Duke (Lucky River Ranch #4)

Chapter 1

Bull’s-eye

Wheeler

November

That’s my cowboy.

I know it three heartbeats into the extended eye contact I make with the tall, broad-shouldered blond who greets me with a smile as I walk into the ranch’s enormous kitchen. He’s the kind of handsome in his faded button-up and baseball hat that makes my stomach do several backflips.

It’s my first time visiting Lucky Ranch, so I have no idea if cowboys in general are this friendly and gorgeous or if this guy is special. Whatever the case, I don’t hate it.

“I’m Duke.” He extends a hand. “Pleasure to finally meet the gal Mollie’s always talking to about boots on the phone. And about banging—”

“Can you not be gross for five fucking seconds?” Cash rolls his eyes. He’s my best friend and business partner Mollie’s boyfriend. He’s also Duke’s older brother.

Cash can be gruff, but as evidenced by his smile, he’s a secret softie. That smile probably has something to do with the fact that Mollie is tucked into his side, her eyes sated and happy as she looks up at him. They’ve been dating for all of two months, but it’s obvious they’re smitten.

“Banging business ideas.” Duke’s lips twitch. He looks a lot like Cash. Blue eyes. Square, Superman-like jaw. “Just showing respect where respect is due. As co-CEO of her own damn company, Miss Wheeler Rankin here knows what I’m talking about. Ain’t that right?”

I laugh as I take his hand. Mollie told me cowboys are a different breed, but I didn’t believe her until now.

The guy already knows my last name. Does that mean something?

That has to mean something. Mollie must’ve really talked up my arrival, and Duke must’ve really been paying attention. The idea makes a shiver of excitement dart up my spine.

The kitchen is full of people, their voices rising and falling in a happy kind of chaos. The space is clearly built to accommodate a crowd, with a huge island and a farm table with room for at least twenty.

Warmth blooms in my center. Feels good to laugh and be around people. Get out of my head for a minute.

Duke holds my hand—holds my gaze—with warm, intense confidence. His grip is firm.

“Nice to finally meet you too,” I reply.

Be careful, a voice inside my head warns as I stare into his eyes for a beat too long.

But then I remember my stay here on the ranch is temporary.

Stumbling into any kind of real emotional intimacy is impossible when you’re literally and figuratively all over the place.

Which is why I’m only looking for some no-strings-attached fun right now.

Considering cowboys have a reputation for never resting their heads on the same pillow twice, I figured they’d be a perfect fit.

There are five Rivers brothers, all of them part of a long line of ranchers going back generations. Is being charming and gorgeous and so damn…big in every aspect part of their DNA?

Dallas may only be two hundred miles northeast of here, but you’d think the ranch was on a whole other planet for how different these cowboys are from the guys back home.

Men there will approach you, but their friendliness is all pretense.

All a show of swagger. But Duke here? His friendly energy feels genuine, like this is who he is all the time.

I also adore how he drops compliments that actually land.

Guys back in Dallas definitely don’t have hands this calloused. A hot, lovely drip of awareness works its way through my center at the feel of Duke’s palm pressed to mine. It’s dry, smooth in the center but rough at the base of his fingers and thumb.

Mollie was absolutely right about cowboys being a different breed.

She discovered this fact after recently inheriting Lucky Ranch, her wildly wealthy late father’s two-hundred-thousand-acre property in the small town of Hartsville, Texas.

After butting heads with the ranch’s foreman, Cash, the two of them promptly fell in love.

Now, Mollie has decided to split her time between Hartsville and Dallas, where our company is based. As her business partner, that means I get to regularly visit Lucky Ranch. Which is, well, lucky for me, because I’m interested in this cowboy.

Very, very interested in having some of that meaningless fun with him.

Judging by his expertise in flirting, there’s a good chance Duke just might want the same thing. The twins—babies of the family—are wild cards, Mollie told me, referring to Duke and his brother Ryder. You never know where they are or who they go home with.

Perfect.

“You know a lot about Bellamy Brooks,” I reply to Duke, referring to the cowboy boot company Mollie and I started in our dorm room eight years ago at the University of Texas.

“Big fan. Just waitin’ for y’all to start making men’s boots.”

“So you can model them?”

Duke’s smile touches his eyes, making them glimmer. “I’ve been told I’m very photogenic. Just keep me in mind, yeah? I’m cheap—”

“And easy,” one of the other brothers says with a smirk. It has to be Ryder, Duke’s twin. They look almost exactly alike, save for Duke’s slightly shorter hair and the barely visible scar on Ryder’s bottom lip.

