“I don’t want to hear another word about it. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Branson.”

Without looking away from the camo-clad blonde in front of me, I correct her sharply. “Mr. Tucker, Charlotte. Let us not forget our roles in the presence of new company.”

If I’m mistaken, a smirk has formed on the lips of my angel. She is most certainly not a fan of Charlotte. Duly noted.

It’s not lost on me that, throughout the altercation, we’ve gained the onlooking eyes of her family. Although I would wish for nothing more than to have her all to myself in this moment, it would be in poor taste not to meet her family. Hell, her daddy sure as shit needs to love me. Come hell or high water, that will be a reality.

I am more certain than I’ve ever been in my goddamn life that my soul is tethered to hers, and I have yet to taste her.

If anyone could hear the way I am thinking about her, they’d send me to the nuthouse. I am pretty sure I’m in love with this woman, even though I am only meeting her for the first time. Even I’m not ignorant to how absolutely crazy that sounds.

With Street’s large body offering us the smallest bit of privacy, I pull the aviators from the bridge of her nose. “There you are, pretty lady.” My voice is low and gravelly at the heavenly sight of her big, blue eyes.

Her mouth opens and closes a few times before the sweet sound of her voice rains through me. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I repeat back to her, sliding her sunglasses into the front pocket of her hoodie. My fingers graze her stomach through the material, and the sound of her sharply sucking in air makes me want to beat on my chest with pride.

Crowding her space, I tug on the strings of her sweater, using them to pull her body a little closer to mine. “I’m coming for you, London Daniels, and there ain’t nowhere you can hide from me, angel.”

I leave her standing there, her lips parted and her breathing heavy.

I’m not here to mess around.

I’m here to make her mine.

Even if I come across like a jackass while doing it.

“WELL, HELL. STICK A FORK in me. I’m done.” Aurora fans herself after barreling towards me as the crowd disperses around us.

“W-w-what,” I stammer, my eyes admiring the backside of a certain billionaire cowboy’s ass as he walks with my father into the barn.

Waving her hand in front of my face, she laughs. “London?”

“Mmm,” I hum.

“I think you’re drooling.”

My eyes blink a few times as I soak in her words. Then I lift the sleeve of my sweater and rub the back of my hand across my mouth.

“I can’t tell if I imagined it,” I murmur, not really meaning for her to hear me—but she does anyway.

“Can’t tell if what happened?”

“If he actually said that . . .”

She gives me a small shove. “If he actually said what?” she urges.

“‘I’m coming for you, London Daniels, and there ain’t nowhere you can hide from me, angel’.” I repeat what I’m not sure was something taking place in my imagination or occurring in actual reality. Truthfully, either one is absurd.

Standing up on her tiptoes, she looks towards the entrance to the barn, catching the last glimpse of him before he disappears. “Holy shit.”

Holy shit is right. I’ve never had an emotional or physical reaction like that to another person in my entire life, let alone a complete stranger with an ego the size of this property. I could feel him in every one of my bones, and the craving for him gets stronger in every breath I take.

“I think I’m still drunk,” I say, feeling the warmth of the memory wash over me, my knees threatening to buckle once more.

“Mm-hm.” Aurora smirks. “That’s what you’re hopin,’ anyhow.”

Heck yes, I was hoping to chalk it up to being drunk, because I’m not even the slightest bit sure I know what to do with that man. I barely know what to do with myself.

Two hours later, most of the horses are settled into either their stalls or outdoor paddocks and I have managed to avoid nearly all other humans.

Charlotte has disappeared into an empty stall that serves as a makeshift office, and I groan at the thought of having to work so closely with her over the coming months.

I’d be lying if I said I’m not the littlest bit thrilled she was put in her place earlier, but the damage to our working relationship has already been done and I am hardly ignorant as to why. She touched him intimately, and it drove me to the brink of insanity to consider all the possibilities of why she would deem that okay. My mind can’t help but wonder if they’ve been together before¸ or are even an item now, thus resulting in my immediate dislike for her.

My heart is constantly driven by the luster of things I’m passionate about, and nearly every one of those things has put a break in my heart at least once. My penance for loving with all I have, I suppose.

Aware of the romanticism surrounding my personality, I’ve consciously chosen to keep dating at bay. Of course, when I was younger, I had a few boyfriends. I’m hardly a nun, but I’ve never entered a relationship—or anything, for that matter—if I was both certain it would consume me and not willingly to let it. For that reason, the few men I’ve had over the years could be classified as ‘safe’ or ‘boring,’ and while that was, perhaps, doing the love my heart is capable of giving a grave injustice, it was a sacrifice I eagerly handed over.

After walking across the property to the farther and nicer of the few grass paddocks, I step onto the bottom rung of the wooden fence and fold my arms over the top rail, resting my head on top of them.

My emotions are chaotic at best, even on a good day, but my confidence since I’ve returned home has been fragile and dwindling each day I have been unable to ride. So, it is no surprise that, as I watch his black horse graze, my thoughts drift to him, to the eyes my mind will surely never forget.

They are a mossy green, dusted in some lighter shade of brown, and the most unique specks of dark chocolate were found when I looked close enough.

“Thinking about me?”

Looking over my shoulder, I see him, Branson, walking towards me. The beautiful eyes I was thinking about assess me as he approaches.

“No,” I lie. “I don’t even know you.” That much is true, but it doesn’t stop my heart from flopping over inside my chest.

“I’m fixin’ to see that changed in a real short period of time,” he drawls, leaning his hip against the fence. His entire body is positioned towards me, causing my temperature to rise to a fever pitch.

I regrettably drag my gaze from his handsome face in hopes that I’ll find some willpower from not looking at him. “I’m not sure we prepared enough space for all your horses plus your ego,” I sass, fighting the urge to smile at my own hilarity.

He laughs, the deep, rich sound nearly swallowing what’s left of my consciousness. This is only my second time around him, and both times left me feeling dizzy from overwhelming emotion. That coupled with the teetering remainder of my hangover and subsequent lack of food causes my body to sway and my legs to give out.

His strong arms wrap around my midsection and gently pull me against the front of his body. “Easy.” His voice is so smooth, but not quite like honey—something stronger. My fluttering mind does its best to keep up.

“Single-barrel bourbon.” I’m not even sure I said that out loud until his chuckle ripples through me again, causing my skin to break out in a shiver.

His breath ghosts against my neck when he says, “Pardon?”