COWBOY (Unfit Hero Book 5) Read online

I can’t believe I’m back here.

  I never thought that I would cross the city limit sign again. There were times that I wanted nothing more than to come back to my roots. Back to the last place that I felt at peace.

  Coming here brings back memories that I never thought I wanted to revisit, memories that hurt so damn bad. There are things that I did. Things that undoubtedly caused more pain than I could ever imagine. Just driving around makes that guilt crawl up my throat and threaten to choke me.

  I hear the gravel crunch beside me, I turn my head to the side. I can’t help but smile at the little girl on the bicycle. I didn’t realize kids even rode bikes anymore. She has plastic tassels hanging from her handlebars, too. I had them just like that once upon a time, except mine were orange and neon green.

  “Why are you watching old man LaRue’s house?” she asks.

  Frowning, I look from the house to her. “Old man LaRue?”

  She nods, her missing-toothed grin flashing. “Well it was his before his fancy daughter moved him out and all the way to California. Now it just sits empty. Most folks say it’s haunted.”

  My lips curve up into a small smile. “It’s not haunted,” I say.

  But hell, maybe it is. Maybe that’s exactly what it is. Haunted with memories of the past, of a life that was left behind to be forgotten.

  “You’re pretty. What’s your name?” she asks.

  Licking my lips, I open my mouth to give her my stage name, one that I’ve been using for seventeen years. It feels more like my name these days than my actual birth name. I hesitate for some reason.

  “Stephanie,” I say, the name tumbling from my lips without me being able to stop myself.

  She nods, then shifts back onto her pedals. “By y’all,” she calls out before she starts to pedal her bike down the road.

  I watch her for a moment before my gaze shifts back to the old house.

  My old house now.

  Unable to take another step toward the house, I walk back around my car, slipping into the driver’s seat. Starting the engine, I let out a heavy sigh as I shift the car into drive and head toward the hotel.

  I snort, hotel, yeah. It’s a motel at best. The only one in town and their idea of a suite is a room with a mini-fridge. I’ll be lucky if I can get a non-smoking room and hot water. I drive through the town square, needing to see for myself if anything at all has changed.

  It hasn’t.

  The storefronts may not be decorated like they were twenty years ago, but everything is exactly as it was. This place is like being in a time warp. Nothing changes. Not even the clothes of the people walking around.

  Deciding I need a break and some food, I park right in front of the diner, one that I don’t think will ever go away. My eyes travel the people walking up and down the sidewalk, not that there are many.

  The men are all dressed in Wrangler jeans, cowboy boots, most in straw hats, and a Pearl Snap Button Shirt. The women, jeans, boots, and a cotton shirt as well. Styles are just as they were twenty years ago and I can’t fathom how. Do they not get television? Magazines?

  My stomach rumbles and I wonder if it’s a good idea to stop here. I have no doubt that it’s nothing but the same greasy spoon that it was back before I left. With a heavy sigh, I go for it, grabbing my purse off of the passenger seat, I unfold from the car.

  Straightening my skirt, I hitch my bag over my shoulder before I step up onto the sidewalk. Making my way into the diner, my stomach clenches at the smell of the fried food that assaults my senses.

  “Have a seat anywhere, hon,” a woman calls out.

  Lifting my eyes, I blink at the sight of her. It’s Lulamae. I cannot believe that she still waitresses here, she’s older than my daddy. Without saying a word to her, I make my way toward the back of the restaurant and slip into a sticky booth seat and remove my sunglasses.

  “What’ll you have to drink?” she barks as she sets a plastic laminate menu in front of me.

  I don’t bother looking at the menu, they won’t have sparkling water, they won’t even have bottled water. It’ll be tap water only, and it’ll probably taste like chlorine.

  “I’ll have an unsweetened tea,” I mutter.

  She snorts. Lifting my gaze up to meet hers, I blink. “Is there something wrong?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “Never thought little Stevie LaRue’d walk in here and order an unsweetened tea,” she practically sneers. “Never thought anybody from Texas would order that. Seems you forgot where you come from, girl.”

