Three to Ride

by Sophie Oak

  That old moose leaned down, his mouth opened and teeth closing in gingerly. He downed the bar in one gulp, not even slobbering on her fingers. A polite gentleman.

  The moose stepped back and the sun suddenly shone down on her face, warming her in a way she hadn’t felt in months. In over a year.

  Rachel closed her eyes and let the warmth suffuse her soul.

  “So I’m going to drop you off at Stella’s,” Mel said.

  Somewhere along the way she’d ceased to think of him as alien man, though he’d talked nonstop about them. He knew more about aliens than any sane human being should, but he’d also been super nice to her, so she was throwing away the idea of sanity. It was way overrated.

  “Is Stella your girlfriend?” She looked through the window as they seemed to reach some sort of small town. She’d passed a store with a hand-painted sign proclaiming Biker Stuff and Quilts and a sign that welcomed her to Bliss, Colorado.

  Bliss. There was something she hadn’t found in a long time.

  Mel laughed. “Ah, naw. Stella is Stella. She’s been in Bliss even longer than me. She was born here. Her momma opened a café way back in ’70 and named it after her baby girl. Stella runs the place now. She’s good people and she’ll watch after you while I’m going to talk to Long-Haired Roger about your car. Don’t be afraid. Stella takes the beet regularly, so there’s no worry about alien influence.”

  She was a bit worried about how one “took” the beet, but she merely looked around curiously. There was something called the Trading Post and the Bliss Community Theater and…

  “Why is that person miming?” People actually. Two. One male. One female. They were dressed in traditional mime costumes and seemed to be communicating entirely through body motions.

  “Don’t worry about Henry and Nell,” Mel explained. “They mean well. They just like to protest things.”

  “What things?”

  “Pretty much all things,” Mel replied. “They don’t discriminate. But they do protest discrimination. I’ve told them that aliens don’t recognize their protests, but they are very optimistic, if you know what I mean. Here we are. You go ahead and get some lunch or something. I’ll be back in half an hour or so.”

  Guilt swamped her. “Mr. Mel?”

  He stopped in front of a small diner. It looked like someone had dropped it from out of the fifties. Red and white, with a bank of windows, it looked like an old-school diner where the waitresses served all-American burgers with a smile. “Yes?”

  “Thanks for the ride, but I don’t have any money to pay for a tire.”

  His whole face softened. “I know that, young lady. Now go on and have a nice lunch and I’ll get this handled for you. Tell Stella I sent you.”

  “Uhm, I don’t have anything to trade either.” She shouldn’t have taken the ride.

  He stared at her for a moment. “I don’t want anything, Miss Rachel. Except to help you. I couldn’t live with myself if I left you on that road. Now go on. I have to talk to Long-Haired Roger, and then we should probably do a full check of your car. Don’t worry. I have a detector.”

  She slid out of the truck. “Okay. I’ll be here. Thank you, Mr. Mel.”

  The older man’s smile was brilliant. “No problem. And I think you’re going to like it here.”

  “I can’t stay.”

  “But Maurice only shows himself to real Bliss residents,” he said as he put the truck in reverse. “Welcome home, Miss Rachel.”

  He turned, going up toward the north.

  And she was left with next to no money and nowhere to go.

  The door opened and a young woman walked out. “I’m sorry, Stella. I have to go. Rockne is going to be the next Rock. And not because his name is Rockne. He’s real good at smashing people with folding chairs. His manager said he’s the best at that. So you understand, right?”

  A woman with a helmet of platinum blonde hair stepped out. “I understand that you’re leaving in the middle of the lunch rush. You can’t wait until three?”

  The sound of a motorcycle drew her attention. The big hog pulled up and the woman handed her apron over. “Sorry, Miss Stella. Stardom won’t wait.”

  She stood with the woman who now held an apron and clucked as the motorcycle drove away.

  “That is not going to turn out the way she thinks,” Stella said before turning to Rachel. “I don’t suppose you’re looking for a job.”

  Rachel went still. A job? In the middle of nowhere. Where no one with half a brain would go looking for her. “Yep.”

