Prologue

Prologue

Sage

The land rolls away beneath me as I lean toward Sky's neck. Each impact of her hooves against the grasslands reverberates through my bones, but when I shift my weight against the stirrups, I can absorb most of it. Sure, I'll be sore tomorrow—but that's how you know it was a good ride.

Somewhere behind me, Flossie calls my name. My laughter is lost in the wind. She was the one who suggested this race, but even though she's on a good horse, she's not fearless when it comes to building speed. Flossie always holds back, too wary of slippery spots, gopher holes, and the fear of an unlikely accident to take real risks.

By my count, I've only got one life to live, and I don't want to waste it.

I ride until I see the fences at the edge of the ranch. Only then do I nudge Sky to turn back and retrace our steps back toward where my slightly disgruntled best friend is still puttering around on my second-best horse.

As Sky and I settle into a gentle trot back toward the ranch, the weight of my impending decision presses down on me like the hot Montana sun. I remember the night Trevor laid out the terms over dinner at his polished oak dining table, his voice smooth but firm. "Sage, I need a partner who can stand with me, someone to help project the image of a wholesome, successful entrepreneur."

His gaze was calculating, as if he were envisioning a future product launch rather than a marriage. "Our company revenues have been falling for the past five years. The consultant my dad hired said we need to work on our image and branding. That's where you come in. With your social media following and tech savvy catering to the twenty-somethings, you could really help me turn things around. In return, I'll ensure your ranch not only survives but thrives. Think of it as a strategic alliance. And I'll be faithful to our fake marriage for the first year at least."

At that moment, framed by the soft candlelight, it wasn't just a proposal—it was a lifeline. I nodded, the role he offered fitting uncomfortably like a borrowed coat: necessary for survival but never quite mine.

"Why am I even here?" Flossie asks as I pull even with her.

"You're back here in the dust because you don't really want it," I tease. "But if you're asking why I invited you over, it's because I've got news. "

"Better be good news," she gripes.

I swipe a wayward strand of Sky's mane toward her neck. "It is."

Immediately, Flossie's eyes brighten. She sits up straighter in the saddle and tucks a stray curl of nut-brown hair behind her ear. "Did you break up with Trevor?"

"No!" I lean over to swat her, laughing off one of her many pointed digs about my fiancé. "My van. It's done!"

Flossie's mouth drops open, and genuine excitement flashes in her eyes. "Okay, that is good news. Have you told Trevor yet?"

I shake my head as we start back toward the house. "No. I want to record it tonight. I was thinking you could film it for social media?"

"Heck, yes." She holds up a hand for a high five. "You know I've got your back. But I want to check out the van first."

I grin. "What if I want to show Trevor first?"

Flossie blows a raspberry and gives me a thumbs down. Both horses swivel their ears back toward her, confused by the noise. "Not happening. I'm your ride-or-die. He's just your future non-husband."

"You sound like that TikTok meme," I tease.

Flossie pitches her voice high. "He is not the love of your life! He is just some guy who needs you to improve his own image!" I join her for the last part so that we say it in unison: " Hit him with your car! "

My best friend chuckles. "You know that's always an option."

I pretend to clutch my pearls. "Flossie, you are an officer of the law! Are you trying to entrap me into the world of crime?"

She flicks her wrist. "I'm off the clock, and I come from a long line of women who refuse to reveal where the bodies are buried."

I shift in the saddle, feeling decidedly uncomfortable with this line of conversation. I know that Flossie doesn't like Trevor, and I get it. We're hardly a love match, and I have my reservations about our impending wedding. The thing is, we need each other. Trevor has promised to ensure my family doesn't lose our ranch in exchange for me being the face of his company. I'm the wholesome Claire Dunphy type who will smooth out his rough, playboy edges.

Breeding champion American Quarter Horses at McAllister Farm goes back generations, and I intend to keep the legacy alive. I already have a following on social media, one that's growing every day, and Trevor's Western-wear company sells domestic bliss and strong family values as part of its brand.

He needs a wife. One just like me.

