Chapter Six
Axle
“Son of a bitch.”
I know something is wrong the second I open the cabin door.
My boots splash, and cold water soaks the hem of my jeans.
“What the—” I jerk backward.
Water is fucking everywhere. The entire floor of my cabin is flooded. Not deep enough to swim in, but enough to cover the floorboards and slosh around my boots.
A steady rushing sound echoes from somewhere deeper inside.
“Oh hell.”
I step inside and hurry past the kitchen to the hallway. The sound gets louder with every step.
My heart sinks. Because I already know this isn’t going to be a cheap fix.
I round the corner and enter the bathroom, where water sprays from behind the toilet like a damn fountain.
A busted supply line.
Fantastic.
I pull my phone from my pocket.
The dinner just ended ten minutes ago.
I hit Bryce’s number, and he answers on the second ring.
“What’s up?”
“My cabin’s flooding.”
Silence.
“What?”
“My cabin’s flooding,” I repeat.
Another pause.
Then, “How bad?”
I look around.
There’s at least three inches of standing water on the bathroom floor, and the hallway looks like a creek as it moves into the living space.
“Very bad.”
“Shit. We’ll be there in five,” he says.
The call ends.
I immediately head back outside.
The cool Wyoming night air hits me as I stomp through the flooded doorway. I shake my boots as I feel the water seeping through the leather and soaking my socks.
Wonderful.
Just wonderful.
I cut between my cabin and Royce’s and head toward the utility box mounted on the exterior wall.
Thank God Dad drilled some basic maintenance knowledge into us, growing up.
I yank open the breaker panel.
Then locate the controls for the well pump and hot water heater.
A few switches later, everything powers down.
The sound of rushing water inside finally begins to fade.
At least the problem isn’t actively getting worse now.
I lean against the side of the cabin and wait.
Five minutes later, Bryce rounds the gravel path and comes pounding down the walkway with Charli on his heels.
“What happened?”
“Pipe burst in the bathroom.”
He winces. “Bad?”
I point toward the front door. “You tell me.”
His eyes clock the water spilling from the open front door and pooling on the porch.
“Fuck,” he bites out.
“Yep.”
Charli comes up behind him and wraps her arms around his waist.
“Damn,” she mutters.
We head inside together.
Bryce starts assessing the damage straightaway.
The guy spent years helping his father run their tiny ranch in Oklahoma before taking off to join the Pbr, and he’s annoyingly competent at everything, including stuff like this.
We splash our way toward the bathroom.
The floor squishes beneath our boots. The drywall is soaked. The baseboards are already swelling.
Bryce crouches behind the toilet. Then mutters the exact thing I’m thinking. “Shit.”
“That’s what I said.”
He reaches behind the tank. “The supply line completely burst.”
“Yep. I shut down the well pump and the hot water heater,” I tell him.
He stands.
Water drips from his jeans.
“Well, nothing we can do about it tonight. We’re gonna need a plumber and probably an electrician.”
I groan.
“An electrician?” Charli repeats.
Bryce glances behind me to where she is standing in the doorway. “Yeah. The water reached the outlets.”
I look toward the wall.
Damn.
He’s right.
Several outlets sit partially submerged.
“Wonderful,” I groan.
“Then we’ll need a restoration company,” Bryce continues. “They’ll need to dry all the wood out and address the water damage. Treat everything for mildew and mold.”
I drag a hand down my face. “Great.”
Bryce snorts.
“Look on the bright side,” Charli chirps.
Both our eyes go to her.
“There’s a bright side?” Bryce asks.
“At least Axle caught it before everything inside floated away. We can save the furniture and appliances.”
He gives her a small smile. “I guess that’s a bright side.”
We head back outside.
At least out here, everything isn’t soaked.
Charli folds her arms. “Okay.”
I don’t like her tone.
“You’ve got three options.”
“Why do I feel like I’m not gonna like any of them?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes. “Because you’re an ornery cowboy.”
