8. Priya
CHAPTER 8
PRIYA
An hour later, Bowen and I walk toward the Velvet Spur, hand in hand. The night air is crisp, carrying the scent of fresh-cut hay and something faintly smoky from the bonfire near the arena. I shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as I am. The warmth of his fingers laced through mine, the solid presence of him at my side—it all feels too easy, too natural. A little sad, really, that this pretend relationship feels more real than anything I’ve ever experienced. But I shove the thought away before it can take root.
Bowen is uncharacteristically quiet, his usual easy energy subdued. The silence stretches between us, thick enough to notice.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask, nudging him lightly with my shoulder.
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he runs his thumb slowly across the back of my hand, his touch absentminded but deliberate. Then, with a sharp inhale, he speaks.
“Let me ask you something.” His voice is lower now, more weighted. “What did you ever see in that douchebag?”
I exhale sharply, shaking my head. “I don’t want to get into?—”
“No, Priya. I mean it.” He stops walking and turns to face me. His grip on my hand tightens just slightly. “I want to know. Because I don’t get it. That guy is a real asshole. I won’t repeat what he said in that arena. But rest assured, if I hear anything like that again, he’s gonna meet a different side of me.”
Bowen’s usual carefree charm is gone. It’s replaced by something edged with quiet fury. His jaw is tight and his expression is unreadable. The protectiveness in his voice coils around me. It’s warm and unexpected, like a shield I didn’t ask for but suddenly don’t want to lose.
I swallow hard, the words stick in my throat. “It feels like a lifetime ago and to be honest I don’t have an answer. He’s the worst. I’ve known that for a long time.” My voice softens, almost confessional. “Thank you for helping me get through this weekend.”
His gaze doesn’t waver. “You don’t have to thank me.”
I force a small, wry smile. “I do. But I also have to be careful to remember that this is just fun. You're too easy to fall for, but I suspect you already know that.”
The words slip out before I can stop them. When I glance up, I catch the flicker of his smile before it vanishes. His fingers tighten around mine for the briefest moment, like he wants to contradict me but doesn’t. Something in his expression makes my heart stumble.
We reach the door to the Velvet Spur. The steady hum of conversation spills out punctuated by bursts of laughter and the twang of country music. But I hesitate. I’m not ready to be done talking to Bowen.
Before I can second-guess myself, the question tumbles out. “What about you? Why haven’t you had any serious relationships?”
Bowen stops short. His fingers slip from mine as if my words startled him. He exhales slowly, then drags a hand across the back of his neck, his gaze flicking away.
“I, uh…” His voice is quieter now, rough around the edges. “The short answer? I never learned how.”
My chest tightens with a mix of curiosity and protectiveness. “And the long answer?”
He takes a breath and his shoulders stiffen before he continues. “The long answer is that I was raised by a dad with a drinking problem and no mom. Love wasn’t exactly something I grew up seeing done right.” His jaw clenches, like he’s fighting the instinct to say less, to keep it all bottled up. But then, his voice softens. “I think sometimes it’s for the best if I blow things up before they get too serious because I know where it’s heading and I’m not in the business of hurting people.”
The weight of his words lingers between us, raw and unpolished. It’s not a confession, exactly. More like a quiet truth he’s spent years making peace with. Or maybe he’s been trying to outrun.
One million things flash through my mind. I want to tell him he’s not his father. That any woman would be the luckiest person in the world to be by his side. That I trust he’d never hurt me. But I don’t. Instead, I reach for his hand again, squeezing gently.
And for just a second, Bowen lets me.
Boom. The door swings open before we can step inside destroying what is left of the moment between us.
“Priya.” Gunner strides out. His presence is as sharp and unwelcome as the sound of my name on his lips.
I startle, my hand instinctively tightening around Bowen’s. “Gunner, holy shit, that was a jump scare.”
I let out a forced chuckle and try to brush off the jolt of unease that curls in my stomach. Bowen joins in. His laughter comes easy but it’s laced with something harder. I lean back into Bowen and he drapes a protective arm over me. Gunner doesn’t smile as he takes in the sight of the two of us.
Gunner’s gaze flicks between us before settling on me. “Are you trying to sell me on the idea of you and this guy?”
