Page 66 of Burn the Wild

Beside me, Ford stretches out in his seat. Fire licks my body as his elbow sweeps mine. “No trouble,” he tells his brother. “Solved it.”

Davis watches Ford with an indecipherable expression. “I can see that.” He sounds skeptical.

Ford flexes his hand, pride in his voice. “It’s been a while since I busted some knuckles.”

“Could have let me come along,” Wyatt grumps.

Davis crosses his arm, causing his muscles to bulge. “This summer isn’t about trouble. It’s about staying the course.”

Trouble. He’s looking at me.

Fallon flaps her napkin at Davis. “Boo. Boring.”

My gaze falls to Ford’s busted knuckles.

My fault.

Guilt crests over me. I refill my glass again, blinking when I realize the wine’s almost gone. I look up to find Charlie studying me over his beer bottle.

Something hot and molten courses through my veins.

I’m nothing but trouble. I’m not worth it. I never have been.

Part of the problem is Ford Montgomery. He’s a nice guy. Too nice. I barely know him, and I feel closer to him than any member of my glam squad or even Gavin.

It’s dangerous being around him. I came to the ranch to rest and be alone, not hang out with this mechanic-slash-cowboy. Getting close is not an option. He doesn’t need to know anything about me other than Reese Austin, a country superstar.

The real me is too real. Too many secrets.

As if hearing my inside thoughts and deciding to throw a wrench into the mix, Stede glances at me. “You were in the western, right, sweetheart?Hell or High Water?”

Oh no.

My stomach sinks. The last thing I want to do is talk about that movie. But politeness wins out, so I say, “I was.”

Stede grins. He’s a handsome old man with hazel eyes that mirror Fallon’s. “I knew the trainer who worked with her on it,” he tells the table. “We rode together back in Deadwood.”

Fallon perks up. “You know how to ride, Reese?”

“No,” I reply softly. “It was a long time ago.”

“Sure, you do,” Charlie says, a grin on his bearded face. “That rooftop horse scene?” He whistles. “You jumped into that pool like a pro.”

My heart races. Too many bad memories.

That ice-cold pool.

Being so exhausted that I could barely stand up, let alone act.

Gavin taking my wrists and a length of leather. Saying, “Let me help you.”

“Hell yeah,” Wyatt says. “If you want to ride on the ranch, you say the word. I’ll saddle up—”

“No,” I suddenly snap. “I fucking hate horses.”

Silence.

Shit.

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