Caught By A Cowboy

Chapter 1

MADDISON

“ F uck! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I slam my palm into my steering wheel in frustration. This can’t be happening to me, not at a time like this.

Gathering up the train of my dress, I open the door and step out onto the road in these ridiculously high heels so I can pop the hood. Not that there's any use in it, I don’t know the first thing about cars or engines. I look back in the direction I came from and think about the chaos that I’ve left behind. It’s inevitable that they will have noticed I’m gone by now. Adam will be humiliated, my father will be furious, and Mother will be distraught. She and Adam’s mom, Clarissa, had put so much effort into ensuring our day was perfect. Going back isn’t an option.

I stare down at all the mechanics as I grip the framework of the car, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, and trying not to panic. My car breaking down in the ass-end of nowhere isn’t even that big a deal in the grand scheme of things. When compared to the fact I’ve just run out on my wedding, destroyed a six-year relationship, and am now undoubtedly jobless and homeless. It’s not really a problem at all.

I can’t even phone for recovery because I tossed my damn cell phone out the window as I crossed the bridge.

“Grrrrr!” I slam down the hood and decide to start walking. I’m sure I saw a sign a few miles back saying there was a town nearby.

Despite struggling in my heels, I manage to make it to the crest of the hill and sigh with relief when I see that town in the distance. It’s not quite the mini-metropolis I was expecting. From up here it just looks like a small gathering of buildings, sticking out like a sore thumb among miles upon miles of open plains. The midday sun is blazing and the dress I’m wearing is so heavy and uncomfortable that I curse Kendra for using this fancy Italian lace to make it.

Still, I find some resilience and battle on, to civilization.

By the time I reach the sign that says ‘Welcome to ClearWater Creek’ my feet are burning, sweat is dripping down my back and I’m in desperate need of a glass of water. I take a few minutes to catch my breath before hitching my dress back up and heading straight toward the diner I see on the corner. Conveniently, there is a garage to the right of it, but my need for hydration has to take priority. I step up toward the diner’s entrance, noticing how dark it is inside, and when I try to open the door it doesn’t budge. The ‘closed’ sign is hung, and I check the time on the huge clock that’s above the town hall in confusion. What kind of town has a diner that closes up during lunchtime? I turn around and take in the rest of my surroundings, quickly noticing that nowhere here seems to be open. The streets are empty, there's no traffic. It’s like I’ve stepped into an apocalypse.

I march across the street, passing the pretty town square and admiring the flowers that grow up and around the pillars of the old, traditional bandstand. There's a bar directly opposite, and when I see that the door is propped open, I cross another empty street and dust off my dress as I step inside.

“Hee—what the fuck?” the guy behind the bar looks up from the glass he’s polishing and stares at me like I’m some kind of alien.

“Don’t ask.” I stomp my way to the barstool, kick off my heels, and take a seat.

“You look like you could use a drink, ma’am.” He laughs to himself as he picks up a bottle of bourbon, and pours a very generous measure into that freshly polished glass.

I forget about my need for hydration and knock it back. I’m not all that used to drinking but I manage to swallow past the burn in my throat.

“Where am I? Timbuktu?” I look out the window at the barren town and laugh to myself. Of all the things I expected to happen today, I could never have predicted this.

“Nah, you're in Clearwater Creek,” he explains with a wide grin on his face.

“Well, Clearwater Creek sucks.” I slam the glass on the bar for him to pour me another. “What kind of town has a diner that isn’t open at lunchtime?” I question him as he pours.

“That’ll be because of the town meeting, everyone’s at the town hall putting the world to rights.” He tosses his cloth over his shoulder and raises his eyebrows.

“And what about you? Why aren’t you putting the world to rights?” I ask.

“Someone’s gotta keep the town runnin’, how else would the pretty brides that show up here get their fix?” His humor almost makes me forget the shit I’m in. I like this guy. “Besides, I run the only bar in a twenty-mile radius. I don’t need to attend no meetin’ to know what’s goin’ on around here.” He offers me that same clever grin as he steps out from around the bar and starts flipping the chairs that are up on the tables. “So, you gonna tell me your story? Ain’t every day a pretty gal shows up here, wearing a wedding dress.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.” I grab the bottle and help myself to another hit.

“Well, I’m figuring since I see no ring, that ya didn’t go through with it.” He places some beer mats down on the bar in front of me and waits for my response.

“I couldn’t.” I shake my head and think about all the hurt I will have caused. “Adam’s a great guy, he’s just not the guy for me.” I can’t even think about how he’ll be feeling right now. This wedding was such a huge deal for him, he’d invited associates from other law firms, and potential clients, not to mention all his old college friends.

