“Guess you’ll be hoofing it, Kincaid.”
He heaved himself to his feet, and hissed at the pain that shot up his leg. Slowly, he put full weight on it, testing to make sure it was just banged up from the impact with the ground.
Satisfied that nothing was broken or sprained, he bent to pick up his bike. He inspected the tire again, but there was a clear dent in the wheel that he wouldn’t be able to straighten out. The water bottle had bounced out of its cage and landed several yards to his right. Reaching for it, Scott took a quick drink.
He grinned. “One more excuse to delay the trip home for a little longer.” Having the damage repaired might take several days.
His cycling shoes crushed the loose gravel beneath his feet as he pushed the bike, up out of the shallow ditch along the road. He glanced at the scrapes on his knees and thigh, and on his right arm and elbow.
Gravel stuck to the drying blood, no doubt contributing to the hot sting that grew steadily more intense. No sense trying to clean up now. That could wait until he reached the next town. He’d best get moving or else his limbs would stiffen up.
He’d passed a sign a few miles back that had indicated the next town was twenty miles away, so it was probably about fifteen or so miles from where he stood now. Not impossible to walk, but he’d be hiking in the dark.
Scott shrugged and pulled loose the backpack he’d strapped to the back of the bike and hoisted it around his shoulders. He could make better time walking without his bike, but he’d be crazy to leave it here along the side of the road. It was an expensive bike, but more importantly, it was his ride home to Montana.
Several cars passed him, coming from the other direction, but no one bothered to stop. It didn’t matter. It was a balmy, sunny Texas morning, and a little mishap wasn’t going to ruin his good mood. Nothing like a little unexpected accident to shake up the day. It was a good reminder to pay better attention and keep his mind sharp.
Scott pulled his hiking boots from his backpack, even if it would look odd wearing them with his biking jersey and shorts. Comfort was more important than looks any day. He lowered himself to the asphalt again to reassess his scraped-up elbow, picking some dirt from the skin, then pulled off his shoes and traded them for his hiking boots.
A car honked and slowed, the tires scrunching on the gravel as it rolled to a stop a short distance away.
“Need a ride?”
Scott glanced up at the young woman sticking her head out the rolled-down driver’s side window. The breeze blew her shoulder-length, auburn hair into her face, but not before a smile flashed in his direction.
Scott got to his feet. He glanced at the car. It looked big enough to hold his bike. He stepped up to the passenger-side window, which the girl had rolled down. He ducked to look inside the vehicle. There were no other passengers.
“Thanks for the offer.” He flashed a smile when his eyes met hers. Leaning forward, he braced his arms on the door. “Should you be this trusting of a complete stranger? I could be a pervert or rapist for all you know.”
The girl leaned toward him. Her brows rose in obvious surprise at his remark.
“If you were a rapist, I don’t think you would have mentioned it first thing.” She nodded at his bloody arm. “Besides, looks like you crashed pretty hard. You’d have to be really desperate to take advantage of me, being all banged up the way you are.”
Scott laughed. “You’ve got a point. If you’ll give me a lift to the next town, I’d appreciate it. Hopefully I can get my bike fixed there.”
The girl nodded. “The next town is Heartsbridge. Get in.”
Scott glanced over his shoulder at his bike. “Can I squeeze my bike in the back of your car?”
“Will it fit?”
“If I take the front wheel off, it should. I’ve transported it in cars that were a lot smaller.”
The Good Samaritan popped the latch to the back of the car. Scott disassembled the bike and lifted it into the vehicle, grabbed his backpack, and climbed into the passenger seat. With his leg throbbing, it would be foolish to refuse a ride.
“Thanks again.” He reached his hand over. “Scott Kincaid.”
The girl glanced at the road rash on his knees, the tear in his skin-tight cycling shorts along his upper thigh, and the scuffed elbow. She placed her hand in his as the corners of her lips twitched.
