Rode Hard: Roadside Attractions Book Five Read online

  Copyright © 2021 by Abby Knox

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is coincidental.

  Edited by Aquila Editing

  Cover Designer: Mayhem Cover Creations

  Rode Hard

  Roadside Attractions Book Five

  Abby Knox

  Summary

  Rebecca

  Everyone thinks they know me: nice, kind, reliable Becky. The quiet single woman who spends her time running the town’s Bookmobile and serving the public on the town council. Not to mention coping with the demands of a well-meaning but overbearing family.

  They don’t know the real me. Heck, they don’t even hear me when I say I prefer to be called Rebecca, not Becky.

  The interesting man I recently met online promises to change all of that. When he rolls up to Friendsgiving on his motorcycle and stakes his claim in front of the entire town, there’s no going back to the life I led before.

  Donovan

  I knew her before I even met her.

  Rebecca may live across the country, but she’s mine. We belong together, and nothing, not even distance is going to keep us apart.

  It may seem crazy to hop on my motorcycle and drive over several state lines to attend a Friendsgiving dinner with a stranger, in a tiny town I’ve never heard of. Rebecca is not a stranger, though. Our souls know each other already.

  When I arrive in Fate, I can see she’s just as warm and perfect for me as I believed she would be. The only problem is, lots of other people are getting in the way. Rebecca is a woman with too many responsibilities, who is too kind to say no to the needs of her community.

  I plan on spending my life taking care of the woman who spends too much time taking care of everyone else.

  About the series:

  All is not lost when you break down by the side of the road, especially if you break down anywhere near the town of Fate. Who might you meet first? Will it be a grumpy tow truck driver? A bored sheriff with too much time on his hands? A bar man whose clumsy meet-cute ends with spilled beer all over your knitting project? Never fear, because high-heat, insta-love, small-town romances and happily ever afters await you! Come for the cherry pie, and stay to shake hands with the mayor (the only truly good boy in town.) 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

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  More by Abby Knox

  Chapter One

  Donovan

  A thousand-mile trip is nothing as long as Rebecca is at the end of it.

  I knew the second she matched with me that I needed to get to her as quickly as I could.

  It rained in Toledo. Hailed in Columbus. Cincinnati was a traffic nightmare.

  I’m so close.

  I know I’ll have to come clean about a few things when we meet.

  I didn’t come to meet her ahead of a business trip to Gold Hill. I made that up. I knew if I told her I was dropping everything to bike cross country, she might think I was a psycho.

  But the truth is, I gave up everything I thought made me happy and came all this way to meet the love of my life.

  Before I started chatting with Rebecca online, I was a different person. I was a man who had seen how my dad treated my mother, and I never wanted to allow myself to be that person.

  My mom is happy now. But she’s been encouraging me to date. I had a feeling about Rebecca the second I saw her dating profile. And not in the same way that usual creeps on the internet say they “have a feeling about you.”

  Right away, she got to me with her funny comments, constant apologies for autocorrect, and the way she typed out “snort” when laughing at my stupid jokes.

  That’s how she sucked me in. She made me adore her when she shared her life story, talked about growing up in something called a “holler” with her siblings, dozens of first cousins, and the loudest holiday gatherings ever known to mankind.

  The second she told me she runs the Bookmobile out of her Winnebago in a tiny town of 500 people, serves on the city council, volunteers for every damn thing everybody ever asks her to do, but really wants to quit all of that to start a family, I knew I needed to meet her and fuck the living daylights out of her. Not because I admire her civic spirit but because the lady clearly needs a break. And the librarian thing gave me an instant stiffy.

  When Rebecca shared her hopes to become a wife and a mother someday, saying, “But I’m 35, and I don’t know if it’s in the cards for me,” I nearly lost it.

  “My mom had me at 40, don’t sell yourself short,” I’d informed her, all the time thinking, plotting, scheming about how quickly I could get to Rebecca to put a ring on it.

  Not for nothing, I’m a sucker for her looks, too. The brown hair/blue eyes combo with freckles, plus the sexy cat-eye glasses. Let’s just say I’ll never forget what I felt the first time she emailed me her photo.

  Before I knew what she looked like, I knew she was my girl.

  The photo itself put me into a trance. Insta-boner? Perma-boner? Sure. But also, I’ve felt like I’ve woken up to my destiny.

  When Rebecca invited me to a Fate Friendsgiving, l knew I could not pass up my chance.

  My mom was understanding about my choice. I feel she and her partner were relieved that I wanted to be around other people besides them, for once.

  The more I shorten the distance between me and Rebecca, the more I can feel my new life about to begin.

  The billboards for Fate make me chuckle. “Find your Fate: exit two miles.” “Discover the Curiosity Spot. (New expanded gift shop!).” And also “Ruby’s Diner: Appalachia’s best homemade pies.” And finally, “Visit the World’s Largest Ball of Yarn!”