  Stella looked her up and down. “You ever waitressed before?”

  She was fairly certain she didn’t look like a person anyone would want to hire. “No, but I am extremely desperate and that makes me less likely to leave with a dude on a motorcycle. Also, did I mention the desperation?”

  Stella looked her up and down again and for a moment she was worried the woman had otherworldly powers and could see down to her soul. “You’re in trouble.”

  She shook her head. “No. Nope.” If there was one thing she’d realized it was that no one wanted trouble. No one. “I’m just a country singer making her way across the land to Nashville. That’s me.”

  She couldn’t sing to save her life.

  Stella put a hand on her hip. “No, you’re not. You’re in trouble, but then everyone is at some point. Here.” She handed her the apron. “It’s minimum wage plus tips, and you eat for free. Come on. I’m getting you a sandwich before I put you on the floor. You’re far too skinny. We need to fatten you up, baby girl.”

  “Mel sent me,” she said, remembering what the alien hunter had told her to say.

  “Then you’re definitely in trouble,” Stella said, patting one of the stools at the counter. “You study up on the menu while I get you a BLT and some fries.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t…you said I get to eat if I work?”

  Her stomach rumbled. It had been forever since she’d had anything that filled her up. She’d lived off of convenience store food for weeks, and only the cheapest in the last week. She hadn’t had anything close to filling.

  Stella stopped. “What’s your name, hon?”

  “Rachel,” she replied. That was her name now. “Rachel Swift.”

  “Rachel, I was born to feed people. Also to look this good, but mostly to feed people. It’s a calling, and it’s way more important than people make it out to be. How long has it been since you had a decent meal?”

  Pride brought words to her mouth. I don’t need charity. I eat just fine. But then she remembered how good it felt to offer that stupid candy bar to the moose. People needed to understand how much kindness meant, and pride…pride had no place in the face of love and kindness. Tears pierced her eyes. “It’s been months, Ms. Stella. I could use this job and I could use a meal. I will work hard. I won’t cause any trouble.”

  Stella’s hand came out, reaching up to touch her cheek. “Oh, honey, what fun would that be? I’m going to take it as a sign that you showed up as Trisha was leaving with that no-brained wrestler. You make better choices while you’re here. Now sit.”

  Tears rolled. She couldn’t stop them. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to stop.”

  Stella sat her down. “Don’t bother. Everyone who comes to Bliss breaks down at some point. Bliss is the place to go when you have nowhere else. Bliss is the end of the line, the place where you decide to stop running from your problems and face them so you can start living again. Sit down. You’ll work soon enough.”

  The world a crazy blur, she sat on the red stool at the counter as Stella moved behind it.

  “Hal, we got a stray. She needs a BLT with…” Stella looked over at her. “You like mayo?”

  She nodded, well aware she was continuing to cry freely. “Lots.”

  “With mayo and fries. Make ’em good because she’s taking over for Trisha.”

  A job. She had a job. She couldn’t stay for too long, but she could save money and be in a better position w
hen the time came to run again.

  She was going to have a full belly because that lady was super nice.

  “Hey! Hey, Stella!” Someone moved in beside her, bellying up to the bar and slamming a plate down. “Have you lost your mind in your old age? You want to tell me how these eggs are over medium? Because they’re so easy they’re practically begging me to take ’em home and abuse them. What kind of establishment is this?”

  Oh, she was sick of bullies. She wasn’t sure why she did it, except that she was truly tired of watching and not participating in life. Of being the doormat everyone stepped on. Of not speaking up.

  “Look here, asshole. It’s the kind of establishment where people are good and nice and they don’t need jerk-faces like you messing with the vibe, so if you don’t like it you can take your perfectly cooked medium eggs and shove them where the sun don’t shine. Easy? Those aren’t over-easy. And who are you to slut-shame eggs?”

  She looked up and into the eyes of the single most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. Roughly six foot, with wavy brown and gold hair and a jawline carved from granite, he practically made her drool.

  Except he was a jerk.

