High Ridge Ranch Cowboys (Colter Creek #1)

Prologue

DAKOTA

“Woohoo!”

Violet laughs and presses her hand to her ear as if she’s trying to hear something important. “Dakota, do you have to be so loud?”

I clink my drink against hers with a wink. “Hell yeah! This might be the last party we go to in Colter Creek. I’m gonna live it up!”

Okay, maybe I’ve had one too many, but it’s hard not to get caught up in the excitement. The rodeo today was a total adrenaline rush, and the afterparty? Even better. It’s the kind of night where the music might as well be vibrating in your bones, and I can’t get enough.

I glance around the Silver Bit Tavern, which is absolutely buzzing with energy. People are dancing, laughing, and chatting. That familiar small-town charm wraps around you like a cozy blanket.

But tomorrow… I’m leaving.

I’m leaving Colter Creek and my life as I know it. I’m moving to New York City, taking that job offer as a children’s book illustrator. And it’s both the scariest and the most exciting decision of my life.

Violet’s got her arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer.

“So, tell me again why I’m not coming with you to NYC?” she teases, her eyes practically twinkling. “You know I’d fit right in with your big-city life. I could totally rock a pencil skirt.”

I roll my eyes, but can’t help the grin that tugs at my lips. “Because you’re off to college in sunny California, and I’m off to hopefully not completely ruin my life in the city. You’ll be the one living your best life, Violet.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “How am I supposed to live my best life without my bestie?”

“You aren’t going to lose me. No way. We will always be best friends.”

Violet laughs and tightens her arm around my neck, pulling me toward the dance floor, where people are already getting into the groove of the music. All I want to do is throw my worries away. At least for the night.

That’s when I feel it.

Eyes on me.

Oh, wow.

“Clint Parrish is staring at you,” Violet gushes as if she can read my mind. “Go talk to him. He is hot.”

I try not to look, but my head betrays me and swivels anyway. And yep, there he is. Leaning against the bar like he owns the place, beer in hand, messy brown hair falling just right, those ridiculous blue eyes locked on me.

He’s not smiling. Just watching. Which, honestly, should be creepy but somehow manages to feel… electric.

“Oh, no,” I mutter, whipping back around so fast I nearly spill my drink. “Absolutely not. I can’t talk to him. I don’t even know him. I’ve just… seen him around town, that’s all.”

Violet smirks. “Absolutely yes. This is your last night in Colter Creek. Are you really gonna leave without at least one story worth texting me about at three a.m.?”

“Vi—”

“Dakota,” she cuts in, all fake serious. “The man is wearing Levi’s that should be illegal. Illegal. Do you want to die without knowing what that denim situation is about?”

I choke on my laugh, nearly snorting beer out my nose. “You are the worst influence.”

“Correction: I am the best wingwoman.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t know about that…”

Violet squeezes my shoulder and gives me a little shove. “Go dance, girl. You don’t have to marry him. Just… enjoy it. Throw caution to the wind. Have fun. Do something you wouldn’t normally.”

I glance back over my shoulder, and Clint’s still there. Only now, he’s tipped his beer to his lips, eyes still on me over the rim of the bottle. The slow, intense way he’s watching me makes the whole room go still.

I should walk away. I should drag Violet back to our booth, laugh this off, and go home.

But instead, my feet move.

The crowd parts a little as I step onto the dance floor. The music shifts. Something slower but still pulsing, the kind of song that’s easy to sway to. The kind of song that feels like a heartbeat.

And then he’s there.

Clint’s taller than I realized, his shoulders broad enough to block the bar lights. He doesn’t say anything at first, just reaches out and takes my hand. His palm is warm and callused, his grip sure but not demanding.

“I hear this is your last night in town,” he says finally, low enough that I have to lean closer to hear him over the music. “You’re leaving?”

Heat races to my cheeks. I didn’t know he’d even noticed me. But I have to play it cool, despite my stomach flipping.

“Word travels fast in this town, huh?”

He gives a faint smile, not quite reaching his eyes.

“Small town. People notice things.” His thumb brushes over my knuckles. Just once, just enough to send a spark through me. “I noticed you.”

I don’t even realize we’re moving until we’re in the middle of the dance floor, bodies around us swaying to the beat. His hand slides to my waist, firm but careful, as if he’s checking to see if I’ll let him.

And I do. Help me, I do.

“You don’t usually dance,” I say, trying to sound breezy.

“Don’t usually have a reason to.” His voice dips a little lower. “’Til now.”

My heart is hammering, a wild counter-rhythm to the music. I can smell him. Leather, hay, and musk, smoke clinging to his shirt.

I should pull away. I should.