“So what brought the runaway bride to this sucky little town?” he asks, stepping back behind the bar.

“A sucky car that broke down about a mile and a half away.” I manage a smirk, despite my misfortune. “I assume your mechanic is also at this town meeting?”

“Cade? Nah, he’s in Dallas competing, but he’ll be back Tuesday.”

“Tuesday!?” I dribble my drink back into the glass. “I can’t wait till Tuesday. I have—” Suddenly it dawns on me that I have nowhere to be. I have nothing at all. No phone, no money to pay for the liquor I’m drinking or for my car to get fixed. “Oh fuck.” I place my glass on the bar and massage my temples

“Are you okay?” the barkeeper checks, “D’ya need a paper bag to blow into or something?”

“No.” I shake my head.

“Ya sure? I’ve seen people do it in the movies when they panic, I though–”

“`I mean, no, I’m not okay. I’ll take the paper bag.” I grip the bar and try to focus on breathing.

“Well, I ain’t got one.” He looks back at me as if I’m the one not making any sense.

“What do you mean you haven’t got one? You offered.”

“I was being polite.” He shakes his head and frowns at me. “Here, take another one of these.” He grabs the bottle and pours me a double.

“I can’t.” I shake my head.

What was I thinking?

“Please, don’t cry…I…I can’t handle it when females cry.” Suddenly he’s the one looking panicked.

“How am I supposed to live? I can’t take care of myself. I’ve never had to.” My eyes start to fill with tears as it dawns on me how stupid I’ve been. “I can’t go back, my parents will be so mad. Adam’s parents will be disappointed. I’ve made him look like such a fool.” I look up at the ceiling and pray that God has got some answers for me.

“I can’t even pay for this goddamn drink.” I slide it back across the bar to him before burying my head in my hands and sobbing.

“Hey, hey. Stop that. This one’s on me.” He gently pushes it back toward me, and when I see the way he’s smiling, I nod gratefully and lift it up to my mouth.

“Today must be your lucky day because I got a solution to your problems.” He reaches over the bar to the corkboard that’s being used as a noticeboard, as well as displaying a selection of drunk photographs.

“Jace Sullivan happens to be looking for a new housekeeper, job comes with accommodation.” He rips the Post-it note off the pin and hands it to me.

“A housekeeper?” I laugh despite my helplessness, “Do I look like a housekeeper to you?” I’m wearing Italian lace and bespoke heels. I come from a house that has a housekeeper, and I’m hit with another dose of reality when I realize that I’ve never worked for anyone in my entire privileged life. Everything I buy goes on a credit card that my dad pays for. In fact, I’ve never paid a bill. Suddenly, the world feels as if it’s spinning too fast for me to stay on.

“You may not look like a housekeeper but you are looking kinda desperate.” He grits his teeth awkwardly.

“Well, that was fuckin’ painful.” A growly voice comes from behind me and when I turn around, I find myself staring at a real-life, tattooed-to-his-neck cowboy.

He narrows his eyes when he notices me, and as he looks me up and down, I feel under scrutiny. Eventually, he pulls a weird face and shakes his head like he’s unimpressed. I don’t know why but it bothers me.

“Here’s next month's on-call rota, I switched us on that first Saturday night so you can take Beth Delaney on that date you’ve been promising.” He slams down a piece of paper on the bar and places his Stetson beside it.

“Don’t worry, we weren’t in the middle of a conversation or anything,” I point out, unable to believe how rude this guy is.

“Good.” He nods his head at me curtly, before looking back to my new friend. “Sawyer, give me a bottle of the good stuff to take home, I’m all out,” He lifts his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and holds out a fifty.

“Did I miss anything important?” Sawyer laughs as he reaches into one of the boxes stacked up by the back door and takes out a bottle.

“Same old shit. Eli’s still on his one-man mission to take this town into the stratosphere, and the tattling trio are still flapping over the new sheriff we’re getting.” He shakes his head as Sawyer hands him his change.

“Are you seriously telling me this town completely shut down for a meeting?” I glance out the window and notice all the people bustling back toward their stores and unlocking the doors.

“It’s a town meeting, ain’t it?” The cowboy creases his forehead at me.

“Honestly, that's ridiculous.” I shake my head and laugh, trailing off when I realize his face remains stern and very fucking serious.

“I should go.” I slide off the stool and slip my poor achy feet back into my shoes.

“How do I find this ‘Jace’ person?” I turn to Sawyer and hold up the Post-it he gave me. He says nothing, just scratches at his stubble and tries hiding the smirk on his face as his eyes gesture toward his friend.

“You have got to be kidding.” I feel any hope inside of me shrivel.