13. Priya
CHAPTER 13
PRIYA
My heart slams against my ribs as I search the ranch for Bowen, my pulse a frantic drumbeat of urgency. The stables—empty. The Saddle Suites—quiet. The barn—nothing. Each place I check, each familiar space where he should be, only feeds the gnawing dread in my gut.
I need to find him.
I need to fix this.
The memory of the shattered look on his face guts me. I can’t believe I let things end the way they did. The best man I’ve ever known, and I threw it all away. For what? Fear? Stubbornness? Sheer stupidity?
I was a fool to pretend our fake relationship was just that—fake. Because it wasn’t. Not for me. It was the best thing I’ve ever had, the one thing that felt real in a year that nearly broke me. And I don’t want to walk away from Bowen. Not now. Not ever.
I love him.
The realization slams into me with the force of a runaway horse. I love Bowen, and I don’t care who knows it. I’d relive every nightmare of this past year, suffer through every heartache all over again if it meant I could end up right here—with him.
My stomach swirls. With no other choice, I head up to the chicken coop. Choke might attack me, but there’s someone with even more power who hangs out there and if I want to find Bowen, she’s my only hope.
I round the corner and Choke postures at me. But he’s actually behind the fence for a change and I take it as a good sign.
“Patty June,” I say, my voice thick with desperation. “Where is he?” My voice comes out tight, edged with urgency. I’m vibrating with anticipation, my nerves stretched thin. I need to fix things with him. I need him to know I’m all in, for as long as he’ll have me.
Patty June fluffs her silver-streaked hair with a bony hand, sighing like she’s got all the time in the world. “You know, sugar, can’t say I know. But I’ve got a guess.” Her mouth pulls into a slow, knowing smile, the kind that usually comes before a long-winded story I don’t have time for.
I clench my teeth. “Okay, if you had to guess, where would he be?”
“Well,” she drawls, tapping a finger against her lips like she’s savoring the drama. “Yesterday, one of the ranch hands mentioned he’d be out back by Thrusty’s pen. You know that damn goat can’t stop himself. He’s pounded right through the bale of hay. But then, he and Alex were talkin’ about makin’ some changes up at The Velvet Spur. Turns out Alex has had little Connor out there working with Thrusty. Bad idea if you ask me. But they tried Connor out in the milk barn and old Rump Roast nearly kicked him. Poor kid doesn’t want to go back inside, not that I blame him. And—now, you didn’t hear this from me—but word is Fallon’s contract with the NFL hasn’t been renewed. He’s comin’ home.” She leans in conspiratorially. “And if that’s true, sugar, things are about to get real interesting around here.”
I blink, trying to sift through the tangled web of town gossip for the one thing that actually matters. Bowen. “So, he’s at The Velvet Spur? Or the stables?”
Patty June just chuckles. Her eyes twinkle with amusement. She loves a good story, and loves drawing things out… but I don’t have the patience for it right now.
A sharp sigh pushes past my lips. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for this.” Frustration hums beneath my skin, thick and unrelenting. “I’ll catch up on the latest town drama on the damn podcast. Right now, all that matters is finding Bowen.” My voice cracks on his name and I don’t even care. “I have to go.”
I turn to leave, my boots kicking up dust, but Patty June’s voice stops me in my tracks.
“He’s over at the farm stand.” Her words are casual like she’s not just handed me the key to my entire world. “Got a little thing set up in the back.”
I freeze mid-step, my pulse skittering. Slowly, I turn back to her. “The back of the farm stand?”
She waves a hand, dismissing my urgency like it’s all so simple. “Mmhmm. Got some fresh bread back there too. It's sourdough. You can help yourself. I make it for all my kids out here on the ranch.”
Her warm, steady, tone is laced with the quiet affection of someone who sees more than they let on. She offers me a kindness I don’t expect and it hits me like a tidal wave.
I swallow hard. “Thank you.”
She just nods, already moving toward Choke’s pen. The massive bird doesn’t so much as blink at her presence, as if he, too, knows that Patty June belongs everywhere and nowhere all at once. But I know exactly where I belong. I turn and take off toward the farm stand, my heart hammering with every step.
I make it to the farm stand in record time, barely aware of my own breathless pace. The wooden door swings open under my forceful grip, creaking on its hinges as I step inside. The scent of fresh produce and warm bread fills the air, but I don’t stop. I weave past the counter, ignoring the cashier’s attempt at small talk with my pulse pounding in my ears.
I push open the door to the back office, and there he is, Bowen. My heart stutters then threatens to burst right out of my chest at the sight of him. But something’s off.
He doesn’t look like himself. He’s wearing massive headphones. His broad frame is hunched slightly as he sits in front of a glowing computer screen. It’s jarring and unnatural. Bowen belongs on horseback in the sun, not tucked away in some dimly lit back room with wires and buttons.
He turns at the sound of the door, his sharp gaze locking onto mine. A flicker of something unreadable passes over his face before he leans away from the microphone, covering it with one hand. His lips curve just slightly.
“Perfect timing,” he whispers.