  Stella had turned and her eyes were wide. “Now, Max, she is brand new…”

  “Max” was staring at her like he’d never seen a woman before. His jaw went tight and he clutched his plate. “Thank you for pointing out that I was wrong. Guess I…I need to look into some glasses or something because they are obviously perfect eggs. Perfect. I should go and eat them. I’m incredibly sorry for disrupting your morning…”

  Rachel forced herself to breathe. She should have thought before yelling at a patron.

  “Rachel,” Stella said with a hint of a smile. “Her name is Rachel Swift and she’s the new waitress here, Max. You should probably mind your manners from now on.”

  Max nodded, his eyes still on her. “I will. I will indeed do that.”

  He turned on his heels and walked back to his booth, but not before she’d seen his very muscular butt encased in a pair of well-worn Wranglers.

  “Holy hell. What just happened?” Stella had one hand on her hip, shaking her head as she watched the man dig into his food. “You might be a godsend, Rachel Swift. That was Maxwell Harper, the baddest man in Bliss. I have never seen him back down. Not once, and I’ve known him since he was a kid. You keep giving him hell.”

  “I thought you might be mad I yelled at a patron.”

  She shook her head. “You didn’t yell at a patron. You yelled at a Max. It’s the only way to talk to him. It proves to me you’ve got good instincts. Rest up and eat your lunch, sweetie. I want you ready for the supper crowd.”

  Rachel forced herself to look away from the hot cowboy god. She wasn’t here to gawk at gorgeous men with obvious issues with politeness. No. She had been dropped into a good situation for once in the last godawful year.

  She would focus. On work. On saving. On staying safe.

  And that man behind her was the opposite of safe.

  So why was she warm all of the sudden? Nope. She wasn’t going to engage the crazy.

  Even though the crazy looked a little like the town’s name.

  Bliss.

  * * * *

  Max was still thinking about the new girl when he parked in front of the house. Rye’s Bronco was still here, so he hadn’t missed saying good-bye to his brother.

  Though it looked like he’d almost missed him because as he was sliding out of his truck, the front door came open and Rye stepped out, a large duffel bag in his hand. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and Max nearly had to step back when he got a good whiff of his brother.

  “When did you start smelling like an Axe commercial?” Max complained.

  Rye opened the door to the Bronco and slid his bag in before shooting his brother the finger. “Fuck you, Max. You might like to walk around smelling like you regularly clean out barns, but I am hoping to catch the eye of some lovely lady at tonight’s cocktail party. If I can get to Denver in time. I’m already late.”

  “You know if a moose tries to hump you because you reek of pheromones, I’m not going to stop him.” Should he let his brother ride off and go hump some lonely Colorado law enforcement conference attendee? Why not?

  Because of her. Because you couldn’t take your eyes off her. Because you can’t get your mind off her. Rachel. Rachel Swift.

  Rye patted his head like he was a toddler. “You feel free to wallow in your own abstinence. I’m going to have fun for two weeks. I’m going to see what’s out there.”

  But she’s here. “There’s a new girl at Stella’s.”

  Rye opened the driver’s side door. “Good for Stella. Trisha was terrible at her job. Half the time I would ask for a medium-rare steak and she would bring me a salad. It got so bad I would walk around the café until I found the diner staring down at her steak like it would bite her and we switched. I shouldn’t have to go and hunt down my own damn dinner. It defeats the purpose of eating out.”

  “This one seems real mean.” And that did something for him. She’d looked up at him with her green eyes and he’d stopped. Like he’d forgotten to breathe for a moment. She’d had a blotchy face, red eyes, and a mean look, and she’d been the single most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  “Good, maybe she can handle you,” Rye said. “Do you think she’s connected with that piece of shit Mel had hauled into town an hour ago?”

  “What are you talking about?” Max asked.

  “Someone broke down on the road going down the mountain. I was coming in and there was Long-Haired Roger trying to get some junker Jeep out of the road. He said Mel was paying for it.” Rye’s eyes widened. “If she’s involved with Mel she’s likely come here to track aliens. You should run, brother.”