I'm pretty sure Flossie would make him disappear if she knew that he'd promised to be loyal to me for the first year of our marriage, and I quote, pending kids. Whatever the hell that means. I'd like to think that he'd want to be more faithful to the mother of his children, but from what I know of Trevor, I bet he's the kind of guy who's turned off by a woman ‘losing her figure' to pregnancy.

So, yeah, he's a dick. But if marrying him means my family gets to keep the ranch, protecting and preserving the horses we love so much, so be it.

As I adjust the reins, a wistful laugh escapes me, carrying lightly on the Montana breeze. Love, that ideal everyone seems to treasure, has remained somewhat elusive to me. My own experiences, along with those of friends, have taught me to be cautious. The men I've known have often fallen short of the steadfast example set by my father, their promises more fragile than they first appeared. They draw you in with charm and warmth, only to change when you're most committed. And Trevor? He fits the mold perfectly. I'm under no illusions about him. He's offered promises with conditions, which hardly speaks of true romance.

My skepticism isn't cultivated but imposed by necessity. After all, protecting our family's ranch—the legacy my father left us—is my priority. Love? It feels like a luxury I can't justify, a risk that could jeopardize everything we've built. And yet, somewhere deep inside, I can't help but wonder. What if there's someone who could prove me wrong, who could restore my faith in what love could be? Flossie seems to think so. But for now, such thoughts remain just that—thoughts. There's simply no space for such fairy tales in my life, not when so much is at stake.

We take Sky and Star back to the barn and brush them down before I lead Flossie around the back to where my van is parked. As we walk, I explain my strategy. "Here's the plan. Tonight, Trevor comes back from his business trip, and I want to be there when he gets in. I thought you could go with me, film me making dinner to surprise him. Then I'll show him his dollars at work. I never would have been able to refurbish my dad's old van into a house on wheels without his help."

Flossie rubs her hands together. "And that's the part I'm looking forward to. He's not going to be pleased."

I roll my eyes at her. Why can't she make this easier on me? Although, in her defense, I haven't been totally upfront about how long the contract says our fake arrangement will last. She'll just try to talk me out of it. "He told me I could spend it however I wanted for the honeymoon. I thought this could be good for us. Nothing like a road trip to bring people together. Even if our marriage is just a ruse, a business arrangement, we still have to sell it, or it won't work."

Flossie rolls her eyes at me. "Right, because my idea of a dream honeymoon is marrying a guy I don't know and don't love, then spending two weeks crammed together in a rustic van . I think you could break Britney's record."

"Britney's record?" I repeat, confused. Do we know a Britney?

"Ms. Spears. You know, for the shortest marriage. And I'm good with that. I don't know why you're marrying him to begin with."

I bite my tongue. I could explain how I'm saving my daddy's legacy and keeping his dream alive, but I know what she'd say: that my father would want me to be happy and that Trevor doesn't. Make me happy. The man doesn't even come close. He's arrogant, entitled, cocky, and dismissive. I've always dreamed about a man who listens. Who notices the little things. Who has the same values as I do. But when the rubber meets the road, the ranch makes me happy. Trevor is just a means to an end, and it's not like I'm leading him on. We both know the score. I'm young enough. Despite what he might think, I'm not going to agree to have kids with this man. And when this business arrangement is over in three years, I'll see if I can find someone else. If not, I'll be just fine alone.

Love is a luxury for people with money and options.

"I don't know why you dislike him so much," I murmur, picking at a callous on my palm.

"I don't know why you like him at all, " Flossie retorts. She's gearing up for a tirade when we round the corner, and the van comes into view. As soon as she sees it, she holds out her arms and rushes forward. "Oh, man , Sage! This is amazing!"

