She’s a star on the rise. He just wants to see her shine.
PAISLEY HOPE
Paisley Hope is an avid lover of romance, a mother, a wife and a writer. Growing up in Canada, she wrote and dreamed of one day being able to create a place, a world where readers could immerse themselves, a place they wished was real, a place they saw themselves when they envisioned it. She loves her family time, gardening, baking, yoga and a good cab sav.
@authorpaisleyhope
Also by Paisley Hope
Holding the Reins
Training the Heart
Riding the High
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If life gives you the chance for a one-night stand with a hot cowboy, take it, write a song about it, and make sure you use only the best notes, the ones that turn a single night into forever.
TW :
Concert accident on pages 84–5
Death of unknown character on page 85
Living through trauma after incident
Panic attack on pages 94–6
Falling into despair, then being pulled out
Therapy, coping mechanisms on page 114
Open door sexual scenes
The process of healing
ALEXA . . . PLAY
Cassie and Haden’s Love Story
1. Kentucky Sky Logan Halstead
2. Find You A Girl Dylan Scott
3. Beautiful Lies Tanner Usrey and Ella Langley
4. All Boots CeCe
5. Smile Morgan Wallen
6. Ends of the Earth Ty Myers
7. Cowboy Take Me Away Kelsea Ballerini
8. Help Me Make It Through The Night Tyler Childers
9. Half of forever Henrik
10. Snow Zach Bryan
11. I’m Still Fine The Red Clay Strays
12. Better Me For You (Brown Eyes) Max McNown
13. Place They Call Home—The Castellows (feat. Flatland Cavalry)
14. Ain’t It a Shame Bishop Gunn
Chapter One Cassie
Men are the easiest creatures on the planet to distract and conquer.
Flash a little smile, tug the top of my blouse down low enough to show a hint of cleavage and, just like that, I’ve got a fresh- faced cowboy leading me into the most picturesque barn I’ve ever seen, to help me pick out a horse to ride.
Derek? Daniel? I can’t remember his name but I’m fairly certain he said it started with a D when he introduced himself a few minutes ago. He was the first ranch hand I saw when I made my way over to the barn from the cabin my sister Ivy and her boyfriend Wade share. They live in the boss’ cabin, because Wade owns this ranch—Silver Pines—which sits just outside of the quaint little town of Laurel Creek, Kentucky.
My new cowboy friend turns to look at me over his shoulder and smiles, but I don’t miss the way he glances down at the tiny view I’m offering him. I smile back sweetly. Mission accomplished.
As he slides open the faded white barn door, the smell of horses hits me with a pungent, yet oddly comforting familiarity.
The midday September heat only enhances the experience, and Silver Pines Ranch is an experience. I’ll say that.
Not only is it a full-service horse boarding facility, they also have a racehorse training division. It’s highly unusual to have both, but leave it to my sister to wind up in a place like this. She’s the head trainer at Silver Pines, but she also just gave birth to the world’s cutest baby girl with the man who pays the bills. Talk about having your cake and eating it too.
“We’ve got Jasper here. He’s an American Morgan.’ Dman gestures to a soft and regal deep brown horse in front of us. “Great for beginners, and he’s really calm.” The gravel crunches under my designer boots, the ones I’ve probably just ruined by cruising through the pasture. They’re uncomfortable, but they’ll look awfully good in a few minutes when I record the video teaser my manager wants me to capture.
I toss a toying grin at my host as I push my curtain of blonde curls over my shoulder.
“Good thing I’m not a beginner then.” I wink. “Because I’d like something a little different.” I cross my arms over my chest and tap my lips with my first finger as I take in the pickings.
He eyes me suspiciously. “Not a beginner?” His face breaks out into a big smile before glancing at my very new, very shiny boots. “Is that so?”
“I’ve been riding since I was a kid,” I fire back. “I know what I’m doing.”
He chuckles in response, and I’ll admit, that’s more than likely not true. I haven’t ridden a horse in years, but I’m sure I can make it work, just like riding a bike.
“What about that one?” I look over his shoulder at a stunning dark quarter horse. His coat is almost the same shade as my perfectly worn cowboy hat—so aesthetically, this stud will work much better than the one he suggested.
“That’s Outlaw. He’s not really fully broken yet. We’re still working with—”
“He’s perfect,” I tell him, reaching into my fringed, crossbody bag. “Could you please saddle him for me while I get some things set up? I am rusty in that department.”
“Miss—?”
“Cassie,” I offer sweetly.
“Right, Cassie. Well, I think it would be best if you went with a horse that’s a little smaller and tamer.”
I take my bottom lip between my teeth and narrow my eyes. I need to get this cowboy on my side here. My manager has a strict vision for what he wants, and I only have a limited amount of time.
“What’s your name again?” I ask, just to be sure.
“Dusty.”
