Broken

Broken Copyright © 2019 by Cora York. All Rights Reserved.
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 permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Cover designed by Cora York
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cora York
Visit my website at www.corayork.com
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing: September 2019


Broken
Cora York
Forever from First Sight


CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
About the Author


Chapter One
Colt
I scrubbed my hands over my face and yawned.
The lunch rush had ended a while ago, but in another few hours, every seat and empty space in the bar would be filled again.
Before the craziness kicked off, I took the opportunity to sit in my office and finish up some paperwork. Not my favorite thing to do but the cold beer in my hand sure helped.
Sooner or later, working sixteen plus hours every day of the week would catch up with me, but as my mom liked to say, “No rest for the wicked, son.”
Wicked? Chance would be a fine thing. It’d been longer than a month of Sundays since I’d had the time to date, never mind do anything wicked.
Thank God for hot showers, a steady hand, and a dirty imagination.
Some nights I would give my right arm to go upstairs to a beautiful woman warming my bed. But no woman would put up with coming second to my bar.
There was no room in my life for love or commitment. Been there. Done that. Promised myself never again.
Work came first. If I wanted The Strangled Cat to remain the hottest goddamn honky-tonk in Music City, then I’d do what I had to do, even if that meant staying single.
Every up-and-coming country singer and songwriter with stars in their eyes begged to sing on my sawdust-covered stage. Some even offered to work for no pay just for the chance to perform on open-mic night.
The clientele that hung around here were as rough as old barn nails and could bring a new singer to tears before they’d strummed a chord on their guitar.
Skin tougher than buffalo rawhide was needed to stand on my stage, but once you proved yourself, contracts, records, and radio play often followed.
More than a handful of stars had gotten their start slinging beers for me and singing songs to rednecks, tourists, and cowboys. There was one in particular I didn’t like to think about. I was mostly over her betrayal, but sometimes the memory kicked harder than a horse’s hoof.
I leaned back in my swivel chair and watched the security monitors to see who was coming and going. July meant tourist season was in full swing, which also meant I’d had to hire extra doormen for when things got rowdy and out of control. A fight could break out in a heartbeat, even in a quiet bar.
Lucas, my bar manager, shot the shit with some local barflies. Lauren and Dixie, two of my servers, waited on tables, while Smithy, one of my newer doormen, flirted with a cute girl. A few songwriters sat in the corner brainstorming and scribbling down lyrics.
The front door swung open, and the second I saw her, I moved closer to the screens. Whoever she was, she was new in town. My dick would have remembered if I’d laid eyes on her before because she was hotter than a tin roof in the middle of an August heatwave.
Everything from her beat-up cowboy boots to the Gibson slung over her shoulder screamed wannabe. Strange that she didn’t have a case to protect her guitar. From what I could see, it was a vintage acoustic, older than the one gathering dust on top of my filing cabinets and would cost thousands to buy nowadays.
Black, wavy hair hung past her elbows, a white shirt gave a tasty glimpse of her large breasts, and a pair of jeans ripped to shreds showed toned legs and a round ass.
While her posture and how she strutted across the scratched hardwoods appeared confident, the way she rolled her lips between her teeth showed she was anything but.
That one nervous gesture took me back in time. A place I only went to when I’d had too much whiskey.
Five years ago, a sexy little singer had marched into my life and pretty much stood on the same spot, rolling her lips between her teeth the same way. Three years after that, she marched out of my life. Two years later, I was still single.
Since then, one-night stands had suited me just fine. Rock bottom at Heartbreak Hotel wasn’t a place I planned to visit ever again.
I’d helped my ex make it big, but once she signed a recording and publishing deal, she erased me and our relationship from her history and created an all-American girl next door narrative.
Bitterness seeped into my mouth. The last person I wanted to think about was Montana Chambers. To wash the bad taste and the memories away, I gulped down the rest of my beer.
The wannabe adjusted her guitar strap, took a deep breath, and strode up to the bar, where she said something to Lucas. He shook his head, and her shoulders sagged. She turned toward the door to leave, but hell no, she wasn’t going anywhere.
Curvy women carrying guitars