“Amber Milligan. You’re a brave man for being out in public in those clothes.”
Scott grinned, then winked. “No, brave would have been changing out of these clothes along the side of the road into something you would consider acceptable.”
Amber smirked, then straightened and put the car in drive. Rolling onto the highway, she accelerated.
“Is it a habit of yours to pick up strange men who are stranded along the road?”
“Only ones wearing tights.”
Scott grinned. She was cute and witty. “You really should be more careful.”
Amber glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Although she wore a smile, there was a dullness to her eyes that didn’t match the rest of her. She reached for a pack of cigarettes that rested in one of the cup holders in the center console, pulled one out, and stuck it in her mouth. Then she held a lighter to it, taking a long drag once it was lit.
“Has anyone ever told you those things can kill you?” Scott leaned away from the smoke, curling his nose.
Amber glared at him, then took another drag. She rolled her eyes. “Only you and about a hundred other people.”
“So why don’t you quit?”
She arched an eyebrow and stared straight ahead again. “Why don’t you mind your own business? I didn’t offer to give you a ride so you can lecture me on the dangers of smoking. We all have to die of something eventually. Might as well have some fun while we’re waiting.”
Scott glanced at her. The back of his neck tensed. Hadn’t he said something similar not too long ago? Besides, Amber was right that he had no business telling her what to do. Time to make small-talk about something else.
“So, do you live in Heartsbridge?”
“No. I’ve never been there before.” She shot him a hasty glance. “And I assume you’re not from around here, either.”
Scott chuckled. “Montana, actually.”
Amber’s head turned fully to stare at him in surprise. “Montana? What a coincidence. I’m going to Heartsbridge to find out about a friend of mine who’s originally from Montana.” Her eyes once again rested on his bike shorts, and her lips twitched. “Seems my assumption was wrong and not all guys from Montana are cowboys, though.”
Scott smiled. He didn’t owe her an answer for that remark. She finished her cigarette, then threw the butt out the window after mashing it against the car’s ashtray to put it out.
“What do you do for a living, Scott? Besides riding a bicycle on desolate Texas highways and telling people about things that can kill them.”
Scott shifted in his seat. He ran his fingers through his hair and cleared his throat.
“My folks would say I’m avoiding responsibility at the moment. I’ve decided to tour parts of the country on my bike before I assume my role in the family business. ”
Amber smiled. “So, you’re some rich boy out for a joy ride to see what it’s like how the other half struggles to make ends meet?”
Scott frowned at the off-handed remark. “Everyone deals with different things in life. There are just different kinds of challenges, and some people struggle harder than others. If you don’t work hard for the things you want, you don’t have the right to cry ‘woe is me’ and wallow in self-pity.” Damn. He was starting to sound like his father. Where had all that come from?
Amber let out a sarcastic laugh. “What do you know about challenges and self-pity? I bet you’ve never had to work for anything in your life. Your rich daddy probably bought you that bike and told you to have a good time. How else could you afford to simply take off and tour the country on a whim, without a care in the w
orld, and with your whole life ahead of you?”
Scott stared at her. How had she come to these conclusions about him on such short notice? Sounded more like Amber was bitter about something. She faced the highway again, her hands casually on the steering wheel. She wore faded black jeans that hugged her thighs, and a top that emphasized all her curves. Dark and light strands in her auburn hair reflected off the sun that shone through the windshield. She didn’t wear much make-up, which added to her pretty face and brought out her natural look.
“What about you, Amber? Why would a girl like you wallow in self-pity? Because your hair didn’t curl the way you wanted it to today? Or did you apply the wrong lipstick? Or maybe you couldn’t find the right outfit to wear to match your purse?”
Amber’s eyes widened. She sat straighter as her entire body tensed. No doubt she regretted her decision to give him a ride. He shouldn’t be arguing with her, but her comment, pegging him as someone with money and privilege had rubbed him wrong . . . even if it was accurate. Other than that, she had no idea what she was talking about where he was concerned.