  “I’m not Stevie LaRue, not anymore,” I say softly.

  Lulamae leans down slightly, tilting her head to the side as her gaze scrutinizes me. Her top lip curls up in a look of disgust.

  “You sure ain’t. Stevie LaRue would order a sweet tea. She’d also order a burger with tater tots. Then she’d get a milkshake for dessert because little Stevie LaRue loved her desserts. She also wouldn’t have stayed away from her home for almost twenty years.”

  I blink, shocked that she said these things to me and that she remembered that much about me. She’s not wrong. Stevie LaRue loved all of those things, but I am not her anymore. I haven’t been her for seventeen years.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Lulamae. I’m just not her anymore,” I say softly.

  She nods her head, her eyes searching mine. “She ain’t all gone though, is she? You come home to find her, then?”

  Shaking my head, I inhale a deep breath. “I just came home to oversee my daddy’s house getting cleaned up and put on the market. I’ll only be here a few weeks, then it’s back home.”

  Lulamae lets out a harsh bark of laughter. “You’re home, girl. We missed you around here.”

  Without another word, she turns from me and doesn’t bother me anymore. She also doesn’t say anything when I order a salad with a wedge of lemon for the dressing and refills my unsweetened tea without complaint.

  FORD

  Fender.

  I knew Beau loved music, but naming his kid after a guitar? That’s new, but then again, who the fuck am I to talk? I don’t even have a woman, let alone any children of my own. This little guy, even if he’s named Fender, is fucking cute as shit. As are all of my friends’ new babies.

  “Tell me you took pictures of him next to a guitar?” I ask, lifting my eyes to meet Hutton’s.

  Beaumont’s wife laughs softly and nods her head. “I did. I also did a little baby faux hawk on his hair too, they’re precious,” she says with a smile.

  “You’re next, you know,” Beau announces.

  I snort. “Nope.”

  “Just because you haven’t found her yet, it doesn’t mean she’s not out there,” Hutton points out.

  My eyes scan the baby one more time before I hand him off to his mama. He’s starting to wiggle and as much as I like babies, if they can’t walk and talk, they’re kind of fucking terrifying. Hutton reaches for him, pulling him against her chest, and I swear to fuck the kid purrs. I probably would too, Hutton’s pretty sweet.

  “He’s real cute. You guys staying around longer than a minute or two?” I ask, shifting my gaze over to Beaumont.

  Beau grins, shrugging a shoulder as he lifts his hand and runs his fingers through his long hair. “Maybe. Touring with this guy was a blast, but I think maybe we’ll take some more time off,” he murmurs.

  “Be good to have you around for a while,” I say, admitting more than I probably should.

  Beaumont has been my friend since kindergarten, one of my best friends. When he’s gone, I fucking miss him. I get it though, he’s got a career that keeps him away, and a family now. It seems as though all of my friends have new focuses in life. I’m glad that they’re all happy, but fuck, it’s lonely.

  We hang out for another hour until it’s Fender’s bedtime. I leave them, knowing that Beau and Hutton probably want some alone time while their little guy sleeps. Swinging up into my truck, I start the engine, lifting my hand and waving to Beau who is watching from his front porch.


  I don’t go down the road to my house. I can’t go home to an empty house right now. Instead, I head toward the bar. I don’t go out much anymore, Pardners has the same crowd every weekend, and I’ve had my fill of them. I just want a couple beers before I head home. Just to be around people, even if I’ve fucked them all.

  It’s already dark, the parking lot not quite full, but not empty either. There’s about to be a shift of customers. The younger crowd will be showing up, and as fucking pathetic as that sounds, maybe there will be someone new, someone that can fill my lonely night, someone that can take my mind off of my pathetic life for a few hours.

  Climbing down from my truck, I head inside. The bouncer doesn’t even ask for my ID, just holds out his hand for the five-dollar cover. Making my way toward the bar, I ask Lucy-Dawn for two bottles of Coors Light.

  “Tab?” she asks without even looking up.

