November’s Bad Boy: Kacen (Bad Boys of Mustang Mountain #11)

Chapter 1

KACEN

Ruby Nelson has called me six times in two days. That’s how I know I’m in trouble.

The last time she got this persistent, I ended up hauling lumber for her “community project” which turned out to be a surprise wedding venue my senior year of high school. I swore I’d learned my lesson. Apparently not, and I’ve only been in town for less than a week.

I stare at the carved pumpkin emoji in her last text, followed by too many exclamation points to be legal.

Ruby: Can’t wait to see you tonight! Wear a costume!

My fingers tighten around the steering wheel. The truck hums beneath me as it makes the climb up the winding road to my brother Kingston’s cabin. It’s been ten years since I’ve been back. Ten years since I left this place behind with a chip on my shoulder and too much guilt in my chest.

I shouldn’t be coming back now. But when your big brother, who you owe everything to, asks for help, you drop everything.

Since she saw me the day I pulled into town to grab a cup of coffee, Ruby has been relentless.

She said she was throwing a Halloween party, and attendance wasn’t optional.

What she didn’t mention until the end of our conversation was that it’s also a going-away celebration for Miles and Kinley, and that “everyone will be there.”

Everyone. Including her.

Sighing, I hit call on my brother’s number. Kingston picks up on the second ring.

“Hey,” he says, voice calm as always. “Almost here?”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Heading up now. Remind me again why I agreed to Ruby’s party?”

“Because I can’t be there, and one of us should, especially if you're going to be the face of the company.”

“That’s not a good reason.”

“It’s the only reason that works on you,” he says, amused. “You know she won’t stop until you show your face.”

“Face is one thing,” I grumble. “She said it’s a costume party.”

“She tell you what to wear?”

“Yeah. Said something about ‘lightening up’ and sent me a cowboy hat emoji. I told her that’s not a costume. She said, ‘Add flannel and a smile, sweetie.’”

Kingston laughs, deep and easy. “That’s Ruby for you. You’ll survive one night. Maybe it’s time you faced the town again.”

“I didn’t leave because of the town.”

“No,” he says softly. “You left because you couldn’t stand yourself in it.”

The words hit too close. He’s not wrong, but that doesn’t mean I want to hear it.

I tighten my jaw. “I’m not looking for redemption.”

“Didn’t say you were,” he answers. “But maybe it’s time to stop pretending you don’t need it.”

“Spare me the therapy, doc.”

He chuckles. “I’ll save it for when you call me later, saying Ruby roped you into cleanup duty.”

“She better not.”

“She will.”

We both know it’s true.

Once at the cabin, I have only a few minutes to talk with Kingston as I get ready and head back out the door to the party I don’t even want to be at.

By the time I pull into the parking lot outside the community center, the night’s come alive.

Orange string lights glow along the porch, and laughter spills out into the cool Montana air.

Pumpkins line the steps. Music thumps faintly from inside.

Signs line the walkway telling Miles and Kinley how much the town will miss them.

I kill the engine and take a breath. My reflection in the rearview shows a guy who looks like he could pass for the old me—broad shoulders, dark hair that’s longer than Ruby would approve of, flannel buttoned halfway, for irony, a fake sheriff’s badge pinned to my chest. The hat’s on the passenger seat. I shove it on.

There. Costume complete.

Inside, it smells like cider, sugar, and nostalgia. Ruby’s gone all out, as usual. Spiderwebs hang from the beams, a fog machine fills the corners with mist, and the snack table looks like a Pinterest board threw up on it.

“Look who decided to show his face.”

Ruby swoops in, a witch’s hat tilted on her curls, her smile bright enough to light up half the county. She throws her arms around me before I can dodge. “You look handsome as ever, Kacen.”

“Ruby,” I say, half laughing. “I told you this isn’t really my scene.”

“You’ve been gone long enough. It’s time the town saw you again.”

“Pretty sure no one missed me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Half the women here perked up the second you walked in.”

I glance around. “Half the women here are married.”

“Not all,” she says with a sly grin.

“Ruby—”

“Grab a drink. Mingle. Oh, and stay away from the punch. Hades already stuck his nose in it when he snuck in earlier.”

I blink. “The wolf?”

In one of our phone conversations, I remember Kingston telling me about Hades.

“Of course, the wolf. He likes the smell of cinnamon.” She pats my arm and flits off to fuss over someone else.

Shaking my head, I make for the bar. Maybe if I nurse one beer, I can say I did my duty and sneak out early.

The bartender, Orville and Ruby’s nephew, Jonas, I think, hands me a cold bottle. I turn toward the crowd.

That’s when I see her.

Natalie.

She’s standing near the back, talking to Ruby, dressed in a sleek black dress that hugs her curves and she has on light-up butterfly wings.

Her hair falls over her shoulders in loose waves.

Her laugh—low, confident, nothing like the nervous sound I remember—cuts through the noise like it’s the only thing that exists.