It looks pretty darn good if I do say so myself. The van was in rough shape when I started, and the exterior was all chipped forest-green paint and weird faux-wood paneling. Now, it's white—both for aesthetics and because it'll keep the heat down during long days in the sun—with a Montana landscape painted on the side by yours truly. The inside is even better, with everything custom built to my exact specs. I paid someone else to include a pop-up top for ventilation and rewire the interior, using Trevor's money, of course. As far as the interior layout, though, that's all me. I designed the dining nook and the bed platform that folds away during the day. There's a mini-fridge built into the micro-kitchen, along with shelves that snap closed so that nothing will go flying while on the road.

"Okay, I gotta give it to you, this is so cool. " Flossie braces her hands on her hips and looks around in wonder. "Maybe you should ditch Trevor and we can take a sweet road trip. What's in these cupboards?"

"Right now, mostly snacks. I got a little bit of everything." Because I don't know what Trevor likes. I bite back those words, too.

"Can I film this?" Flossie is already reaching for her phone.

"Later." I check the time. "I need to have time to roast this bird. Tonight I'm going to try to make a pheasant. Trevor loves pheasant."

"Of course he does," Flossie mutters. "Pretentious bastard. I can't believe he didn't demand only to eat birds he shot himself."

"Flossie…"

She steps out of the van, lifting both hands in surrender. "I'll back off when you two set a date. For now, there's still time to talk you out of it."

* * *

Despite her complaints about Trevor, Flossie helps me in the kitchen. She starts chopping while I get the bird stuffed and in the oven. I've chosen the sides carefully: mushroom risotto, roast butternut squash with pistachios and pomegranate for garnish, and garlicky green beans. It'll look beautiful, taste good, and, most importantly, won't tax my cooking skills beyond their limit.

Flossie takes over the final touches while I rush upstairs to shower and change. I spend a little too long picking an outfit that'll look casual enough to be low-key while also being classy. Seeming effortless takes more effort than people let on. I don't allow myself to stop and wonder why I'm putting in so much work for a man who probably won't even appreciate it.

"Should I have made dessert?" I ask, checking my reflection in the door of the microwave.

"Yup," Flossie deadpans. "If you don't make a pie from scratch, you've effectively canceled out the rest of the effort."

I shoot her a dirty look, and she relents. She reaches for the freezer door and peeks inside. After a moment of digging around, she emerges with a half-gallon container of my mom's homemade blackberry ice cream. "This is at least half full. If y'all still want a fancy dessert, you can sprinkle some pink sea salt or some shit on here and call it a day."

I sweep over to kiss her cheek. "You're a hero. Wanna help me carry this out to the car?"

My stomach rumbles the whole way over to Trevor's place. Trapped inside the car with the tantalizing smells of the dinner I just cooked, I'm reminded that I haven't eaten since breakfast.

I park in front of Trevor's garage and juggle a tray of veggies and the Tupperware of pheasant. I don't want to have to make multiple trips, but I may have overdone it on the food. "A little help?"

"Hold on." Flossie is standing on the other side of the car with her hand over her eyes, squinting toward the garage.

"Stop snooping and grab the ice cream."

"But that's Trevor's car. I thought you said he wasn't supposed to be back until later?"

"So, he got in early. No big deal." True, I wanted a little time to get set up, maybe put on some music, and definitely drink a glass or two of wine to calm my nerves. I don't need it, though. Before too long, we'll be living together, and Trevor will be around all the time. What a depressing thought.

But at least I'll still be in my home, living my best life. Happiness requires sacrifice, right?

Eventually, Flossie leans in the other door to help, and we get everything gathered up. We troop up to the door and fumble for my keys, but when I touch the knob, I realize that it's unlocked. Of course, because Trevor's home early. Where is my head today? I'm balancing my dishes while trying to get one free hand when I hear the voices from the other side of the door.

Two voices, not just Trevor. A man and a woman.

I pivot back to Flossie and hiss, "Did you hear that?" Before she can answer, a high, tinkling laugh sounds from inside. I know that laugh. She only laughs like that when she's trying to be cute for a guy. "Was that… Jessie?" Please let me be wrong.

Flossie gasps. "More like Jessabelle . Come on, Sage. We're going in."