“I’m not ornery.”
Both Bryce and Charli laugh.
Rude fuckers.
Charli begins counting on her fingers. “Option one: You move back in with Boone and Irene until your cabin is fixed.”
I immediately shake my head. “Nope.”
I love my parents. But the last thing I want to do is spend the summer under their roof. I’m a twenty-nine-year-old man, and I like my space.
Bryce nods. “Fair.”
Charli continues, “Option two: You bunk with Royce.”
I stare. “Hell no.”
She places a hand on her hip and glares at me. “Why not? It’s only next door.”
“No,” I repeat.
“It won’t be for long,” she continues.
I throw my arms out wide. “Look at me, Charli. Do I look like I’ll fit in a queen bed with another grown-ass man?”
Charli bites her lip.
Bryce looks away.
Both are trying not to laugh.
I point at them. “Assholes.”
Royce and I have shared enough motel rooms during rodeo season to last a lifetime. We’ve spent weeks crammed into tiny spaces. One bathroom. One television. One coffee maker. One farting, scratching, snoring brother.
I don’t need that experience recreated at home. Especially if this repair drags on.
Charli grins. “So, that’s a hard no?”
“Very hard.”
“Noted.” She raises a third finger. “Option three: The only empty cabin is on the other side of the academy, next to the clinic.”
I consider it. It’s farther from the training pens and arenas, but it should only be an extra ten to fifteen-minute walk in the morning.
“It’s fully furnished?” I ask.
“Yep. Same as these. Though they are a little closer together.”
“How close?”
“You aren’t sharing a wall, but your big ass probably can’t walk between them,” she says.
“Got it. Keep the television volume down. No problem.”
“Sure you don’t want to sleep with Royce?” she asks.
Bryce chokes out a laugh.
“See?” I point at him. “Even Bryce knows that’s horrifying.”
“I don’t know,” Bryce says. “Royce looks like he’d be a good cuddler.”
I shudder dramatically. “I’ll get my shit.”
Charli wipes tears from her eyes.
Fifteen minutes later, I’ve packed everything important into my truck. Charli rides with me while Bryce stays behind to soak up what water he can with towels from the linen closet.
The academy stretches across the ranch as we wind through the gravel lanes toward the clinic.
Horses graze in nearby paddocks.
The entire place feels peaceful under the starlit sky.
Eventually, we reach the row of cabins near the clinic.
The cabin itself looks almost identical to mine. Small porch. Rocking chair. Same layout. Same rustic exterior.
I park in the lot across from it and kill the engine.
I grab my duffel and follow Charli toward the porch.
That’s when I notice someone sitting next door.
Jovie.
She’s stretched out in a rocking chair. Long, bare legs crossed. Blonde hair pulled up on top of her head. A stemmed glass balanced in one hand.
The moon bathes her in soft light, and for a second, I forget what we’re doing.
Charli spots her too. “Hey, Jovie.”
She looks up and smiles. “Hey.”
Then her gaze lands on me with my bag in hand.
One eyebrow lifts.
Charli gestures toward me. “You’ve got a new neighbor.”
Jovie glances between us. “What happened?”
“Sasquatch here wrecked his cabin,” Charli quips.
Jovie’s eyes go round. “What?”
Charli snorts. “He’s very aggressive.”
I shake my head as she starts laughing. Then explains what really happened while handing me a key.
“That sucks,” Jovie says.
“Don’t worry. It’s only for a few days. You won’t even know I’m here,” I assure her, then look at Charli. “You need a ride back?”
“Nah, I’ll walk,” she says as she makes her way over to Jovie.
I unlock the cabin.
Step inside.
And instantly relax.
I toss my duffel onto the bed. Sit on the edge and tug my boots and socks off. Then head back outside to set them on the porch to dry out.
The girls are still talking.
Jovie now holds a second glass.
The liquid inside looks like water.
