Prologue
Grant
Most women fall for cowboys because of their hats—mine hooked me with a lie and a kiss I still haven’t recovered from. And I say that as a man who once took a hoof to the ribs and still walked it off.
She’s standing in the river like shebelongsthere.
Water curling around her hips, bikini clinging like it’s got a personal vendetta against my sanity, and wet hair slicked back in a way that’s got my chest tight and my hands itching to touch. She catches me watching her—doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. Just gives methatlook. That wide-eyed, sharp-lipped, I-dare-you-to-take-your-fill look that’s got me doing real dumb things lately.
Like slipping off my horse shirtless and wading into the river with my jeans still on, like that’s a normal Tuesday decision.
She’s all sunlight and temptation. And me? I’m a man who’s spent the better part of the last decade dragging ghosts around like they’re leashed to my boots. But when she smiles—slow and a little smug—I forget every damn reason I ever had for staying distant.
There’s a moment, right here in the middle of this river, where I know I’m screwed. Completely, irreversibly wrecked. And not just because of the way her mouth tastes like summer and rebellion. No, it’s the way I feel when she touches me—like maybe I deserve something good after all.
And if all I’ve got is borrowed time with her, then I’m gonna make damn sure Mia Bonney remembers what it feels like to be wanted likethis. Not just with hands and heat—but with heart, soul, and everything I’ve got left to give.
Maybe this moment rewrites everything.
Or maybe it’s the start of a wildfire I’ll never outrun.
But either way, one thing’s for damn sure—
I’m not walking out of this river the same man who rode in.
Chapter 1
Mia
My phone buzzes against my thigh as I lean against the bathroom counter, brushing mascara onto my already-long lashes. I ignore it, focusing on my reflection. The dark circles under my hazel eyes betray the late nights I've spent finalizing my last three articles. I cap the mascara and reach for my phone, not surprised to see Brè’s name lighting up the screen.
“Let me guess,” I answer, “you're calling to make sure I haven't missed my flight.”
“Actually, I'm calling to make sure you're actually going to get on the plane this time.” Brè's voice carries that mix of amusement and exasperation I've become so accustomed to. “Remember Barcelona?”
I roll my eyes, though she can't see me. “That was different. A typhoon was coming.”
“It was a light rain shower, Mia.”
“Whatever.” I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder as I zip up my carry-on. “I'm packed and leaving for the airport in twenty minutes. Happy?”
“Ecstatic,” Brè replies. “This assignment is perfect for you. The annual Gathering in Portree is supposed to be breathtaking. Thousands of people from all over the world—and you get to be right in the middle of it.”
I feel a flutter of excitement despite myself.
“It does sound amazing. And the timing couldn't be better. Once Olympic training starts next month, I won't have time to breathe, let alone travel.”
“Which is exactly why you need to enjoy this. One last adventure before you're chained to that pool.”
Moving to my bedroom, I check my list one final time. “Passport, camera, laptop, swimsuit—”
“Swimsuit?” Brè interrupts. “This isn't a vacation, Bonney.”
“When have I ever gone anywhere without a swimsuit?” I shoot back. “Besides, the hotel has a pool.”
“And let me guess—you packed the pink waterproof vibrator too?”
I snort. “Obviously. It's my most loyal travel companion. I don’t have a boyfriend, so unless a strapping six-foot-five man in finance is volunteering for the position, Barry the Battery-Operated Boyfriend is staying strapped in my carry-on.”
