Page 1 of Cowboy’s Last Stand (His to Protect #1)

M en were tiresome creatures.

Natalie Luna might not have reached this conclusion so early in life if she hadn’t worked as a barmaid at a beer joint in the sleepy little town of Last Chance, Texas.

But she did, every weekend, slinging drinks for local boys who’d never made good and newcomers who’d lost their way.

Last Chance was more of an accidental pit stop than a purposeful destination.

Even the name of the town was cautionary, warning visitors to think twice: Watch out for Last Chance!

You might fall off the end of the earth!

The Night Owl Bar did brisk business despite the lack of tourists or day trippers.

It was a hole-in-the-wall tavern with cold drinks and a warm atmosphere, conveniently located in the center of the historic district.

On busy nights, Natalie earned enough to keep a smile on her face, though it rarely reached her eyes.

Most of her customers were regulars who knew her history and let her be.

Other patrons were just passing through, killing time with a bottle of suds, too wrapped up in their own lives to inquire about hers.

A select few—young, single males on the prowl—didn’t know, or didn’t care, about her past. They pressed their attentions with clumsy come-ons and crude invites, as if her favors were on the menu, next to Lone Star beer and chicken wings.

Billy Hendricks, the most tiresome customer of all, had been relentless lately.

He was a frequent flier at the Night Owl and a constant thorn in her side.

His uncle owned the bar so she couldn’t refuse him service.

Her stomach clenched with unease as she approached his table.

He had pale blond hair, spiked in front, and a braying, barnyard laugh.

She’d already rejected him twice this month. She prayed he wouldn’t go for three.

To her relief, Billy’s attention was fixed on the football game on the big screen.

She served his drink without comment, eager to make a quick escape.

He pounded his fist on the table to celebrate a defensive play, and she took a step backward to avoid his elbow.

The beer bottle she’d just delivered tipped over.

Billy scrambled to save it, which resulted in foam spurting over the rim.

He took a choking swig and grimaced with distaste.

Natalie didn’t smile at the mishap, though it amused her.

She whipped a rag out of her apron to mop up the spill before she moved on.

With guys like Billy in the dating pool, it was no wonder she’d sworn off men.

She’d become a wife at twenty and a mother at twenty-one.

Now, she was a single parent with two part-time jobs and a five-year-old son.

She didn’t fantasize about meeting a nice guy or falling in love again.

She fantasized about one morning per week—just one—to sleep in.

“Are you deaf?” Billy asked. “I said two longnecks. Dos. ”

He held up two fingers in case she needed a visual aid, as well as multiple languages, to understand his order.

Natalie glanced across the table at Billy’s companion, Gabe Luna. Gabe was her cousin by marriage, so they were well acquainted. He was a sweet kid, going nowhere fast. “He can’t drink in here, Billy. You know that.”

Billy’s upper lip curled. “They’re both for me.”

Natalie shook her head and sighed. She wouldn’t ask them to leave, but she wasn’t giving booze to a minor. She had some standards. As she collected empty bottles from the next table, a man she’d never seen before walked into the bar.

It paid to greet customers, so she always watched the door.

This man would have caught her attention under any circumstances, however.

He caught the eye of every woman in the room.

There were three other ladies present at the Owl, and all of their heads turned in unison.

She could practically hear a collective intake of breath.

Because this man wasn’t a typical customer. He wasn’t a typical anything .

To start with, he was taller than average, with broad shoulders that spanned the doorframe.

He wore a straw Cattleman’s hat that added to his height and a Western-style shirt that accentuated his lean physique.

He had dark hair, strong features, and an undeniable presence.

He looked like he’d stepped off the pages of Ranch Life magazine.

Although he was obviously a cowboy, and a stranger to these parts, he was also some kind of traveler.

He was carrying a backpack, a heavy-duty, no-joke hiker’s backpack.

It was an unusual accessory at the Night Owl or anywhere else in Last Chance.

With a dry gulp, Natalie continued her perusal. She noted his alert stance as he scanned the room, cataloging every detail. When his gaze landed on her, the hair at the nape of her neck prickled with awareness. He removed his hat by the brim and held it to his chest as if paying his respects.

