Page 2 of Hitch Me

Any other mother in this town would be thrilled to see her daughter owning a successful salon. Not Brandi Rose. To her, being a hairdresser is settling. It's small-town. It's small potatoes. And she doesn't do anything small.

It’s always been just me, Mom, and all of her moods. I’ve tried to manage them the best I could over the years. It hasn’t been easy protecting her image, and trying to make it all look effortless. There are definitely a few cracks in my foundation from the weight of her expectations.

But today I’m setting up a photoshoot on a ranch I’ve known my whole life. I've survived worse. And at least this time, I have goats.

Kingridge Ranch's marketing manager, Priya, warned me over the phone that the original goat pens weren't exactly the Pinterest-worthy backdrop I had in mind. I walk past the disheveled goat pen that was once home to the infamous Thrusty the Goat. He's apparently on the run right now. It’s a scary thought for anyone bending over to tie a shoe. He’s left behind an empty enclosure that looks like a crime scene.

Rusticis what Priya called it. That is ranch-speak for cobwebs and questionable smells. She offered up the newly cleared field behind the Bareback Haven Day Spa instead. She said it’d be a more suitable option.

The woman wasn't kidding.

As I round the bend, the view unfolds like something straight off a romance novel cover. The golden wheat fields in the distance sway and shimmer like they're dancing. The sky is that impossibly big Texas blue and the warm sun casts everything in a dreamy gold light.

The wind whips my blonde hair across my face as I take it all in… And then I promptly do a double take.

Because there, in the middle of the freshly fenced-in goat pen, aretwoof the infamous Kingridge brothers. Upside down. Handstands. They are doing actual handstands as grown men… Ranchers nonetheless. I bite back my laugh when I realize I’m witnessing a classic Kingridge pissing contest.

Side by side, two burly cowboys balance with their dusty boots pointed at the sky. Their thick arms are locked in place/ Their flannel shirts droop toward their shoulders to reveal chiseled torsos and the kind of abs that would make even a Hemsworth brother jealous.

Even though I’ve known these guys all my life, I let my jaw drop open and gawk at the sight.Who wouldn’t?Sweat glistens on exposed skin. I can see every defined muscle working to maintain the position. It’s impossible to look away.

One of them shifts slightly, and the movement makes his abs ripple in a way that sends heat pooling low in my belly. My heart stalls in my chest. Like, literally skips a beat and then fumbles to restart itself.

The other adjusts his grip. His biceps flex and bulge. Suddenly I'm having very inappropriate thoughts about what those strong hands could do when they're not planted firmly on the ground.Sweet Jesus, it's hot out here.

I shamelessly take in the way their jeans are belted low on their hips. Thank God that there isn’t anyone out here to watch me unravel. There’s no mistaking that it isn’t the Texas sun that's making me flush. It's the sight of all that raw, masculine power on display. I blow out a breath and collect myself.

I fan myself with my free hand. I’ve spent too much time cooped up in that salon. It’s only taken five minutes here and all of a sudden I remember exactly why teenage Brynn Rose used to have very detailed fantasies about one of the Kingridge cowboys. Now I’ll be here for a week. I’ve got to get it together.

Then another, more terrifying thought strikes me.Please, Lord, don't let one of these two be Geoffrey.Because if it is, I'm in serious trouble. The kind of trouble that involves forgetting why I've kept my distance for years.

"Y'all are gonna hurt yourselves," I call out as I take a step toward the pen.

At the sound of my voice, the guys topple into each other. They tangle into each other. There's a storm of pushing and shoving as they find their footing. I hear a few muffled insults too. But when they get to their feet, there’s no mistaking which of the brothers I’m looking at. On one side is Bowen. He’s harmless, an older brother type, always has been. But beside him is Geoffrey and that makes it hard to breathe.

Shit.

CHAPTER 3

BRYNN ROSE

"Dammit,Brynn Rose, I almost had him this time." Geoffrey's eyes flash and his smile turns up at the corners in that way that used to make my teenage heart stutter.

I remember in an instant why I spent so many years secretly obsessed with this man. You can’t buy good taste. As it turns out, I’ve always had it. Well, maybe not in my Nick Carter phase. That didn’t age well. But my Geoffrey Kingridge era, that was spot on. His charm. His muscles. The way he can't stop his eyes from raking up and down my body like he's got every right to look. It’s intoxicating.

"He didn't have anything," Bowen adds with a laugh, dusting off his jeans. "He's been out here trying to get himself killed for the past hour."

"We're all out here trying to keep your wife happy," Geoffrey rolls his eyes, shooting his brother a look.

"Hey, what Priya wants, Priya gets." Bowen chuckles and tips his hat toward me. "I'll leave you to turn this place into whatever goat yoga is supposed to be. See ya, Brynn."

"See you Bowen.” I turn back to Geoffrey just in time to see him peel his sweat soaked shirt off his glistening body. “Looks like you boys have been working up quite a sweat," I say, tryingto keep my voice casual even though my body is responding to his proximity like a live wire. "All that... exertion. Trying to win the Kingridge Cup?"

“No, that’s already on my mantle. Won it off Alex over at Pa’s place the other night.” Geoffrey's grin turns wicked. “Besides, what you saw wasn't exertion. That was just a warm-up. When I really exert myself..." He steps closer, close enough that I can see the mischief dancing in his dark eyes. "Well, let's just say it involves a lot more heavy breathing. And it lasts a whole lot longer."

I shake my head with a laugh and take a step back. He's close… too close. Butterflies flap in my stomach just the way they did back in high school. Geoffrey and I were friends for a long time. If I'd let him, we would've been way more than friends, at least for one night. But I kept my distance. It wasn't what Mom wanted for me. She wanted something more. She wanted something bigger than a small-town romance with a cowboy who'd never leave Sagebrush Creek.

The ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Should’ve known you’d be the reason we’re out here making fools of ourselves… with goats, no less.”

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