For a second, I forget how to breathe.

Ten years shouldn’t still feel like yesterday. But looking at her, it does.

The last time I saw her, she was crying in the hallway because of me.

Because of the stupid, cruel prank I thought was funny.

Because I didn’t have the guts to admit I liked her.

Instead, I turned her into a joke because I was hurting and wanted to blame her for something I should have been blaming her mom for.

My stomach twists. Taking a long drink, I hope it burns away the memory.

She glances up. Our eyes meet.

For a heartbeat, it’s just us. Then her mouth hardens, her chin lifts, and she turns away like I’m nothing but air.

Can’t say I blame her.

I push off the bar and force myself toward her. The least I can do is say hello, pretend like I’m not a coward.

She’s alone now, adjusting a tray of cookies shaped like pumpkins.

“Natalie.”

She doesn’t turn. “Didn’t realize Ruby sent out invites to ghosts.”

Her voice is smooth, steady. It hits harder than I expected.

“I’m not a ghost,” I say quietly. “But I get why you’d think so.”

She finally looks at me. Her eyes are the same—green with gold flecks, sharp as glass. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Ruby insisted.”

“She always does.” She crosses her arms. “You planning on staying long?”

“Not really.”

“Good. Then we’ll both survive it.”

She turns back to the cookies. Conversation over.

I should walk away. But my feet won’t move.

“You look good,” I say before I can stop myself.

She freezes for half a second. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t pretend we’re old friends catching up.” Her eyes flash when she meets mine again. “You made your feelings clear a long time ago.”

I swallow. “People change.”

“Do they?” she asks softly. “Because you still sound like the same boy who laughed when I cried.”

It hits like a punch. I want to tell her I didn’t mean it. That I hated myself because of it. That I’ve replayed that moment more times than I can count. But she’s already walking away, her head high, her heels clicking on the floor.

Leaving me feeling like I’m that hurting teenager all over again and not the man I’ve worked so hard to become.

Ruby appears at my side like she’s been waiting. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“You spoke to her, didn’t you?”

“I tried.”

“And?”

“She hates me.”

Ruby just smiles, unsurprised by my answer. “Give it time, dear. Hate is the first step toward something else.”

Before I can respond, a commotion near the door cuts through the music. Someone’s yelling.

“Is that—” Ruby starts.

“Doug,” Ruby’s other nephew, Jensen, says from beside us. I don’t recognize the bulky man stumbling into the room. He reeks of cheap whiskey and bad decisions.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, Doug,” Orville says from behind the counter.

Doug’s eyes dart around, wild. “Yeah, well, I heard there was a party.” His laugh is too loud, too forced.

Then Hades growls from the doorway behind where Doug walked in.

The crowd parts as the massive gray wolf prowls forward, fur bristling. Doug backs up fast, his drink sloshing onto his shirt.

“What the hell—”

Before he can finish, two deputies step through the door. “Doug Hendricks, you’re under arrest,” Sheriff Lawson says.

The room goes silent.

Ruby crosses her arms. “Took you long enough.”

“What’s going on?” I ask quietly.

Ruby’s grin turns sharp. “Oh, this isn’t just a party, dear. It’s a sting.”

“A sting?” I ask.

“Doug’s been stealing from half the businesses in town. We just needed him to show up.” She tilts her head. “And you thought this was just about punch and costumes.”

Doug’s face goes pale as the cuffs click around his wrists.

“You all deserve it! She ran off our wedding,” He yells and jerks his head toward Kinley. “The whole thing caused my mom to drop dead of a heart attack. I swore my revenge at her graveside, and I almost had it!”

Hades gives another low growl that shuts him up fast.

I stand there, stunned. Here I thought I was coming back for small-town nostalgia and bad beer, not to walk into a police operation orchestrated by a grandma in a witch hat.

Ruby turns back to me, her smile back to its usual warmth. “See? Not all parties are what they seem.”

I glance across the room. Natalie’s watching the whole thing unfold, arms crossed, lips pressed together. When our eyes meet, there’s no triumph there—just strength. Steel. The kind of calm that comes from surviving worse storms.

I don’t look away this time.

Because she’s not the same girl I hurt. And I’m not the same boy who did it.

At least, I hope not.

By the time Doug’s hauled out and the chatter starts again, I’m standing near the back door with my half-empty beer, trying to decide if I should leave.

Ruby passes by and pats my arm. “Don’t run off yet. Night’s still young.”

“Ruby, you got your man.”

“Maybe,” she says, eyes twinkling. “But I’ve got another one in mind.”

She walks away before I can ask what she means.

I look back toward Natalie. She’s laughing again, but it’s not the same as before. It’s tighter, practiced. And I feel that familiar ache in my chest—the one that says maybe Kingston’s right. Maybe I do need redemption.

Draining the rest of my beer, I set it down.

For the first time in years, I want to stay.