Rebel Cowboy (Big Sky Cowboys, #1)

“I kind of hate you.”


He grinned. He wasn’t all that convinced of that. She might not laugh at his jokes like she did with Barney Fife and Andy Griffith over there, but she’d worked relentlessly to help him out this morning. Being honest about Grandpa and everything had softened her up. “I think you hate that you don’t hate me.”

“Can we go, or are you going to lick the grease off your plate too?”

He looked down at his completely demolished plate. Licking the grease off didn’t seem half bad, but she was already scooting out of the booth. She slapped the bill to his chest when he stood. “Lunch is on you.” She pointed to the cash register and then walked to the door.

Though not before smiling at Cop 1 and Cop 2, of course.

Scowling, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He handed a credit card and the bill to the harried woman who’d dropped their plates off. Well, he’d make sure to leave her a nice tip.

She smiled, shaking her head. “Sorry. We don’t take credit cards.”

“Wait. What?” She couldn’t be serious. Everywhere took credit cards. Even Nowhere, Montana, had to take credit cards.

The lady laughed, and so did the cops sitting at the counter, one tapping something into his phone. “Mel said you’d about die over that.” She took his outstretched card and ran it through the machine, still chuckling to herself.

She handed him the receipt, dimple winking as she smiled. “Welcome to town, Mr. Sharpe.”

“Yeah, gee, thanks.” He signed the receipt, leaving her a more than generous tip in hopes she’d help him get Mel back at some point. Never underestimate the power of money.

He nodded to the cops. “Good to see you fellas hard at work.”

“Told you he was an asshole,” one of them muttered as Dan walked away…realizing a little belatedly that pissing off the local police probably wasn’t in his best interest.

When he stepped outside, Mel was leaning against the building, arms across her chest as they almost always were, but she was smirking.

“Some joke,” he said.

Mel laughed, the sound surprising him. She had a good laugh. Low and genuine. And her smile softened her face. She wasn’t intimidating when she smiled. “Man, you should have seen the look on your face.”

“How could you—”

She held up her phone—a pathetic old flip phone— and he had to squint at the screen to see the picture of him with mouth slightly ajar, eyes a little bugged out.

“Where the hell—”

“Garret.” She laughed again. “You deserved that one, Sharpe. Now, let’s go. We’ve got food to buy and shit to do.”

He snatched the phone out of her hands, but she only shrugged and started walking to the truck. He followed, trying to figure out how to delete the picture on her relic. He finally figured it out, only to run into someone in the process.

When he looked up, a kid and a bike were on the ground.

“Aw, shit, kid, I’m sorry.” He went to help him up, but the boy was already popping to his feet, brushing his knees off and retrieving his baseball hat.

“It’s okay.” The kid grinned at him like he’d found a pot of gold instead of fallen off his bike. “You’re Dan Sharpe, aren’t you?”

Dan used to love this stuff. Kids recognizing him, idolizing him. Now he was always a little worried they’d call him a cheater or spit in his face.

Instead, the kid kept smiling and started digging in his bag. “Hey, if I can find a marker, will you sign my backpack?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Sweet.” The kid pulled out a Sharpie and handed it to him. Dan went through the requisite “do you play hockey” and “who’s your favorite team” spiel.

Then he helped the kid with the bike and handed the kid’s backpack to him. “See ya round.”

When he finally joined Mel at the truck, she was scowling at him.

“What? I was being nice.”

“I know. That’s the problem,” she muttered, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“How is that a problem?” he asked once he was settled into the passenger’s seat.

“I want you to be a bad guy.”

“Why?”

“So I can laugh at you when you fail,” she said in all seriousness, pulling the truck out of the diner parking lot.

“Are you saying you won’t laugh at me if I fail?”

She sighed. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying. Although I’m disappointed in myself for having that kind of heart.” She drove in silence out of Blue Valley and the fifteen minutes to a bigger town and a grocery store.

Nicole Helm's books