  Well. Looks to me like Rebecca undersold me on this town because all of this sounds awesome to me.

  I drive by the famous Ruby’s, ignoring the growling in my stomach. In another quarter of a mile, I pass by a downtown square that looks like it’s seen better days. However, there’s been a concerted effort to decorate the hell out of it to make the storefronts appear less empty.

  And there it is. My Other Brother Ben’s Brewery, where I am promised smoked turkey and a date with Rebecca. I’m not leaving without one of those, and I am ambivalent about turkey.

  Inside the bar, the place bustles with activity, and my stomach jumps in anxious jitters. People are dancing, drinking, eating, shooting pool, and making out in dark corners. I don’t want to stare at that too long; it makes my chest hurt every second that I’m not yet making contact with Rebecca.

  Glancing around for my brown-haired, blue-eyed beauty, I don’t see her anywhere. So, there’s nothing to do but shout her name.

  Because why send a text when you can make an ass of yourself?

  Chapter Two

  Re
becca

  We’re all dropping like flies.

  I think there’s something in the water in Fate.

  I sip my espresso martini and snuggle deeper into my favorite cardigan, and try not to stare. If I’m being stood up, at least I’ll be both fucked up and wired enough to stay up all night working on my various projects for the town.

  I sigh, almost audibly. I don’t want people to know how annoying they are, but damn. So many couples!

  It’s like they all caught some kind of love potion and started humping and marrying and having babies.

  Me? I’m not much interested in a relationship. Humping? I wouldn’t mind it.

  But the prospects here in Fate are becoming slimmer by the day.

  Rex and Juniper are pretty much mauling each other on the dance floor. I graduated high school with Rex, and honestly, I could not imagine being attracted to him.

  But watching the way those two lovers move together makes me wish I had someone to come home to. The colder weather always does that to me.

  “Another round, please?”

  I look over and see the other fella I work with on city business. Danny’s waving down Ben for a refill for a couple of beer pitchers. Izzy and Danny met a couple of years back at the debut of the World’s Biggest Ball of Yarn. Everyone was surprised because Izzy works for our rival city of Gold Hill (assholes, all of ‘em, except for Izzy, I guess). The two of them got into a massive argument in public when they first met.

  Izzy turns to me and smiles, her fire-engine red lipstick and perfect winged eyeliner slaying everyone in the room. “Whatcha drinking, hon?”

  I tell her, and she orders me another.

  “Another one for Becky, thanks, Ben.”

  My name is Rebecca, but nobody calls me that. I don’t blame Izzy; she’s not from here, so she doesn’t know any better.

  Ben isn’t from here either, so of course, he says, “Here you go, Becky,” as he slides my second espresso martini across the bar toward me with a fresh napkin.

  I can’t be mad at him or Billie Jane either. Those two got together a month after Izzy and Danny did. It was a bizarre coincidental run-in after knowing each other in school about ten years earlier. Tonight, Billie Jane sits at the end of the bar, knitting a baby blanket that’s draped over her swollen belly.

  How do I know all of these annoying facts? Because this is a town of 500 people and nobody has anything else to talk about.

  Me personally? I’ve come to terms at 35 that I might never have kids. I might like kids if I found the right partner, but it’s not looking promising. It’s really not fair that men can procreate until the day they drop dead, but we women are given a stupidly small window of time. Especially if one wants to focus on one’s career.

  Case in point? Another local specimen: Silent Doyle. He didn’t meet Maya until he was 35, and they had their first kid at 37. Maya’s fifteen years younger.

  I’m the only town council member left who’s single unless you count Ernestine, an 85-year-old widow. Which, you never know about Ernestine. She keeps everything locked down pretty tightly.

  Izzy nudges me. “So, Danny tells me he’s pretty excited about the plans for a permanent structure and a gift shop for the big ball of yarn. Can’t say I can blame him for copying my fair city on that idea.”

  I really do not want to talk shop tonight, but Izzy’s a nice person and well-meaning.

  “Right,” I say. “Well, it’s got to have shelter because keeping wool outside in this climate is totally unsustainable and—“

  And that’s all the words I get out before Ruby squeezes in at the bar, on my other side. “Honey, we single gals gotta stick together, am I right?”

  God bless the diner owner. When she’s not feeding all of us at her own restaurant, I think she’s personally responsible for making sure Ben’s bar is fully stocked with rosé. Her eyes are glassy, cheeks are rosy, and her words a teeny bit slurry.

  I nod my head. “I wouldn’t even be here tonight except that I’m supposed to be meeting a date.”

  Ruby’s jaw drops. “Are you serious?”

