Page 1 of Ride Me Reckless
Chapter One
Reckless Temptation
Colt
I'd told myself I wasn't gonna go.
Three times, maybe four, I walked past that flyer on the counter. Crumpled thing. Edges curling like it knew it had no business tempting me the way it did. I'd tossed it in the trash once. Dug it back out a few hours later like some damn fool.
There it sat now, under the glare of the kitchen lights—bold red ink screamingTessa "Reckless" Walkeracross the top like she still had the right to be inside my house. Like she hadn't ghosted out of here with a trail of dust and a half-shattered heart she left in my chest.
I'd wondered, more than once, if she'd taken more than just her boots when she left. Hell, some part of me still remembered what that damn palm reader said all those years ago—drunk off my ass at a county fair in Billings.
“You’ve left something behind,”she’d whispered, eyes cloudy like fogged glass.“Something breathing.”
I’d laughed at the time. Figured she was talking about a horse. Now I wasn’t so sure.
I stared at the photo on the flyer longer than I should've. Her dragster—a flame-red beast calledReckless—sat cocked on the line, ready to eat pavement. Chrome shining. Tires curled with smoke. And there she was, helmet tucked under one arm, wild ponytail whipping like she owned the wind. She looked the same. Maybe even better. Hell, maybe that's what pissed me off the most.
I hated the name of that car.
Not because it was arrogant. Not because it suited her—which it damn well did.
But because it was the name of the bull that wrecked me.
Reckless.The same thousand-pound brute that slung me clean off his back and broke two discs in mine. That ride ended my career, sent me home too early, and turned me into a man with a limp I tried like hell to hide. And now, she was out there burnin' rubber in something named after me.
It felt like a slap.
Still, I couldn't stay away.
I grabbed my hat—a brand-new Stetson, tan with a leather band around the top. Bought it last month, but hadn't worn it yet. Seemed too nice for everyday work, too personal to waste on no one. Today, though? Seemed like maybe I needed the edge.
I caught my reflection in the glass door on the way out—collar pressed, beard trimmed tight, jeans riding just right. I looked like a man on his way to see a woman.
And maybe I was.
Outside, the sun was low and gold, stretching shadows across the long fence line. From my front porch, I could see the rise of Lucky Ranch, all that land I shared with my best friends and fellow Powerball winners: Rhett, Easton, and Sawyer. Each of us had our own spread, our own barns, our own privacy.
Mine was the quietest.
Still, I liked it that way.
In the distance, Biscuit lifted her head from the grass, her ears twitching like she'd sensed my attention. Her coat shone like warm honey, and even from here, I could tell she was healthy. Happy.
She was still hers.
Tessa'd left Biscuit with me when she lit out and told me to keep her safe, like she knew she wasn't coming back. There were other things I thought she might’ve left behind, too. But no letter ever came. No phone call. Just silence, and the kind that knew how to cut bone-deep.
I never asked why. Never had to. A woman like Tessa didn’t hand over her horse unless something inside her was looking for something more that I couldn’t provide.
I stepped off the porch and crossed the gravel, boots sounding against the walkway. The air was dry and sweet, the kind of spring dusk that makes you ache for something you can't name.
As I climbed into my truck, I looked down at the flyer still clutched in my hand.
Don't go,I told myself.Leave it alone. Let her be.
But the engine was already rumbling beneath me, and the road was waiting.