Natalie nodded to the stranger, and he nodded back.

Then he shrugged out of his backpack and approached an empty barstool.

Letting out a slow breath, she attempted to regain her composure.

She chalked up her awestruck reaction to the presence of a good-looking man who clearly didn’t belong here.

Hikers were common in Big Bend, where outdoor activities were plentiful.

Lost Lake had some pretty campgrounds as well.

If he’d come from either of those places, he’d wandered far afield.

Billy took advantage of her distraction by rising to his feet and blocking her path. He also captured her elbow, which angered her. He had no right to touch her. It was a chore to keep her tray balanced and pull her arm free at the same time.

“When are you gonna go out with me?” Billy asked.

“I’m not,” she said firmly. “I don’t date customers.”

“You don’t date anyone.”

Natalie couldn’t argue there, so she remained silent. This time, Billy let her go without making a scene. He wasn’t drunk enough to pose a real problem. Later in the evening, she’d have to keep her distance.

Across the room, the handsome cowboy had settled into a barstool.

He turned to watch her as she crossed the space.

She wondered if he’d witnessed the exchange with Billy.

Her cheeks heated, and her pulse kicked up a notch.

She returned to the bar, lifting the hatch.

After placing the empty bottles in the recycling crate, she washed her hands and slid a fresh coaster in front of the stranger. “What can I get you?”

He seemed unprepared for the standard question. “A beer?”

She smiled at his uncertain tone. He was even better looking close-up, with a deep voice that soothed her ears.

She would describe him as rugged, though his face appeared weathered from experience rather than age.

Either way, he was old enough to drink without being carded.

He had fine brown eyes, an angular jawline, and hair as black as ink.

She detected a faint woodsy scent on his clothes, like campfire and pine needles.

After dealing with Billy, this man was a breath of fresh air.

Clearing her throat, she named the three types of beer they had on tap. When he didn’t react to the name brands, she showed him the microbrew menu.

“What do you recommend?” he asked.

She suggested a well-known midgrade lager. It was a solid choice for a man who didn’t drink enough to have a preference.

“Perfect.”

“Would you like it poured into a glass?”

He glanced around the room, where not a single customer drank beer from a glass. “Bottle is fine.”

She popped the top off and set it on the coaster, charmed by his fish-out-of-water vibe. He paid for the drink and left a tip on the bar for her. She collected it with a quick sweep. “You’re not from around here.”

“How can you tell?”

“Your accent,” she said. “And your backpack.”

He took a sip of his beer and seemed pleased with the flavor. “You don’t miss much.”

She wiped down the surface of the bar, though it was already clean. “Are you going on a trip?”

“I just finished one, actually.”

“Oh? Where did you start?”

“Montana.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“You walked all the way here from Montana?” she asked.

“I did.”

“Without stopping?”

“I stopped to sleep at night.”

She stared at him, bewildered. “How long did it take?”

“Four months.”

“Is that some kind of world record?”

He laughed, shaking his head. His teeth were a flash of white against his bronzed complexion. “Not even close.”

Natalie tossed the rag aside. The sound of his rumbling laugh and that deep, masculine voice made her stomach flutter. He had a wolfish grin and dark eyes that gleamed with interest. “You sure about that?”

He nodded easily. “I was on the Continental Divide Trail, a famous long-distance route. The current record is seventy-six days.”

Natalie suspected him of downplaying his athletic feat, which was interesting. Most of the men of Last Chance bragged about their accomplishments. “I didn’t know there was a long-distance trail around here.”

“It goes through New Mexico,” he explained. “From there, I switched over to the Grand Enchantment Trail in Albuquerque. Then I took a detour into Texas.”

She cocked her head to one side. “Why?”

“Why not?” he countered, taking another sip of his beer.

She realized she was prying, which she never did. It was a chore for her to make polite conversation with most customers. He wasn’t her typical customer, however. She wiped her hands on her apron, flustered.

“I guess it seems crazy to you, hiking cross-country.”

“This is Texas,” she said, shrugging. “Everybody’s a little crazy.”

“Even you?”

“Especially me.”