“Right. Dusty,” I say softly as I straighten out my cutoff shorts. I take some extra time to smooth the fabric over my hips, just to remind him I have them, before turning my eyes up to lock with his. Never breaking eye contact, I make my way over to where he stands just in front of Outlaw’s stall. When I reach him, I place my hand on his bicep and let it slide down slowly to his bare forearm. His skin pebbles under my touch.
“I’m sure safety is of the utmost importance here, and I get what you’re saying about this fella being a little antsy, but Wade—I think he’s your boss?” I play dumb, knowing he is.
Dusty nods. “That’s right.”
“Well, he told me I could choose any horse I want, and I’d really like this one. I can handle him, I promise.” I lick my lips and let them curve up into the smile I’ve had fairly good luck with when it comes to getting what I want from the opposite sex.
“Don’t worry, Dusty,” I add, letting my hand slip the rest of the way down his arm. “My daddy was a vet. He raised horses. I’ve been riding since before I could walk.”
He clears his throat as more goosebumps follow my fingertips.
A tiny pang of guilt for manipulating him twinges in my chest, but I try to push it down because I have to get this video done for my manager or I’ll never hear the end of “not trying hard enough.” Some days the pressure and the different directions I’m being pulled in feels like a thousand-pound weight sitting on my chest.
“You can take him into the large pen,” Dusty finally says as he looks me over one more time. “He’s due a jaunt anyway, and I’ll work with him after. You sure you ain’t bullshitting me about knowing your way around a horse?”
I shake my head and smile up at him through my lashes as I wrap my pinky around his.
“Promise,” I whisper, convincing myself as much as I’m trying to convince him.
He flashes me a lopsided grin. He’s actually kind of cute in a wholesome sort of way, though I think he may be even younger than my twenty-four years.
“Mmmkay,” he agrees as I shake his pinky finger with my own to seal the deal before letting him go and saddle Outlaw.
While he works, I make my way out of the barn to the side of the large corral just beyond. I pull my phone and my mini tripod out of my bag to get myself set up.
The truth is, I hate recording these things. I also hate wearing pretentious clothing that costs as much as the average family’s mortgage. Writing music—that’s what I’m good at. That’s what I want to do. It’s the one thing that keeps me connected to my best friend in the whole world: my dad. He bought me my first guitar when I was eight years old. A Baby Taylor. I can still see him now, working in our garage with the door all the way open on his old ’77 Thunderbird, while I sat in the driveway in a beatup lawn chair learning chords. There are times those memories
wake me up, and the dream is so vivid I can almost feel the sun on my back and smell the motor oil.
My dad and I did everything together. Until, one day, he didn’t come home. His massive heart attack was completely unexpected. After, I remember being jealous of my friends at school who still had their dads. I was so angry at the world for taking him from me. That’s when I started to write—about my pain, love, loss. It became the only way I could cope. Throughout the next few years, as my mom fell apart and her dependence on alcohol grew, music became a lifeline for me and Ivy, a way to disappear into a different world together. Ivy grew up and turned her attention to new hobbies, training horses mainly. But music never left me. It runs through my veins.
I never thought I would be doing what I do now, and I’m grateful singing comes naturally to me, but standing on a stage while thousands of people record me on their cell phones does not. Writing and watching someone else knock my lyrics out of the park? Now that is my dream come true. I know I’ll get there. But for now, I just need to grin and bear the performing side and keep my social media presence strong.
I turn my attention back to the task at hand, and set my tripod up on the edge of the sturdy wooden fence for the best natural light. Just as I do, my phone lights up with a text.
DAX
Don’t forget to remind your followers you’ll be at the Lexington Music Fest this weekend.
I breathe out a small sigh and swipe my manager’s message away so I can focus. My plan is to record a short, picturesque video of myself riding toward the camera with one of my songs playing over the top. “To feed the masses,” as Dax would say.
To keep my name in the spotlight. My profile has risen over the last year, particularly after playing with Red Dirt Roots one of the hottest bands in the underground country music scene—this summer. Their music isn’t mainstream country and that’s what I love about them. It’s the kind of country that sinks into your bones, the kind that is played from the heart. My kind of country. I hum a new melody I haven’t been able to get out of my head for days as I take in my surroundings one more time, making sure everything is in order to record. Today, my dues involve climbing up onto this big old dark horse and acting like I was born on his back, all in the name of likes and shares.
I quickly check the other texts that have popped up since I last looked at my phone. There are three more from my manager. Not that I’m surprised. Dax O’Brien has always been highstrung. He’s made a name for himself in this industry, which means I listen to him—and his last-minute, harebrained ideas— most of the time.
DAX
And give them a show of the stunning countryside. Ride a horse or rock on a covered porch with some lemonade. Something like that.
