Page 1 of Rough Ride with the Grumpy Cowboy
PROLOGUE
— AVA —
“I like you.” I blurt out, professing a decade-long crush.
Zane’s dark eyes widen in surprise, caught off guard—and I don’t blame him. A love confession is the last thing he expected, but it’s not like I planned it either.
I’m about to get on stage to debut my career as a pop artist, but the moment he showed up carrying a bouquet of my favorite flowers—jasmines mixed with baby’s breath—I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
I’ve had a crush on Zane Morgan since before I even knew what having a crush was. He’s ten years older than me and also my best friend’s brother, so admitting that I have feelings for him isscary. But tonight is a big night of firsts and doing scary things, so why not?
I’ve been brave enough to tell him how I feel, and now the rest is up to him. I turn to Ella, my best friend, who encouraged me to confess in the first place, and she gives me a thumbs up.
After the initial shock wears off, Zane’s eyes soften and he opens his mouth to answer me. This is it—either a rejection or the beginning of an epic love story between us.
He lifts his hand and stretches it out toward me, exposing his tattooed arm. Hope blooms in my chest from the small smile playing at the corner of his lips. Just as he’s about to make contact, I’m yanked back, causing me to nearly lose my footing.
“T-minus five minutes before you have to be on stage,” Lou, my mother’s assistant, informs me.
“Lou, I’m in the middle of something,” I scold angrily.
“It can wait. We need to get you mic’d up,” she decrees, leaving no room for argument, just as two men from the technical team materialize out of nowhere.
I turn to Zane helplessly. He winks back at me. Is that a good or bad wink? I need to know if he shares the same feelings as me. My internal turmoil is interrupted when my mother joins us in the dressing room.
“Cariño, you look wonderful,” she compliments, holding me at arm’s length and making me twirl around for her.
“Thanks, mamá.”
Thoughts of my confession to Zane are cast aside as I catch my reflection in one of the multiple mirrors. The girl staring back at me is the farthest thing from my usual self. My makeup is too heavy, I have highlights in my dark curls to add volume and a few red strands for personality—as mother proudly decreed—and my clothes are definitely not my usual jeans and tee comfort wear. I feel naked, and I basically am, in a bedazzled bodysuit with a long tulle train attached at the waist and hot pink knee-length boots.
“Remember, tonight is our big night. We cannot let anything go wrong,” my mother asserts, pulling me from my thoughts.
From the day Mom discovered I could sing when I was three years old, she has been working toward this moment. Seventeen years later, I’m about to realize that dream—for her, for me, for us. Even though we have Hector, my stepfather, and Estevan, my stepbrother now, she still worked so hard to raise me as a single mother after my father died before I was born. I’m not going to let her down.
“The show is sold out, arena packed to the brim, so smile, shake it off, and be ready to deliver the performance of a lifetime,” she demands.
“Yes, mamá.”
She stands aside to let me finish getting mic’d up, and the whole time, I’m looking at Zane, whose eyes are fixed on me. By the time they’re done, there’s no time left to talk to him.
“I have to go on stage now. Wait for me,” I plead with him.
He surprises me by leaning in and kissing the corner of my mouth. My breath hitches when his lips brush against my ear. “I’ll be here. Good luck out there, Miss Diva. Break a leg.”
His words and that small kiss are the fuel I need to have an epic debut and deliver the best possible performance, knowing that Zane is waiting for me.
Two hours and thirty minutes later, my set is done, the crowd is happy, and I cannot get off the stage fast enough.
“You waited,” I sigh in relief when I find Zane still waiting backstage.
“I told you I would.”
Unable to resist, I launch myself at him. He chuckles and hugs me back, holding me close. He smells so good; my whole body instantly reacts to him being here.
I pull back, the biggest smile on my face, as I take a moment to take him in.
His mere presence knocks the breath out of me, reminding me once again why I have the biggest crush on him. He looks so out of place—dangerously rugged, ripped in all the right places, with a chiseled jaw that could slice cheese, towering over everyone with his 6‘3“ frame. His cowboy hat hides a messy bed of dark brown hair, casting a shadow over his handsome face.
