Page 3 of Eight Seconds to Ride

Copper Lake, Wyoming, is a small town just outside of Cheyenne. Home to around fifteen thousand people, it’s nothing more than wide open spaces, mountain views, and farmland. Lived here my whole life, born and raised. It’s a crisp forty-four degrees as I step out of my house, locking up before heading to my pickup truck to warm ’er up.

Just as I turn the key in the ignition and crank the heater, my phone vibrates in my coat pocket. Reaching in, I grab it, swiping my finger across the screen.

Whit: Where are you?

Chuckling, I glance up at the clock on the dash and realize it’s about fifteen minutes past the time I was supposed to meet the guys.

Me: Calm down, mother. I’m on my way.

Whit: Meaning you’re still at your house?

I can practically see the eye roll he’s giving me. Out of all my friends, Whit is the most type A. He needs everything done his way, or it’s wrong. He’s forever early, always has a schedule, and when anybody steps out of line, he’s the first to call ’em out. He wouldn’t last a second on the circuit, that’s for damn sure. Whit is the town veterinarian. He took over his father’s practice when he retired a few years back, and control freak tendencies do him well in that profession.

I’m supposed to be meeting him and a few of my other buddies for lunch at Lou’s Diner, but I ended up passing out on the couch after I woke up with a killer hangover this morning and overslept. Hence the running late.

Pulling into an open parking spot, I turn off the ignition and head inside. It’s a Wednesday afternoon, so it’s hardly what I’d call busy in here. Ginny, the one and only server, rushes over to greet me before pointing me in the direction of the table the guys are seated at. Even though we all sit at the same table every week when we get together, she still points it out every single time, like I may have suddenly forgotten.

When I reach the table, I pull out the only available chair, spinning it around and taking a seat. “What’s up, fuckers?”

“About fucking time your lazy ass got here,” Whit grumbles while the rest of them laugh.

“Aw, miss me that much, dollface?” I reach over and pinch Whit’s cheek. He slaps my hand away, rolling his eyes, and trying to hide the grin.

Ginny comes up behind me, placing a cup of black coffee and an ice water down in front of me. “Here you go, sweetie. The guys already ordered. Do you know what you’re having yet, or do you need a few minutes?”

“I’ll just get my usual, Ginny. Thank you.”

Patting me on the back, she says, “You got it, dear.”

Once she walks away, I return my focus to the guys. “So, what’d I miss?” Glancing around quickly, I add, “And where the fuck is Boone?”

“Jade’s sick.” My gaze slides across the table to the right, where Cope goes on. “And Suzy is extra fussy today, so he said he’d rather stay home.”

I nod, taking a long sip of the ice water.

Jade is Boone’s wife, and Suzy is their daughter. She just turned two, and she’s so darn cute. She’s got blonde curly hair like her mama and deep brown eyes like her dad. Boone’s brought her to these weekly lunches before, so I’m surprised he didn’t.

My buddy, Colt, leans forward so he can see me on the other side of Whit. “You hear about the new bronc rider who moved to town?”

“No,” I reply, my brows drawn together. “Pro?”

He nods. “Yup. Apparently, it’ll be his first year on the circuit.”

“Saddle or bareback?”

“Bareback.” He smirks as my scowl deepens. “I haven’t met him yet, but rumor has it, he’s related to Conrad.”

Whit visibly stiffens next to me, and when I direct my gaze to him, he winces before saying, “They’re not technically related.”

Conrad Strauss, one of Copper Lakes’ more well-known ranchers, and Whit used to be married up until last year when it all imploded and they got a divorce. It was the talk of the town. The speculations were rampant, despite both of them clearly wanting to keep it under the radar. Nothing is ever a secret in a small town, especially one as gossipy as Copper Lake. Whit doesn’t talk about it much, but I know everything seemed to fall apart shortly after the tragic passing of Conrad’s parents.

Conrad inherited the ranch, and who knows… maybe the stress of it all was too much for their relationship.

“What do you mean,not technically?” I ask, using air quotes for emphasis.

“Him and his parents lived on the ranch for a couple years back when he was a kid,” Whit explains before taking a sip of his water. “His dad was one of Mr. Strauss’s ranch hands for a while after he got laid off from his job at the oil rig. They lived and worked there until they could get back on their feet. As far as I know, Mr. and Mrs. Addams remained close with the Strausses up until they died.”

“Addams…” I murmur. “What’s his first name?”

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