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CHAPTER ONE

SILAS

The sky over the north pasture could burn the hide off a rattlesnake. Sun’s so mean it scrapes at my eyeballs, pricking sweat out across my back and soaking my shirt until it clings to me. Heat rises right off the limestone like you could fucking scoop it with a shovel. Even the fence line looks wavy at the horizon, boards twitching out of alignment if you stare too long.

I drive another staple dead center into a cedar post, the hammer handle slick in my palm. Somewhere behind me, cicadas start up, a bastard chorus that drills straight into your skull. I like the sound. It’s the only thing louder than my own head most days.

Past the fence, horses loaf under the shade of an old live oak. Their flanks ripple with lazy tail-swats, but otherwise they’re statues. Blue roan’s got his chin sunk so deep in his chest, sound asleep standing up. Not a bad plan, if you can get away with it.

I pull the next length of wire taut, brace it with my boot against stubborn Texas dirt, and staple it flush. Then I check the line with a quick shove; it holds. Satisfying, the way honest work plants itself under your skin, makes your brain go quiet except for the job at hand.

My phone buzzes against my thigh. Fuck. I ignore it, run my hand down the post again, check for wiggle. The fucker buzzes a second time, more insistent.

Goddamn it. I yank it out. The sun on the screen is so bright I have to squint. Cash Montoya lights up the caller ID. Well, shit. That’s not the kind of call you let slide twice.

I wedge the hammer under my arm, wipe my palm quickly against my jeans, and answer. “Yeah?”

“Silas,” Cash says. “You busy?”

I glance at the raw meat of my knuckles and the sweat bleeding through my shirt. “What do you think?”

He laughs—a sharp sound. “Touché.”

I dig a boot heel into the dirt, stretch my back until something pops. “You’re not calling to talk ranch gossip, so spit it out.”

He doesn’t waste a second. “I have a big ask. Huge, actually.”

“Well, now I’m good and scared.” I grab my water bottle and take a huge gulp, waiting for him to tell me what his big favor encompasses.

“Funny,” he echoes, not laughing this time. I hear wind whistling wherever he’s standing, maybe out by the old highway past the edge of town. “I need you to take in a relative of mine for about a month. Teach her the basics of horses. Groundwork, saddle, maybe roping if you can swing it. Everything she’d need to not make a damn fool of herself on national TV.”

Fuck. I’m not sure whether I need coffee or whiskey to help me keep up with this fucking conversation. “What the hell are you talking about, Cash?”

I can already picture his smirk on the other end of the line. “My cousin needs to learn all there is to know about horses. Like fucking yesterday. She just landed the part in a reality series about rodeo queens, but she hasn’t ever seen a fucking horse except on TV.”

Hell no. There’s no goddamn way. I open my mouth to tell Cash no when he pulls out the big guns.

“Please. I’m goddamn desperate. I need someone who will train Inez and keep it out of the press.”

My refusal dies a quick death. The CEO of Montoya Investments and President of the Silver Spoon MC doesn’t use the word “please” often. Fucking perfect. Hot as hell, sweat running in my eyes, and now I’m about to take on some pampered starlet with zero clue about horses or dirt or anything that matters out here.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, thumb slick with sweat and grime. “Let me get this straight. You want me to take on some Hollywood princess, turn her into a cowgirl in four weeks flat, and keep it all off the goddamn record.”

“Pretty much.”

“You want fries with that order?”

Now he laughs, full-throated. “She’s a good kid. Besides, you handle horses better than anyone.”

I roll my eyes at the empty field. “Blowing sunshine up my ass will get you everywhere.”

“I’ll owe you big time.” He already knows I won’t refuse.

I drag a hand through my hair, sweat-slippery. It comes away wet, my hair sticking to my scalp. I turn away from the fence, looking out over the slope and the long shadows rolling across the pasture. I can feel heat coming off the ground like a punch to the gut.

Under my breath, I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Send over the information about your Hollywood starlet cousin, and I’ll be ready for her.”

“Thanks.” He hangs up before I have time to think better of this stupid fucking idea.