Chapter 1

Chapter One

Connor

T he ice cubes in my glass clinked against the sides as I brought it to my lips and drank deep. The whiskey left a trail of heat down my throat before the biting, smokey flavor settled in my stomach and spread outward, warming me from the inside, like I was sitting in front of a campfire. I usually stuck to beer when I was riding, but that wasn't going to cut it tonight. Not if I wanted to take the edge off the tension that had my muscles bunched into knots and numb the pain in my knee.

I felt it as soon as I launched off that bull earlier. The damn thing had finally healed up enough for me to get back to work, but now I couldn't stop worrying that I'd fucked it up all over again and what that could mean for my future.

I'd had a good ride. A hell of a ride, actually—best of the night. I came in first, getting me that much closer to the World Championships. But as soon as the buzzer sounded and I jumped off the rank bastard I'd pulled for tonight's ride, I hit the dirt of that arena in a way that sent a lightning bolt of pain from my knee all the way up into my hip. It had nearly been enough to knock the breath from my lungs and take me to the ground. The only thing that kept me standing and moving was the seventeen hundred pounds of pissed-off animal gunning for me, and I needed to get my ass out of the way.

I played down the pain as best I could, pinning my signature smile to my face as I pulled my hat off and waved it at the cheering crowd. I assured the trainers nothing was wrong, but the goddamn thing hadn't stopped throbbing in the hours since. It had taken an act of pure will to keep my back straight and my stride even when all I wanted to do was beg to have my ass wheeled out of the arena in a wheelchair, and now I was trying to dull the ache with booze and over-the-counter pain meds that I'd been crunching on like Sweet Tarts all damn night.

I was tired. Christ, I was so damn tired. I felt beat to hell. The older I got, the more my body felt every single effect of those bulls thrashing me around like I was a rag doll. I was only thirty-four, for fuck's sake, but lately I'd been feeling a hell of a lot older. It was taking longer and longer to work the stiffness out of my muscles when I woke up every morning. Hell, it took me a good two or three minutes to limp my ass to the bathroom like a goddamn octogenarian just to take a piss after rolling out of bed.

Shameful.

But it wasn't just physical exhaustion that had been weighing my shoulders down the past few months. I was drained mentally as well. I used to live for this shit. All I cared about was riding bulls, getting laid, and raising a little hell along the way—in that order. I wanted to make a name for myself, to win it all and be known as the best bull rider of my time, and I wanted to have a hell of a lot of fun while doing it.

Now it all just felt.. . empty. Hard as I might try, I hadn't been able to find the joy in any of it lately. Going out and tying a few on after a good ride, or finding something soft, warm, and wet to bury my cock in to celebrate just didn't hold the same appeal it used to. The adrenaline high of riding was still there, but it wore off a lot faster than it had in the past. This used to be my sole reason for existing. I used to love spending my nights after a hell of a ride drinking and fucking just to wake up the next day and do it all over again, climb my reckless ass onto the back of another bull to show the crowd how good I was at it. But now... Christ, it was painful to admit, but I was bored. Even... lonely.

Something had changed. And as much as I wanted to deny it, I knew exactly when it happened. How it happened.

It was all her fault.

Ivy Young.

That sweet, tempting she-devil with the pale red hair, a wild streak a mile wide, and curves that would tempt a saint.

She sank her claws into me a few months back and hadn't let go.

Well, that wasn't really fair. I mean, I was just as complicit in everything that had happened between us as she was. Maybe even more so. But she wasn't supposed to have been able to burrow her way beneath my skin as deeply as she had. I had my guards up to prevent that very thing from ever happening. A large, fortified, electric fence surrounded by a piranha-infested moat a mile wide.

I'd learned my lesson the hard way to stay as far away from those kinds of feelings as possible. I knew firsthand they only led to heartache, yet that little minx was well and truly stuck in my head. I couldn't remember a day in the past few months when I hadn't thought about her at least once an hour.

I first laid eyes on Ivy when I showed up in Hope Valley several months back. I'd been forced to take a break after busting up my knee. I went back to Cloverleaf, the small Texas town where I'd grown up, to see my parents and started rehabbing my knee, but it didn't take long for me to go stir-crazy. I had two choices: I could stay in Cloverleaf and get lost in the bottom of a bottle, drinking away my boredom and the self-pity I was suffering through from not being able to ride bulls, or I could pack my stuff and hit the road.

I chose the safer option, deciding to go visit my buddy Zach on his ranch in Virginia. I'd been there a few times before and had always liked the little town's vibe. There was just something about it that stood out to me—made it special. Cloverleaf would always hold a special place in my heart. It was where I'd been born and raised, my whole family was still there, all the friends I'd grown up with. But there was something about the mountains that surrounded Hope Valley that put me at ease.

I hadn't planned on staying as long as I did, but once I got there and remembered how much I loved it, it had been difficult to leave. And meeting Ivy certainly hadn't helped. I kept making excuses to stay, dragging out what was only supposed to have been a couple weeks into several months, and she was the main reason why, whether I wanted to admit it to myself or not.

That first glimpse had been enough to pique my curiosity. I needed to know the beautiful woman with the pale, creamy complexion and strawberry blonde hair, so I went about doing just that. And the more I got to know, the more she drew me in. It was impossible not to like her.

She had a fiery spirit that intrigued me and turned me on at the same time. She was sweet and hilarious and a little bit crazy. She flitted around like a butterfly hopped up on caffeine. There was never a dull moment when I was with her. As the days turned into weeks, the desire to be near her, to see her smile or watch her laugh, grew into more of a need until that need finally morphed into an obsession.

