PROLOGUE #2
“What are you talking about? I brought the essential ones, and believe me, it was difficult.” Carter sniffed, reaching in and pulling out his roller suitcase—matte black, wheels smooth as sin, definitely not built for gravel.
Dad grabbed two more bags like they weighed nothing. “Your brother packs like a reality TV star on tour.”
“Thank you,” Carter said proudly. “Just manifesting the life I see for myself in the future.”
Welp! There goes Dad’s money.
We started toward the house, the gravel crunching under our boots. Well, under our boots. Carter’s designer loafers already looked offended by the dust and were too cool to make a sound.
Dad paused, one hand settling firmly on my shoulder, holding me back just before the porch steps.
Carter kept walking, oblivious, humming to himself as he dragged his suitcase up the steps and vanished inside.
Dad looked at me, his expression shifting, still calm, still Dad, but different. Serious.
“Hey, can we talk for a bit?”
Fuck. Was this about me not wanting to go to the city to spend two weeks with Mom?
“Dad, I already said I would go.”
“No, it’s not about that,” he said. “You’re not a teenager anymore, Matty. Not just some kid fooling around behind the barn with the foreman.”
I cringed on the inside. “That was years ago.”
“I’m just staying. You’re the boss’s son. The one who’s gonna inherit all this someday. That means something.”
I nodded slowly, already sensing where this was going.
Dad dropped his voice. “So we’re clear, you need to be careful where you put your dick.”
My stomach dropped a little, not in embarrassment, but in the way only a father can cut through every ounce of your pride with one sentence.
“Be smart. Be discreet. And don’t get so caught up in someone’s pretty face that you forget where your future lies.”
He gave me a pat on the shoulder, like the moment hadn’t rearranged the air between us, and walked up the steps into the house.
I stood there for a second longer, Hudson’s name still echoing in my mind. What the hell kind of trouble might I be walking into that summer?
The sun hadn’t even cracked the horizon yet, but I was already lacing up my boots.
I’d waited long enough.
The house was still, hushed in the kind of peace you only get on acres of private land.
No cars. No sirens. No neighbors yelling through the walls.
Just the soft hum of early morning and the comforting creak of old hardwood beneath my feet, though nothing in the house was really old.
It was classic, sure—timber beams, leather furniture, and wide-open spaces—but everything had been custom-renovated to last. Dad didn’t do cheap.
Not for the house. Not for the horses. Not for the land.
I slipped through the side mudroom, down the paved path, and across toward the stable. The air was sharp and cool, the sky still ink-blue with stars fading out like a closing curtain. My boots whispered over crushed gravel, and the overhead barn lights flicked on as the motion sensor caught me.
God, I’d missed this.
The stables were spotless, with redwood paneling, brass nameplates on every stall, fans already humming low to keep the air circulating, and the scent?
Fresh pine shavings, leather, warm hay, and a hint of saddle oil.
It was clean, functional, and expensive in a way that didn’t scream money but whispered it with confidence.
Junebug’s stall was halfway down the line, and the sight of her name engraved in polished brass made something tight in my chest loosen.
I stopped cold.
Someone was already there.
A man, shirtless, his back to me, lean muscles shifting smoothly under golden skin as he scooped a handful of grain into her feed bucket. His jeans rode low on his narrow hips, and he stood barefoot on the cushioned rubber flooring like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Junebug, my high-strung, bossy mare who barely tolerated strangers, stood there calmly. Watching him. Trusting him.
My heart did something weird in my chest.
“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he murmured, brushing his fingers under her jaw with a gentleness that made my throat tighten. “Bet you’ve got everyone around here wrapped around your pretty little hoof.”
Junebug let out a low snort, her ears flicking forward.
He chuckled, low and husky. “You’re a heartbreaker for sure. Got that look about you. Like you only let folks close when you decide to.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Dad had bought Junebug from a man I found whipping her behind the auction barns.
She had been all ribs and wide eyes, trembling with every movement.
I’d lost my shit that day, yelled, threatened, might’ve swung a fist or two, and Dad, calm as ever, stepped in and made the guy an offer.