Stunning? Check. I look around as I wait for Dusty and take in a deep breath of mountain air. Oak trees sway in the breeze, the vibrant green land and rolling hills are never-ending, and the entire countryside feels alive and flourishing even though it’s early fall. Aside from the buzz of insects in the air, the only sounds to be heard come from a ranch hand turning out a few horses in the paddock to my left. Silver Pines, and Sugarland Mountain just beyond, is perfect for the aesthetic I’m going for:
down home, country, authentic bluegrass vibes. Just perfect for the media dubbed “Princess of Bluegrass.” If only the princess didn’t hate being called that.
DAX
It’s been five days since you posted to your socials, so the sooner the better, Cassie. If you aren’t visible, you’re forgettable.
And don’t forget you have to meet Darcy tonight.
Right. Darcy is my stand-in bassist for the Lexington shows because my usual bassist, Josh, just went to rehab a week ago. I haven’t been able to get him out of my head. I know firsthand what addiction does to a person.
DAX
Darcy is excellent. He just wants to go over the set list. Apparently, there’s a pub in town near where you’re staying. It’s called the Horse and Barrel. I passed along your cell number so he can set up a time with you.
I quickly type to appease him.
Yes, Dad, I’m on top of it.
DAX
There you are. Finally. Which part?
I shake my head. So impatient.
All of it.
Except the bassist. Unless . . .
Not funny Cassie, and he’s married.
“Cassie, last chance . . . you’re sure about this?” Dusty asks as he leads Outlaw out of the barn. The so-called unruly horse looks fine to me. And even if Outlaw is a bit rowdy, I only need a few minutes of his time. I press record on my phone and straighten out the brim of my hat, then pat Dusty on the arm before I gesture for him to make his way into the pen.
“I’m sure, Dusty. I’ve got this.” I lie.
I follow him and Outlaw into the large corral, hoping this horse isn’t about to make me eat my words. I think of Dax’s famous motto as I prepare to mount, “Fake it till you make it,” which is pretty much the story of my life.
Here goes nothing.
Chapter Two Haden
Ilike to consider myself a pretty simple man. My horse, a hot mug of coffee before the sun comes up, some worn-in jeans and a dry trail. That’s all I need for a damn good start to the day.
Silver Pines used to be a simple operation when I started on this ranch seven years ago. Our focus was boarding and training horses. I worked under Wyatt Ashby, Silver Pines’s late patriarch, before he became sick as hell and withered away in front of all of us.
That shit was terrible.
But over the last year, Wyatt’s son—and my boss—Wade has adopted a more ambitious attitude. Ever since Ivy, our resident horse trainer, came aboard and then subsequently became his baby’s mama, he’s been ready to grow Silver Pines into something his dad would be proud of. And he’s even been caught cracking a few smiles while doing it, which used to be unheard of around here.
These days, Wade and Ivy have me handling the day-today running of the ranch and helping them ready a horse for the Kentucky Derby next May. As top hand, I assist with their
training when they need it, and this is the first time this ranch has concentrated on its racing side in almost twenty years. As if that weren’t enough, Wade’s also started building a rustic wedding barn on the property with the aim of adding cabins for guests soon too. All these changes will make Silver Pines Ranch “a real country destination.” Which is why we’ve had designers, assistants and contractors around lately. All sorts of city folk that almost always have cell phones in hand—snapping photos, then snapping photos of themselves to document the moment. They wander the grounds in their stilettos taking videos before they eventually end up stepping in horse shit in a pasture. If nothing else, it’s damn amusing.
But this woman in my sightline now as I ride back to the main barn? She takes the fucking cake. Her wild and wavy blonde hair hangs almost to her waist, peeking out from under a perfectly clean cowboy hat, and she wears a spotless pair of designer boots as she fixes to mount Outlaw, a young, restless quarter horse. He’s way too big for her frame and he’s green broke, which means he’s not ready to be ridden by anyone that isn’t experienced. He’d be alright for one of us, but this woman clearly needs a dead-broke horse that’s been ridden for years. It’s written all over her.
I’ve just finished up a session with our jockey and Wade’s derby horse. From the back of my own American Quarter, Odin, I can already see a disaster waiting to happen as I close the distance between myself and this mystery woman. Two thoughts are running through my head. One: What the hell is she doing on this horse in a dainty linen blouse that probably costs more than a week’s pay? Two: I’m gonna fucking kill Dusty, my second hand, who’s currently leaning on the fence squinting in the sun as he makes sure her shot is lined up on her shiny pink cell phone. “Dust! What the hell are you thinkin’?!” I call out as I cover the last fifty feet and dismount.
But I’m too late. I watch with bated breath as this woman squeezes her ankles tight to Outlaw like he’s a goddamn show horse and they take off much faster than she’s prepared for. I have no clue who she is, but she’s about to be maimed, or worse, right in the middle of our largest pen. And it’s all going to be caught on her phone in 4K.
