Misadventures with a Country Boy
Elizabeth Hayley
This book is an original publication of Waterhouse Press.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.
Copyright © 2018 Waterhouse Press, LLC
Cover Design by Waterhouse Press
Cover photographs: Shutterstock
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All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
To all of the people who’ve fallen in love with an on-the-run drifter, hopefully your story worked out as well as Cole and Brooke’s will. Enjoy.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Acknowledgments
Don’t miss any Misadventures!
Excerpt from Misadventures of a Curvy Girl
Special Bonus Epilogue
Bonus Epilogue
More Misadventures
About Elizabeth Hayley
Chapter One
Cole squeezed the handle of the gas pump and leaned heavily against the bed of his red Chevy pickup as he took in the scenery—long stretches of farmland and an obvious lack of civilization. It didn’t matter that he was a thousand miles from home. Somehow the Kansas landscape too closely resembled the small Georgia town where he’d grown up.
He sure as hell hadn’t driven eighteen hours straight for a reminder of the place he’d left. Shaking his head slowly, he didn’t know what he’d find in Oregon or any place after it, but he knew it wouldn’t be any place like this. He grabbed the brim of his cap and pulled it farther down to block the sun, and then he closed his eyes. A few more hours and he’d give himself the break he desperately needed and allow himself a night of rest.
He thought back to two years ago when he’d been overseas, wondering how he’d been able to do some of the things that had seemed so easy to him then. Staying awake for days at a time, walking miles with fifty pounds of gear on his back. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the fact that it was his job that had made it all feel so natural.
But now, as he pinched the bridge of his nose and clenched his eyes shut even harder, all of that seemed foreign, like he’d been remembering a movie he’d seen instead of a past he’d lived.
When he felt the gas pump shut off, Cole returned the nozzle to its holder and fastened the gas cap. Then he headed into the convenience store. Coffee from a local gas station wasn’t his first choice, but it would suffice. If he could drink the tar they served in the army, he could certainly tolerate whatever this place offered.
The bell on the glass door jingled at his entrance, but the clerk didn’t look in his direction as Cole headed toward the other side of the store. The middle-aged man seemed busy with another customer at the counter.
Cole poured himself a cup of black coffee and took a sip, wincing when the scalding liquid hit his tongue. He hadn’t expected it to be any hotter than lukewarm. He put the lid on and grabbed a flimsy cardboard sleeve to put around the cup before heading up a nearby aisle. He took his time, enjoying the air conditioning he’d miss as soon as he got back on the road. He grabbed a bag of chips, a protein bar, and an apple on his way to the register. Cole took his place behind the woman who had been there when he’d walked in.
“Isn’t there any other way to do this?” she asked. She whipped her head toward the door as she gestured toward the parking lot, frustration evident in her tone. “You should be happy to sell it.”
The man sitting behind the counter crossed his arms above his round belly, which was covered by a faded white T-shirt, and stared blankly at her. “I’m sorry. I already told you. I can’t sell you a car unless you have ID.”
“But I’ve got money.” The woman reached into the backpack she had slung on her shoulder and took out a wad of cash. She tossed the money onto the counter. “That’s a thousand bucks,” she said. “Just take it. Please.”
Cole wondered if she had more than that. She couldn’t possibly be offering the guy everything she had. If she was, she wasn’t too bright. Money would get her a helluva lot farther than that rusty Honda would.
Cole reached into his back pocket to remove his wallet, getting ready to toss some cash on the counter and head outside, but just as he pulled the money out, the man spoke again.
“Listen, honey, you seem a little new to how the world works. Laws are put in place for a reason. It’s simple. No ID, no car. I can’t transfer the title without it.” Now the man’s palms were on the counter as he used it to push himself up so he towered over her.
The way the man used his size to intimidate a female flipped a switch in Cole he couldn’t shut off. So he slipped the five back into his wallet and waited. The last thing he wanted to do was get involved. He had his own problems to deal with. He didn’t have the desire to deal with someone else’s. But he also couldn’t leave without making sure the woman was okay.
“Fine.” She snatched the wad of cash from the counter and tossed a few dollars at the man to pay for the items she’d brought to the register. Then, after grabbing the bags, she turned abruptly and shoved open the glass door.
After she exited the store, Cole watched her turn left and disappear out of sight. He wondered how she’d even gotten to Kansas. She obviously didn’t have a car. Or at least one that worked. He craned his neck toward the door, hoping to see where she’d gone, but he couldn’t.
“Women.” The man shook his head and rolled his eyes.
