Marry Me, Maybe? (Bristlecone Springs #2)

PROLOGUE

MATTY

Nothing in the world smelled better than sun-warmed dirt and freedom.

The kind that clung to the back of your throat, dry and heady and alive. The kind you couldn’t find in a city, no matter how many fancy parks or overpriced colognes tried to fake it. This was the real thing.

Home.

We rumbled down the winding road in Dad’s beat-up Jeep, windows down, tires spitting up little clouds of dust. The sun burned lazy patterns into the hood, and the scent of hay and fresh manure drifted on the breeze like the ranch was welcoming us back with open arms. I leaned out the window, letting the wind slap against my face like it could knock the city off me.

I needed that.

Dad was quiet behind the wheel, one hand resting on the cracked leather, the other drumming his fingers against the steering column in time with some old country song playing low on the radio. It crackled now and then, but he didn’t bother to change the station.

“You’re acting like you’ve been gone a damn year.” He flicked a glance at me and my older brother, Carter, in the rearview mirror. “Four months in that concrete jungle and you’re both limp as overcooked noodles.”

“I’m not limp.” Carter pushed his designer sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’m refined.”

“God,” I muttered, shaking my head in disgust. “I can’t believe we’re brothers.”

Carter grinned. “Because I’m stylish and urban, and you’re still wearing spurs and a Stetson at a city college.”

“And yet, which one of us got laid?” I shot back.

“Oh, fuck off. I could get laid plenty. I’m just more picky about where I put my dick.”

“Wasn’t so picky when Dad caught you in the eighth grade with—”

“Don’t even say his name!”

Dad laughed, a deep, warm sound that filled the Jeep better than the radio ever could. “Boys, boys, knock it off before I toss you both out of the vehicle.”

Carter snorted, stretching out his legs with that smug-city-boy energy he always brought home with him. Spending the summer with him was going to be brutal. Until we went to Mom’s. Then it would be worse.

“Won’t be so easy, Dad,” Carter said. “I’ve been working out.”

“Yeah, lifting lattes doesn’t count.”

“Matty,” Dad warned gently, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting back a smile.

I leaned back in the seat and let my eyes roam the land outside.

Golden fields rolled out like a painting.

Fence posts leaned at stubborn angles, a few wildflowers poked up around the ditch banks, and horses grazed in the distance with their tails flicking in lazy rhythm.

The sky looked bigger here. Like it gave you room to breathe.

Tomorrow at this time, I could take Junebug out for a run.

My skin tingled with anticipation. I could already feel her raw, unadulterated power beneath me, the rhythmic pounding of her hooves against the earth, the wind whipping my hair around and cutting through my clothes.

To be back in that saddle, to let all thoughts melt away and simply exist within the rhythm of nature was a kind of bliss I couldn’t find anywhere else.

A year of college in DC hadn’t changed that.

“Missed this,” I said quietly, almost choked up. I could never understand how Carter preferred the noisiness of the city over the serenity of the vast countryside.

Dad glanced at me again, softer this time. “Ranch missed you too.”

Carter groaned from the passenger seat. “You two gonna start writing poetry now about the wholesome country life? Because if you are, you might as well let me out, and I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

“No one asked you to come,” I muttered. “You could have gone straight to Mom’s.”

“Except we kind of promised to split the time between here and the city.” He nudged me with his loafers, so fucking unsuitable for ranch life.

“Though I don’t see why I couldn’t go straight to Mom’s, and you stay here.

Problem solved. Dad wouldn’t have to try to get me out of bed before seven every morning, and Mom wouldn’t have to force you to wear something other than plaid. ”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue. Carter had always been closer to our mom, thriving in her world of social events and skyline views, bottomless brunches, and rooftop pools.

Me? I hated the city. It was too loud, too fast, too… plastic. Even when we were younger, I hated it every time Dad made me go. Not because I didn’t love her, but because the silence out here always felt like coming home.

I could breathe. I could think. I could feel connected to something that had been around for centuries.

“You boys need anything before you go off to Denver?” Dad asked.

Carter gave a sharp “Nope. That’s the good thing about the city. It has the best of everything.”

I grunted. Hard disagree.

Dad looked at me through the rearview mirror again. “You’re going.”

“I know I’m going. Doesn’t mean I’m thrilled about it.”