I open my mouth to reply, but Gunner continues turning to Bowen. “I didn’t want to do this in front of you, bro, but she isn’t giving me a choice. You get it.” He exhales sharply, shaking his head as if this whole thing is some kind of inconvenience for him. “I’ve decided to give you another chance, Priya.”
I blink. Another chance? Wow. Okay. So he’s insane. He’s actually crazy.
“You were my support system,” he continues. “When the opportunity came up for me to get a little more fame, I jumped at it. I see now that it wasn’t the right decision.” He takes a step closer and puts his hands out like he’s making a proclamation “When I leave here tomorrow, you can come back with me.”
There’s a moment of silence. The weight of his offer hangs between us like a bad smell. Bowen leans into the hug harder. He’s rock solid, anchoring me to reality. Then in a surprise even to myself, I laugh. Not the forced kind this time, but the genuine, incredulous kind. Gunner’s brow furrows.
“No, thank you.” I shake my head. “I’m okay. I’m not trying to sell you on anything. This is my life now, and I’m happy.” The words come easily, and it surprises me how much I mean them.
Hearing him admit fault is nice, I guess, but there’s nothing tempting about the offer. If anything, it just confirms what I already knew. I made him my world and I was nothing more than a safety net to him. And standing here now, with Bowen wrapped around me, I realize how little that loss actually matters to me.
Gunner’s gaze flicks from me to Bowen and back again, his lips pressing into a thin line. “When you change your mind, I’ll be here. This is going to get old.”
Bowen lets out a short, amused breath. “You enjoy your night.”
Then, before Gunner can say another word, Bowen claps him on the shoulder. The gesture is firm, but just on the side of dismissive as Bowen guides me past Gunner and into the Velvet Spur. I don’t miss the tension between the two of them, but Bowen’s move is effective.
And just like that, he saves me again.
We step inside Kingridge Ranch’s world-famous restaurant, where highbrow cuisine meets a lowbrow dress code. The scent of seared steak and warm bread fills the air, mingling with laughter and the low hum of conversation.
Gone is the dust and grit from the day’s competition. After showers and fresh clothes, everyone looks almost unrecognizable—like polished versions of themselves. The testosterone-fueled rivalry has melted away, replaced with easy grins, bro hugs, and firm handshakes.
Most plates are clear and dinner seems to be wrapping up. The food here is legendary and I’m sure the kitchen staff pulled out all the stops. The glasses are full. But still, tonight something feels…off.
From a quick glance, it seems like the whole Southern Knights team is accounted for. But one thing sticks out like a sore thumb… the Kingridge crew is missing. That includes the waitstaff.
I glance up at Bowen. By the crease in his brow, I know he’s seeing the same thing. Something isn’t right. Movement at the back of the room catches my attention. I look again to see Cassidy, standing near the kitchen doors.
She locks eyes with me and waves us over. Her expression is unreadable, but the urgency in her gesture is enough to set my nerves buzzing. Bowen and I exchange a quick glance before following her through the swinging doors and into the kitchen of the Velvet Spur.
The scene inside stops me cold.
Lining the kitchen are the Kingridge brothers, including Danner, Cassidy and Conner, the waitstaff, and what appears to be every employee within a one-mile radius. They aren’t working. They aren’t bustling around like a kitchen crew should. Instead, they’re all standing there, waiting.
And I have the sinking feeling that whatever’s happening—it’s not good.
“What is this?” Bowen drops my hand and takes a step toward Alex. His posture is tense and his tone is edged with suspicion.
Alex exhales, shaking his head. “I just got here. Look at this.” He reaches for the faucet, lifts the handle, and… nothing. Not even a sputter of water. It’s just silence. “We don’t have any water. And it’s not just the kitchen. It’s the entire ranch.”
The weight of his words settles over the room like a storm cloud.
“Thank goodness we got through dinner first. But they’re going to want to shower before bed… It’s not a great look.” Cassidy shakes her head. “It’s probably the drought. I know I heard something about a water ration, but this feels extreme.”
“It isn’t the drought, we’re running this place on their schedule. I’ve checked every one of their boxes,” Bowen says matter-of-factly. “This is someone messing with the waterline.”
“There’s only one person around here worried about conservation,” Holden says.
