resort guests to do if they don’t play golf,” Buck said.

Mitchell ignored Buck’s comment and spoke to the group. “You’ve got one month to decide whether or not to take the new offer.”

“What happens if we can’t agree to sell or not?” Melba asked.

“You know that I consider you my friends,” Mitchell said.

Destiny choked on her spit.

“When I was mayor I had to comply with state guidelines and submit answers to a questionnaire.”

“What kind of questionnaire?” Destiny asked.

“I had to inform state officials that you haven’t had the water well tested in fifteen years,” Mitchell said.

“I’ve been drinking tap water for twenty years and I haven’t gotten sick or died.” Bernie cupped his hands in the water and directed a wave of it at Mitchell, who was forced to jump back to avoid getting his shorts wet.

“I also had to disclose to the state that none of you pay property taxes.”

“Are you crazy?” Destiny spread her arms wide. “We don’t pay taxes, because we don’t use any fire or police services.”

“And you have no place for children to go to school,” Mitchell said.

The lawyer was grasping at straws. “Do you see any residents of child-bearing age?”

“Just you.”

Destiny sucked in a quiet gasp. Had Daryl leaked that she was pregnant?

Mitchell raised his margarita glass. “A toast to becoming $80,000 richer.”

“Destiny?”

Someone spoke her name then an arm curled around her waist, and the next thing she knew she was seated in a chair with Buck squatting in front of her. “You okay? You looked like you were about to faint.”

“I’m a little thirsty.”

Melba handed her a margarita.

“I’d rather have water, please.”

Buck handed her a bottled water and filled a plate with chunks of watermelon and pineapple.

“Buck.”

“Destiny.”

They spoke at the same time. “You go first,” she said.

“Is there anything I could do to help you at the garage while I wait on the new axel?”

“About that broken axel. There’s something I need to tell you.” She stopped short when Buck leaned forward, the golden glow in his brown eyes sending her pulse pounding through her veins.

“I could work on that car sitting in the back lot.” He shrugged. “I don’t know much about engines, but I could hand you tools.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth, and all of a sudden Destiny forgot about being truthful with Buck. What could it hurt to wait another day before fixing the axel? “Have you ever changed the oil in your truck?”

“No, but I’m a fast learner.”

The smile he flashed convinced Destiny that he was fast at a lot of things, the least of which was an oil change.


Chapter Four

“What happens if you don’t get a majority of the townspeople to veto Wyndell Resorts’ latest offer?” Buck was stretched out on a mechanic’s creeper beneath Melba’s 1990 black Pontiac Bonneville in the lot behind the garage. Destiny moved her creeper closer to him, the fresh scent of her perfume stirring his blood.

“Then we sell and Lizard Gulch will be wiped off the map.” She held out her hand. “Give me the wrench.”

Buck’s fingers went straight for the tool Destiny asked for, then he remembered he wasn’t supposed to know much about fixing cars. “Which one?”

Her gaze clashed with his. Their faces were only inches apart and he noticed her lashes were a dark brown. “Do you color your hair?” She frowned, and he said, “Most redheads have pale lashes.”

“I don’t dye my hair and the wrench I want is the one with a piece of yellow tape on it.”

He handed her the tool and she loosened the large bolt. “Drip pan, please.”

He held out the plastic container to collect the old oil.

“Thanks.” She placed the pan on the ground, removed the cap and let the oil drain, then rolled out from beneath the car and stood. “The developer’s offer stinks, and the land this town sits on is worth a lot more than $80,000 per person. Why else would Mitchell work so hard to convince everyone to pack their bags?”

Buck got to his feet. “I can picture the land being worth more once the resort is built but not now.” He spread his arms wide. “There’s nothing here that anybody would drive out of their way to see.”

Destiny’s head jerked as if he’d slapped her with an insult. “You may not think Lizard Gulch is special, but the people who live here do.” She removed a rag from her pocket and wiped her hands hard enough to peel off a layer of skin.

“Guess it’s a female thing—attaching emotional significance to a place.”

“You mean you have no sentimental feelings about the pecan farm you grew up on?”

Sensing their conversation agitated Destiny, he sought to avoid an argument. “I have fond memories of chasing my brothers through the pecan groves, but when I think of home, its family that matters most—not the orchards.”

Her expression softened. “When was the last time you were home?”

“A couple of months.”

“Have you been riding the circuit all this time, or do you have a second place you use as a home base between rodeos?”

“Is that a polite way of asking if I have a lady friend I shack up with when I’m on the road?” He chuckled at the pink flush that spread across her cheeks. “I don’t.”

“What about when you’re not on the road?” She looked him square in the eye.

Like wavy heat lines hovering over hot asphalt, sexual tension sizzled between them. This wasn’t the first time he’d felt Destiny’s attraction to him. Yesterday she hadn’t taken her eyes off him at the pool party. And when he’d shown up at the garage earlier this morning, she’d stared at his mouth and licked her lips when he’d asked her how she’d slept the night before.

“I stay at the farm when I’m not rodeoing.” He watched her carefully, but her neutral expression left him guessing at her thoughts. “May I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Is there a chance that you and Daryl might work things out?” If she had feelings for the runaway groom, Buck would call her out on the axel prank and leave Lizard Gulch sooner rather than later.

“No.”

There hadn’t been a flicker of doubt in her eyes when she’d answered him. “Positive?”

“Daryl and I never would have made it as a couple.”

Now that he was confident Destiny was over Daryl, he wasn’t sure what to do about his interest in her. He wasn’t looking for a serious relationship. In truth, he didn’t know what he wanted, except that he wasn’t ready to go back to Stagecoach. “The oil has probably drained out by now.”

His comment spurred her into action, and he watched with admiration as she added new oil to the engine and changed the air and cabin filters. “For a girl, you’re good at car maintenance.”

“How would you know?”

Caught in his own lie, he grinned. “I don’t. You make everything look easy.”

“I can teach you how to change the air filter,” she said.

No thanks. “Do you have any other car work to do this afternoon?”

“This is it. Why?”

“Wanna go for a joyride in the desert?”

She laughed. “I’m guessing you want to test out my hog.”

“I’d love to drive your bike.”

“Have you ever handled a motorcycle before?”

“My brother owned a beat-up Harley in high school, and he let me use it on occasion.”

“What kind of Harley?”

“I don’t know. It was a lot smaller than the one you ride, and it sure didn’t have a badass engine like yours has.”

“Okay. I’ll show you the boundaries of the town and where the developer wants to build the golf course.” She carried the oil pan into the garage and Buck followed with the toolbox. “I need to change clothes,” she said.




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