That haunted gaze he’d seen a few minutes ago covered her eyes again. “You know nothing about me.” Her voice lowered to almost a subdued whisper.
“No, I don’t, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make assumptions about me, either.”
Amber continued to stare straight ahead. Good thing the first buildings of the small town of Heartsbridge sped by, or else he might be walking the rest of the way. They clearly weren’t destined to become best friends. The quicker they went their separate ways, the better.
She pulled off the highway and into the parking lot of a place called ‘Heartsbridge Diner’, and parked the car in the closest spot to the door.
“I’m sure there’s a place in town where you can get your bike fixed. I bet someone here at the diner will know.”
Without waiting for a reply, Amber stepped out of her car and disappeared inside the building.
“Great job, Kincaid. Rather than being grateful for the ride, you managed to make her mad.”
He opened the car door. His limbs were stiff already and he gritted his teeth. Time to make nice with Miss Good Samaritan, maybe buy her a coffee or a soda, and then he could continue on his way.
Chapter 3
Amber entered the diner and glanced around the dining room. Two teenagers sat in a booth in the far corner, and the next one over was occupied by an older couple. Two older men sat on stools at the counter, sipping coffee. Country music played from the jukebox in the corner.
“Let me have another cup, Moira,” one of the men called, holding up his mug.
A waitress dressed in blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt held a coffeepot and poured a refill for the patron. She wore a red apron tied around her waist, and a blue ribbon with some sort of large pendant dangled from her neck. It looked like an odd thing for a waitress to be wearing. Maybe it was a fancy new piece of technology that helped with order-taking. Amber’s eyes drifted around the diner again. This place didn’t look very modern.
“You’re going to regret drinking so much coffee when it’s time to get back on the road, Billy.” The waitress smiled, then poured more coffee for the other man. Her red hair was tied back in a ponytail that swung back and forth as she walked. She glanced up at that moment and waved.
“Find a seat and I’ll be with you in just a minute,” she called.
Amber headed for the counter, and sat on a stool at the opposite end from the men. Moira appeared to be the only waitress on duty. Not that the place looked busy. The door opened and closed again, and Amber gritted her teeth. She didn’t turn to look at who had entered the diner. It could only be rich boy, Scott Kincaid.
Whatever had possessed her to stop along the side of the road and offer him a ride? She’d never done anything like it. It hadn’t even been a conscious thought, as if her car had a mind of its own and had decided to veer to pull off the road. She shook her head.
Cyclists in their skin-tight shorts never looked appealing. Maybe while they were riding their bikes, but once they weren’t in the saddle, it just wasn’t a flattering look. Scott Kincaid, however, was in a league of his own. Everything about him screamed, “athlete”. He looked fit from head to toe. His deeply-tanned arms and legs were lean and muscular without being bulky.
Jet-black hair and a two-day shadow on his rugged face rounded out the picture of a guy who would be accustomed to turning every girl’s head. The package included self-assurance that bordered on cockiness. Definitely a by-product of being a spoiled, rich kid.
“What can I get you?” The waitress named Moira came up to her and smiled brightly.
Amber leaned forward. “I’m actually here for some information. I’m looking for a guy.”
Moira cocked an eyebrow. “A guy?”
“Yes. My ex-boyfriend. The last time I talked to him, he said he was coming to Heartsbridge.”
Moira offered an indulgent smile. “We get a lot of people passing through here. I see a lot of faces, but don’t usually get to know people very well, so I’m not sure how much help I can be in finding him.”
“His name is Chris Hawley. He said some weird things to me a few weeks ago that had me concerned, and I was hoping to find him because I need to tell him something important.”
Moira’s smile vanished, and the color drained from her face. Amber met her stunned gaze. There was no question she knew Chris.
Behind her, someone made an indefinable noise. “Chris Hawley is your ex?”