I toss my reins to Dusty, motioning for him to tether Odin, then prepare to hop the rail. Dusty cusses under his breath. He knows he fucked up. As I vault over the rail into the pen, I’m shocked to find the only thing that’s fallen so far, despite Outlaw looking like he’s about to full-out spook, is the cowboy hat from this woman’s head.
“She said she could ride!” Dusty finally speaks up in excuse as I raise my hand, motioning for him to stay put on the other side of the fence. I pace, slow and steady, moving to get close enough to help her dismount without startling Outlaw out any more than he already is.
“Stay calm!” I call up to her as I point at Outlaw. “He feels everything you do.”
Her icy blue eyes meet mine and I’m shocked as all hell to see the look in them isn’t scared, it’s . . . defiant?
“You think I’d be up here if I didn’t know that, Cowboy?” she bites out as she grips the reins and does her best to draw Outlaw’s head to the side, trying to control him, but it isn’t enough. Outlaw rebels and bucks hard enough that her expression goes from defiant to petrified in one second flat.
Before I can tell her what to do next, she’s tossed off his back with a little yelp and lands in the dirt, sending up a cloud of dust.
Jesus Christ. Looks like I’m starting this day with a fucking lawsuit.
Chapter Three Cassie
Well that didn’t go as I planned.
At least nothing feels broken. I push my hair out of my face and listen for the traitorous horse that just tossed me ass over tea kettle. I’d get up and run, but I’d rather not be maimed today, so I need to make sure that horse is on the other side of the pen before I make any sudden movements. When I look up, I’m relieved to see he’s already in the hands of my lovestruck cowboy Dusty, and he seems a lot calmer now that I’m no longer straddling him.
But this other cowboy, the one who came riding in out of nowhere just before I fell? He’s skidding into the dirt beside me. And he isn’t looking at me like Dusty was. No, this cowboy just looks plain pissed off.
“You got some sort of a death wish, ma’am?” Cowboy’s deep tenor sounds as I flip myself over onto my back.
“Have you got a death wish calling me ma’am?” I ask trying to sit up though my head is spinning.
“Whoa. Easy now, I think you hit your head,” he says gruffly. Warm fingers slide through my hair as he checks my head for damage. I rest on my elbows and try to bring my heart rate down.
The cowboy invades my personal space, and I breathe in his scent involuntarily. He smells like clean soap, spice and cedarwood. Which certainly isn’t terrible.
“Calling me ma’am and . . . talking to me like I’m your horse?” I mutter with a shaky voice. “You do have a death wish.”
He makes a grunting sound as he gently helps me into a sitting position.
I let my eyes focus on him fully for the first time as he swipes my hair off my forehead and assesses me.
Well, damn. I must have hit my head because I’ve never found mustaches appealing until right this second. With his straight, masculine features and wide-set, deep blue eyes in his tanned face, that mustache along with the scruff of his strong, unshaven jaw just works.
I quickly realize that this cowboy isn’t like the one I easily bewitched. He’s rugged, big, tattooed and gorgeous. AllAmerican gorgeous. Dark blond wavy hair peeks out slightly from under his worn, tattered cowboy hat. That Supermanworthy jaw flexes as he focuses on me. “It might be a good idea for you to stop shit-talking me for a few seconds so I can make sure you don’t have a concussion, yeah?” he bites out, looking into my eyes with his face only inches from mine. My ears have a bit of an odd buzzing in them as he holds a finger up.
“Follow with your eyes, okay?” He moves it back and forth to watch the way my gaze follows. I probably should be focusing, but I’m a sucker for a man’s big hands and his don’t disappoint. They’re rippled with veins, strong and sculpted. Working-man hands.
“Hey,” he snaps, bringing my eyes back to his finger. Focus, Cass.
“Are you feeling dizzy at all? Nauseous?” Cowboy asks.
“No . . . I think I’m fine.” I avert my eyes to get out of this temporary trance, then try to stand. He echoes my movements,
standing with me. But the moment I get to my feet, my body has other ideas and I collapse, headed right back down in the dust before two strong arms catch me.
“I knew you weren’t fine . . . stubborn little . . .” I hear him trail off under his breath before he scoops me right up with ease, cradling me into his body. My arms naturally move up to wrap around his thick neck as I stabilize myself in his grasp, trying to push the feel of his warm, sturdy shoulders from my mind. This is not the time to think with your lady bits, Cass.
“You can put me down. I can walk myself . . .” I try to sound convincing, but he isn’t having it.
“With all due respect, Princess, I’ll put you down when your own legs can hold you. And right now, that just isn’t the case.”
Heat immediately rushes through my blood. I hate when people call me “princess,” and I get more than my fair share of it.
As if I’m just a high-maintenance diva who looks pretty and has everything handed to her on a silver platter.
“I don’t need a hotshot cowboy with a hero complex to rescue me,” I say, looking into his eyes. He looks down at me and my breath does an annoying hitching thing. His eyebrows lift and he lets out a low chuckle,
“For someone who doesn’t need my help, you sure seem to be making yourself pretty comfortable in my arms right now.”
