Chapter 1
1
PENNY
OCTOBER. SEVEN MONTHS AGO.
Ipressed my lips together, smoothing out the soft pink lipstick before parting them slightly. With a practiced motion, I ran a fingertip along the edges, wiping away any color that might have bled past the lines. I let out a slow breath and took one last lingering glance in the mirror.
From the bathroom speaker, the familiar twang of “Why Don’t We Just Dance” by Josh Turner filled the space—a staple in my getting-ready playlist.
Music had always been woven into my routine, a constant in the background of my life. Whether I was showering, getting dressed, cooking—hell or even cleaning—there was always a melody playing, filling the silence and keeping me company.
I lived alone, which meant the quiet could be deafening if I let it settle too long. I hated the stillness, the way it made the world feel too big, too empty. So, I filled it with music and conversation, even if it was just me talking to myself.
Some might call me a chatterbox, maybe even annoying, but I’d long since let go of the need to change myself for anyone. I liked who I was, and if that meant filling a quiet house with sound, then so be it.
Tonight, I was heading to Cassidy Ranch for a Halloween party, and my costume? A sexy kitten. Fitting, if I said so myself.
I was never shy when it came to self-expression. Whether through fashion, words, or the way I carried myself, I owned every piece of who I was.
Tonight was no different.
The tight spandex bodysuit hugged my curves like a second skin, sleek and unforgiving. Peeling this thing off later would definitely require assistance, preferably from one person in particular.
I ran my hands down my body, the smooth fabric between my fingertips. Hair swept into a high ponytail, cat ears perched perfectly, eyeliner sharp enough to cut. The finishing touch? A spritz of my signature perfume and a pair of knee-high black heeled boots that added the right amount of edge.
With the music still humming in my veins, I turned off the speaker, flicked off the bathroom light, and stepped into my living room—a space as bold and vibrant as I was. Bright colors and playful patterns filled every corner, each piece a reflection of me. My passion for color—for chaos—was woven into everything I touched.
Flopping onto the couch, I reached for my first boot, slipping it on with ease before zipping up the next. My main goal tonight? Finally breaking this tension-filled energy that had been simmering between me and Mac Ridley, the infuriatingly good-looking bartender living in my head rent-free.
I’d spent my time finding ways to tease him, to pull him in, but nothing ever stuck. Mac had this effortless charm, a mix of brazen and rebellious, that made my insides twist in ways I was willing to admit to anyone who listened.
Mac thrived on being playful, untamed, the kind of man who could turn any moment into an adventure. The two of us together? The chaos we’d cause, the energy we’d ignite, was undeniable.
And I wanted all of that.
I wasn’t too proud to beg. Hell, I’d drop to my damn hands and knees and crawl to that man if it meant getting what I wanted—though, that wasn’t something I did often.
Tonight, I wasn’t leaving without a taste of cigarettes and beer straight from Mac’s lips.
Tossing my purse over my shoulder, I headed for my car. She wasn’t anything fancy, but she was mine, and that’s what mattered. Rideshares didn’t exist in Faircloud—too small, too quiet—so I already knew I’d be crashing at Aspen’s.
Aspen had been my best friend since grade school. We grew up in Faircloud, a town so small you could probably fit the entire population on the main lawn of the Community Park. One stoplight. Everybody knew everybody. If you sneezed in the morning, by noon, Mrs. Winchester from the diner was offering you a home remedy.
Aspen and I had always been inseparable, bonded by our love of books and an almost identical taste in fashion. Lately, though, things had changed. She’d fallen hard for Boone Cassidy, the former chaos creator, now reformed gentleman. That meant I hadn’t just gained a future brother-in-law, but a whole new circle of friends.
What started as three friends —Aspen, Theo, and me—expanded to seven. Funny enough, we’d all grown up together, but our worlds had never fully meshed. Not until now, when circumstances changed.
I was eager to see them all. However, one person in particular was on my radar.
Mac wanted me just as badly as I wanted him, and tonight, I planned to finally do something about it.
“A little to the left!” Aspen called out, her voice carrying through the barn as I balanced precariously on Boone’s broad shoulders. My arms burned from holding up yet another fake bat, the last in a long line of decorations I’d been wrestling with since I arrived.
Why was I the one up here instead of Aspen? She was terrified of heights, and no one had bothered to grab a ladder. So here I was, clinging to Boone for dear life, trying to hook this damn bat into place.
I exhaled, patience thinning. “My left or your left?”
“Mine!” she yelled back.
Boone shifted obligingly, his steady hands keeping me balanced, and I stretched one last time, finally managing to loop the fishing line over the hook on the barn beam. By some miracle, I got it on the first try.