  “I met him on one of those swipe left/swipe right apps that—“

  But Ruby interrupts again, launching into a whole story about something I do not want to hear. “Oh, girl, let me tell you. I swiped onto this guy; well, he looked like an absolute dreamboat. And I’m not kidding; he had a ten-inch cock. I rode it all weekend long, and then I never heard from him again, and thank god! As soon as they start talking and swooning and following me around, they make my life miserable. Anyway, the internet is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Good luck to you, sweetie. You go get yourself properly laid. I’m rooting for you.”

  I’m trying hard not to blush, but then she raises her wine glass and shouts, “To Becky getting laid tonight!”

  Cardigans come in handy for times such as these. I literally cover my face with it and rest my forehead on the bar, hoping everyone forgets that I’m here.

  Through my muffled ears, I hear, “Rebecca!”

  I think for a second that everyone is joining in this mortifying toast, but then I realize that’s not the case. Nobody calls me Rebecca.

  No one, except…

  Oh. My. God.

  “Rebecca!”

  The shouting jerks me out of my head so violently that I slide off my chair and stumble.

  Straight into the flannel-covered stone wall of him. It’s blue and red and ribboned with gray and so very soft. I know this because my face has crashed right into it.

  Donovan.

  He came. He came!

  A mousy “Hi,” is all I can muster.

  “Wow.”

  Did I say wow, or did he? Because my eyes travel up and over the sheer acreage of him, and that’s the word that comes to mind.

  “Wow,” he repeats.

  Wow, what? I wonder, my fingernail going to my teeth to remove whatever piece of food he must be staring at in horror.

  But he’s not horrified. He’s smiling.

  My eyes keep going up and up—I don’t think I took a moment to calculate how tall he would be. I know in his dating profile he said he was six foot four, but to actually do the math…oh my.

  That face. Holy angels in heaven, it’s really him. I should have prepared myself by letting him FaceTime with me because I am not ready. My body is not ready.

  Nor is my heart.

  Nor is my mouth, which has gone dry in the presence of eyes the color of milk chocolate. His dark hair, cropped short and parted to the side, accents a set of cheekbones that supermodels have been known to achieve only by plastic surgery.

  “You good? You need some air?”

  And that voice. I didn’t know what to expect, but it’s low and slow like honey, and I want to feel it drip all over me.

  I squeak in a most undignified voice. “Don-Donovan? You came?”

  He laughs. God, that smile. It’s one of those easy grins. How does he just do that?

  And yet, I’m smiling, too. We’re both smiling at each other like two dopes.

  “I can’t believe you came,” I repeat.

  His shiny dark brown eyebrows come together, and for the briefest second, I think I’m about to receive bad news. This is the face that people make right before they flake out on me. His dog is sick. He can’t stay long because something came up at work.

  I know it’s coming because I’m not the looker he thought I was from my photos. Sure, we chatted and emailed back and forth every day for a month and exchanged photos, but something about me is wrong. That’s how these dates usually go.

  I actually had one guy accuse me of being shorter than advertised. I had to go back and check my profile and make sure I was not misrepresenting myself. But no, I had told the truth.

  So I suck in a deep breath and wait for the shoe to drop.

  But it doesn’t. Instead, Donovan’s hand, which steadies me, slides up to my shoulder and squeezes.

  He says, “I said I would come, and no
w I’m here. Did I give you any reason to doubt that I would?”

  Donovan speaks with the seriousness of a secret service agent. No bullshit. With a heavy blue-collar New England accent. My knees might give out.

  I shake my head because my throat has closed up. Idiot, do not show emotion on a first date. Chill, Rebecca. Chill.

  And do I follow my own advice? Of course not.

  What I do is pinch him.

  Yes, that’s right. I pinch Donovan right in the fleshy part of his arm.

  “You’re real,” I say, in the breathy voice that comes out of nowhere.

  Why am I so cringe? I can hear my sister saying it right now if she were here.

  Something in Donovan’s expression changes, and he lets go of my shoulder. Just then, my favorite song comes on the jukebox.

  My eyes light up, and he smiles.

  He does that cool guy gesture with his head, signaling that he wants to dance.

  He wants to dance with me.

  I accept his offered hand, and he guides me to the back door that leads out to a lit patio. November nights in the South could go either way—freezing or boiling. Tonight, it just so happens to be perfect, clear, and breezy.

  Am I in a fairy tale?

  By showing up in Fate, Donovan owns the title of the hottest man who ever walked in three counties, and he is dancing with me. Me! Bookmobile Becky. Trailer Park Becky from Flutter Holler. Spinster Becky. Becky, the city councilwoman, who talks too much and puts everyone to sleep with her persistent questions, is dancing with effortlessly the most scrumptious specimen of a man in this bar. In front of everyone in town.

  I’ll be petty about that later. When this works out to something more, if it works out to something more, I’ll take the time to rub it in their faces. But let’s be honest; I’d never do that.