I am?
Shit. I am. I instantly stiffen under his hold.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t know you, is all. You might be a weakling so I’ve got to hold on for my safety. Just until I know you aren’t gonna drop me.”
Cowboy tips his head back and lets out a deep laugh as a broad smile takes over his face. It’s sort of breathtaking. And totally wasted on such a smug personality.
“The only way I’d drop you is if you annoyed me to death.” His smile vanishes as he deadpans, “So maybe you should keep
your pretty mouth closed until I can set you down, ’cause if I’m being honest, you’re getting damn close.”
I decide to do what he says since he’s the one carrying me, and we cover the short distance to the barn in seconds. In truth, it feels like he could carry me all day without even breaking a sweat. I’d never say it out loud, but this cowboy obviously isn’t weak.
He sets me and my dirty hat down on a bench just inside the barn and Dusty comes running in after us, making his way down a hall and reappearing in seconds with an ice pack in his hand.
“She said she could ride, boss. And fuck, I believed her,” he says before turning his attention to me. “You said you could handle an unruly horse. Your daddy raised ’em and all that? Were you just making that up?”
Guilt floods my chest. “I’m really sorry,” I say genuinely. “I didn’t make it up. I used to be a good rider. Guess that was a long time ago.”
I reach up to touch the side of my head and wince. Ow.
“What the hell are you riding Outlaw for, anyhow?” Cowboy asks, taking the ice from Dusty.
“I needed a video for my social media.” I smile meekly. “Hope I got it before your horse lost his shit and bucked me off.”
“Social media?” Cowboy’s eyes tell me that he’s even more pissed at me now. “Could’ve picked any horse. A much calmer horse. Why him?”
“He fit my aesthetic?” I toss back, bracing myself for his anger.
He scoffs and lifts his hat to wipe his brow. “These horses aren’t toys. They’re living things.”
“I know—” I start.
“Fucking city girls wanting to play cowgirl . . .” he mutters to himself, interrupting me. “For fuck’s sake, Dusty.”
Excuse me? “I am not a city girl and this is my fault. Not his.” I point to Dusty.
“No, it is my fault,” Dusty says. “I’m so sorry, Haden.” Haden.
The epitome of a rugged, southern alpha male is named Haden? That definitely wouldn’t have been my first guess. I expected something ultra-cowboy like Waylon, Tank or maybe Buck.
“I take full responsibility,” Dusty says.
Haden’s jaw relaxes as he turns from Dusty and crouches down to my level. His eyes lock with mine as he moves the ice pack up to my head. Just before he presses it to my skull, his eyes soften with unspoken concern, and I suck in a breath as my fingers brush against his when I take the ice. His skin on mine sends little sparks up my arm, and I do my best to ignore the foreign feeling of a man affecting me. Something about the way he looks at me feels heavy, as though he’s looking through my armor. As though he sees me. I can’t understand why this cowboy would even have an ounce of sympathy toward me after the problem I just caused him. Finding myself in the middle of every storm is not a choice, but I seem to gravitate to the thunder like a moth to a flame.
Haden nods to his left, muttering something about getting me water, and Dusty scampers off down the hall he just came from. He’s back within a few seconds, carrying a cold bottle.
“Think you’ve had your ‘cowgirl’ fill? It’s not a good idea to ride horses you have no business riding,” Haden reprimands me, his tone reminding me of Dad’s back in the day. “You’re lucky. I don’t think you have a concussion, but your head will be tender for a couple days. Hold the ice to it for a few minutes and get your legs working again. It’s protocol that I write this up. And I need to inform the boss.”
“There’s no need for that, I’m fine, really,” I tell him, but he isn’t convinced.
“I’ll be writing it up,” he says with a firm nod. “And I’m bound to advise you to see a doctor to rule out that concussion.”
I don’t argue with him, although I’m sure I’m fine. It’s obvious that there’s no waver in him when it comes to following the rules on Wade’s ranch.
“And you,” he says, turning to face Dusty, “follow me for a minute.” He takes the water bottle from Dusty, passing it to me and muttering “’scuse us” before nodding to a nearby hallway.
The barn is quiet, aside from the noises of the horses, so I can make out most of what Haden is saying even though he’s speaking in a low whisper around the corner.
“Christ, Dust. It just takes some short little shorts and a pretty smile to turn your common sense off entirely? Jesus, she could’ve really been hurt. She could’ve hurt Outlaw. You’re just as fucking lucky as she is.”
“I know. I fucked up, man. It won’t happen again.”
“You’re damn right it won’t. Visitors don’t ride. Hopefully she’ll let this go. I, for one, don’t want to explain to Sarge that some designer or their assistant, or whoever she is, is suing the ranch.”
I recognize the nickname, “Sarge.” Ivy told me Wade’s family calls him that. Short for “Sargeant.” I set the ice down as I continue to eavesdrop.