Cole paid for his items quickly and left the store. Walking casually to his truck, he glanced back over his shoulder. And that was when he saw her. She was sitting on the concrete, her head buried in her hands as her body slumped in what he identified as defeat.
Cole stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. She rested her head against the store’s worn brick exterior. Her eyes were closed, and her chest rose and fell rapidly. Fingers balled into tight fists, she looked like she was trying to slow her breathing as she took in deep, shaky breaths of humid air.
His conscience urged him to ask her if she was okay, if there was anything he could do to help, but the vibe she emanated wasn’t exactly friendly. Cole wasn’t typically one to ignore his instincts, so he remained rooted to the spot.
He was still debating what to do when the girl opened her eyes, her dark stare pinning him in place before he even had a chance to move. “What?” Her question was simple, but her tone wasn’t. It held the defensiveness he imagined a wounded animal would have were it to speak—as though she were trying to maintain her ferocity even though she was emotionally bleeding out.
“Sorry, I… Are you okay?” He took a few steps toward her and, without taking his eyes off her, pointed to his truck. “You need a ride or somethin’?”
“I need a car, not
a ride.”
Hoping to break the tension a bit, Cole gave her a small smile. “Is there really much of a difference?”
“Yeah. Only one of them involves a stranger.” The wariness on her face seemed out of place. Her look was more high school sweetheart than woman who frequented back-road gas stations. Her tiny stature didn’t help harden her, though the glare she was shooting him did. This girl clearly didn’t want help from some random guy at a gas station. Cole couldn’t say he blamed her.
“Hi. I’m Cole,” he said, extending his hand. “You tell me your name, and then we won’t be strangers anymore.”
She remained silent and gave him a withering look.
“Fine.” He shrugged. “If you’re not gonna tell me your name, I’ll pick one for you.” Cole studied the girl from head to toe. She wore a gray T-shirt with a neck so wide it hung off one shoulder—the kind of T-shirt people paid a hundred dollars for. He would have gladly stretched out one of his shirts for a fraction of that price. She’d paired the overpriced shirt with tight blue jeans and black flats. The way she crossed her arms over her chest and impatiently tapped her foot reminded him of some of the girls from his hometown. Girls who wouldn’t give a guy the time of day if he didn’t drive a flashy car. Back home, a girl like her would have taken one look at a guy like him—his beat-up ride, the dirt under his nails—and acted like a, well… “Let’s go with Princess,” Cole said, a faint smile on his lips.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Not even close.”
“What is it, then?”
Her gaze darted down to a twig beside her. She picked it up and tossed it a few feet away. “Rose,” she said, though she didn’t move to shake his hand. She looked him up and down, her expression making it clear she was still suspicious. “You’re still a stranger.”
Cole retracted his hand and slid it into his back pocket. “So tell me, then. How do I stop being a stranger?” He wasn’t at all sure why he cared. Better judgment should have had him getting into his truck and driving away from this girl’s drama. But his conscience wouldn’t let him.
“You don’t. You think just because we know each other’s names that I should suddenly trust that you won’t kill me later?”
Cole let out a loud laugh. She was funny…he’d give her that. And she was still Princess as far as he was concerned because the name Rose was bullshit. The quirk of her lips and the way she averted her eyes told him she wasn’t being honest. At least he didn’t think so. “You think I might kill you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know that you won’t. Just because you have this whole…charming Southern thing going on”—she gestured up and down Cole’s body with her hand—“doesn’t mean you’re not the next Ted Bundy.”
“You think I’m charming?”
She rolled her eyes and huffed as if the question annoyed her. But Cole knew by the faint flush on her cheeks it hadn’t. “I also said I think you might be the next Ted Bundy.”
“I might also be Prince Charming.”
Princess’s expression softened, and the corners of her lips turned up slightly.
“Is that a smile?”
“No,” she replied. Though he was certain she knew just as well as he did that it was.
“Listen, I’m honestly trying to help. You seem like you’re trying to get someplace, and I’m headed out west but have no specific time I need to be there by, so… But I understand if you don’t want to take a ride from some dude you met at a gas station. It pretty much goes against everything you’ve probably been taught your whole life.”
Cole hesitated for a moment when another truck pulled into the station and a rowdy group of guys poured out of it. He caught one of them eyeing up Princess as he went to talk to his buddy. There was no way in hell he could leave her there. She’d be a breaking-news segment within twenty-four hours if he did. “If it’ll make you feel better, you can text a picture of my license to a friend or somethin’.” Cole reached into his wallet and removed his license for her to take. “You know, in case I decide to do anything that might earn me some jail time.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, as if deciding what to do next, before grabbing and studying his ID closely like she was looking for any information that would help make her decision clear.
