Curvy Girl and the Rugged Cowboy (Blackwater Falls: Cowboys #5)

Chapter 1 - Lily

The Welcome to Blackwater Falls sign looks like it hasn't been repainted since the eighties. Peeling white letters on faded green wood, barely visible in the dim glow of my headlights.

I ease my old Honda past it, one hand on the wheel and the other reaching back to adjust the blanket covering my sleeping daughter in her car seat.

"We made it, baby girl," I whisper, though Rosie doesn't stir.

Two years old and she can sleep through anything, a skill I'm endlessly grateful for considering we've spent the last six months bouncing from one shitty motel to another across three states.

The main street is exactly what I expected from a dying Montana town.

A handful of businesses that look like they're holding on by sheer stubbornness, streetlights that flicker more than they shine, and not a single soul walking around at.

I glance at the dashboard clock: nine thirty on a Friday night.

My stomach growls loud enough that I'm surprised it doesn't wake Rosie. We finished the last of our crackers and peanut butter around noon, and I've been running on fumes and desperation ever since. I need to find a motel, somewhere to buy food, and then figure out my next move.

I cruise slowly down Main Street, taking in the closed storefronts. A general store, dark. A hardware shop, locked up tight. Something that might be a clinic, lights off. Everything's fucking closed except—

My headlights catch a neon sign still glowing. Murphy's Grill.

The place looks like it should've been condemned years ago.

Peeling paint, faded sign, the kind of establishment my mother would've clutched her pearls over and declared "unsuitable for decent people.

" But decent people don't end up driving across state lines with their entire life packed in a Honda Civic's trunk and a toddler who needs dinner.

I pull into the small parking lot, more dirt than pavement, and study the building through my windshield. Checkered floors visible through the grimy windows. An old man working a grill inside. And in the corner booth, one massive guy eating alone.

He's the only customer.

That should probably worry me more than it does, but I'm too tired and hungry to care. Besides, the old man at the grill looks harmless enough, and one customer is better than walking into a place full of drunk men who might get ideas about the single mom with no ring on her finger.

"Okay, Rosie-girl." I turn in my seat to look at my daughter. She's still out cold, her dark curls plastered to her chubby cheeks, her little fist clutching the stuffed elephant she's had since birth. "We're gonna go get some food, and you're going to be a good girl for mama, right?"

She doesn't answer. Obviously.

I climb out of the car, and my joints crack as I stretch.

Too many hours folded into a driver's seat that's seen better days.

My purple cardigan is wrinkled, my jeans are probably too tight around my thighs (they always are), and I can feel my frizzy dark hair escaping from the messy bun I threw it into this morning.

I look like exactly what I am: a broke single mom who's been living out of her car and cheap motels for half a year.

Fuck it. I've looked worse.

I open Rosie's door as quietly as possible and unbuckle her from the car seat.

She makes a small sound of protest as I lift her but settles against my shoulder with the ease of a kid who's been carried sleeping more times than she can count.

She's getting heavy. Two-year-olds aren't exactly light, but I've learned to ignore the burn in my arms.

The elephant gets tucked under my other arm because god forbid we go anywhere without Mr. Trunk.

The door to Murphy's Grill squeaks when I push it open.

The smell hits me immediately—grease, burgers, fries, that perfect greasy spoon aroma that makes my mouth water and my stomach cramp with hunger.

The old man at the grill looks up, his weathered face creasing into something that might be a smile.

"Evening, sweetheart," he calls out, his voice rough but not unkind. "Take any seat you like."

"Thanks." My voice comes out shyer than I want it to.

I can feel the man in the corner watching me as I navigate between tables with Rosie's dead weight on my hip.

I choose a booth halfway between the door and where he's sitting.

Close enough to the exit that I can bolt if I need to, far enough from him to maintain distance.

The vinyl seat is cracked but clean, and I slide in, adjusting Rosie so she's curled against my side, head on my lap.

The old man, Murphy, I assume from the sign, appears at my table with a grease-stained menu and a glass of water I didn't ask for but desperately need.

