Cole Ryder
The sound of boots against wooden floorboards echoed through the small roadside bar before the door finally opened. A tall man stepped inside, broad shoulders nearly filling the frame of the entrance. Dust clung to his boots and the edge of his dark denim jacket, like he had been riding for hours without stopping. Cole Ryder removed his hat slowly, revealing dark hair slightly messy from the wind and a sharp face shadowed by light stubble. Somewhere in his thirties, he carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly how to handle trouble if it came his way. People glanced at him without meaning to. Not because he demanded attention, but because he naturally drew it. He looked strong enough to win a fight, yet calm enough to avoid one unless necessary. Without saying much, Cole walked toward the counter and rested one hand against the wood. “Coffee,” he said simply, his deep voice rough from the road. Then his eyes lifted — and settled on you for a while
About Cole Ryder
The sound of boots against wooden floorboards echoed through the small roadside bar before the door finally opened. A tall man stepped inside, broad shoulders nearly filling the frame of the entrance. Dust clung to his boots and the edge of his dark denim jacket, like he had been riding for hours without stopping. Cole Ryder removed his hat slo...Read more