But instead, I tip my head back and meet his gaze, and everything between us snaps like a live wire.

He bends down, just enough for his breath to brush my cheek.

Our mouths meet before I can think about it, the kiss rougher than I expect, all heat and unspoken things. He tastes of beer and summer and something that feels dangerously like goodbye.

And then it’s not just a kiss. His fingers tighten at my waist, pulling me a little closer. My hands find his shoulders, solid under my palms, and I’m melting before I even realize I’ve moved.

The noise of the tavern fades into a hum, and all that’s left is the warmth of his mouth, the scrape of his stubble against my skin, the press of his body.

For now, I’m not thinking about New York. Not thinking about tomorrow.

Just this.

Just him.

The heat between us is unbearable. Clint’s lips move from mine, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he pulls back just enough to meet my eyes.

There’s something dangerous in the look he gives me. It’s reckless and matches the fire building inside me.

“Let’s get out of here,” he murmurs, husky with need. His hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me in for another searing kiss. “You want to?”

I don’t need any more encouragement. Without another word, I’m tugging him through the crowd, weaving past the dancing bodies, my hand clutched in his as we move toward the back exit of the Silver Bit Tavern.

My heart pounds in my chest, anticipation spiraling with every step.

We push through the door, and the cool night air hits me, a shock after the heat of the crowded room. The moment we’re outside, Clint presses me against the brick wall, his lips claiming mine again.

His kiss is deep, frantic. He’s trying to drink me in, to make me his.

I gasp as he slides his hands under my shirt, the heat of his palms burning my skin. He groans into my mouth when I pull at his shirt, eager to feel the hard, warm muscle beneath. The desire is so thick it’s suffocating.

Every part of me is screaming for more.

“Clint…” I breathe, pulling away just long enough to meet his eyes.

There’s no doubt in my mind. I need him. Now.

He doesn’t hesitate. In one swift motion, he lifts me off the ground, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, and takes me to the back alley where, hopefully, no one can see us.

Not that I’m really worried about being caught right now.

His lips move to my neck, sucking, kissing, and biting in all the right places. I can’t help the moan that escapes me, my body reacting to him before I can think about it. The roughness in his touch, the desperation in his movements—it drives me wild.

His hands travel down my back before finding the zipper of my jeans. He works it down slowly, and I shiver in anticipation, my breath catching in my throat.

The pulse between my legs is aching, desperate for him.

“No turning back now,” he murmurs against my skin, his fingers hooking the waistband of my panties, dragging them down with impatient hands.

I’m trembling. Both with excitement and with the thrill of the forbidden, the danger of being exposed, even if nobody’s around.

He reaches for the button of his jeans, his eyes never leaving mine, his movements tantalizing but frantic all at once.

I hear the faint sound of his zipper, the rasp of fabric sliding against skin, and then he’s free, his cock hot and hard, pressing against my thigh.

My breath hitches in my chest, a mix of fear and want, and before I can think, I’m pulling him closer, guiding him toward me. Clint’s body presses into mine as I wrap my legs around his waist again, and I can’t hold back the gasp that slips from my lips as he enters me.

His pace is rough, unrelenting. The sensation of his cock filling me, the feel of his strong hands gripping my hips as he pounds into me against the wall. It’s overwhelming.

My head falls back against the cold stone, my hands scrabbling for purchase on his shoulders as he moves inside me with purpose.

The adrenaline surges. Every nerve is on fire.

The risk of getting caught, of being exposed, makes it wilder, the danger heightening the pleasure. Every muffled groan, every ragged breath between us seems louder in the dark alley, and I know we’re on the edge.

I feel him shift, his hands guiding me as he thrusts deeper, harder, the friction sending shocks of pleasure coursing through me. He’s ruthless in his pursuit of me, and I can’t get enough.

There’s no room for hesitation or doubt. No room for anything but him.

The sound of our bodies slapping together echoes in the alley, and I can feel my climax building, a spring ready to snap.

Clint’s lips are on mine again, silencing any sound that threatens to escape. His tongue pushes into my mouth as his body forces mine to surrender, to take whatever he’s willing to give.

His growl against my lips sends me over the edge, and I come undone, my body shaking violently as I finally let go.

Clint follows me, his body stiffening as he grunts, a low, guttural sound that tells me he’s just as far gone as I am. His grip tightens on me, his thrusts faltering. He reaches his peak, his hot release filling me.

For a moment, everything is still. Our breaths are ragged in the quiet of the alley, the world beyond us faded, distant. We’re leaning against each other, sweat slicked and breathless, but we can’t stop grinning, the wildness of what we’ve just done still thrumming through our veins.

Holy shit.

I did not expect tonight to go this way. But I sure am glad it did.