  “Yeah,” I sigh.

  She nods her head, popping the top off of the beers before sliding them over to me, then finally lifts her gaze to meet mine, giving me a small smile.

  “Look tired,” she points out.

  “Thanks,” I grunt.

  Lucy only smirks, thankfully not saying anything else to me. I turn away from her and head over to my table. It’s fucking pathetic that I have a favorite table in a bar, but I do. Sitting up on the barstool, I bring the cold beer bottle to my lips and take a long pull.

  Glancing around the room, I look to see if there’s anyone new, any woman that I maybe don’t recognize. I see the same faces in the crowd, unsurprisingly.

  Leaning back in my chair, I dig my phone out of my pocket. Scrolling through, I look to see if there are any new messages, anyone I can call and shoot the shit with, but there isn’t. Louis is home with Tulip. Wyatt is with Exeter and their little girl. Rylan and Channing have two little ones at their place.

  I’m the only one in our group of friends who doesn’t have someone. I know that I could call any one of them and they would drop everything if I needed them to, but I’m not that guy.

  Just because I’m living a life of misery, there’s no reason to drag them into that shit, plus there’s nothing they can do to help me out with that either.

  Finishing my first beer, I don’t bother drinking the second. Making my way back to the bar, I pay Lucy-Dawn my tab and leave Pardners altogether. I could go down to Headlights and watch girls dance, but after Tulip worked there, it’s just not as fun as it used to be.

  Feeling defeated as fuck, and more depressed than I should, I head back home. The roads are quiet and empty as they always are past dark around here. Gallup isn’t really known for its thriving nightlife.

  Unable to stop myself, I do something that I always end up regretting, but I do it just the same, far more often than I’ll ever admit. I turn my truck toward a house that has been empty for years.

  It doesn’t take me long to get there. Stopping across the street, I shift my truck into park and squeeze the steering wheel with my fingers, pinching my eyes closed before I turn my head.

  Opening my eyes, I focus my gaze on the little house. It needed new paint about twenty years ago among a million other little things to the outside and a full overhaul inside. It never happened though, and now it sits empty.

  Stevie LaRue’s parents’ place. I spent more time here growing up than I did my own house. The old porch swing is still intact and my eyes drift over to it. I can still see Stevie sitting in the corner, her feet pulled up and her cheek resting against her knees.

  I had my first kiss on that porch swing. Confessed my love there the first time too. It’s where I proposed. Where every good moment in my life happened. It’s also where I stood the day after the wedding that never took place, and I begged Stevie’s parents to tell me where she was.

  It’s where I lost my dignity and didn’t give a flying fuck where I cried and begged to see her. It’s also where they denied my every request, even months later. I didn’t just lose Stevie the day she walked away from me, I lost her entire family, too.

  Anger boils beneath my skin’s surface. I shouldn’t be angry, not anymore, but I am. Starting the engine, I try to shake off the feelings of anger and betrayal as I head home, but it doesn’t work—it never does.

  Stephanie, Stevie, Sterling, whatever the fuck she wants to call herself, she will always be there in my mind. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get rid of her, and that shit pisses me off more than anything. I wish she would just fucking disappear, but she’s goddamn everywhere.

  Chapter Two

  STEPHANIE

  Opening my eyes, I reach for my phone as I roll over to my side. I’m not surprised to see that there are dozens of new notifications.

  I have text messages from my assistant, publicist, agent, and even a couple from the casting director of this trilogy film I’ve been in. We have already filmed the first two movies and I’m waiting on news for the third to begin.

  Opening my assistant’s text first, I frown at the message that he’s sent me.

  It simply states.

  CALL ME.

  He never asks me to call him. He’s definitely someone who prefers texting over actual interaction, which works for me because I get enough phone calls on a daily basis that it’s kind of refreshing.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask before he can even say hello.

  He doesn’t laugh, instead he lets out a long sigh. “We have a problem.”

  “What?” I exhale.

  There’s a moment of silence and if I could choke Damion through the phone right now, I would. He hums, then sucks in a breath before he releases it.