It was because of that obsession that I ended up pulling the dickiest of dick moves and running out on her. It was why I took off without a goodbye, creeping out of the bed we'd spent hours in before she woke up. Because I knew if I didn't get the hell out of there right then, I'd end up staying. For her. And that was a road I never planned on going down again.

I left the ranch determined to get back to my old life and push her from my mind. To live up to the reputation I had on the circuit of being a playboy bachelor, the man who would never settle down, but I couldn't do it. I could play at the charm and the flirting, but I couldn't bring myself to look in another woman's direction. Not without seeing Ivy's face. My goddamn dick wouldn't even react, for fuck's sake.

It didn't matter how beautiful a woman was. If it wasn't for the fact that I beat off at least once a day to the memory of my one and only night with Ivy, I would have freaked the fuck out and run straight to a doctor to find out what was wrong. But I didn't need medical intervention to know the issue.

My traitorous dick wouldn't get hard for anyone but her .

The noise in the bar suddenly swelled, and I knew, without having to turn around, what had caused the atmosphere to go wired. But still, I couldn't stop my body from shifting on my stool and my eyes from trailing over my shoulder to see who had just walked in.

My heart started beating faster as my stomach sank like it was suddenly coated in lead when Dusty Silver walked in with an air like he owned the place. That was what his reputation had earned him after all these years. He was the closest thing to royalty we had on the circuit. A renowned bull rider back in his day, he'd taken it all at the World Championship not once but three times over his career. Instead of retiring when the time came, taking all the money he'd made for himself and holing up on a tropical island somewhere, he'd decided to train young bull riders.

He'd been my mentor, teaching me everything I knew today. But he'd also been much more than that. He'd been like family to me—almost like a second father. At least until I hit a rough patch a while back.

I'd gotten stuck in my own head and it had affected my rides. I'd gone from placing near the top at every rodeo I competed in to barely scraping by. It was a bad look for him. I'd lost my usefulness, so he'd dropped me faster than I could blink and took on another rider. Vance Grimes, his shiny new protégé, was a piece of shit who thought way too highly of himself, and for some reason, he had a grudge against me. I wasn't surprised to see him following behind Dusty like a little puppy dog, happy to lick the old man's boots.

I twisted back around, facing forward before I drew either of their attention. I was in a piss-poor mood as it was, I didn't need to deal with Vance's bullshit or Dusty's judgmental looks.

"Oh my God ," a breathy, feminine voice said close to my ear, pulling my attention from the last two people I wanted to deal with. "Are you Connor Bennett?"

I groaned internally, doing my best to keep the annoyance I felt off my face as I slowly swiveled my head in the direction of the woman who had squeezed herself between my barstool and the empty one beside it. It shouldn't have been so hard for me to curl my lips into some semblance of a grin, especially given the fact that the woman was a serious looker, but I really wasn't in the mood.

I sent a silent curse of disgust to my dick. The fucking thing was as limp as an overcooked noodle. This time last year, I wouldn't have hesitated to play up the charm, laying it on as thick as necessary in order to get this woman into my bed for a night. It wouldn't have taken too much , I thought as I took in her smile. I could tell from the gleam in her eye and the way her red-painted lips curved up in the corners, that was why she'd approached me in the first place. She liked the way I looked, heard of my reputation, and was eager for a ride all her own.

But this wasn't a year ago. Now... well, now there wasn't so much as a stirring, not even a little tickle down below the belt. Goddamn it .

"That I am, darlin'," I answered, easily slipping into the role I always played while I traveled on the circuit. "I take it you're a fan?"

Her tongue peeked out and dragged across her bottom lip as her lids lowered sensuously. I held my breath and waited for any signs of life from my dick. Still nothing. "Oh yeah. I'm a big fan," she simpered, reaching out to drag the pointed tip of her long nail down my arm. "You know, I came here tonight hoping to run into you."

I was sure she'd come hoping to run into any bull rider, not me specifically. I knew her type. Woman was a buckle bunny through and through, not that I judged. I'd sampled my fair share over the years. But odds were, if there had been another guy in this bar who'd placed better than I did, got himself the bigger buckle, she'd have sidled up to him, not me.

"Saw you ride tonight. It really was somethin'. You just look so... masculine up there on those bulls." She leaned in closer to try and draw attention to her cleavage. "So hot ."

Fucking hell , I thought. I should have just gone straight to my room and gotten drunk there.

"So, I was thinkin'. Maybe we could get out of here. Go somewhere a little more... private." The woman's fingertips danced their way up my arm to my shoulder before she flattened her hand and rubbed it over my chest. I had to hand it to her, she had confidence, that was for goddamn sure. Usually it would have made me rock hard, but I couldn't help but compare her to the woman who was driving me insane. The bane of my existence. "If you know what I mean."

I knew exactly what she meant. Hell, she was being about as subtle as a bull moose during mating season.

But it didn't matter. It was never going to happen. Her blonde hair didn't have the shade of red in it like Ivy's. Her plain blue eyes didn't shine like sapphires the way Ivy's did. Her complexion was too tanned, unlike Ivy's fair, creamy skin I had spent hours running my tongue and lips over until every single inch seared into my brain. Even her smell threw me off, the overly powdery fragrance making the inside of my nose itch like I was fighting off a sneeze. Nothing like Ivy's fresh, sunny lemon and basil scent.

"Appreciate the offer, darlin', but I'm gonna have to pass."

She straightened up, the seductive look melting off of her made-up face. "Your loss, cowboy," she issued before pushing away from the bar and moving on to the next guy.

I was sure she was right.

I tossed back the rest of my whiskey and sent a glare down at my dick. This was all his fault.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is," a voice said from behind me.

Goddamn it .

Just like that, my night got even fucking worse.