Even then, it’d taken me almost a full year before she allowed me to ride her.
“That’s all right,” he said, even quieter. “I don’t let just anyone in either.”
Junebug leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder like she’d known him for years.
He shifted. A slight pivot at first, showing the edge of a sharp jaw, a messy halo of sunlit hair, and a trail of faint freckles that disappeared beneath his waistband.
Despite Dad saying he was green, his body didn’t show it.
He was hard all over in that way only real labor shaped.
A rancher’s build, not a gym rat’s. Rope-slinging, saddle-wearing kind of strong.
He turned fully and damn near knocked the breath out of me. Before, I hadn’t gotten a good look at his face. He was even more gorgeous than I’d thought.
Golden-brown eyes. Full mouth. Sweat gleamed in the hollow of his throat. He looked a few years or so older than me.
A crooked grin curved his mouth when he saw me.
Fuuuuuuck.
Those lips.
“Well, shit,” he drawled, easily and amused. “Didn’t think I’d see another soul in here this early. You new?”
I blinked. “What?”
“You know, new hand? Here to work the summer rush?”
He gave me a once-over, not rude exactly, more… curious. Assessing.
“You ride?” he asked before I could answer.
I flicked a glance at Junebug, who was still nosing her grain like she didn’t hear me and this guy wasn’t a stranger at all. “Yeah,” I said slowly. “I ride.”
“Great. Boss didn’t tell me he was bringing someone else on, but he forgets half of what he says anyway.” He jerked his chin toward a wall rack. “Grab that fork. Stall needs fresh bedding.”
I hesitated.
Screw it. I was no stranger to ranch work.
I snatched up the pitchfork and worked beside him, body moving on autopilot, brain still catching up.
He worked fast but clean, his movements efficient, like this was second nature. His shoulder brushed mine once when we crossed paths at the corner of the stall, and my skin burned at the contact.
“I’m Hudson, by the way,” he said after a minute. “Been here a few weeks now. What’d you say your name was?”
“Matthias.”
I didn’t know why I told him my full name, especially when I hated it so much. I cringed.
Hudson laughed. “Why that face? Let me guess? You’d prefer if I call you Matt?”
“Yeah. That’s better.”
I wanted to give myself a kick in the seat of my pants. I might not be a social butterfly like Carter, but I could hold my own. Why was I incapable of stringing more than three words together around him?
He flashed me another grin. “Nice to meet you, Matt. Are you trying to impress the boss or the horses?”
“Always the horse,” I said before I blurted out that I was trying to impress him. To show him that it didn’t matter that he was older than me. I could keep up. What was wrong with me and older men? A face flashed through my mind, but I forced the image out. I’d buried that experience years ago.
I edged closer to my horse’s stall.
Junebug’s ears perked up, and the moment she spotted me, she let out a soft whicker and shifted her body toward the gate. She nosed at the latch like she always did when she wanted me closer, those big dark eyes fixed on me with the kind of trust that never came easy. Not from her.
She loved hard, and only once she’d decided you were worth it.
And me? She’d decided a long time ago.
Why did she tolerate Hudson?
“She fancies you.”
I shrugged. “Seems so.”
“She’s a beauty, but a picky one. I swear she gave me the evil eye the first week I showed up. Tried to nip my elbow.”
That’s my girl. I smirked. “Really?”
“She’s sweet now, though.” His voice dropped, and he stepped beside me at the stall, his hand brushing mine as he reached out to stroke Junebug’s neck. “But that’s only because she’s figured out I can talk pretty the way the ladies like.”
I glanced over.
His eyes were still on the Quarter Horse, but the curve of his mouth was damn near sinful.
“She likes it when I call her sweetheart,” he said, tone low and smooth. “Don’t you, sweetheart?”
The words wrapped around my spine like barbed wire dipped in sugar.
I’d like to call you sweetheart.
For a second, it was easy to imagine he wasn’t talking to the horse at all.
Junebug let out a soft snort, leaned forward, and caught my shirt in her teeth, pulling me toward her. Laughing, I stroked her mane the way she liked, and she melted into my touch.