“My fee is just a pair of your beautiful boots,” Duke says.

I realize we’re still shaking hands. The warmth of his, the viselike sensation of his grip, has me feeling giddy. “I’ll have my people reach out to your people.”

“Ma’am, when I have ‘people,’ you and I are gonna finish this conversation on a yacht somewhere in the Caribbean.”

Ryder groans. “Keep dreaming.”

Another brother, this one with shaggy, dark blond hair, rolls his eyes.

But me? I grin. What a freaking delight, meeting a cowboy who thinks outside the box. Ranch. Whatever.

“I like to travel. Visiting new places is one of the biggest perks of owning a business.” Dropping his hand, I fold my arms over my chest. “Let’s save the date.”

“I like to travel too. Hope to do more of it.” His eyes, so blue they seem to glow in the soft light of the kitchen, bore into mine. “And yes, it’s a date.”

It’s hard to look away. But then a ponytailed woman bearing two bottles of wine approaches, introducing herself as Patsy, Lucky Ranch’s chef.

Cash and his four brothers, along with Mollie, Patsy, her husband, John B, and their daughter, Sally, all crowd around the farm table.

Mollie’s attorney, Goody Gershwin, and her wife, Tallulah, also join us.

We tuck into a homemade meal that’s absolutely delicious: pork tenderloin roasted with apples, along with mashed sweet potatoes and sautéed greens.

I can’t remember the last time I sat down to supper.

Growing up, my family ate together almost every night until my brothers and I got so busy with school and activities that the ritual happened less and less.

My parents abandoned it altogether when they really started to not get along around the time I was entering high school.

I miss those suppers.

Really, I miss the time when our family was (relatively) happy. Because we were at one point. Dad wasn’t quite so angry. Mom wasn’t depressed. Preston wasn’t a jerk. Then slowly, bit by bit, everything—everyone—changed.

My stomach flips for an entirely different reason when Mollie pulls out her laptop after we’re done eating. She and I have been working on a big proposal for days now. I’m excited for her.

I’m also a little wistful. A few times, I found myself wishing that someone could love me the way Cash loves Mollie. The two of them have chemistry out the wazoo, sure, but they’re also friends. He’s got her back, and he cares about how she feels. What she needs. Wants. Thinks.

I’ve never seen anything like it.

As usual, Mollie slays the delivery of her proposal.

Cash and his brothers were raised on their family’s neighboring property, Rivers Ranch.

They’ve struggled with its upkeep since their parents’ passing in a car accident twelve years ago.

Mollie told me Cash has always dreamed of saving his pennies and restoring his family’s land.

Mollie gives him the plans to do exactly that.

She proposes combining Rivers Ranch with Lucky Ranch, creating Lucky River Ranch.

Mollie and the Rivers brothers would split revenue equally.

She and I even designed a logo for the new property, a turquoise horseshoe flanked by stars and the ranch’s name.

Cash cries.

Mollie cries.

We all cry. And then we all burst into a fresh round of tears when Cash proposes, and Mollie accepts with a hell yes.

We pop champagne and toast to the newly engaged couple.

One of the cowboys—the one with the shaggy hair who I think is named Wyatt—slams down his drink and says, “Let’s celebrate! To the Rattler!”

I glance at Duke to find him looking at me. My stomach dips for the hundredth time.

“Best dive bar on the planet,” he explains. “You in?”

I shrug. “It’s not a yacht in the Caribbean.”

“All good things, Wheeler.”

Why is it so damn sexy when a guy says your name?

Really, when this guy says it.

I’m smiling like an idiot. I like how easy this feels. How light and fun, the opposite of how I felt when I woke up this morning.

“I’m in.”

____

We pile into a convoy of mud-splattered pickup trucks and head into town. Hartsville has all of one thousand residents, but Main Street is hopping tonight.

It’s love at first sight when I lay eyes on the Rattler. It’s tucked into a row of weathered buildings with big, old-fashioned windows whose hand-blown panes waver in the gleam of passing headlights. The sidewalk is lit up with every shade of neon, thanks to the beer signs that hang inside the bar.

Duke holds the door open for me. Like his brothers, he’s put on a broken-in denim jacket. I’m glad he’s still wearing the baseball hat. Add in his smile and the way his eyes crinkle at the edges, and you have one very tall glass of water.

Ryder catches me ogling his brother. “You sure that’s the twin you want?”

Duke scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Trust the lady. She’s making the right call.”