Page 10 of May's Cowboy Roman
“Whose truth?”
“Yours,” I said. “If you'll let me.”
His expression shifted. It didn’t soften, but he didn't step back. He was close enough that I could see the faint lines at the corners of his eyes… the tension in his jaw… the slow rise and fall of his chest.
Neither of us moved, but something shifted between us. My pulse kicked up hard, every nerve in my body lit up. The effect he had on me was inconvenient but undeniable. His gaze dropped to my mouth for just a second. Then he stepped back.
“Stay out of my way, Rachel.”
The careful way he said my name did something to my pulse I wasn’t ready to examine out here in the dirt. I should have nodded and let him walk away, but I’d never been good at backing down from a challenge.
“Or what?” I asked.
His jaw tightened. “Or you're going to find out that some people come to places like this because they're done answering questions.”
“And some people follow stories because they're done accepting non-answers,” I shot back.
He stared at me, and something moved through his expression. It might have been frustration. He probably wasn’t used to being met with resistance. Or it could have been something close enough to respect that I squared my shoulders and held my head higher before he turned and walked away.
I didn’t follow him this time, but I didn’t leave either. His control had shifted for one brief second before he pulled it back into place. Like he’d looked at me and found something he hadn’t planned for.
So had I. But that wasn't the part I was writing down. I flipped to a clean page and moved my pen across the page. It wasn’t the story Ruby wanted about community pride and fresh starts. It was the real one taking shape in the conversations I’d heard and the ones that had only been hinted at. About compromises and calculated risk, and men like Roman Maddox who worked in the margins because no one else would.
Whatever this story was, it ran straight through him. And the moment I’d chosen to follow, I’d stopped being able to look away.
CHAPTER 5
ROMAN
The list was short. I needed coffee, batteries, a roll of duct tape, and the new pair of work gloves Ruby ordered for me because the pair in my truck had finally split across the palm. I could be in and out in three minutes if I kept my head down and didn’t get pulled into a conversation.
But I should've known better than to walk into Nelson's Mercantile expecting anything to be simple. When had anything in this damn town been easy?
The bell over the door announced me. Ruby glanced up from behind the register with the smile she reserved for people she considered projects. I gave her a nod, grabbed a basket I didn't need, and headed for the back aisle where she kept the cans of plain ground coffee mixed in between all those fancy flavored versions and the seasonal candles that smelled like someone had set fire to a pie.
I heard Rachel's voice before I saw her.
She was at the far end of the counter, leaning against it with her weight on one elbow, casual enough to look like she belonged there, focused enough that someone could see the gears turning if they knew what to look for. Her hair was down today, floating loosely around her shoulders and making me wonder how it might feel twisted around my hands. She'd traded the jacket from the other night for a flannel shirt she’d rolled up at the cuffs. She looked like she'd been in town a month instead of a few days. Hell, she looked like she fit in better than I did, and I’d lived in Mustang Mountain my whole damn life.
Ruby was wiping the counter in slow arcs. That meant she was listening carefully while pretending not to.
“It just seemed unusual that the supplier wouldn't send paperwork with the animal.” Rachel's tone was intentionally conversational. Like she was digging and didn’t want anyone to know it. “Slade mentioned recertification, but when I checked the stock registry for the event, there's no vet sign-off listed for three of the horses that came in with that last shipment.”
My hand stopped in mid-air as I reached for a can of coffee.
“Well, honey, I wouldn't know the first thing about rodeo stock paperwork.” Ruby's voice was warm and dismissive, a tone that usually worked on people who didn't know her. “You'd have to ask Dawson. He handles the logistics.”
“I did ask Dawson.” Rachel straightened. “He said Roman would know more about the condition the horses arrived in.”
Fuck him. Dawson was good at his job right up until a question made him uncomfortable, and then he deflected like a man born to it.
I set the basket on the shelf and walked toward the counter.
Rachel saw me coming when I was about ten feet out. Her eyes tracked to me the way they had that first night on the road. She didn’t flinch at the sight of my scar. Just stood there, like she was prepared to wait me out.
“Roman.” She said my name like she'd been expecting me.
“Rachel.”
