Chapter 2
FROST
“Can I help the next person, please?”
The line at the counter is about as short as my patience right now.
My pulse is still racing from watching that asshole inviting himself to her table like he owned the place.
I don’t like to get involved in strangers’ business, but the look on her face…
I studied that tight smile, steady voice, and watched while her fingers hovered over the keyboard like it was a lifeline. Yeah. Couldn’t walk away from that.
I glance back at her and see that she has a serene look on her face as if all the stress in the last few minutes has evaporated.
Hope’s chestnut hair falls in soft waves down the middle of her back, and the string lights from the window reflect off her long tresses.
Bright hazel eyes dart around the café like she’s cataloging every detail.
Pretty doesn’t begin to cover it. She’s—
No. Don’t go there. Not today.
The barista clears her throat, interrupting my thoughts. “What can I get you?”
“Black coffee and a peppermint mocha.”
She punches it in. I tap my card and step back, rolling my shoulders.
I should be on the road already. The shop sits on the corner of a main intersection as you head out of Spring Valley.
I only stopped because the cold was sinking into my bones.
I need a pick me up before I land in Saint’s Outlaws territory in Nevada.
I shouldn’t be thinking about her. She’s not the type of woman who deserves someone who can’t get their head on straight and bounces from town to town.
Hope’s the kind of woman that deserves the world, permanency.
Something I can’t give any female at the moment, maybe never.
The way she looked at me with those big, innocent eyes?
Yeah. She’s more than one-night stand material.
“You can be that man,” Mom whispers to me.
I shake my head to clear the intrusive voice.
The day after Mom’s funeral, I took off on the open road.
As soon as I drove out of Truth or Consequences, I heard her voice telling me not to go.
That everything would be okay. I ignored her and have been trying to keep the voice from entering my mind ever since.
The closer I get to New Mexico, the louder and clearer her voice rings in my head.
I’m not ready for commitment. I won’t be until I drive away all the hurt and anger I have harbored in my soul. Which means I should take my coffee, hand Hope hers, make sure she’s okay, and get back on my bike before I start imagining things that don’t belong to me.
The barista sets our drinks on the counter. “Here you go.”
I take both cups carefully. When I reach her booth, Hope looks up, those hazel eyes catching the light like they’re made of gold dust and secrets. I set the peppermint mocha in front of her.
“For you,” I say.
Her bright smile hits me harder than I expect. It’s a little shy, which surprises me after how direct she was before.
“Thank you,” she says, fingers grazing the cup. Then she gestures to the seat across from her. “You… wanna sit?”
I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. But my legs don’t care what my brain thinks. I lower myself into the seat across from her.
Hope tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and rests her elbow on the table. “So… thank you, again, for stepping in when no one else did.”
“Didn’t like the way he talked to you,” I say simply. “A real man would never make a woman feel cornered like that.”
Her cheeks warm. “I’m Hope,” she adds, even though I already knew.
I chuckle. “Frost.”
She bites her lip. “Is that your real name?”
“Roadname,” I say.
She nods like that checks out somehow. Her hazel eyes flick to my cut, my gloves, back up to my face. Curiosity is written all over her expression, but she’s polite enough not to ask anything yet.
“So, what do you do?” I ask.
The question catches her off guard. A rosy flush tints her face. She looks down and fiddles with the cardboard sleeve on her cup.
“I’m a writer,” Hope says, almost like she’s confessing something scandalous.
My eyebrows lift. “Yeah?”
She nods. “Romance, mostly.”
Her blush spreads, pink warms her cheeks and slides down her slender neck. She avoids my eyes for a second as if she’s embarrassed. This woman is adorable.
“Nothing wrong with romance,” I say.
She looks up, surprised. “Most guys get weird about it.”
“I’m not most guys.”
Her laugh is quiet, somewhere between relief and amusement.
Hope takes a sip of her drink, and her shoulders relax a little.
I study her, and for the first time all day, I forget about the road waiting for me.
Instead, I’m sitting in a warm booth with a gorgeous woman who writes stories about people falling in love.
She’s the kind of woman men write songs about.
The kind you don’t meet twice. And I’m leaving town…
Soon. But right now? Right now, I don’t move.
Those hazel eyes have me hypnotized. Hope looks at me like she wants to ask me another question. And hell… I want her to.
“Do you live around here?” Hope asks casually.
“Nah, I’m from a little town in New Mexico.” I keep my answer vague. “So, romance writer, huh?”
Hope groans softly. “Please don’t say something cliché like ‘does your sex life reflect the scenes in the book’, or ‘you must have a great man in your life to write romance’. I get that enough.”
I huff out a laugh. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Her eyebrows lift. “No teasing at all?”