The accusation hangs in the air, unspoken but undeniable. A beat of silence passes. Then, all eyes shift to Danner. Danner, still seated, lets out a sharp breath before rising to his feet.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” His gaze flicks across the room, disbelief flashing across his face. “You really think I had something to do with this? No, I didn’t. But maybe if you invested in solar or some kind of water containment system, you wouldn’t be in this mess. For fuck’s sake.”
Holden lets out a dry, humorless chuckle. “Thanks for the advice, I’ll be sure to tell Pa that he’s getting his money’s worth.”
Danner shakes his head and a sarcastic chuckle escapes his throat. The tension in the air crackles like a live wire as mumbled conversations bubble up around the room. We’ve got an entire team of football players just on the other side of the door and no water. These people need to focus.
“Stop.” Alex’s voice cuts through the brewing chaos like a whip, snapping every eye back to him. “We need to figure out what happened so we can get it back on. Now, Danner, respectfully, I need to ask… did you have anything to do with this?”
Danner’s face twists, his temper flaring hot and fast. “Oh, fuck off.” His voice hitches, louder than before, and then the room explodes.
The Kingridge brothers move at once. It’s an eruption of bodies tensing and fists clenching. It’s not a full-blown fight yet, but it’s damn close.
Cassidy’s hand slams down on Alex’s shoulder. “Enough.” Her words come out through clenched teeth, but it’s enough to freeze the room.
For a heartbeat, no one moves. It’s a standoff. But all parties are locked and ready to strike. In the tense silence, a small voice echoes.
"Can I tell you something funny?" Conner interrupts the tension.
I for one, would love to hear a joke right about now. From the looks on the faces around me, I take it no one else agrees.
"Please, not now, Connor sweetheart. Give us a minute to work this out." Cassidy wraps an arm around Connor’s shoulders, her voice low but firm.
Connor covers a laugh with his hand. "Okay, but… My dad turned it off."
His words are quiet but they hit the room like a ton of bricks. The air goes still, and suddenly you could hear a pin drop.
“Wait, what?” Bowen’s eyes widen.
"What?" Alex barks.
Connor’s face is a mix of pride and confusion as he continues, "It’s not because of the drought. My dad turned off your water because he knew the football guys were coming. For real, I heard him talking about it on the phone." He finishes with a flourish, arms spread wide in a ta-da gesture. When no one laughs, Connor’s eyebrows draw together. "Get it?"
“You’re kidding…” Cassidy trails off, her eyes wide in horror.
It isn’t the first time her ex-husband has abused his power as mayor. But from the look on the Kingridge brother’s faces, I think it might be the last.
"I’m on it," Alex says through gritted teeth. "Keep these people busy, and I’ll have it back on by morning." He bolts for the door with Cassidy and Connor on his heels.
The door swings wildly on its hinges as they rush out, the rhythmic creak cutting through the charged air. Then, just as suddenly as the chaos erupted, silence settles back across the room. It’s a tense, expectant hush that hums beneath my skin.
“Well, I’ll accept your apologies now,” Danner announces, his voice slicing through the moment like a blade.
I gape at him, my eyes widening in disbelief. Not the time, dude.
His smirk is almost lazy, but his eyes gleam with something sharper. The look removes any lingering doubts I have about Danner being related to the Kingridge brothers.
The room tightens around his words. Every gaze snaps to him like arrows loosed from a bow. A fresh standoff crackles in the air, unspoken accusations and barely leashed frustration thickening the tension.
Then, from beyond the wall, a low rumbling rises. There’s a restless energy stirring, and it’s a reminder that this isn’t over. Not even close. The sound yanks us back to the real problem at hand.
“Okay,” I speak up. “Someone has to go out there and turn on the charm. Talk them into thinking that this is both intentional and a good thing. Spin it as a VIP experience created just for them.”
The guys nod in agreement with my suggestion.
“Now the question is, who wants to take the mic?”
The guys shoot looks at each other and mumble amongst themselves. Bowen and Callum nod back and forth using their twin telepathy to make the decision. But before they speak to the rest of us, Danner puts a hand up.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take this one. I’ll go talk to them,” Danner says, getting back to his feet.
There’s a beat of wide eyed silence before Holden bursts out in laughter. “Yeah, right.”
