May's Cowboy Roman

Read the first pages

From Chapter 1

Roman almost didn't stop for the car on the side of the road. The woman inside didn't look away from his scar.

Most people looked away when I stepped into their line of sight. They dropped their gaze or found something else to focus on so it wouldn’t look like they were staring at the ragged scar that cut down the side of my face. But she held her ground and watched me approach, her gaze steady and unflinching.

“My car broke down,” she said.

“Looks like it.”

“And I haven’t had much of a signal since Marion.” Her mouth twitched into something not quite a smile. “I don't suppose you're a mechanic.”

“Close enough.” I moved past her toward the hood, not waiting for permission. She stepped to the side to give me some space. I crouched down, running my hand along the edge of the hood until I found the release. “Pop the hood?”

She leaned in through the driver's side window, found the lever, and the hood lifted with a soft click. I raised it the rest of the way and leaned in, noticing the faint warmth from the engine block.

I checked the battery terminals first. That was always the simplest answer. My fingers brushed against the connections and found the negative terminal loose. Corrosion had built up around the clamp enough to cut the power completely. It was an easy fix… the kind of thing that only needed thirty seconds and a steady hand.

I didn't offer an explanation, just grabbed the wrench I’d shoved in my pocket, tightened the connection, then scraped the edge of the terminal clean with the flat of my knife blade. The corrosion flaked away, and I wiped my knife against my jeans before securing the clamp.

“Try it now.”

She disappeared into the car without questioning me. The engine turned over on the first attempt, then hummed smooth and strong, like it had never stopped. Problem solved.

I lowered the hood, let it drop into place with a solid thunk, and stepped back. That should have been the end of it. A simple roadside fix didn’t require any kind of conversation.

But when I looked up, she was standing next to the car again, her door still open, and the engine running clean behind her. And she was watching me with a kind of curiosity I’d never gotten used to.

“Thank you.”

I nodded. Then I turned back toward my truck because there wasn't anything left to do, and I'd already given her more time than I wanted.

“Wait.”

I stopped but didn't turn around.

“What's your name?”

Most people didn't ask. Most people took the help and drove away, relieved to be moving again and not particularly interested in the stranger who'd made it possible. But her tone made it sound like she wasn't done with me yet. Like she wasn’t trying to be pushy, just… interested.

I turned far enough to see her standing there with her arms uncrossed, her posture open but not vulnerable.

“Roman.”

She offered a small smile. “I’m Rachel.”

Find out what happens next tonight.