Enticed (Honeysuckle Ranch #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

GABE

Final decree of divorce.

Fucking finally.

The envelope from my attorney had been burning a hole in my pocket all day. I couldn’t wait to open it, but at the same time, I’d been nervous. This was the moment I’d been waiting on for the past eight months, and it was finally here.

Breathing out a relieved sigh, I folded the papers and stuffed them back into the envelope before tossing it into the glove box.

I wasn’t sure what I expected, but part of me had been worried I’d somehow be denied that which I sought so desperately at the last moment.

It wasn’t a particularly messy divorce, but it hadn’t been easy.

Trying to divide assets and agree on custody was stressful to say the least, but it was finally over.

I could move on with my life, and so could she.

It was an amicable, mutual decision, so there were no hard feelings; at least, not anymore.

My now ex-wife, Celeste, had agonized over the decision, mainly because she didn’t want to be seen as a failure by her high-society friends and family, not because she was desperately in love with me or hopelessly devoted to our marriage.

I’d been more like a show pony to her, a piece of arm candy she liked to show off at charity events and fundraisers.

The sad truth was that we’d only gotten married because she got pregnant.

We weren’t in a serious relationship at the time, but I was a man of honor.

I’d been raised to own up to my responsibilities, so that was what I’d done.

She had just landed her dream job in Texas and informed me two days before she was set to fly out that the doctor confirmed she was indeed expecting.

We went to the courthouse in Nashville that afternoon.

I put in my notice at Honeysuckle Ranch and followed her out there a month later.

Now I was back in Poplar Ridge after nine years away from the town and job I loved.

My best friend, Elwood, was kind enough to give me my job back as a horse trainer, but with a few added responsibilities.

The ranch had grown and expanded in my absence, and there was more to do than ever.

But before I started my new job on Monday morning, I was going to relax and enjoy a cold beer at one of my favorite old stomping grounds.

I stepped out of my truck into the crisp spring evening. Poplar Ridge was a small farm town right on the Tennessee-Kentucky border, and although it grew uncomfortably hot and muggy in the dead of summer, we were still a couple months away from it feeling like a sauna every time you walked outside.

The familiar sound of clinking glasses mixed with country music blasting from the old jukebox in the corner greeted me when I pushed through the doors at Spokes & Spurs.

I instantly felt at home among the scuffed wood floors that saw far more line dancing than twerking, the denim and leather worn by nearly every person in the building, the old Budweiser sign above the bar with lights that flickered from age and overuse, and the faint scent of tobacco that still clung to old clapboard walls.

It was nothing like the lounges and speakeasies Celeste liked to drag me to.

They were all a little too high brow for me, and I was a little too low class for her.

Still, I let her dress me up like her pet project with fancy blazers and designer jeans.

I never gave up my old Stetson, though. That was where I drew the line, and once she realized what a commodity that made me at social gatherings, she leaned into the whole “cowboy persona” as she called it.

What she never seemed to realize was that it wasn’t a persona. It was just who I was.

I even continued to train horses. It wasn’t like there was a shortage of riders and racers in Texas.

I didn’t have to go too far outside the city limits to find a ranch in need of some help.

She hated when I came home dirty and smelling like a stable, but she never asked me to stop.

She knew horses were my first love, and she never tried to take that away from me.

Though she had her faults, as did I, she was a good person, just a little misguided and maybe a touch shallow.

But that was what happened when your father was a music exec in Nashville and you grew up with a silver spoon in your mouth.

I grew up with dirt on my boots and ranching in my blood.

Somehow our worlds collided in a bar on the Honky Tonk Highway, and the rest was history.

Shaking away those thoughts, I brought my beer to my lips as I sat at the bar, watching the game playing on the TV in the corner.

Commotion on the dance floor caught my attention, and I turned to find a rowdy group of young women cutting up, laughter spilling from their lips as they danced and twirled.

My lips twitched with a smile, remembering the days my buddies and I would watch from our perch at the bar as we scoped out our next conquest. Those days were long gone, and these ladies were probably much too young for me.

