Midnight Heatwave (Silver Rapids #1)

CHAPTER 1

Charlotte

“Charlie, you better get that fine little ass down here. Let’s go!” My best friend Quinn calls up from the first floor of my little rental home.

“Hold your horses, I’m almost ready,” I shout down to her. I glance back to my reflection in the mirror and take in my long blonde curls that are finally sitting right. I never curl my hair anymore. There’s no reason to when you work on a cattle ranch.

Mother would absolutely die if she knew that I was renting—or where I was in general. “Just throwing away money when you could own. Buy real estate and make others pay YOU rent.” It’s the Adler way. My family are real estate moguls back east.

The last thing I wanted is to have my name permanently tied to anything.

When I moved in, the only request I really had out of any landlord was that they were pet-friendly, so I could adopt a dog at some point.

I haven’t found the right one, but I’ll know when I see her or him, I suppose. And…that I could pay in cash.

Quinn comes bouncing up the stairs, the slight twang of her southern drawl coming out after the few pre-game cocktails we had while getting ready for a night out. I’m not about to pay bar prices when I have plenty of booze here.

“Charlie! You look incredible in that getup. Look at that fringe!”

The smoky blue-green fringe pants and matching cropped bralette that I’m wearing have hundreds of little strands flowing and swishing about every time I move so much as an inch.

In Boston, this kind of outfit was expected and certainly wasn't 'fancy'.

Cocktails on a rooftop. Dinner in Little Italy.

Brunch in Somerville. All expected of Charlotte Adler.

Now, it’s like armor. Like dressing up in something you know looks good gives you the confidence you might have lost along the way—and it brings out the blue in my eyes.

Quinn's tanned bare legs are clad in a dark blue denim mini skirt, topped off with a white lace bralette, and an unbuttoned pink and white gingham flannel that’s tied at her waist. She’s in white embroidered Ariats that come up to her mid-calf.

My bestie looks like a Western pin-up girl with her dark brown, curled hair that's pinned back and pouty pink lips.

“I just need a pair of shoes and a bag, then we can head out.”

She takes me in again and gives a whoop. “The men of Silver Rapids aren't going to know what swept into town when they see you in this."

“Ha! I’m not looking for a man tonight.” I just wanted to put on an outfit that made me feel good. “That’s the last thing I need. No men.” Quinn just smirks and shakes her head. I'm looking right at her when I say, “Seriously! Now help me pick out a pair of shoes.”

She heads to my closet and picks up a few different pairs of stilettos and then moves on to booties and my cowboy boots. She gasps and picks up a pair of rhinestone booties with a chunky heel. “Are these comfortable? Like you can dance and run in them?”

“Run?!” I question. “What the hell kind of trouble do you have planned for tonight? I thought this was like a summer kickoff kind of weekend. I will not be running because there is no drama tonight.” Crossing my arms, I look at my friend warily.

She's the first person I really connected with since moving to Wyoming. We met a little over five months ago. On my third day in town, she saw me circling the racks at the small bookstore where she works and asked what kind of story I wanted. She ended up selling me three romance novels and a self-help book. We’ve been friends ever since.

Having someone to meet up with for dinner or brunch dates after long days at the ranch is nice. She's from Dallas and almost everyone else is from Silver Rapids and, like the tornado from Oz, she and I just ended up here.

“You never know where the night will lead us, babes.” She winks and tosses the silver rhinestone booties towards the bed. They land with a thunk.

I grin at her while I zip them up. She pulls a clear acrylic wristlet with a gold zipper and chain to go around my wrist.

“Fuck me runnin’, we’re going full city girl tonight," she says as she flops on the bed beside me.

I’m already tired.

We stop at the kitchen island for one more rosy-lemon shot. It’s limoncello, vodka, muddled rosemary leaves, and soda water. It’s a fave from one of my old Little Italy haunts. There was a time when my old friends and I would order dozens of these and stay by the pool at my parents’ club all day.

“To a night we’ll always remember!”

We clink glasses, tap them to the table and take the shot back in one gulp. The mix of the sweet and tart of the drink warms my throat on the way down.