Charli accepts it.
“What is that?” I ask.
Jovie lifts her glass. “A white wine spritzer. You want one?”
I stare. “A what?”
“A wine spritzer.”
“The fuck is that?” I ask.
She laughs. “It’s Chardonnay, club soda, and a splash of lime juice.”
“Why would anybody drink that intentionally?”
She shrugs. “Because it’s refreshing.”
“Refreshing. Right.”
Charli is already taking a sip. “It’s actually pretty good.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I say.
I shake my head. Women are weird.
Charli turns toward me. “All settled in?”
“Yep.”
“That was fast.”
“I don’t own much.”
She looks at Jovie. “Men.”
She finishes her drink and stands.
“Speaking of … I’m off to collect my man. To squeeze out a little bit of quality time before he leaves for Dallas.”
Bryce is already on the path, heading toward us, eyes on Charli.
I nod toward him. “Looks like he’s already come to collect you.”
She glances over her shoulder, then marches down the steps before turning back to us. “I’ve gotta keep my man satisfied, or those touchy-feely fangirls of his will try to get their hands on him.”
I scoff. “Fangirls?”
“Yep.”
“That ugly SOB doesn’t have any fangirls.”
Charli barks out a laugh. “Sure he doesn’t.”
“He doesn’t,” I call after her.
Bryce Raintree is many things. World champion. Rodeo legend. Former playboy. But the man is also completely devoted to my beautiful cousin.
I point toward him. “You’ve got that guy so thoroughly whipped that he wouldn’t notice another woman if she was standing buck naked in front of him.”
Charli winks. “Then I guess I’m doing my job.”
That gets a laugh out of me.
And surprisingly, out of Jovie too.
The sound catches my attention. My eyes shift toward her.
She’s shaking her head.
“What?” I ask.
She raises an eyebrow. “I’ve been to enough rodeos in my lifetime to know exactly what kind of fangirls she’s talking about.”
“What? Buckle bunnies?”
She nods. “Exactly.”
I grin.
She points toward Bryce. “And I’m sure they’re all over him. Those girls are shameless.”
I laugh.
She’s not wrong. Buckle bunnies are a rare breed. Girls who magically become interested the second somebody wins a buckle, a purse, lands a major sponsorship, or even gets their picture on a poster. We’ve all enjoyed their attention for a night. Every rodeo rider has.
Even me.
It’s practically its own sport.
“Buckle bunnies are no match for Charli Storm,” I say.
Jovie glances toward the path.
Toward Charli.
And then both of us watch as she catches up to Bryce.
Without hesitation, she launches herself onto his back, and he catches her automatically.
Like he’s done it a thousand times before.
Her legs wrap around his waist, and his hands lock beneath her thighs.
And while she peppers his neck with kisses, he keeps walking, like carrying her is the most natural thing in the world.
Jovie watches them go until they disappear around the path.
A soft smile touching her lips.
Then she glances at me. “I guess not.” She swirls her wine. “Looks like she’s got him wrapped around her finger.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” I say.
“You think he realizes it?”
“Yep.”
She sighs. “Good for them.”
The evening settles around us. The mountains glow beneath the moonlight. Somewhere, a horse nickers as a breeze kicks up.
For the first time since opening my flooded cabin door, I finally relax as I take it all in.
Not exactly how I planned to spend my evening. But things could be worse. A lot worse.
I’m temporarily displaced, but at least I’m not sharing a tiny bed with Royce.
Jovie lifts her glass toward me. “To new neighbors.”
I grin. “To hoping this cabin’s pipes are stronger than my last.”
She giggles softly, and wine nearly sloshes over the rim.
As I watch her cheeks flush, I think to myself, The plumbing disaster might not be so bad.
But then she bends to set the glass at her feet, and the oversize shirt she’s wearing slips off one shoulder, revealing the creamy skin underneath.
Fuck.
Bad.
Very, very bad.