With a deep grunt, Boone bent slightly, giving me the cue to jump down. I slid off his shoulders, landing lightly on my feet. He straightened, adjusting the ridiculous sheep ears on his head with a lazy grin.
Aspen, in her pink puffy dress, looked like she’d stepped right out of a storybook—the perfect Bo Peep. Boone, ever the devoted sheep, played along with his usual easygoing charm.
He lifted a hand for a high-five. “Great work up there,” he teased.
I smirked, slapping my hand against his. “I need a freaking drink after that.”
Aspen looped an arm around Boone’s waist as she joined us. “The drink table’s set up over there. We have punch and other things. Go grab one before the party starts.”
Boone pressed a kiss to the top of Aspen’s head, his affection so obvious it made my heart squeeze. She glowed, her happiness radiating from the inside out. Seeing her this way made me realize just how much things had changed—how much we’d all grown.
“Alcohol is my preference,” I declared, placing my hands on my hips.
Aspen grinned. “There’s plenty to choose from. I may have gone a little overboard, so now I’m just hoping enough people actually show up to drink it all.”
As if on cue, the first few guests started filtering in through the wide barn doors. The space had completely transformed. Not only were my bats finally hanging where they belonged, but the entire barn was draped in the eerie glow of red string lights. Skeletons perched on hay bales, oversized spiders clung to the walls, and the scent of hay mixed with the crisp autumn air.
Boone wandered to the corner, plugging his phone into the speaker. Within seconds, the deep thrum of bass pulsed through the space, the opening notes of a familiar country song setting the mood.
That was my cue to pour myself a drink and get the party started.
Red Solo cup in hand, I surveyed my options, tapping my chin, one hip popped out as I considered the lineup of drinks. The table was a sea of red, black, and purple, each container labeled with some ominous concoction. Witch’s Brew or Zombie Juice? What a hard decision.
“If it helps,” a deep voice murmured against my ear, sending a delicious shiver down my spine, “I made the Zombie Juice. Biased or not, it’s fucking amazing.”
I startled, turning sharply only to find myself nearly chest-to-chest with Mac. He stood close, too close. His scent—whiskey, smoke, and something inherently him—wrapped around me like a lasso. My gaze dipped, my fingers tightening around my cup as I took in every detail of his costume.
Starting at his feet, he wore worn brown cowboy boots, broken in and beat up telling a story. Purple slacks stretched over his long legs, topped with a matching suit coat that clung to his lanky frame just right. But it was his face that stopped me in my tracks.
White paint covered his skin, a wide unsettling grin painted across his mouth, and behind his green-dyed hair that curled around his ears, a cigarette was tucked for safekeeping.
The Joker.
And damn if that didn’t do something to me.
A villain had never looked so tempting.
Heat pooled low in my belly, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting
I stepped back slightly, arching a brow as I caught him scanning me just as thoroughly. His gaze dragged over every inch of my costume—the tight fabric, the curves I wasn’t shy about flaunting, and, of course, the dangerous neckline that left just enough to the imagination.
“Zombie Juice it is,” I purred, a smirk tugging at my lips. For good measure, I winked before spinning around to fill my cup to the brim.
When I turned back, I met his gaze head-on, bringing the cup to my lips and taking a long, slow sip, letting the liquid burn down my throat. His eyes darkened, amusement flickering through them.
He wasn’t lying, this drink was damn good.
“I like your costume,” I mused, wiping the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand, careful not to ruin my lipstick.
Mac grinned, slow and wicked, before spreading his arms wide and giving me a slow turn. “Figured it fit my personality.”
I raked my gaze over him again, then tilted my head. “I’ve always liked a little chaos.”
He stepped a fraction closer, just enough that my pulse kicked up. “That so?”
I took another sip, letting the taste of the drink mix with the heat between us. “Guess you’ll just have to find out.”
Mac let out a gravelly laugh, a rich and deep timbre. His voice was sultry, like every word he said carried the extra weight of seduction.
“Is that a promise?” Mac asked, tilting his head slightly like a cat sizing up its prey.
A teasing smile curved my lips. “One I fully intend to keep.”
His gaze flickered with something dark, something promising, before he took a step back, nodding. “I’ll hold you to that, Penny.”
I shrugged, lifting my cup to my lips, letting the weight of his words settle between us.
But Mac wasn’t done.
“By the way,” he added, pointing at me with the tip of his beer bottle, his voice smooth as sin, “you look good dressed as a pussy cat.”
And then he purred.
A deep, throaty laugh burst from my lips, my head tipping back as the sound filled the space between us. Mac’s smirk deepened, his eyes lingering on me for just a second longer before he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, biting my lip.