A Cowboy At Heart. Angel Smits

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       CHAPTER ONE

      OLD PEOPLE DIDN’T tend to barhop, at least not in Trey Haymaker’s experience. They tended to find a barstool and plant their backside on it for the duration of their stay. This afternoon, one of the three regulars took up space along the polished wood, which meant the other two couldn’t be far behind.

      “What can I getcha, Win?” Trey asked the skinny septuagenarian parked on the corner stool. Winston Ross was one of the few people Trey had known before moving here. The old man owned the cabin up in the mountains outside town that Trey, and his grandfather, had frequented over the years.

      Those memories had made Trey reluctant to contact the man when he’d first arrived in Telluride. He hadn’t been sure he wanted to face the past, the pain that always came with the reminder of his grandfather’s betrayal. But fate had had other plans when she’d given Trey a job in the very bar that Win frequented.

      Funny how small towns worked like that.

      Looking at Win now—his weathered face, his stooped shoulders, his dimmed blue eyes—Trey saw time’s evidence.

      Win had grown up here in Telluride, in the center of the Colorado mountains. He’d been a boy before the ski boom, before the old mining town had grown into nearly a city. Trey remembered hearing stories about how Win’s dad had run the gas station, and how in high school, Win’d started working there. Win’s knack for fixing a car had been the secret to not just working for his dad at the station, but to eventually becoming a partner, and ultimately the owner. Townsfolk and tourists alike had kept him in business for years.

      Today, though, the old gas station was long gone, and a convenience store stood on that prime СКАЧАТЬ