“She really likes you,” he said. “Doesn’t usually let anyone touch her. You must be good people.”
I bit back a smile. “Must be.”
Hudson turned to look at me then, really look, and a flicker of heat flashed in his eyes. Maybe. I might have imagined it out of a desperate need to believe the attraction I felt wasn’t one-sided.
Dad didn’t say I couldn’t. He told me to be discreet. And I was no longer a fourteen–year-old boy. Hudson was younger than the last man too. Younger than the first had been.
I grinned, curling my fingers into the stall door. “Wanna make a bet?”
Hudson lifted his brows. “What?”
“I bet I can ride her.”
That earned a laugh, a rich, skeptical sound. “Her? The same sweetheart who nearly took off my thumb last week for sneezing too close?”
“Mmhm.” I unhooked the latch. “Watch and learn.”
He leaned against the stall frame, arms folded, interest gleaming in his eyes. “In case of an accident, I know mouth to mouth.” He winked.
Oh shit. He was flirting with me. I raised a brow, deliberately slow. “Then I’ll make sure I stop breathing.”
“You’re on.” He chuckled, low and warm, and damn if it didn’t sink right into my chest.
I stepped into the stall, and Junebug came to me like a prayer answered. No hesitation. No nerves. I rubbed her down gently, whispered a low hello, and tacked her up in record time. I might not have his pretty words, but she had my affection.
She was ready. I was ready.
When I walked her outside, the morning sun had split across the sky. The light hit her bronze coat like it had been waiting for her, and she tossed her head once like she knew exactly how good she looked. I was a sucker for beautiful things, such as the man trailing after me.
“Okay, you’ve been quite lucky so far,” Hudson said, the humor gone from his voice. “We should put her back. She belongs to the boss’s son, and Gray warned us that no one else but him and his son is allowed to ride her.”
“Watch me.”
I mounted smooth as silk and gave her a gentle nudge.
She started into a light trot, ears flicking, muscles bunching beneath me as I guided her into an easy rhythm.
Step by step, she gathered speed, like she was waking up with the sun.
With the tight squeeze of my thighs, she stretched into a full run, wind slicing past us as if she’d been waiting all morning for the chance to fly.
We took the trail along the ridge fast, wild, free, and I let her run hard. Let her stretch out. Let her remind me of everything I missed when I was buried in textbooks and surrounded by concrete.
Wind tore past my face. My heart raced with hers. It felt like flying. I almost forgot about Hudson waiting for us.
Reluctantly, I turned her back toward the barn, the adrenaline still buzzing in my veins. I hadn’t had nearly enough, and I felt the same stir in Junebug, the energetic whicker of her spirit not yet satiated.
We trotted in at a slower pace, sweat streaking both of us, dust clinging to my boots and shirt, and I was grinning like an idiot.
Until I saw Dad.
Hudson was still there, but no longer smiling. No longer easy. He stood stiffly beside my dad, arms crossed, jaw set.
The grin slid right off my face.
Hudson wasn’t looking at me the way he had before. Not with amusement. Not with curiosity.
He was scowling.
Dad said something to him I couldn’t catch, then clapped him once on the shoulder. Hudson stalked off, not once glancing back. Dad wore a scowl the same way he’d done that day he’d walked in on me jerking off inside the foreman’s ass.
“What did you say to him?” I demanded, staring after Hudson.
“What the hell did we talk about yesterday, Matty?”
“I can explain.”
He held a hand up. “It’s not me you owe an explanation.”
I stared after Hudson’s back. Maybe Dad was right, and I should forget about the ranch hand. My actions could affect the ranch if we ended up with a lawsuit on our hands. The foreman had tried to sue Dad but hadn’t won.
Fuck that.
I dismounted Junebug and threw the reins at Dad. “Hold on to her for me, will you? I know you don’t understand, but I have to do this. There’s something about him, Dad.”
“For fuck’s sake, Matty, why can’t you ever find guys your age to start a thing with?”
Ignoring him, I took off running after Hudson.