The Cowboy's Destiny. Marin Thomas

He wanted to see how much she actually knew about engines. “This is the first time I’ve had a leaky hose.” His gut tightened at the lie, but he kept a straight face. “Where’s your wrecker?”

      “This way.”

      He followed her behind the building then stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed the vehicle. Holy cow—the thing was a monster and in pristine condition. He watched Destiny climbed into the cab, admiring her athleticism as she hopped onto the running plate, took hold of the bar behind the driver’s seat and hoisted herself into the cab.

      He got in on the passenger side and shut the door. “What year is this?”

      “It’s a 2007 freightliner with a 12,000 pound integrated wheel lift, two 15,000 pound planetary winches and a Mercedes 250 HP engine.” She quirked an eyebrow. “Any more questions?”

      “This machine won’t have a problem towing my Ford.”

      Like a pro, Destiny fired up the wrecker, shifted gear and drove onto Gulch Road.

      “What’s the deal with only three people buried in the cemetery?” he asked when the truck passed the burial ground.

      “Melba says—”

      “Who’s Melba again?”

      “She owns the Flamingo.” Destiny waved at a man standing outside his mobile home next to the motel. “Back before Melba was born and her parents managed the property, there was a woman in town named Maisy Richards and she was engaged to a Victor Candor. Before the wedding took place, a stranger named Antonio Torres showed up in town and fell hard for Maisy.”

      “A love triangle,” Buck said.

      “Victor caught Antonio stealing a kiss from Maisy and threatened to kill him.”

      “Did Antonio go to the police?”

      “No. Antonio waited for Victor to show up at his motel room and when he did, Antonio drew his gun and they shot each other dead.”

      “What happened to Maisy?”

      “She hung herself from the tree that stands in the cemetery. Witnesses say she wanders through town after midnight calling for her lovers.”

      Buck laughed out loud. “That sounds made up.”

      Destiny shrugged.

      “Have you heard Maisy call her beaus?”

      “No, but there’s rumors that people who stayed at the motel after the murders complained about hearing gunshots in the middle of the night.”

      “Interesting.”

      Destiny slowed the wrecker as she navigated a bend in the road.

      Buck was amazed a woman her size handled the truck with such confidence. He’d never met a female quite like Destiny—she was a puzzle he wouldn’t mind solving.

      “What’s the matter?”

      “Nothing,” he said. “Just thinking.”

      “Has anyone ever told you that you look mad when you think?”

      He relaxed his facial muscles. “I don’t get how you can go from being left at the altar to towing my truck without missing a beat. Most girls would be bawling their eyes out and inconsolable.”

      “I’m not most girls.”

      That was for damn sure.

      “I’ve had my share of disappointments and it began early in my life.” Her fingers clenched the steering wheel. “Guess I’ve developed a thick skin.” She slowed the wrecker when she passed the Ford then checked her mirrors and made a U-turn before merging onto the shoulder of the road in front of his truck. “This will only take a minute.”

      No way was he waiting in the cab. He had to see the pint-sized mechanic in action. “Can I help?”

      “Sure.”

      “Tell me what to do.”

      “Stay out of my way.” She lowered the boom arm in the back of the wrecker then attached the wire cable from the tow winch to the front end of his pickup. In less than ten minutes she had his vehicle secured on the flatbed and ready to haul.

      “I’m impressed.” And he meant it. “Where did you learn to drive a wrecker?”

      “Simon Carter. He showed up one night to tow an abandoned car beneath an overpass in Phoenix and found me sleeping inside.”

      “How old were you?”

      “Thirteen.”

      Holy smokes. “Why were you hiding in an abandoned car?”

      Destiny started the engine, and after she pulled onto the road, she said, “I don’t like to talk about my childhood.”

      “That makes two of us.” His comment drew a sharp look from her, but she didn’t prod him for details.

      “Back to my original question, how—”

      She glared at him.

      “You don’t have to tell me about your childhood. I just want to know how you ended up in a broken-down car beneath an overpass.”

      “I hitched a ride into Phoenix with a trucker and he dropped me off there. When Simon found me, he offered to call the police, but I refused, so he took me home with him and fed me.”

      “How old was Simon?”

      “Sixty. Sylvia, his wife, is a sweet lady. She insisted I sleep in their guest bedroom. The next morning I expected social services to pick me up, but Simon and Sylvia said I could live with them until I figured out what my next move was.”

      “Generous people.”

      “Sylvia offered to homeschool me, and when I had free time I went out on calls with Simon in the wrecker.” She shrugged. “After a few months they asked if they could adopt me and I said yes.”

      “How long did you live with the couple?” Buck asked.

      “I was nineteen when Simon died of a heart attack.”

      Even though Destiny showed little emotion, he got the feeling Simon’s death had affected her deeply. “I’m sorry.”

      “Sylvia sold the house and moved to Florida to live with her sister. She gave me Simon’s truck, his tools and a little money. I advertised on Craigslist and made enough cash towing to pay for an apartment and keep gas in the truck.”

      “How did you end up in Lizard Gulch?”

      “I’d been searching for a place to set down roots,” she said.

      “And when you ran across Lizard Gulch, the town shouted Home Sweet Home?”

      “It’s not such a bad place.”

      Buck had a hunch Destiny was looking for another Simon to replace the one she’d lost, and there were plenty of geezers in the desert hideaway to fill the role. “How do you get enough tows in this area to stay in business?”

      “I answer calls for car accidents between here, Kingman and Flagstaff. I average about three tows per month.”

      “How many car repair jobs come along?”

      “I’m lucky if I get one every sixty days and those usually come from referrals.”

      Destiny’s towing business could bring in a lot more money in Tucson, Yuma or Phoenix. It didn’t make sense for her to live in Lizard Gulch.

      “Where are you from?” she asked.

      “Ever heard of Stagecoach? It’s southeast of Yuma.”

      “Sounds like another little town.”

      “It is. My six siblings and I grew up on my grandfather’s