“She was . . . really convincing. Plus, the boss sent her down here,” Dusty says, sounding defeated.
Ugh. I’m an asshole.
“Get out there with Outlaw, run his energy out, then turn him out for me,” Haden says to Dusty. “After that, you’re mucking out with Ben. And you can think all about that pretty face while you shovel shit all afternoon.”
They come back around the corner and I offer Dusty a sympathetic expression.
“I’m really sorry. I should’ve taken you at your word and chosen a different horse.”
“What’s done is done. I’m just glad you’re alright.” Dusty nods. “But maybe listen to us next time? We know our horses around here.”
“Okay.” I nod with a small smile as that pang of guilt hits me once again.
“Right, get goin’ then,” Haden says as he sees Dusty out. He has a controlled grace about him. His faded jeans hold snug to thick, strong thighs, and his gray t-shirt is dappled with the day’s sweat and dust. It fits tight to his arms, one of which is covered in ink to his wrist. I watch as he washes his hands before reaching under the small sink in the corner to pull out a first aid kit. Haden grabs two gauze cloths from it, then begins to run them under the water. I do my best not to stare, but I’m startled when he turns toward me before I’m done ogling him. My eyes snap to his but not quick enough.
It’s obvious by the smug look on his face that he knows I was checking him out. He shakes his head with a smirk.
“You must be feeling alright, if you have the wherewithal to check out my ass.”
“Well, would you look at that. Concussion confirmed.”
Haden turns his head from me but I don’t miss the playful grin on his lips.
If I was one to get embarrassed easily, I’d probably blush or feel awkward. But I’m not. Although I haven’t had that much physical experience with men, in my line of work, you have to meet them with a confident attitude at every turn. Besides, a nice ass is a nice ass. Put a man in jeans like that and I’m gonna look.
“I wasn’t checking you out,” I continue. “I was just thinking I’ve never met a working man who wore his jeans so tight. So
you must be kind of a boss around here. Let me guess, the rugged pretty boy who tells everyone else what to do?”
Haden stares at me for a beat, shaking his head as he wrings out the cloths before calmly moving back toward me. He takes a knee in front of me.
“May I?” His voice has a deep timbre, sending tiny little prickles over my skin.
Those eyes pull me back in and I feel my confidence wane with him this close. I simply nod as he begins to use one cloth to clean the dirt from my face, taking a little extra time to pat my forehead as he does so. I give in and close my eyes while he swipes it across my skin. It feels nice. Then he presses the other one to my knee. I flinch and hiss with the sting. He pauses and waits for my nod to continue. I didn’t even realize I’d skinned my knee in the dirt until now.
“You’re feeling that now, aren’t you?” he asks while continuing to carefully clean the cut.
I look back to his eyes and offer him a small smile. “A little.”
We say nothing for a moment before he speaks again.
“I get them custom-made.”
“Sorry?” I mutter. When he doesn’t respond, I look back to his eyes and realize he’s watching my expression. His gaze holds mine and I breathe in his delicious scent. I’ve never seen eyes quite like his before; they’re just so blue, with darker rings around his irises. A lazy smirk spreads across his face again.
“My jeans. They’re custom-made.” He stands. “From the special freeloading pretty-boy department at Wrangler.”
“Right,” I say with a quick shake of my head. I open the bottle of water and take a sip. “Bet you’re used to breaking hearts and taking names with those custom jeans aren’t you, Cowboy?”
Haden folds his muscled arms across his chest. He gives me a wide, cocky smile.
“You sayin’ my ass has the ability to break your heart?”
I narrow my eyes, pick my hat up off the bench beside me, and put it back on my head as I stand, swiping the dirt off my clothes and praying my legs don’t fail me this time.
“Maybe that ass does it for some women.” I shrug. Just because he knows he’s hot doesn’t mean he has to know I think he’s hot. “But not me. Nothing personal. You’re just not my type. Even in those perfectly fitting jeans.”
As I close the space between us, the shit-eating grin on his face falls slightly as he stares down at me, towering over me by at least a foot.
“Well then, at least we agree on something, Princess.” His tone still holds amusement, but I flex my fists at his choice of nickname.
“Which is?”
“I’ve honestly never seen anyone so damn difficult to look at.” His eyes gleam as he watches my reaction to his words. His gaze trails my face, my neck, my lips. I should back away but, instead, I move closer and breathe him in.
“Fuck,” he says gruffly. “Feels almost painful to look at you, actually.”
He holds my eyes with his and I try to form a rational thought under his spell. How is this small interaction causing me to tingle from my head to my toes?
“Well, good news for you. You’re off the hook.” I push the water bottle into his hard chest with a satisfying crunch and lean back to straighten my hat. “I’m late to meet my sister, so you won’t have to look at me any more today. And don’t worry, I won’t be suing the ranch.”
Haden scoffs as I turn away.