“Oh, I didn’t say that.”
She tries to hide her smile behind her cup, but the dimple in her cheek gives her away.
“So, what’s your book about?” I ask.
She hesitates, swirling her drink. “Uh… this one’s about a woman who’s never experienced true love. Never thought it would be in the cards for her, and then she meets someone who… challenges that.”
“Challenges it how?”
“It’s complicated to explain.”
“Complicated, or you don’t want to tell me out of fear that you think I’ll judge you?”
She shakes her head, smiling, cheeks still rosy. “Okay, okay. The book’s about unexpected chemistry. Meeting someone who’s not part of the plan. Someone you can’t easily forget.”
My jaw tenses. That hits a little too close.
“Sounds like it’ll be a good book,” I say.
“It’s… something.” She ducks her head. “People want to escape reality. They want a safe fantasy. They don’t want—” She stops, the heat on her face rises. “Never mind.”
“Don’t do that,” I chastise. “Finish your thought.”
She sighs. “They don’t want the messy stuff. Real life or complicated people.”
My voice comes out lower than I intend. “Some complicated people are worth the trouble.” Her breath catches. Just enough for me to notice.
She sets her cup down, fingers tapping nervously on the lid. “You always talk like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you know exactly what to say to make someone blush.”
I smile slowly. “Did it work?”
She looks at the table, but I see the way her mouth twitches. “Maybe.”
Something in the air shifts. We both lean toward each other a little more.
Hope lets out a breath and finally asks, “What about you? What do you do, Frost?”
I look down at my hands, leather gloves resting beside my cup. “I ride. When I’m home, I work for my club’s towing company. Nothing special.”
“Sounds fun.” She takes another sip of her latte. “I bet you meet a lot of interesting people.”
I jerk my chin. “You could say that.”
“How long are you in town for?” she inquires.
That’s exactly why I shouldn’t be sitting here.
She’s looking at me like I hung the moon by accident, and I’m starting to think I’d drive fifty miles out of my way just to hear her say my name again.
I open my mouth to respond, but before anything comes out, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I pull it out, having an idea who it is.
Vegas: ETA? We have a fight lined up tonight.
My stomach drops. Right, time to head out.
Hope takes another sip of her peppermint mocha, oblivious, humming softly to whatever Christmas song is drifting from the speakers.
She looks… content. Like this is normal, two strangers sharing a drink and flirting with each other.
I guess in her world this is. My cell buzzes again.
Chaos: Where are you man? Still heading to SOMC? You’re not checking in enough. We’re getting worried.
My smile slips from my face as I read Chaos’ message.
Her voice is soft when she asks, “Everything okay?”
Her expression softens with concern, but she doesn’t pry.
One more thing I like about this girl. I look at her fingers wrapped around the cup, her chestnut hair catching the glow of the café lights, the way her hazel eyes keep drifting back to me like she’s surprised I’m real.
And all I can think is, of all the days…
all the towns. Why did it have to be today?
I rub my thumb against the coffee cup lid, trying to ease the tension out of my shoulders before I meet her eyes again. “Yeah. Just… my friends are waiting on me. They need me to get into town sooner than I planned.”
Understanding flickers across her face. No pushback. No pressure. Just quiet acceptance. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you.”
I shake my head immediately. “Don’t apologize.” My voice comes out rough. “It’s been a while since I sat with someone and just… talked. I enjoyed meeting you, Hope.”
Her lip curves. “I enjoyed meeting you, too.”
For a moment, neither of us moves. It’s as if we created our own peaceful world inside this booth.
She lifts her peppermint mocha slightly. “And thank you. For the coffee. And the… rescue.”
“Anytime.”
Her cheeks color at that, and she glances down, fingers tracing circles on the lid of her cup. “Well… if you’re ever in the neighborhood again, I’m usually here on Saturdays. It’s a good spot for a change of scenery and, um, great coffee.”
I let out a quiet breath. “Saturdays, huh?”
“Most of them,” she says. “Sometimes I like to pretend I’m mysterious and unpredictable, but I’m really not.”
I chuckle under my breath. “Could’ve fooled me.”
She laughs, a soft, hopeful sound, and for a split second, I imagine staying for just a little while longer. Enough to see what else she’d say, how else she’d smile.
My phone vibrates again in my pocket, knocking me out of the fantasy I’ve built in my head and back to reality.
I stand, slow and reluctant. “I should hit the road.”
Hope nods, though there’s a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. My gut tightens as I watch her expression.
“Ride safe, Frost,” she says.
I hold her gaze for a long beat. “I’ll try.” Before I turn away, I add quietly, “See you around, Hope.”
This is for the best. Yeah… Keep telling yourself that.