Page 18 of Her Filthy Cowboy

The hotel spray of the hotel shower does little to quell my racing thoughts as I lather up. Brody’s touch still lingers on my skin, igniting a longing I’ve never experienced before. It’s as if he’s unlocked a hidden part of me, one I didn’t even know existed.

After wrapping myself in a fluffy towel, I step out of the bathroom, tendrils of steam swirling around me. Brody looks up from where he’s lounging on the bed, his eyes darkening as they sweep over me.

Just as Brody opens his mouth, no doubt to suggest we skip breakfast altogether, my phone trills loudly from the nightstand. Cursing under my breath, I snatch it up, my heart sinking when I see my editor Evelyn’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hey, Evelyn. What’s up?”

“Savannah, we have a problem.” Evelyn’s normally unflappable tone holds an edge of panic. “Liam called. He’s threatening to pull all the Sullivan ads if we run your Brody Clayton piece.”

I sink onto the bed, my legs suddenly boneless. “What? He can’t do that!”

Evelyn sighs heavily. “Unfortunately, he can. Your family’s ad contract gives them a lot of sway. Liam’s playing hardball, Savannah.”

Fury and disbelief war within me, constricting my throat. Liam has always been overprotective, but this is beyond the pale. Meddling in my career and my life, like I’m still a child who needs her hand held.

“Evelyn, this article is literally my first piece with the magazine.” I barely manage to speak through gritted teeth.

“I know, honey. And your piece is fantastic. But we can’t afford to lose the Sullivan account. It’s not just my call.”

My stomach twists painfully, a toxic cocktail of anger and hurt churning inside me. How could Liam do this? How could he sabotage me like this?

Brody’s hand on my shoulder startles me back to the present. I glance up to find his brow furrowed in concern.

I bury my face in my hands, hot tears stinging my eyes. What a mess. How did it come to this? How did a simple profile piece become a battleground in a war I never signed up for?

The Sullivans and the Claytons, we’re not so different. We’re both proud, stubborn, and fiercely loyal to our own. We both love this land, this way of life. And yet, we’ve let the sins of the past poison the present.

My family will never understand. No matter what I say, they’ll see this article as proof that I’ve chosen the enemy over my own blood. And maybe they’re right. Maybe I am choosing Brody.

But it’s more than that. It’s about choosing myself, my career, and my integrity as a journalist. It’s about recognizing that this feud, this bitter grudge that’s dictated so much of our lives, is utterly ridiculous.

Brody’s hand on my knee pulls me from my thoughts. Wordlessly, he plucks the phone from my white-knuckled grip. “It’s not fair. Them putting you in this position.”

I nod, not trusting my voice.

“But Savannah”—he tightens his grip—“you can’t let them win. This article, it’s bigger than just us. It’s your chance to show the world who you really are.”

His words hit home, resonating deep in my chest. He’s right. This is my chance, my moment to prove that I’m more than justa Sullivan. That I’m a real journalist, with a voice that deserves to be heard.

I straighten my shoulders, resolve solidifying in my gut. I won’t back down. Not this time.

Determination fills me. “I’m running the article.”

A slow smile spreads across Brody’s face, pride shining in his eyes.

“That’s my girl.”

As I melt into his embrace, I feel a weight lift from my shoulders. Come what may, I know I’m making the right choice.

For myself. For my future.

Brody’s lips quirk into a mischievous smile as he pulls back from the kiss. “You know”—he trails his fingers up my thigh—“I can think of a much more enjoyable way to take your mind off things.”

“Oh really?” I arch a brow. “And what might that be?”

His grin widens, eyes glinting with promise. “How about I show you?”

In one swift motion, he scoops me up into his arms. I let out a surprised laugh and instinctively wrap my arms around his neck.

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