“Rescuing you earns the ranch a free pass, does it?” he asks. I head for the barn doors but, just as I meet the threshold, I turn and grin at him over my shoulder.
“Nah. I’m just not suing because it’s not poor Dusty’s fault
he couldn’t resist my short little shorts and my pretty smile.” I wink, using air quotes around his words. “Good thing I’ve had zero effect on you though. Someone needs to keep their head straight around here.”
I don’t look back, but I’m sure I hear his deep chuckle from behind me as I walk through the open barn doors into the warm Kentucky sun.
Chapter Four Cassie
The trail back to Wade and Ivy’s cabin is well-marked and covered in a thick layer of mulch. Honeysuckle vines creep along the ground through the heavy walls of pine trees, and the sound of cicadas bounces off them as I walk, feeling steadier on my feet by the minute. When I reach the first cabin on the edge of the property, my mulch trail turns to a gravel road and I notice the little wooden sign telling me this is Legend cabin. I can tell right away that a man lives here. The wide, covered front porch has an old rocking chair on it that has seen better days. Beside it sits a small matching wooden table with a black ceramic coffee mug on top. Who knows how many mornings ago it was set there. There aren’t any wreaths or flowerpots to add color to the front door. Just a very large, tattered pair of work boots sitting on a thick straw mat.
The next cabin I pass on my walk is the same size as the first. Its sign bears the name Stardust. Wade and Ivy live in the last and largest cabin, Bluegrass, and my mama lives in Spirit, which is just before theirs. I knew instantly that Silver Pines was a place after my own heart when I heard all the cabins were named after Willie Nelson albums. I climb Wade and Ivy’s
steps a few minutes later but I don’t even get the chance to open the door before Ivy does.
“What happened to you?” my sister asks as she swings the door open and I smile. She sure looks like a mama right now. Her dark hair is pulled up onto her head in a blue scrunchie and she’s wearing yoga tights and a big gray Silver Pines t-shirt. My new little niece, Billi, squirms in her arms. She’s the sole reason I’m here. Billi was born three weeks ago, and this is the first chance I’ve had to come and meet the newest member of my family, even if it is only for one night. I’m heading to Lexington tomorrow, but I intend to snuggle this little bundle as much as possible before I go.
“Hazards of the job.” I offer, tickling Billi’s already chubby cheek with a big smile before looking down at my now-torn blouse that is more brown with dust than yellow.
“Christ almighty, you’ve been gone for less than two hours.” Wade sounds horrified as he posts up beside Ivy, scrubbing his face with his hand. “Who am I giving shit to?”
I grin. I liked Wade as soon as I met him, and commend my sister for landing this rugged cowboy who appears to be the epitome of a quiet southern gentleman. Ivy swatted at me when I asked her if he called her “ma’am” in bed. He’s also insanely crazy about my big sister, so I like that about him too. But mostly I like that, right now, he immediately assumes what happened to me wasn’t my fault. Still, I take the honest route and shake my head as I enter their cabin.
“No one. It was my doing entirely. I wanted to ride your horse Outlaw, and Dusty warned me he wasn’t fully broken in. But I, um . . . convinced him otherwise.”
“Dusty,” Wade mutters as he shakes his head. “Are you hurt? Is my horse hurt?”
“Nope. But I pissed off your other cowboy,” I tell him as I hold my phone up and shrug. “Got my video though.”
“Video?” Ivy’s eyebrows shoot up. “You risked bodily harm for a video?”
“Hey, no judging. I live my life a quarter mile at a time,” I say, quoting one of her favorite movies, The Fast and the Furious.
Wade chuckles at the reference before his brow furrows.
“By my other cowboy, do you mean Haden?” he asks.
“Yeah. The one who traded between scowling and fussing over me like a mother hen.”
I toe off my boots and make my way to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. I’m feeling at home in Ivy’s space after only a few hours. But that’s my sister. She’s the epitome of comfort for me.
“Scowling? Haden?” Ivy doesn’t sound like she believes me. “He’s usually pretty happy. What did you do to him?”
“Hmm.” I think of his face as he skidded in beside me. Yep, definitely scowling. “I think I scared the shit out of him. He was worried I was gonna sue the ranch.”
After my walk in the Kentucky heat, I gulp down my water and lean against the countertop before pulling out my phone to edit the video I recorded before I fell. There’s maybe ten seconds of me riding toward the camera until the unruly horse decided I was an uninvited guest. Despite the clip’s length, what I did manage to capture works. My hair flies out from behind me and, somehow, I look like I know what I’m doing. I crop that portion of the video out and save the cut copy separately in my camera roll. Not too shabby for my first time on horseback in five years.
“I’m glad Haden was there and I hope he gave Dusty and you some shit,” Wade scolds me. “That was a rookie decision to let you try to wrangle Outlaw. Even if you did ‘convince’ him.”