  “Someone uploaded something, and it’s going to come out tomorrow. A couple of news sources are already getting into a bidding war over it.”

  Not many people know, but in the industry, there is a place where paparazzi load their ridiculous pictures and videos. News, I use that term loosely, sources buy the images or videos and release them to the public. It’s one of the many things that I’ve grown to hate about the industry.

  “So, it’s going live tomorrow?”

  “First thing,” Damion says.

  “What is it?”

  He lets out a sigh. “Apparently, America’s Sweetheart isn’t so sweet,” he mumbles. “It’s pictures of you and Sebastian, together.”

  Inwardly, I groan. They had to have been taken before my father’s death, before his funeral. Why would they sit on something for that long? It’s been weeks. I haven’t even spoken to Sebastian in almost a month, let alone slept with him.

  “Great,” I quip. “Can we stop this somehow?”

  He hums. “Maybe Grace can?” he asks, speaking of my publicist. “But I think this one is already a done deal, babe.”

  “Great.”

  Scandal.

  Pretty much everyone in Hollywood has at one time or another some type of personal scandal splashed all over the tabloids. It’s just part of the gig. You have to take the good with the bad and this is bad right now—all of it.

  “Send me screenshots, I’ll call Grace,” I sigh as I sit up.

  “I didn’t want to bother you with any of this, I know that you’re taking a bit of a break. Are you sure you don’t want me to come down there? Help you out?”

  I think about having Damion here in Gallup with me. I love Damion, but I’m not sure the small town of Gallup will ever be ready for him. He’s gorgeous, like model beautiful. He also dresses like a model and is more feminine than I am.

  He wears makeup every day and while it doesn’t bother me in the slightest, this is rural Texas and if this town hasn’t changed even an ounce, I have a feeling the people haven’t either. They haven’t been known for their open-mindedness in the past.

  “I’m sure. I need to do this on my own,” I say softly.

  “You don’t need to, you want to,” he snaps.

  Licking my lips, I lift my eyes to the ceiling. “Maybe it’s a little bit of both. I haven’t been back here since I ra
n away. I need to face my past. I need to figure out why nothing works inside of me.”

  “Do you mean why things didn’t work out with self-absorbed Sebastian? Girlie, that had absolutely nothing to do with you and everything to do with him being a flaming pile of shit,” he snaps.

  Pinching my eyes closed, I try not to laugh at Damion’s words. Sebastian kind of is a flaming pile of shit. He’s extremely self-absorbed, but we could have worked. If I could have been better, been open like he said.

  “I should have been more for him. I couldn’t open up to him and it drove him away.”

  “Into another woman’s vagina? Don’t even.” I open my mouth to say something else, but he continues. “You were good to that man. I saw you together, often. He didn’t look at you like he adored everything about you. Like a man should look at the person he loves. He looked at you like he was fucking bored.”

  “Maybe I’m boring?”

  Damion gasps. “Shut your mouth right this second. You are not boring. You’re the sweetest woman I know, but you’re definitely not boring. Besides, I saw him in his skinny jeans, I think maybe he’s the one who was boring.”

  I let out a giggle, leaning back against the headboard. I know that I pay Damion to be my assistant and to be nice to me, but he feels like a real friend. In my head, he is, and I know that he’s the only friend that I have. I wonder if he didn’t work for me, if he would like me?

  “Maybe a little,” I say.

  He snorts. “Little is right.”

  I can’t help myself, I let out a laugh. It’s the first time that I’ve laughed in a long time. Pressing my lips together, I wonder when I should publicly call off the engagement to Sebastian. Maybe I should look at these pictures before I do anything else.

  “I’m sending you the pictures, just don’t freak out. If you do, call me and I’ll come right down there.”

  “Okay,” I sigh.

  “All right, talk soon?”

  “Soon,” I agree.

  Ending the call, I stay in bed, tucked beneath the sheets as I wait for the photographs to come through. Rolling my lips together, I watch as they download on the text screen.