The rest of the room erupts too. But Danner remains straightfaced.
“Oh shit, that was a good one.” Geoffrey doubles over in laughter.
The guys clap each other on the back and I can’t resist patting Danner’s shoulder. It isn’t easy being an outsider in this group. I hope he finds his way.
Callum smirks. “I think we’ve got it, thank you, Danner.”
Bowen steps forward with a sly grin on his face. "Okay, I’ll go.”
I step outside of the door and watch Bowen in his element. He turns on every ounce of his charm as he takes his place at the front of the room with a microphone.
He starts, “Go Knights!”
It’s simple enough, but it works. The team breaks into a cheering that fills the room. Bowen steps forward, his grin slow and knowing. The man is incredible.
“We’ve loved having you here with us tonight,” he says, his voice smooth and confident. “And we’ve been keeping this under wraps until we figured out whether or not we actually liked you.” He pauses just long enough to let the weight of his words settle. “But now that we see you’re one hell of a team, we’re ready to let you in on a little secret.”
His eyes flick over the group, gauging reactions and stretching the suspense. Then, with a smirk, he delivers the hook. “There’s something going on up at the barn. It’s a special event and there are free drinks all night long.” His voice drops, teasing, daring. “There’s just one rule. You’ve got to come up now. No showers. No sleep. Just every kind of alcohol you can imagine… on the house. Whose in?”
The room hums with a new energy as whoops of agreement spread across the room. Curiosity sparks in glances exchanged. Bowen’s grin widens. I catch the genius in his invitation. It isn’t just an offer it’s a challenge and every single person in the room is ready to accept.
The problem is solved.
An hour later, the night unravels into an alcohol-fueled blur. It’s wild, unfiltered, and buzzing with reckless energy. Music pulses through the barn. It’s a thumping heartbeat that keeps the bodies moving, spinning, and colliding.
Laughter spills out over the edges and mingles with the clink of glasses. The night is punctuated by the occasional whoop from someone who’s had one shot too many.
The barn is packed. Word spreads fast in Sagebrush Creek, and tonight, we’re finally using that fact to our advantage. Locals pour in, eager and wide-eyed. They can hardly believe their luck at scoring a last-minute invite.
The barn’s floorboards creak under the weight of the growing crowd. The air grows thick with heat, spilled liquor, and the kind of electric energy that only comes from a night with no rules.
As the hours slip by, even I can’t resist the pull. Bowen pours me one drink and then another. The burn is smooth and the buzz is welcome. I’m not drunk by any means, but the alcohol makes it easy to ignore the random phrases Gunner insists on sending in my direction.
Let’s try this again, he’s a fucking cowboy, are you serious, and your loss, seem to be among his favorites.
The issue resolves itself when two local girls drape themselves over Gunner, giggling and vying for his attention. He meets my gaze just as they settle onto his lap. He holds eye contact with me while they take turns pressing kisses along his neck. Their lipstick smudges against his skin like careless signatures.
But the sight does nothing to me. There isn’t an ounce of jealousy in me. No pang of regret… Facts that help me breathe a little deeper. If anything, the only instinct that stirs is the urge to tell them to run before it’s too late. Gunner has always been a storm, and storms don’t love… they destroy.
Through the night, Bowen never strays from my side. His presence is steady and grounding. Even as the room tilts with alcohol and unspoken promises, I cling to him.
In the back of my mind I try to summon all the reasons I once told myself falling for him would be a mistake. I search for the doubts. The hesitations. But they slip through my fingers like smoke. Maybe it’s the whiskey or maybe it’s the way Bowen’s gaze stays locked on me, as if I’m the only thing worth seeing.
So I stop overthinking. I stop worrying about what happens when this night ends and when reality comes knocking. Instead, I lean into the moment and let it carry me.
I look at Bowen like he hung the moon… because maybe he did. Maybe this night will be the one I compare every other night to for the rest of my life. And if that’s the case, I’m sure as hell going to make the most of it.
Bowen and I dance, spinning until the barn blurs around us. We drink. We laugh between stolen sips. And we kiss… again and again. We kiss until my lips tingle and until I forget where I end and he begins.
By the time Bowen steps outside to meet with Alex, I’m practically floating. I take the opportunity to head down to the suites and check on the water situation for myself.