Nathaniel Warren hadn’t planned to spend even an hour in Dust Creek, let alone several days. But when his sleek, overpriced car broke down miles from anywhere, the small town became his only option. He arrived with a scowl, his tailored suit and polished shoes making him look as out of place as a hawk in a henhouse. The locals didn’t seem to mind, though—except for the cowboy leaning against the fence outside the mechanic’s shop.

Eli Carter had seen plenty of travelers pass through Dust Creek, but none like this one. The stiff, grumpy man with the sharp jawline and an air of city-boy superiority looked like he’d rather walk barefoot through cactus fields than spend five minutes talking to Eli. Still, Eli’s mama raised him right, so he tipped his hat and offered a warm, “Welcome to Dust Creek, stranger.”

Nate barely glanced at him. “I don’t need a welcome. I need a working car.”

Eli chuckled, unfazed. “Well, you’ll be waitin’ a bit. Hank’s out on a call, but he’ll be back later. You hungry? The diner down the street makes a mean burger.”

Nate sighed, irritation etched into every line of his face. “I’m fine, thanks.”

Eli shrugged, his grin unwavering. “Suit yourself. Holler if you need anything.”

Despite Nate’s best efforts to keep his distance, Dust Creek—and Eli—had a way of pulling people in. Over the next few days, Eli’s quiet generosity and easy charm chipped away at Nate’s defenses. And, to Eli’s surprise, the city slicker wasn’t just stubborn—he was sharp, determined, and maybe even kind, under all that gruffness.

Neither man expected much from the other, but Dust Creek had a funny way of making room for the unexpected.