He nodded like he expected that answer. “We do this every summer, Matty. It’s important. Your mom needs to see you too.”

“I know.”

“She’s proud of you, you know.”

I stayed quiet. Mom said a lot of things. But I always felt like she understood Carter better—got him more. With me, it was like we spoke two different languages. With Carter, she had the perfect companion to spend Dad’s money.

“I’m just saying,” Dad dropped, his voice lower, “this land’ll always be here. But people won’t. Be kind. Show up.”

I swallowed hard and looked away. He was right. He was always right when it came to stuff like that.

We’d lucked out in the dad department. Not only was he tough when needed, but he also raised us to be independent. To fall in love and to break hearts. To fracture bones and to mend them. To walk away from fights and to finish the ones that mattered.

“I’ll go,” I said. “Like I always do.”

“Good man.”

The Jeep crested the last rise, and our home came into view. Not just the sprawling log cabin style house, but the barns, the corral, and the open stretch of land that made up our ranch.

It hit me like a gut punch how much I missed it. The wraparound porch, the old swing creaking in the breeze.

Dad slowed to a crawl as he rolled up the gravel drive. Horses stirred in the distance. Everything was moving, breathing, alive.

I felt alive.

A flicker of movement near one of the barns caught my attention.

A guy, maybe my age—I couldn’t see his face clearly—walked across the gravel, sweat-darkened shirt slung over one shoulder, jeans slung low on narrow hips.

His hair was dirty blond, sun-kissed and wild, and he had this way of walking.

Like his boots owned the dirt under them.

Fuck.

He had an amazing body. Not too bulky but an athletic build that was hard all over.

He didn’t look at us. Just kept walking, focused, confident, like he’d worked this land for years, but I knew all the ranch hands, which meant he was one of the new hires. Dad always hired extra hands to help with the dude ranch side of business that we opened up during the summer.

I sat forward, heart skipping as I trailed the man’s frame. He had a roll in his hips that instantly brought sweaty skin, breathy moans, and wild groping and humping to mind.

“Who the hell is that?” I blurted out, my curiosity getting the best of me.

Carter turned, followed my line of sight, and laughed. “It’s been all of five minutes, and Matty already has a new conquest. Dad, you need to lock up your employees from your horny son. You know what Matty is like. Randier than that goat Gertie gave me for my tenth birthday.”

“Shut up. I’ve never seen him around before, is all.”

He wasn’t wrong. Since I got my cherry popped at fourteen, I’d had a high sex drive.

It was hard to believe I hated sex back then, but over the years, I’d learned the person you were intimate with could make or break the experience.

It was my fault for thinking someone older would make the experience better.

Dad chuckled. “That’s Hudson. He’s new to town and has been helping me out this past month. Although he’s green, he’s a damn good worker, but he doesn’t talk much about his past. Be careful, yeah?”

Hudson.

The name landed solidly in my chest, like something that was gonna matter. Like something I’d remember.

“Don’t worry, Dad. In a couple of weeks, we’ll be off to Denver. I’m sure we can keep him busy so he’s not humping your ranch hands.”

“It’s not like that,” I said too fast, too defensive, but my face burned. You got caught bending a ranch hand over a bale, and suddenly everyone thought you were into hay-assisted hookups and barnyard exhibitionism.

The man in question had been a lot older. Most dads might’ve looked the other way or handed out a congratulatory fist bump, but not mine. He’d been furious. Fired the ranch hand on the spot for sleeping with his seventeen-year-old son. Didn’t matter to him who’d been doing the bending.

Wrong was wrong.

After seeing the way he reacted to me hooking up with his foreman, I knew I could never tell him about my first time. Hell, he thought the foreman was the first time, and I didn’t bother to correct him.

Carter smirked. “Sure, it’s not. I predict it’ll take forty-eight hours for you to hit on him.”

Ignoring him, I watched Hudson disappear into the barn and tried not to let Carter see how much the new guy had caught my attention.

“All right, let’s get your bags inside the house, then.” Dad killed the engine and climbed out of the Jeep with the practiced ease of a man who’d worked this land all his life.

I slid out to help unload the bags.

“Most of these are Carter’s.” I grabbed my one duffel while Carter stood there like a prince waiting for bell service. “He can’t spend a night without his skincare routine, and he brought a full lineup of colognes with names no one can pronounce.”

Who had a cologne for each day of the week?