  “She’s not like that.” She certainly hadn’t seemed like a crazy alien hunter.

  “And how would you know?”

  “Because she’s not,” he replied stubbornly. She’d been a little unhinged, but also vulnerable, like she was lost and needed someone to find her.

  “You’ve conversed with her?” Rye asked, his tone incredulous. “You, Max Harper, carried on a conversation with a female of the Earth variety that didn’t end in her slapping you or calling the police?”

  “I am not that bad.” Except he could be. He was irritable most of the time. People tended to rub him the wrong way. And he hadn’t meant anything by yelling at Stella. Well, he’d meant to point out that his eggs had been cooked incorrectly.

  He touched his belly. They were in there right now. Incorrectly cooked eggs. He could die of salmonella and all because some gorgeous woman had told him to eat them. He couldn’t even tell if her hair was red or blonde. She’d had it up in one of those messy buns that women took time to perfect. Except he kind of thought hers was messy because it was messy, not because she’d spent time on it.

  And she was too thin, but again, he didn’t think it was because she was trying to model.

  She’d looked like she needed him.

  He was definitely getting sick. It was the raw eggs. They were doing something to his brain.

  Rye stared at him for a minute. “You like this girl?”

  Just like that he backed off. They’d agreed to work differently this time. They’d agreed to go their own ways and find their own women. “I don’t know her. You’re right. I said maybe three words to her. Just thought you should know there’s a new girl in town.”

  Rye shrugged negligently. “Well, I’ll check her out when I get back. You try not to piss her off. Logan is watching the store and I don’t think he’ll know how to handle a restraining order.” Rye frowned and stopped, his hand on the door. “You know you could come with me. We can get someone to check on the horses and Mel can make sure the house is alien free.”

  “You’re going to a law enforcement conference and then you’re teaching law enforcement techniques to a bunch of kids in cop school. Are you planning on using me as an example of how t
o tase someone?”

  Rye chuckled. “No, brother. I’m saying you have barely left this mountain for a solid year. Come to Denver and we’ll find a pretty lady with an open mind and have some fun. You’ve been like a bear. It’s time to come out of hibernation. Winter’s over. There’s berries on all the plants. Come taste a few.”

  But he only wanted to taste one. Now that he’d seen her, he was absolutely certain that the last thing he wanted was some random hookup where the woman between them saw him as the second dick. He was always the second dick. Or more commonly referred to as the impatient dick, the annoying dick, the dick one put up with because the other dick was intensely charming.

  Would he even have a shot with Rachel if she met Rye first? Not that he had a shot at her. She’d looked at him like he was some kind of monster for yelling at Stella. That was simply how they communicated. It was a friendly thing.

  Could he have a shot at Rachel?

  He took a step back. “Nah, you have fun. I’ve got some meetings I can’t miss.”

  Rye sighed and then got in the truck. “All right. I’ll see you in two weeks. Try to stay out of trouble.”

  Max watched as his brother drove down the mountain. Quigley loped up, pushing his big head under Max’s palm. “It’s just the two of us, Q.”

  Normally he liked it that way.

  But he couldn’t help but wonder if Rachel liked dogs.

  Chapter Two

  It was the weirdest town.

  “Rachel, you have an order up,” Hal barked from the kitchen.

  “Coming.” She was finally getting used to answering to Rachel. She liked her new name. Rachel Swift seemed to suit her in a way that Mandy Cooper hadn’t. She was even starting to like it more than Elizabeth Courtney.

  Rachel turned from the large windows of the diner where she had been watching Nell and Henry Flanders make their statement about monarchial rule in England. They were making the point through mime, of course. It was Friday, and apparently every Friday Nell and Henry made a political statement. They were an odd couple. Nell couldn’t be older than thirty, while Henry was the very definition of retired professor. He was a blandly handsome man in his late thirties, but there were times Rachel would swear he looked older, harder than he normally did. Then he would smile and the darkness vanished. His wife, however, was all about the sunshine. Well, until someone “hurt the earth,” and then Nell had been known to give the frowning of a lifetime.