Page 4 of Wild and Wanted

Her mother consulted the map in full organisational mode. Cindy Everhart, still rocking a California-girl youth, loved a plan. Always had. But since Yolly had died two years ago, she’d become a little OCD about them. Stevie understood that it was her mom’s way of controlling things in a world that had been completely knocked off its axis so she didn’t object. In fact, she completely understood the feeling of being unmoored since Yolly had gone.

After her initial, all-consuming grief, her mom had spent the next two years keeping it all together, carrying on for her and her dad, keeping occupied. Keeping busy. And Stevie knew that with this new career opportunity as her manager came an opportunity for her mom. Another way to keep busy while staying connected to her daughter.

‘We can also go into Redemption.’ She pointed to the closest town on the map that had a population of three thousand. ‘It’s not big but it looked pretty enough when we passed through it, don’t you think?’ The question was rhetorical and Stevie didn’t bother answering. ‘That saloon looked the real deal and there’s apparently a strip of arts and crafts and clothing stores. Your first riding lesson is after breakfast tomorrow, we could see if they have those authentic fringed cowgirl shirts.’

Her mom smiled, clearly enamoured at the prospect, and Stevie returned the smile. ‘Sounds good.’

She was looking forward to it. Not the fringed shirt bit – the ranch experience. This whole month in Wyoming might have been her record label’s idea but Stevie had come willingly. Having written over a hundred songs about mud, boots, pickup trucks and heartache, she was excited to be here, to really experience the life beyond a movie screen or a Google search.

Sure, they’d been to Nashville once or twice and she’d been to see all her favourite country music artists whenever they’d toured in Boston, but this was the real deal. As real as a certain man who had stolen her breath.

And if her mom wanted to dress her up like Cowgirl Barbie, then so be it.

Jingling the keys again in excitement, her mother beamed and said, ‘Alrighty then,’ apparently already getting into the lingo.

She turned away, heading for their rental BMW sitting out front of a building that boasted hitching posts as well as parking spaces. Stevie followed but not before glancing over her shoulder absently.

The dust had completely gone now – as had the cowboy.

But that image of him, astride the bucking horse? That was going to stay with her forever.

3

CLAY

‘You had a late one last night.’

Clay grunted a non-reply at the enquiry directed at him by his father as he sipped on coffee so hot and strong, it should have come with a radioactive warning label. None of that frothy city shit for him.

Every morning his mother prepared a breakfast buffet for any staff who wanted to join them but this morning, so far at least, it was just family.

‘Not too hungover to work, today?’

‘I’m good,’ he said noncommittally.

He’d gone into Redemption to get away from the ranch and the cookout. Because he knew she’d be there and as much as he felt a tug towards her, everything about her screamed stay the fuck away.

On the circuit, weekend cowgirl would have been his catnip. A little bit of sumthin’ sumthin’ with a woman who wanted the full cowboy experience for a night but not in her life? Perfect. But out here? Back home? Where wanting things from his old life was redundant and messing with guests who didn’t look the casual type was liable to get the ranch one-star bombed online?

Nah. Instant attraction or not, he didn’t need that drama in his life.

So he’d caught up with some friends from the circuit passing through town. They’d had a few beers at The Corral, shoved some money in the old jukebox Beau the owner insisted on keeping because his mama had loved it so much and shot some pool. And yeah, he’d had a late one, but he hadn’t been drunk.

He’d indulged only to a Goldilocks level – just right. Legal enough to still drive, buzzed enough to give him an easy ride to sleepy town.

But it was a good reminder that, out here in the middle of nowhere, his pickup driving past the main house to get to his place around the bend in the track could be easily heard by people who were, by their very nature, light sleepers.

‘Good. Need you to do a one-on-one riding lesson with a guest in an hour.’

Clay’s gaze cut to his father. At fifty, John Calhoun was still as big and vital as Clay remembered. Sure, his hair was greyer and his hands more calloused, but he had the rangy physicality and the energy of a much younger man.

‘No. Way.’

About as un-shiftable as the mountains, John Calhoun just shrugged. ‘They’ve paid for the best and that, according to you for the entirety of your life, means you.’

Yeah… he should have known that was going to bite him on the ass one day. ‘What about Mags? She can do it.’

He glanced across the table at his sister scoffing down bacon and eggs like it was her last meal. She ate like the zombie apocalypse was about to break out – always had. The rivalry between him and his sister, younger by two years, was legendary so he wasn’t about to admit she was almost – but not quite – as good as him. She’d spent a couple of years on the pro-circuit herself conquering the barrel-racing world until she realised she didn’t like the nomadic lifestyle and she really missed home.