My feet are rooted to the spot. I am literally frozen in place. Do I have any right to confront him? Our contract doesn't start until we tie the knot. If anything, I just feel stupid for putting in this amount of effort tonight. For caring about Trevor's wants and needs far more than he'll ever care about mine. "We can't," I whisper. "Come on, let's just… go."

Flossie sets her dishes on the porch and wiggles her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. "Girl. You're about to marry this guy. Maybe you don't need to wait for the honeymoon to get to know him. You could start now. Also…" She pokes her screen a few times. "We're live on TikTok."

I close my eyes. "Not now, Flossie. Please."

She shoos me forward. "Definitely now. Go."

I don't move a muscle until she nudges my shoulder. I'm completely numb when I step inside. I stride through the hall to the kitchen and set the food I'm carrying on the counter. Flossie comes behind, working overtime to keep the camera trained on me while she wrestles the rest of the food inside.

There's no sign of Trevor in the living room or the den. The house, as usual, is immaculate—he has a cleaning lady come twice a week—but I can still hear voices in the form of a woman's giggles and gasps, and a man's low utterances. From outside, I thought they were coming from the living room, but now that I'm in here, I can tell that I was wrong. The voices are coming from upstairs.

Trevor's master bedroom is above the living room, and his window overlooks the front of the house. I already know what I'm going to find up there, but I have to see for myself. I shouldn't care. I don't care… not really. I mean, I don't have any feelings involved in a business arrangement, but he promised.

And I'm mad at myself for not remembering that outside of my daddy the promises of men mean nothing.

"Wait here," I tell Flossie.

She adjusts her grip on the phone. "Of course… I won't." She giggles to herself as she follows me to the stairs.

A few of the steps are squeaky. By the time I reach the landing, Flossie and I have made enough noise that the sounds from the bedroom stop. Fortunately, Trevor opens the bedroom door before I get there. If I had to find him balls deep with another woman, I might scream.

"Hey, Sage." He's wearing nothing but his boxers, although he's got a shirt in his hand, which he pulls on as he approaches. "What are you doing here? I thought you were on some secret wedding mission."

"I was." I back down the stairs, right into Flossie, who fumbles the phone. I slip around her and bolt for the kitchen.

Trevor follows me, his footsteps heavy on the stairs. "Sage, wait."

"For what?" I gather the food, then realize I don't actually want it. "For lying to me? For making empty promises?" I rip the lid off the container with the pheasant and fling the bird at him. It hits him in the chest and bounces off, landing with a sad, wet splat on the floor. "I roasted you some pheasant. It's your favorite ."

That wasn't satisfying enough, but I bet the risotto will make a bigger mess. I open the Tupperware and flip it toward him with a flick of my wrists ingrained from years of handling reins. This result is much better. A cascade of rice and mushrooms flies everywhere, covering Trevor's shirt and chin with aromatic grains. "Fuck you, Trevor. The wedding is off. You two deserve each other."

I bolt for the front door. Trevor tries to give chase, but Flossie blocks him, still wielding the phone like a weapon. She drags the device slowly down his body, landing on his boxers. "Say hi to all of TikTok, Trevor! Whew… I've never seen so many new followers from one livestream in all my life. It's either your poor cheating skills or your non-existent bulge."

"Flossie!" I call. "Let's go."

"Coming!" She follows me out to the car, walking backward until she reaches the front door to get the last footage of what I presume is Trevor's miserable expression.

I know that he doesn't care about me, and that guilt he feels is exclusively due to the fact that he got caught. And as a result, he's not going to get what he wants out of our little arrangement. He's actually going to have to take accountability for his bad decisions this time. On camera, no less. And this little faux pas on his part is going to get back to his father. He's going to hate that.

I, however, am floored by the sense of loss. Not because I cared about Trevor, but because I've found my limit. The line I won't cross in order to save the ranch. I'm not going to marry a man who can't keep a single promise just to save my home.

Which begs the question: what do I do now?

As I reach the passenger door, I look up to the bedroom window. A familiar blond-haired, blue-eyed face pulls away, and the curtain falls, but I know it was Jessie, my high school nemesis. She's the kind of beautiful that life unfolds perfectly for.