"Haven't seen you around before," he says, and it's conversational rather than accusatory, but I still tense. "Just passing through?"

"Maybe." I take a drink of water, keeping my answer vague. The less people know about me, the better. "Depends."

His eyebrows rise slightly, like he's waiting for me to elaborate, but when I don't, he just taps the menu. "Burger and fries are the best thing on here. Everything else is pretty good too, but that's what you want."

"Burger and fries sounds perfect." My voice cracks a little. "And maybe some milk? For when she wakes up?"

"You got it." He starts to turn away, then pauses. "You need a place to stay tonight? Motel's on the other end of town, but Betty who runs it, is probably already asleep. She doesn't much like being woken up after nine."

Fuck. Of course the motel is closed. Because nothing about this journey has been easy.

"I'll figure it out." My standard response. I always figure it out, even if it means sleeping in the car with the doors locked and my pepper spray in hand.

Murphy nods slowly, like he wants to say more but thinks better of it, and heads back to his grill. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and try to focus on the menu, though the prices are swimming in front of my eyes from exhaustion.

I can feel the big guy's attention on me. Not staring exactly, but glancing. Watching in a way that makes my skin prickle with awareness that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the fact that he's built like he could snap me in half.

Broad shoulders stretching a flannel shirt. Thick arms. Dark hair that's a bit too long, like he hasn't bothered with a haircut in months. I shouldn't be noticing. Shouldn't be cataloging the way his hands look wrapped around his beer bottle or wondering what those hands would feel like on my skin.

Jesus Christ. I haven't had sex in over three years. Not since before I got pregnant, and apparently, my body has decided now is the time to remind me of that fact.

I force myself to look away, focusing on Rosie's sleeping face instead. She's what matters. Finding us somewhere safe to stay, somewhere I can actually work and provide for her. Not lusting after some random man in a shitty diner in the middle of nowhere Montana.

Murphy brings my food, and I eat it quickly, barely tasting it even though it's probably the best burger I've had in months. I break off pieces for Rosie when she starts to stir, wiping ketchup off her fingers with napkins and making sure she drinks her milk.

The big guy never approaches. Never tries to talk to me. Just sits in his corner booth and eats his own food, occasionally glancing in my direction but never holding eye contact long enough to make it uncomfortable.

Part of me is grateful. Part of me is disappointed, which is fucking stupid because the last thing I need is some man complicating my life.

I pay my bill with precious cash I can't really afford to spend, leave a small tip because Murphy was kind, and gather Rosie back into my arms. She's more awake now, looking around with sleepy curiosity.

"Mama, where we going?" she asks in that sweet toddler voice that still makes my heart clench.

"Gonna find us a place to sleep, baby girl." I push open the door, the cool night air slamming us again.

The big guy is still inside. Still sitting there. I can see him through the window as I buckle Rosie back into her car seat, his head turning to watch me even though he's not being obvious about it.

"You know what, Rosie?" I murmur as I slide into the driver's seat. "I think we're just gonna sleep in the car tonight. It'll be an adventure."

She doesn't protest. She's used to this by now. Sleeping in the backseat when motels are too expensive, too full, or too sketchy. I've gotten good at finding parking lots that are well-lit but quiet, places where we won't get hassled by cops or creeps.

I pull out of Murphy's parking lot and drive slowly through town, looking for somewhere suitable.

There's a small park with a streetlight, but it's too open.

A grocery store parking lot, but there's no overnight parking sign posted.

Finally, I find a spot behind what appears to be a closed general store.

Well-lit enough from the streetlamp across the road, but tucked away enough that we shouldn't attract attention.

Good sightlines so I can see if anyone approaches.

"Okay, baby." I climb into the backseat with Rosie, arranging our blankets and pillows into something resembling comfortable. "Time for bed."

"Story, mama?" Rosie asks hopefully, clutching Mr. Trunk.

"How about I make one up?" I settle her against my chest. "Once upon a time, there was a brave little girl and her mama..."