“I said sorry,” I tell him, and I meant it. “Poor Dusty will be shoveling shit for the foreseeable future. I feel pretty bad.”
“Not bad enough to help him?” Ivy asks with a smile, rocking her babe.
“I would probably cause him more work if I tried to help,” I answer.
She glances at me with a soft grin before looking back to Wade.
“I told you. She brings the chaos wherever she goes. My sister, the hurricane.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I say, wagging my finger at her. “Hurricanes are a mighty force to be reckoned with.”
“Yes, they are,” Ivy agrees. We lock eyes and grin at each other. I know she misses me just as much as I miss her. I turn back to watch the rest of my uncut video. After I fall, Haden slides into the dirt beside me before lifting me up in his strong arms. This part won’t make it onto my social media but I’m certainly not deleting the way his powerful arms scooped me up, or the concern that crossed his rugged features as he looked down at me.
“Pissed off or not”—I look back at Wade and Ivy—“some pretty hot cowboys you’ve got around here.”
“Jesus,” Wade mutters before turning to Billi. “You don’t need to hear this do you, Bean?”
He plucks his daughter from Ivy’s arms. “I’ll change Billi’s diaper and spare her the details about how hot her auntie finds my top hand.”
Wade isn’t even out of earshot before Ivy turns to me with the mama look on her face again. “At some point you’re gonna need to learn that you aren’t invincible. And that your actions impact others.”
“Yes, Mom.” I salute her. “I’m done manipulating cowboys. I’ve learned my lesson. I just had to get this video. I thought I could handle it. I was wrong.”
“Don’t you have a show this weekend?” Ivy changes the topic as she folds up a baby blanket and sets it on the edge of the sofa. “You can’t very well play guitar with broken arms.”
“I know,” I offer a little too sharply. I don’t need to be scolded by her and Haden in the same day.
Ivy sighs. “Try to at least stay out of trouble for the rest of the day, Cass. Dinner is at six. Wade’s grillin’ and Mama is coming. Oh, and Cole and Ginger.”
“Cole’s the brother, right? Does he look anything like Wade?” I ask with a wiggle of my eyebrows.
“He’s beyond taken. Stay out of trouble.” She points a finger at me.
“Staying out of trouble is my middle name,” I offer innocently as I wrap my arm around Ivy’s shoulders. “I’m planning on heading back to Mama’s and getting all this dirt off of me before spending the whole afternoon with you, Mama, and my new angel niece before I have to leave tomorrow.”
A thought crosses my mind as Wade re-enters the room with Billi. Posting some photos with my sweet new niece might be a good idea if Ivy is alright with it. Anything on my social media that makes me look relatable thrills my manager.
“I’ll be back in a half-hour, lovebirds,” I singsong. “Oh, and I have to meet my bassist for Lexington at some pub called the Horse and Barrel tonight. Is that place any good?”
Ivy laughs as she takes Billi from Wade. I move closer to take a deep breath of her delicious newborn scent as I bend down and kiss the top of her head in Ivy’s arms. She’s so tiny, and it still blows my mind how much I can love a person I just met.
“It’s plenty good. The manager, Nash, is like family,” Ivy says as I stroke Billie’s fuzzy head with the back of my finger.
“You’re going to the Horse and Barrel alone? That a good idea?” Wade asks. Bless him. He’s already such a dad.
“I’ll be fine. I won’t be long with my meeting and, after that, we’ll see where the night takes me. I can’t pick up a local cowboy when I’m with a crowd, duh. Unless this Nash is there and he’s any—”
Ivy snorts. “Also off-limits. And since when were cowboys your type?”
“Ranchers,” Wade bites out. Ivy already told me they aren’t cowboys. Cowboys need cows.
I make my way back to the front door to pull my boots on and head to Mama’s for a shower.
“Cowboys were never really my thing, but you know when you see someone licking an ice cream cone and that makes you wish you could lick your own ice cream cone?”
“Christ. Did she learn her lack of boundaries from you?”
Wade asks Ivy, shaking his head.
I shrug. “We’re family now, Wade, and I don’t believe in sugar-coating. Especially when it comes to ice cream cones.”
“You don’t say?” he says, his voice lined with sarcasm, before he adds, “Try to at least make it back to your cabin without accosting any more of my ranch hands.”
“I make no promises. See y’all soon,” I joke, heading out onto the porch. I look around and take a deep breath as I start the short walk to Spirit, where my mama lives. I’m longing for a hot shower to wash both the dust from me and the scent of that cowboy that still lingers in my hair. Haden.
He caught me off guard with his deep stare and caring ways earlier, which is a first. Usually, I tend to leave the impression, not the other way around.
I chalk it up to the country charm of Silver Pines and Laurel Creek. There’s a certain romance that just settles around you with the breeze. I’m starting to see why Ivy likes it here so much. You can’t go wrong with rolling hills, fresh air and hot cowboys.