"Hey." Flossie tucks her phone away at last and holds out a hand. "Keys. You shouldn't be driving right now."

I hand them over and stumble around the passenger seat. Right before we close our doors, Trevor staggers out onto the porch and calls my name.

I slam my door with such force that the vehicle rocks from side to side.

Flossie is quiet as she backs out of the driveway. I sit beside her, trembling with mounting rage. Trevor and I had a deal . We were never in love, but I trusted him to be honest with me. I trusted him not to betray me and humiliate me by sleeping with someone I know. Someone I never liked. Someone with a big mouth who will spread that news all over town.

"Sage?" she asks. "Are you okay? You seem more upset than I thought you'd be."

I whip my head toward her. "You didn't think I'd be upset that my fiancé is cheating on me? You were practically giddy in there."

She pulls over along the side of the dirt road, halfway between my place and Trevor's. She leaves the engine running to keep the AC going but throws the car into park before turning to me. "Trevor is a piece of shit, and I also think you knew that. All the times I've brought up how much I dislike him, you've never once protested that you feel some deep soul connection to the guy. Even now, you're not crying. You don't seem heartbroken. Am I wrong?"

I turn my face away from her and wipe my palm over my cheeks. "No."

"I was happy that we caught him in the act before you tied the knot. I'm not happy that he disrespected you this way, but to be honest… when did he ever respect you?"

I swallow a few times. "He was gonna save the ranch."

Flossie frowns. "Wait, what?"

"The ranch is in trouble. I can't, um." I fan my face to cool my fevered skin. "I can't afford to keep it at this rate. I'm good through the end of the year, maybe, but after that…"

Flossie whistles. "Oh, shit . That explains a lot. It explains everything, really. I know you said it was a business arrangement, but I never knew it was that dire. But you're a badass, Sage. The most capable cowgirl I know. Where there's a will, there's a way."

We sit there in silence for a few minutes, processing everything that just happened.

I break first. "Trevor promised to be faithful for a whole fucking year, and he couldn't even make it to the altar."

"He what? "

"Forget it." I wipe my face again. "I can't deal with this right now. I thought I had it all figured out. So much for that." I let out a self-deprecating laugh.

"What happens now?"

I don't know how to answer that. What happens with the ranch? Hell if I know. The thought of losing it, losing everything my family has worked for generations to build—it claws at me, a fear so deep and raw it's almost paralyzing. But how can I think about that now, with my world upended and my trust broken? As for the rest, I've got some big decisions to make. The van is packed and ready to go, but now, with the wedding canceled… Maybe I need this space, some time away to figure things out, to breathe without the weight of betrayal suffocating me.

"I'm taking a road trip," I tell her. "I was already planning to be busy with wedding stuff for the next few weeks, plus the honeymoon. Mom and the ranch hands can cover everything for a while. They're already paid."

Flossie bites her bottom lip. "But the money…"

"It was Trevor's money. I still have a little bit left after fixing the van. And if he wants to drag me to court over it, let him try."

She holds up her hands for a high-five. "Nice. I like it. Treat yourself to a little vacay. And while you're away, you'll figure things out."

For all I know, this is going to be one of the last vacations I get to take. I won't be able to afford luxuries while on the road, but I should be able get by on the basics. When I get back, I'll have to let all the extra help go. Maybe if I take over more duties on the ranch… or start boarding more horses? Find some sponsors for the show stock? The more work I do to cut costs, the less time I'll have to earn money, and vice versa.

But that can be a problem for later. I need some time away to clear my head and find my North Star.

"Where is this glorious pilgrimage going to take place?" Flossie asks.

"I don't know. Somewhere I've never been. Somewhere I never planned to go. Like… Vegas? That's the opposite of rural Montana, right?"

"So, the runaway bride goes to the wedding capital of the US." Flossie chuckles as she eases the car back onto the road. "I like it. And more importantly, I believe in you, Sage McAllister."