“Cheers to that, baby girl,” Quinn replies.

My house isn’t too far from the downtown area and I'm used to walking, but when I asked Quinn if we should drive and then walk back, she said there was something to be said about walking back home and sobering up just enough to pop a pizza in the oven before we pass out. What a clever girl.

Is there anything better than the perfect buzz, a belly full of pizza, and a comfy bed? Okay, a lot of things are better, but as nights out go. That's pretty fantastic.

Quinn moans and I look over to her. She says, “I could definitely go for some cotton candy. Oh, or some fried Oreos!”

“Yes to cotton candy and lemonade. Mmm.” I say as I rub my belly.

“We haven’t even talked about your new job, missy! Are you settling in okay? What exactly are you doing—with horses?”

I laugh. I explained my new role to her when I accepted it two weeks ago.

“I help muck stalls, feed and brush the horses, and ride them a bit for exercise. Or I unload the hay, grain, and bed shavings. Just kind of help the owner. I told him when we talked that I only ever rode English style and that I have never built anything in my life, so I wouldn’t be able to help him fix the fences or anything like that. ”

“Have you ever worked with animals before?”

“Kind of,” I reply.

If you consider the men in investment banking animals—which, I do.

I can't ever explain to her what I used to do for work. That in a different life, I managed a top-performing hedge fund back home. That more money passed through my hands than water running out of a faucet. If I wasn’t worried about my skeletons finding me, I wouldn’t really have to work.

I only have so much cash left from what I brought with me and I don’t want to use any debit or credit cards, nothing that can be traced back to me. It’s better for everyone if that part of my life stays buried, locked in a box that will never see the sunlight again.

“But I’m excited to learn something new," I say.

“So long as mucking stalls makes you happy, Charlie,” she shudders. “Blech.”

“I love horses. I’ve spent my entire life around them.” And the ranch owner said he would pay me in cash.

“Honey, I think they’re gorgeous, beautiful creatures. So long as they’re far from me.”

I giggle. “You’re from Texas. How can you not like horses?”

“I think maybe it’s their eyes, they see too much. And they can kill you if they trample or throw you.”

She’s not wrong. I’ve seen a few accidents, but isn’t that part of the allure of horses? Feeling the power of nature harnessed in a grand and noble animal that could literally kill you with one wrong move? I might be a slight adrenaline junkie.

After another ten minutes of chatting, we see the barricades up ahead that block off Main Street. All of the downtown shops closed for the festival, allowing their employees to join in the festivities with their friends and families.

The quaint town of Silver Rapids is nestled in the heart of Western Wyoming. Brick-faced buildings line the street, each of them unique and full of charm—that’s why I stayed here instead of moving on. The charisma and people of the town were so kind and welcoming.

We walk past the door of The Bluebird Diner as someone walks out, and Quinn groans,“Mmmm, everything smells so dang good!” The place is packed with locals and visitors alike.

A blue neon “OPEN” sign flickers above the door.

An old mural on the bricks show an elk dipping its head to a small river with rapids that’s faded with time and age.

You can tell that it was bright and beautiful once, but I think that to paint over it, would take away from it.

The town has absolutely come alive. Main and North Streets are full of artisans and craft vendors selling everything from baked goods to self-care products to handcrafted jewelry and vintage, boho clothing.

The sky is the most brilliant color of blues, pinks, and lavenders with soft clouds high in the sky.

Golden light is giving its Midas touch to everything it lands on, bathing the storefronts and carnival stands in warmth, event snow-capped mountains are glowing.

I look down to my feet and they look like disco balls, light reflecting off them in a million different directions.

As we pass The Book Nook on our way to the food stalls, Quinn waves at the books on display in the window.

When I round the corner, I see a mechanical bull setup.

“Yes! Absolutely, yes! We are doing this,” I squeal and clap with excitement.

“No, absolutely not.” Quinn freezes on the sidewalk. “Nope. Not happening.”

“Oh, we absolutely are,” I say. I grab her arm and pull her along with me towards the bullpen.