The Cowboy's Destiny. Marin Thomas
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The issue divided the town—half wanted to sell, the other half insisted the developer shove his proposal where the sun didn’t shine. Destiny sided with the shovers.
“What if I don’t want Daryl back?” She sipped her water.
“Think of all the things you could buy with the money Jack Custer is offering.”
Even though the town was torn over the buyout offer, the residents had all agreed that Mitchell had misrepresented himself. The council recalled him as mayor then selected Destiny to replace him. The very next day she’d driven to Phoenix and had met with Wyndell Properties. Custer had treated her like a petulant child, sending her back to Lizard Gulch with a new offer to present to everyone.
When Destiny explained Custer’s proposal—a $75,000 per person payout—those in favor of saving the town snubbed their noses at the money and those in favor of selling wanted to sign on the dotted line right then and there.
The town was at an impasse with Destiny caught in the middle. As mayor she represented every resident, but she hated to see the buildings bulldozed. The residents had welcomed her with open arms and she considered all of them her family. That family would dissolve if Custer got his way.
Now that she was pregnant, it was more important than ever that she change the minds of those siding with Wyndell Resorts. She refused to raise her child the way she’d been brought up—traveling from one place to the next. Living in public restrooms and truck stops. Eating in soup kitchens. Destiny had never attended school. Waitresses at various truck stops had taught her to read and write, and after she’d run away and the Carters had become her foster parents, Sylvia Carter had homeschooled her. Eventually, she’d earned her GED—an accomplishment she was very proud of. Yet a GED did little to help her fight off bullies like Mark Mitchell and Jack Custer.
“You know,” Mitchell said. “Maybe Daryl got a better offer from another girl?”
Destiny wouldn’t put it past the lawyer to have paid her fiancé to ditch her at the church just because he was miffed she’d thrown a monkey wrench into his plans. She was well aware that Mitchell would earn a handsome bonus if he closed the deal between the land developer and the residents of Lizard Gulch.
“Don’t be such a donkey butt, Mitchell.” Melba slid her arm through Destiny’s. “The poor girl’s heart has just been broken.”
“My heart will be fine.” Destiny squeezed the older woman’s veiny hand. If she had any remorse about Daryl’s abandonment, it was for their baby. Her mother had never talked about Destiny’s father and always brushed aside her questions about him, suggesting she hadn’t known which of her customers had fathered her child. Whether or not Daryl chose to be involved in their baby’s life was up to him, but she’d make sure her son or daughter knew who his or her father was.
“I think Violet’s looking for you, Mark,” Melba said. After Mitchell walked off, she asked, “Where did that handsome cowboy go?”
Well, shoot. Destiny had forgotten that Buck Owens Cash was waiting at the garage. “I better leave. I need to fire up the wrecker and tow his pickup.”
“You two stop in later,” Melba said. “We’ll be here all night.”
Destiny slipped out the back door, walked past the cemetery and came up behind Carter Towing and Repair. She climbed the fire escape to the apartment above the garage and entered the one-bedroom dwelling. The place needed major renovations. She’d like to paint the walls, replace the linoleum flooring and install a shower in the bathroom, but with a baby on the way, her money would be better spent on a crib, car seat, diapers, clothes and a million other things.
In the bedroom she stripped to her skivvies and changed into her work jeans and her favorite Arizona Cardinals T-shirt. She secured her long hair in an elastic band then shoved her ponytail through the opening at the back of her Diamondbacks baseball cap. Lastly, she tugged on a pair of thick socks and stuffed her feet into her work boots. Simon Carter had taught Destiny the ins and outs of the towing business, including the importance of wearing steel-toed boots. Safety was her number one priority—even more so now that a child would be depending on her in seven months.
Truck keys in hand, she paused in front of the mirror to check her reflection—she’d never really cared what she looked like before. Why now? Maybe because Buck was unlike any guy she’d dated in the past.
For a girl who was supposed to get married today you’ve moved on pretty quick.
Destiny had no experience with boy-next-door types—they normally passed her over. But when Buck turned those warm brown eyes on her, she could almost believe that he saw something in her worth his time.
You’re pregnant.
She cursed the voice in her head. She didn’t need her subconscious to remind her that she was carrying another man’s baby and that any guy in his right mind would steer clear of her. So be it, but she was entitled to her dreams, and it had been longer than she remembered since she’d fantasized about any man including Daryl.
She left the apartment and walked to the front of the building where Buck sat on the bench outside the office door. If only there was more than a broken hose wrong with his truck. She couldn’t think of a better-looking distraction than the cowboy hanging around town for a few days.
As soon as he noticed her, he flashed his sexy white grin. Then his gaze roamed over her outfit and the smile vanished. “I thought you were celebrating your mayoral win?”
She shoved her fingers into the front pockets of her jeans. “They’re celebrating without me.”
“Do you know where—” he glanced at the side of the garage “—Mr. Carter is?”
“There is no Mr. Carter.”
He removed his Stetson and ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. “I thought you said—”
“Simon Carter is deceased. I named the business after him.”
“You named the business?”
Destiny spread her arms wide. “I run the garage.”
His eyebrows arched.
“What?”
“You’re the tow truck driver?”
“I’m also a decent mechanic.”
Buck stared at Destiny, his mind trying to reconcile the redheaded biker bride with the tomboy standing before him in ragged jeans, a faded T-shirt and men’s boots. In all the years he’d worked in Troy Winters’s garage, not once had he run into a woman who knew car engines. Go figure the one time his truck breaks down a woman mechanic comes to his rescue.
“You don’t believe me, do you?” she said.
“I’ve never met a lady mechanic before.”
Her baby blues narrowed, as if she expected him to sling insults at her.
“How did you become interested in fixing cars?” he asked.
Tiny wrinkles formed across her tanned forehead. “Would you rather stand here and chat or do you want me to tow your truck?”
“Where do you plan to tow it?”
“Wherever you want. Kingman or...here.”
He heard the hitch in her voice when she said the word here. Kingman was a safe bet—but maybe it was time he rolled the dice.
“If you’ve got replacement hoses in stock, it would be quicker to fix the truck here,” he said.
Destiny paced a few feet away, leaving a trail of scented perfume in her wake. “It’ll be a hundred dollars for the tow and a hundred for parts and labor.”
The sassy little mechanic wanted to rip him off. “That’s highway robbery.” Troy charged his customers twenty bucks for a new hose and fifty for labor, but he doubted Destiny got