Page 1 of Ride Me

CHAPTER 1

PRIYA

Two WeeksEarlier

“If you’re looking for your next getaway, look no further.” I angle the camera to capture the golden wheat fields stretching into the horizon.

There’s no shortage of amazing backdrops at Kingridge Ranch. It’s like something from an old-fashioned movie. I’ve never been anywhere like it. If I wanted to disappear from the real world for a while, this is definitely the place to do it. I hold up my phone. The late afternoon sun bathes everything in a warm glow, the kind of picture-perfect moment that travel bloggers dream of.

Then, I switch back to selfie mode, flashing a confident smile. “Visit Kingridge Ranch and bring the whole family because at—aaahh!”

Out of nowhere, a furious blur of feathers and talons charges straight at me.

“Hey! What the—? Get out of here!” I flail my free hand, trying to shoo the attacker away.

But the rooster is an infuriatingly aggressive mass of beady-eyed determination. He flaps his wings wildly at me, puffing up like he owns the place. It puts me on edge. No matter how muchI wave or stomp my feet, he refuses to back down. I think back to the hundreds of TikTok videos I watched on farm life.

Are you supposed to make eye contact in the event of a chicken attack? Make yourself big? Freeze? Dammit. I don’t remember.

I opt for rationalizing and decide to make my voice calm and steady. “Listen, I’m just here to do my job. I’m not worried about you. You don’t have to worry about me” I declare, standing my ground. “Show some respect and maybe I’ll put you in the marketing video.”

The rooster does not, in fact, show me any respect. Instead, it fluffs its chest once more and launches into a full-on sprint toward me, beak first. His move is half-run and half-flight but all aggression.

The sharp graze of a talon against my shin breaks me. Whatever authority I thought I had vanishes. Nope. I amnotcut out for farm-life combat. With a squeal, I spin on my heels and bolt in the opposite direction.

It’s my first full-on sprint in a long while and I know it isn’t pretty. Thank god there isn’t anyone out here. My carefully curated image as a poised marketing professional is unraveling with every panicked step.

Then witnesses or salvation, or possibly disaster, arrives in the form of a screeching white truck. Gravel spits beneath its massive tires. The truck skids to a sharp halt in front of the barn and kicks up a wall of dust in its wake. The sudden noise startles the rooster just long enough for me to put some much-needed distance between us.

"Dammit, Choke!" A deep, exasperated voice cuts through the chaos as the driver’s side door flies open.

That’s when I see him. A rancher steps out, and for a brief moment, I forget all about the demon rooster.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and effortlessly commanding, the dude moves like he belongs here. It’s like the land itself recognizes him. He has to be a Kingridge. The six brothers who operate this place are the stuff of legends. They have a reputation for breaking hearts by the dozen and now I can see why.

His flannel shirt stretches across a strong chest. His sleeves are rolled up to reveal tanned forearms dusted with just the right amount of roughness. His jawline is chiseled, like something straight out of a country song, and topped with a hint of scruff that makes my stomach dip in a way that has nothing to do with fear.

"You okay?" His voice is rich, smooth, and laced with amusement as he glances from me to the rooster. And judging by the way he’s glaring at my feathery nemesis, he’s not a fan of the chicken either.

"I think so," I manage, still keeping one wary eye on the bird.

"I’m Bowen Kingridge, the operations manager. And that," he nods toward the rooster, "is Choke. You’ll have to excuse him. He’s got big peck energy."

I bite back a nervous smile. "I’d laugh if I weren’t seconds away from being maimed by this damn bird. I’m Priya."

"Priya.” He tilts his head as he rolls my name off his tongue like he’s got all the time in the world. “Priya with no last name?”

I swallow back my nerves.Not one that I’m going to tell you.“I’m Priya, the new marketing director here at the ranch. I was trying to film a promotional video but—" The rooster makes another aggressive pass at me. I dance backward. "Roosters are only territorial when protecting their hens. So I don’t know why he’s so mad."

"Where’d you hear that?" Bowen’s laugh is deep and full like I’m not currently fighting for my life.

Embarrassment washes over me as I shimmy behind a wheel barrel. "I Googled it before taking this job."

"Perfect." He lets out another laugh, unhurried and warm. "Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered." He tips his hat to me in some kind of old-timey move. In any other world, it’d be odd. But on Bowen, the gesture is somehow charming. His grin is lazy and confident. I feel it in every inch of my body. The passenger door of the truck swings open, drawing my attention. Another man steps out.

This one looks like Bowen, only not quite as handsome. That is saying something because I can’t imagine anyone who could hold a candle to him. Together, the pair make a heart-stopping sight, and I suddenly wonder how any woman on this ranch gets a single thing done.

For a fleeting second, the thirty-three-year-old professional in me dissolves into a giddy teenage girl. The reasons I came here, building my career, and proving myself without my family’s connections… they all jumble together and dull just a bit. Because right now, standing breathless in the middle of this ranch, slightly traumatized by poultry, all I can think is…well, damn.

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