Page 6 of Wrangle Me

The way her eyes light up when she talks about the future. That curious, open way she looks at me, like she doesn’t see the wreckage I’ve left behind me. She’s too young. Too sweet. Too untested. And she’s undoing me anyway.

She pulls her knees to her chest and rests her chin on them, turning to me with a slow smile. “I like it out here. I told myself that after realizing everyone I know lied to me growing up, I’dnever trust anything I didn’t have time to learn on my own. But I don’t know, I feel safe… with you.”

I catch her chin and tilt her face to mine. Our fingers tangle, warm and tentative. But the proximity is enough to set my blood roaring in my ears.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” I murmur, and it’s the rawest truth I’ve spoken in years.

Her gaze lifts to meet me. Her eyes are steady and wide open. “You haven’t ruined anything.”

I huff out a shaky breath. “Give me time, darlin’. I ruin things slowly.”

“Maybe I need you to ruin me.”

That’s all it takes.

I move before I can stop myself. I’m gentle, like she might spook if I push too hard. My thumb grazes her cheek, and her lips part just a little, but it’s enough to ruin me.

I kiss her.

My touch is soft at first and careful. It’s just enough to taste her and set a fire raging through me. She leans into me. Her mouth is warm, sweet, and even shy. But her body presses into me, and it makes something snap loose inside of me.

There’s no hope for control now. I deepen it, parting her lips with my tongue. Maisie sighs against me, and her hands slide up my chest. Her touch is hesitant and searching. It’s like she’s not quite sure where to land. So I pull her home. I wrap my arms around her waist, tug her into me until every curve of her fits perfectly against me.

It takes the sound of my brother’s truck crunching up the gravel towards us and every ounce of self-control I can muster to pull away from her. But even three cold showers won’t help me shake off the kiss.

CHAPTER 5

BOOTS AND BITCHING PODCAST

Hey,sugar. It’s me, your favorite anonymous podcaster, here to give you the lowdown on who’s doing what—or let’s be real, who—in Sagebrush Creek. Grab your boots, ‘cause it’s time to get bitching, and honey, I’ve got more than enough sweet tea to spill today.

Now, you didn’t hear it from me, but word around Kingridge Ranch is that one of our own might be cookin’ up the next generation of Kingridge royalty… Or at least they’re going to die trying. Let’s just say, a little cowboy or cowgirl could be one spurred boot closer to inheriting the whole dang empire now that it seems like the Kingridge boys went from hard up to hardly keeping their pants on.

Let’s see which brother decides to cowboy up and claim the risky business before I go naming names…

Meanwhile, over at Sow Much—bless their garden-growing, bee-saving hearts—they’re keeping things plenty fertile. Staff and customers alike, if you catch my drift.

But don’t let all that talk about kale and compost fool you. The real dirt is over at Findlay Farm. Let’s just say they’re not exactly growing what you’d call legal produce. That “cash crop” sprouting out back? Smells a little less like rosemary anda whole lot more like reefer. Sagebrush Creek might be small, but baby, we know what skunky smells like. You better keep that business away from here before the sheriff catches wind of it.

And now for the real bombshell I know all you ladies have been waiting for… Fallon Kingridge is coming home.

That’s right. The elusive football-playing brother of the Kingridge clan is packin’ up his cleats, hitching up his saddle, and ridin’ back into town.

No word yet on what—or who—brought him back, but either his European football contract is up, or this ain’t just a friendly family visit. He’s got history around here, and not all of it’s the kind you send postcards about. If there’s a reason he’s been laying low all this time, you can bet your sweet ass it’s about to catch up with him.

But hold your horses—what’s that rumble in the distance?

Oh, just a highway project being planned straight through the heart of Kingridge land. Mayor Randolph Bellcourt says it’s for the greater good. I say he just wants to slice the ranch in half and teach his ex-wife, Cassidy, a lesson about falling for a rancher. You didn’t hear it from me, but some say he’s set to line his pockets in the process. Public use, my boot-clad ass.

Between that mess and the custody rumors swirling like a dust devil around a certain Kingridge brother, it’s looking more and more like open season on the whole dang family.

Stay tuned, darlins, this place is about to get hotter than a branding iron in July. Until next time, I’ll be here watching. Your bitch with boots on the ground.

CHAPTER 6

MAISIE

I crackopen her bedroom door. “I’m out of here, sis. I put water on your nightstand. Need anything else?”

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