Amber turned on her stool to the sound of the voice. Scott came up beside her at the counter with a wide-eyed look on his face and a grin that begged to be slapped away.
Amber glared at him and rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you know him?”
“I sure do. He and I were practically neighbors growing up. Spent a lot of time together causing trouble. One of the reasons I decided to ride through Texas was to see him. The last time I talked to his folks, they said he’d been in some trouble.”
The grin turned to an amused look, and his eyes narrowed. He turned his head slightly sideways and let his eyes travel over her as if he was seeing her for the first time.
“Trouble that had to do with a girl,” he said slowly. Then he laughed.
Amber tore her eyes away. She gritted her teeth at his gloating. She turned her back to him, facing the counter.
“You’re that girl, aren’t you?”
Amber didn’t look at him. “You don’t know anything about it, so I’ll thank you for keeping your opinions to yourself.”
Next to her, Scott chuckled. “Seems like jumping to conclusions is the only thing we have in common. So, Chris got in trouble for something to do with you, and now you’re looking for him?”
Amber shifted in her seat. Guilt washed over her for what had happened more than six months ago. She’d been horrible to Chris, and because of her, lives had been lost and ruined. Chris had found a way to move on, which he deserved. The pompous jerk next to her could think what he wanted. She raised her gaze to Moira, who clutched the large silver pendant she wore around her neck. Stunned eyes met Amber’s, then they went to Scott.
“Please, if you can give me any information on Chris, I would be grateful.” Amber directed her comment at the waitress. “I just want to talk to him and explain.”
Moira still stared at her pendant, which looked to be an antique timepiece, not the latest technological gadget. It made a faint whirring noise all of a sudden.
“Chris Hawley?” she stammered. “The name does sound a little familiar. He may have passed through here a few weeks ago.”
Amber leaned on her elbows, staring at the waitress. “Did he say where he was going? He told me he met someone and that he was moving on with his life.”
Moira straightened. Her eyes continued to volley between the timepiece, to Scott, then settled on Amber.
“Come to think of it, yes, there was a girl with him. They looked like they were a
happy couple.”
Amber ran a hand over her face. So, he hadn’t simply made up a story that he’d found someone. A heavy weight lifted from her shoulders. At least life was looking up for him. Chris deserved someone who loved him and with whom he could share a future. A twinge of sadness passed through her. The sharp sting of tears behind her eyes came as a surprise.
Amber slid off the stool. She wasn’t going to cry in public, and especially not in front of Scott Kincaid. More than likely he’d accuse her of being a drama queen. She cleared her throat. “Where’s the restroom?”
Moira pointed behind her and to the end of the counter. “Come through here, past the kitchen and down the hall. It’s the only door on the right. Sorry. This is an old building and I haven’t completely modernized it, so there’s only one bathroom.”
“Not a problem.”
Averting her eyes from Scott, Amber came around the counter and rushed down the hall. She locked the door to the small bathroom, and leaned her back against the wall. Squeezing her eyes shut, she held her hands to her face, unable to hold back the tears any longer. For a few minutes, she was going to wallow in self-pity, and Scott Kincaid be damned for his comment.
After a few minutes, Amber wiped her hands under her eyes, then pushed away from the wall and stood in front of the sink. She turned on the faucet and cupped her hands under the running water, splashing it onto her face. The water was nice and cold against her cheeks, sending a slight shiver down her spine. A stranger stared back at her when she raised her eyes to the mirror.
“It’s time to do something,” she whispered to her reflection. “Ashley may think she can talk me out of it, but I can’t keep going like this.”
Scott’s grin haunted her, along with the lively sparkle in his eyes. He’d fallen off his bike, scuffed himself pretty badly, yet he hadn’t said a word of complaint about it. He may be a jerk, but he was an optimistic jerk. He’d simply gotten back on his feet and taken his mishap in stride.
Timeless Bond (Timeless Hearts Book 8) Page 2