I began to turn back to the bar, resigned to stay single for a while despite having spent the last year being celibate, when a flash of chocolate brown with streaks of honey gold caught my eye.

I couldn’t see the woman’s face as she twirled, her long locks concealing her features, but there was nothing blocking my view of the rest of her.

Skintight boot-cut jeans hugged her generous curves and thick thighs meant for straddling a horse’s back.

Or a cowboy. She moved with the grace of a rider, her strong legs mastering the footwork of the line dance she and her friends were performing.

I watched as she stomped, stepped, and scooted to the music, unable to tear my eyes away from the ample curve of her hips and the toned muscles of her back revealed by the barely there crop top she wore.

My dick stirred in my jeans, and I turned away from the tempting performance.

The last thing I needed was to get a hard-on in public over a woman I had no business fantasizing about.

I was thirty-seven, not twenty-seven. I didn’t come to the bar to pick up chicks.

I just wanted to have a beer and watch the game, and since my cable wasn’t hooked up yet and my fridge was empty, I decided to come here.

That was it. I wasn’t ready to even think about pursuing another woman.

Hell, the ink had barely dried on my divorce papers.

I needed to focus on myself, my career, and my kid. No distractions. Except…

I heard them approach before I saw them, and I was enveloped by the sweet scent of vanilla, wild blackberries, and something else I couldn’t place.

The five young women sidled up to the bar, filling the only empty spot that just so happened to be right next to me.

They waved down the bartender who nodded his acknowledgment as he refilled drinks at the other end.

The young woman who captured my attention earlier stood next to me, chattering animatedly with her friends.

I lifted my beer to take a drink, and at the same time she waved her arms wildly, bumping my elbow.

Foamy golden liquid sloshed over the rim and coated my sleeve, dripping onto the bar top in front of me.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” the sweet, melodic voice said.

Before I could move, she grabbed a pile of napkins and began blotting my arm.

My skin tingled beneath her touch even though there was a layer of cotton between us.

My eyes skimmed over her dainty hand and up her toned arms, pausing at her chest where I found the most perfect breasts.

They weren’t large, but they were high and tight, the perfect size to fit in my rough calloused hands.

She let out a little gasp, and I snapped my gaze to hers.

Two hazel pools of surprise stared back at me.

Golden starbursts rimmed in pine green. Irises that looked familiar.

Had I seen them before? They were stunning and hypnotic, framed by a beautiful face that had me tilting my head as I scanned her features.

I studied the light dusting of freckles across a slightly upturned nose. She reminded me of…

No.

It couldn’t be … could it?

No. No, no, no, no.

“Gabe?” she asked.

Fuck.

“Jasmine?” My voice cracked like I hadn’t used it in years.

My best friend’s daughter blinked up at me, her dark lashes fluttering like a bird’s wings.

Up close, her features were more recognizable, but still, she looked so different from the last time I saw her.

She’d been a kid back then. Even in her graduation pictures, she did not look like this, like a woman and not the girl I remembered.

“You’re back,” she said, clearly stunned by my presence. My brows furrowed in confusion. Had she not known I was moving back? Did her father not inform her I’d be working on the ranch again?

Her dad.

Shit.

I’d just been ogling my best friend’s daughter, a girl sixteen years my junior. I should NOT have been looking at her like that. Guilt washed over me, and I swallowed down the tight knot rising in my throat. I couldn’t flirt with her or watch her dance, swaying those luscious hips to the—

Nope. Not going there. It was my job to protect her, not lust after her. What kind of shit bag thought that way about his best friend’s little girl?

“Yep, I’m back,” I confirmed. “Didn’t expect to see you in a bar,” I said with a scowl.

She was too young to be here. Her parents would flip if they knew she was out drinking with her friends.

To deflect from my discomfort over lusting after her, I opened my mouth and promptly stuck my foot in it. “Your daddy know you’re here?”

That was the wrong question to ask.