Page 18 of Ride Me

Regrets wrack my body and flood my mind. I should have taken Bowen’s face in my hands and promised him that he is the only man I want in my life. I should have told him that he and I are so much more than just fun. I shouldn’t have played with fire when I felt the spark between us from the moment we met.

My eyelids grow heavy as the sun comes up and I finally give in to the sleep I desperately need. Tomorrow I’m going to have to throw everything I’ve got at fixing things with Bowen.

CHAPTER 11

BOOTS AND BITCHING PODCAST

Well,well, well. And I do mean well. As in, it’s drier than a preacher’s handshake out here, y’all. I stepped outside this morning, and I swear the devil himself was sittin’ on my porch, fanning himself with a church bulletin and askin’ for a glass of ice water.

But let me tell you, there’s one place in town you don’t want to bother stopping by for a sip… and that’s Kingridge Ranch.

Now, I don’t mean to gossip. Okay, that’s a damn lie. I absolutely do mean to gossip, because this here is the Boots and Bitching Podcast, where we sip the tea, spill the tea, and occasionally drown ourselves in it. And speaking of drowning—or the lack thereof—Kingridge Ranch ain’t got so much as a trickle to its name.

That’s right, folks. While the rest of us are gettin’ by with a little water rationing, praying our hydrangeas don’t shrivel up like Aunt Patty’s Sunday roast, Kingridge’s well done went and gave up the ghost. Zip. Zilch. Zero. The place is bone dry.

Now, if this had happened in, say, December? That’d be one thing. But in the middle of a Texas summer? With the Southern Knights Football team in town? Lord have mercy.

The NFL team came to Sagebrush Creek of all places. If they were expecting a taste of small-town hospitality, they had another thing coming. I’m talking no showers and a whole lotta dust out in those VIP suites.

And before y’all go blamin’ Mother Nature, word around town is, this ain’t exactly an act of God. Nope, rumor has it that someone shut that water off on purpose. And if that ain’t the most desperate, schemin’, bless-your-heart move I ever heard, then I don’t know what is.

Now, maybe it’s part of the city-wide conservation effort. Maybe somebody forgot to pay the water bill. Or maybe—and this is just a hypothetical, for my legal team’s sake—Kingridge is broke. Like, ‘turn off the lights and hope nobody notices’ broke. Like, ‘serving powdered eggs and calling it gourmet’ broke.

But that just don’t sit right with me. I’ve been around far too long to buy that Pa Kingridge gambled his ranch away.

Hear me out here, maybe this has somethin’ to do with that new fella in charge. Word is, Danner is real big on conservation—y’all know, reducing, reusing, and all that jazz. Now, I respect a good effort to save the planet as much as the next gal, but listen. This is real Texas, honey. We keep that kinda thinking in Austin.

And the worst part? The Kingridge boys are tryin’ to keep it hush-hush. But let’s be real—you can’t hide an entire town suddenly smelling like they’ve been campin’ out for a month straight. Not when folks have noses, and definitely not when the Southern Knights media frenzy is sniffing around.

Speaking of football royalty, there were fireworks last night at the ranch. But to understand what happened, we have to talk about why the team is even here in Sagebrush Creek. It ain’t exactly on their usual circuit. Could it have something to do with a certain new marketing director? Oh, hi, Priya Platt—youdidn’t think we’d connect those dots? I gave you time to come clean, but honey, the jig is up.

Girl, we know your daddy bankrolls the team. We know he pulled some strings to land you that cushy position out at the ranch. And let’s not pretend it’s outta the realm of possibility that he slipped a little incentive Bowen Kingridge’s way too. Because how else do we explain his sudden change of heart? A man like Bowen doesn’t just wake up one day and decide to rewrite his entire playbook.

But Priya, that isn’t even the real secret, is it?

No girl, the real tea is about the heart you stomped all over before you waltzed into Bowen’s world. You might be keepin’ quiet, but Gunner? Oh, sugar, he sings like a canary. It’s a miracle the man can still throw a football after the way you left him. And rumor has it, the two of you had yourselves a little drought-defying reunion before you made your grand exit the other night.

So tell me Priya, have you gone from breaking America’s Sweetheart quarterback to breaking our small-town royal rancher? I hope not. Here’s the thing, sugar, even your new hair don’t make you a local. We don’t take kindly to heartbreakers around here. Especially not ones who blow into town with a silver spoon and daddy’s checkbook.

Now, I’m nothing if not fair. I know there’s a chance I might have gotten things wrong, rumors being what they are. If you wanna clear things up, just spread the word out at the ranch. I’ll hear about it. And who knows? Maybe I’ll even give you a little airtime of your own.

But, credit where it’s due, those Kingridge folks sure do keep things entertaining. And personally? I’m grateful. This podcast wouldn’t be nearly as much fun without their creative attempts at keeping the town afloat, figuratively speaking, of course.

So what do y’all think? Did Kingridge bite off more than they could chew, or is there somethin’ even juicier behind this dry spell? Call in, send a message, or hell, just yell it across the county line. I’ll hear you.

Till next time, keep your boots dusty and your tea sweet. And remember, I’m always watchin’. Your favorite bitch with boots on the ground.

CHAPTER 12

BOWEN

I slam my laptop closed.There’s a reason I don’t listen to that damn podcast. The coward behind the robot voice has made a full career out of talking shit about my family. But I hardly slept and when I woke up before the sun, something told me to tune in.

The visit from a professional football team, the mayor cutting off our water… I knew the gossip would be too good to resist. But I didn’t expect them to drag Priya into it and I’m fucking furious.

I don’t know who the host is, but I’m about ready to find out. Hearing Priya’s name on that show sent me down a rabbit hole I never intended to go down. One episode turned into two, into three. Before I knew it, I’d listened to more hours ofBoots and Bitchingthan any sane person ever should.

But maybe that’s the point. Because the more I listen, the more the plan starts forming in my mind. One piece at a time, clicking into place. And when it’s all there, clear and sharp, I know exactly what I have to do.

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