Before I can process what that means, he reaches for me, pulling me onto his lap with an ease that makes my breath hitch. His arms tighten around me, and for a split second, I just let myself sink into him. A warm calm wraps around me and I know without a single word being said that Bowen and I are going to be okay.
Then I see it. A blinking red light makes my stomach drop. My eyes dart to the screen in time to read ON AIR . I freeze, my mind scrambling to catch up.
Bowen clears his throat, his grip on me firm as he leans into the microphone. And just like that, I realize whatever happens next, the whole damn town is about to hear it.
Bowen exhales sharply, then leans into the microphone, his voice steady but edged with something raw. “This isn’t my kind of thing,” he starts. “Figuring out how to get on a podcast I hate—one run by a host who sounds like a damn robot—wasn’t exactly easy for a man who spends his days working the land. But this? This is important. So here we are.”
My jaw drops. I slap a hand over my mouth, my heart slamming against my ribs.
Bowen’s hand finds my thigh and his grip is firm. He’s grounding me. It’s like he’s silently telling me to trust him. “I’ve ignored this podcast for years. Ignored the accusations it’s thrown at me, my father, my brothers, and damn near everyone else in my world. But a few days ago, y’all took things too far. And I refuse to sit back and let the Sagebrush Creek community tear down a woman I love without standing up for her and setting the record straight.”
A woman I love. The words punch the air from my lungs. My fingers tremble against my lips.
“Priya Platt came into my world on her own damn merit,” Bowen says, his voice fierce. “She’s incredibly smart, talented, and the best damn marketer I’ve ever met. There was no backdoor deal, no exchange of money to get her here. And once I met her?” He lets out a breath that crackles with emotion. “I sure as hell didn’t need a reason to fall in love with her.”
My breath catches. The silence stretches across the room, thick and electric. I can’t move.
Bowen shakes his head, his grip on me tightening. “Y’all, when you meet a woman like her, you don’t stick to the same old playbook. You change the damn game. She’s all that matters to me and I won’t tolerate the hate towards her. If there are concerns, you can bring them directly to me or keep them to yourself.” Bowen pauses, his voice dipping into something almost deadly quiet. “I love that she isn’t from here, and she doesn’t owe you a damn thing when it comes to her past?—”
I lift a hand, stopping him gently. Then, without breaking eye contact, I slide the headphones off his ears and place them over my own. The warmth of them, the weight, the significance of what I’m about to do—it all crashes over me at once. His brows furrow, but I catch the slight curve of his lips.
“You don’t have to give them anything,” he murmurs, his voice low, protective. “I’ve got you covered, darlin’.”
I swallow hard. He does have me. Bowen has been in my corner from the moment I met him and now it’s my turn. My stomach is twisting with nerves. “I know,” I whisper. “But I want to.”
Bowen studies me for a long second, then nods, his hand brushing against mine before I turn toward the microphone. I take a deep breath, steadying myself.
“Hi,” I say, my voice stronger than I expected. “I’m Priya Platt.”
A pause. I can almost feel the weight of thousands of ears tuning in, waiting, ready to dissect my every word. But I don’t let it shake me. “I want you to know that I understand why you’re protective of Bowen Kingridge. He’s the most incredible man I’ve ever met, and I don’t take that for granted. It’s easy to love him.” My heart pounds as I glance at him, watching the way his expression softens.
“I want you to know that I do love him,” I continue, voice thick with emotion. “With all my heart. And whatever spotlight, whatever speculation comes with that—it’s worth it to me.”
I swallow hard, my grip tightening on the edge of the desk.
“You can make what you will of where I came from or the people I’ve dated in the past. That’s your choice.” I lean in closer to the mic, my voice steady and unapologetic. “But don’t you ever doubt that I will give all of myself to building a future—for Kingridge Ranch, for Bowen, and for us.” I take a breath, letting the truth settle in my chest. “That being said, I’d like to remove myself from the narrative here going forward. But if that isn’t possible, your judgment won’t change the way I live or love. I’m in this for good.”
The knot around my chest loosens. The weight of the whispering voices of doubt fade. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I can breathe. And then Bowen reaches for me. His fingers thread through mine and his grip is strong. It steadies me.
He leans into the microphone, his voice dropping into that low, firm drawl that leaves no room for argument. “We aren’t coming back on this damn podcast. I don’t know who the host is, but rest assured, it’s mostly because I haven’t cared enough to find out.” He pauses a slow, deliberate breath. “You don’t want me to find out. I suggest that you leave us to our life.”
And just like that, he ends the recording.
The silence that follows is thick, charged with something neither of us needs to put into words. A wave of emotion crashes over me. It’s joy, relief, and love all tangled together in a rush so strong it nearly knocks the breath from my lungs.
Tears prickle at my cheeks as I shift in his lap, turning to face him fully. His hands settle on my waist, firm and familiar. I wrap my arms around his neck and press into him.
“I love you so much,” I whisper, emotion thick in my throat. “And I’m sorry for the way I let you believe?—”
Bowen doesn’t let me finish. Instead, he cups my face. His thumb brushes away a tear and he smiles. “I love you, sweetheart. And there isn’t a damn thing you could do to stop me.”