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
“That doesn’t really look like you.” She unwrapped an orange Starburst from the pack she held in her hand and popped it into her mouth. She chewed slowly as she twisted the wrapper around her index finger.
“Well, it is. Same guy, different hair,” Cole said, removing his hat to show her his hair. “Normally it’s a little longer, like this.”
She stood and leaned against the building, pressing one foot back on the dusty brick behind her. Tearing the Starburst pack open some more, she held it out to him.
“Thanks,” he said, taking one.
Then she took out another orange one before shoving the pack into her bag and removing her phone. She turned it on and pressed a few buttons.
Cole gestured to the ancient flip phone she was holding. There was no way that was the one she normally carried with her. “Did you teleport here from 2002 or something?”
She stopped fidgeting with the buttons and glanced up at him, her long black lashes framing her deep brown eyes perfectly. “Or something,” she replied. Then she directed her attention back to the phone while Cole waited.
When she was done, she handed his license back to him and slid her phone back into the outside pocket of her backpack. She slung it over her shoulder and eyed him warily. “Okay, Cole Timmons from 116 North Washington Street, Samson, Georgia. I know where you live. And now so does my sister. So don’t do anything crazy.”
Cole raised his hands out to his sides innocently. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Besides,” he added, “I’m not the one with no ID who’s carrying around a burner phone and eating only the orange Starbursts. If one of us is crazy, it’s sure as hell not me.”
She was silent for a moment before pushing off the wall and heading toward Cole’s truck. And this time she didn’t try to hide her smile.
Cole walked to the passenger side and stood in front of it, blocking his new companion from opening the door.
Her eyes shot to his. “What?”
He set his hands on his hips and looked at her with the hard stare he’d learned first from his father and then from the military. “I have one condition for you ridin’ with me.”
She returned his glare, pulling her shoulders back and raising her eyebrows.
“I’m gonna need to know your real name.”
He noticed her body stiffen slightly, her stare piercing his as if she were deciding whether to ask him how he’d known she’d been lying. But she didn’t. At least for now. Instead, she released a long sigh, and some of the tension seemed to slip from her body as she extended a hand. “Brooke.”
He grasped her petite hand in his. “Pleased to meet you, Brooke.”
She smiled but quickly shook her head as if to erase the action. “Can we go now?”
“Sure thing.” Cole pulled the door open for her before walking around the truck and climbing into the driver’s side.
“I hope your Southern twang doesn’t mean you’re going to force me to listen to country music for the entire drive,” Brooke said.
And as he fired up the engine and the voice of Blake Shelton blared through the speakers, he couldn’t help but laugh at the look of pain that flashed across Brooke’s face. He may enjoy having a passenger after all.
Brooke sat in the passenger seat, forcing her muscles to relax and her breathing to stay even. Truth was, she was a fucking wreck. But damned if she’d let the Boy Scout next to her know that. Brooke could do cool, calm, and collected. It was an act she’d perfected after years of having to appear unaffected in a world of cold, manipulative people.
Getting in the car with Cole had been a reckless decision born out of a need to stay on the move. Without any better options, she�
��d had to take the chance and trust a cute guy with a kind smile. At least looking at him wouldn’t be a hardship. The fact he hadn’t recognized her was a big selling point as well. Through his faded red T-shirt and worn jeans, Brooke could make out a solid build that more likely came from hard work than a gym membership. She just hoped he was as nice as he seemed. Despite how many times in her life she’d made the threat in jest, she didn’t actually want to die.
She watched the landscape whip by as they drove. Suddenly, she realized there was an important question she’d neglected to ask. “Where are we going?”
Cole scratched the side of his neck. “Well, I’m heading to Oregon. I guess you’re going wherever you tell me to drop you between here and there.” He flashed her a smile that revealed almost perfect teeth—save for a slightly crooked canine—and dimples.
Of course he has dimples. Brooke surveyed the man as he drove, trying to get a better read on him. She remembered his handshake: solid and strong. Dependable. And his smile was broad and open. He was the kind of guy who made a person want to lean on him. To turn themselves over to him for safekeeping.
But Brooke wasn’t one to fall for that. She’d learned at an early age that the firmer the handshake, the less genuine the intentions. The wider the smile, the more deceitful the lies. She hadn’t only been warned of this truth—she’d seen it, lived it.
She glanced at Cole again. Despite her reticence, she didn’t feel like he was dangerous. And since she had little else to go on, she’d have to settle for trusting her instincts. Otherwise she’d be stuck in Kansas for the foreseeable future. “What’s in Oregon?”
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