Trent watched as Pete herded his glampers away, into the stable to help him with Tex. “I knew she was your one,” he said. “Right from the start. From the moment you let her raid your woodpile. Anyone else, you’d have made them put it back.”

  Trevor just grunted, but Trent was on a roll.

  “The two of you together, you balance each other out. You keep her grounded, she helps you dream. Charlie kept saying you’d run her off, bet she’d be gone before she’d been here two weeks, but look at you now. He owes me fifty bucks.”

  “Excuse me?” Trevor scowled. “You two had money on us?”

  “Well, Charlie did. It’s not like we shook on it, or I agreed to the bet.” Trent grinned. “Still, he said fifty dollars, and I aim to collect.”

  “I oughtta knock both your heads together.”

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  Trevor jostled Trent, and Trent jostled him back. They tussled briefly, swapping jabs back and forth, then broke apart laughing and leaned back against the fence.

  “So, now we’ve determined I can still kick your ass…you here for anything special, Sheriff Wild?”

  “You, kick my ass?” Trent threw a halfhearted elbow. “Nah, speaking of Charlie, you heard from him or Pam lately?”

  Trevor frowned. He couldn’t remember when he’d last called his stepmom, or Charlie, for that matter. He’d been…occupied. “Not since the holidays. Why, what’s going on?”

  “Well, I don’t want you to worry, but word is, he’s been injured. Torn ACL or something. Looks like our little brother might be coming home to recover.”

  “Oh damn.” Trevor and Charlie had never been that close, what with their age gap and different interests. But they had one thing in common, and that was their passion—Trevor’s for ranching, Charlie’s for football. He’d made it his life from high school on up, and Trevor respected that. Respected his drive. Losing football for Charlie would be like losing Wildhorse for Trevor.

  “You should call him,” said Trent. “And call Pam as well.”

  “I’ll do that,” said Trevor. Before he could say anything else, Trent’s radio crackled, and he stepped away to answer the call.

  “I gotta go. Problem in town. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  “Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”

  Trent tipped his hat and turned back toward his car. Halfway down the drive, he stopped and called out. “You done good here. Granddad would be proud.”

  Trevor wasn’t sure what to say, so he raised his hand in acknowledgement. He wasn’t sure what Granddad would have made of glamping, but Wildhorse turning a profit, he’d have been all for that. And he’d have liked Sabrina, and her strength and resolve.

  He tramped across to the stable, peeked in on the guests, and found them happily mucking out stalls and laying out fresh straw for the horses.

  He was about to whistle Pete over—this wasn’t on the list of approved activities—when he felt Sabrina’s hand on his waist. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her tight against him.

  “What’s all this?” he asked her.

  “Pete’s idea,” she said. “But look at them. They love it.”

  Trevor pulled a face. “They love shoveling shit?”

  “They love feeling like ranchers, at least for a day. As long as they know they’ve got bubble baths coming.” She winked up at him. “Pete’s got this trick he does—it’s pretty sneaky. He reels them all in, gets them hooked on the horses, then he says something like ‘Oh, well, that’s our time. Wish I could spend all day with you, but I’ve got stalls to muck out.’ Most of the time, they offer to help.”

  Trevor’s brows shot up. “Seriously?”

  “Swear to God. That man is a master manipulator. I think I need to take lessons.” Sabrina laughed. “He has them wrapped around his little finger.”

  Trevor coughed out a laugh as some of the guests turned to look at them. Tipping his hat, he tugged Sabrina into one of the clean stalls and shut the door.

  “Trevor, what are you doing?” she hissed. “Not in front of the guests.”

  “What? Can’t a man spend a bit of time with his favorite filly?” he teased.

  “Oh, you so did not just compare me to a horse,” she whispered back.

  The feigned look of shock and anger on her face was too much and his face broke out in a wide grin. Pulling his hat off, he tossed it on a hay bale before pulling her close.

  Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed the top of her head, then tilted her chin up to kiss her lips.

  “You are doing a fantastic job and I can’t thank you enough. Because of you, Wildhorse Ranch will flourish.”

  “Because of us,” said Sabrina, but Trevor shook his head.

  “Take the credit. You’ve earned it. This here is all you.”

  “But—”

  Trevor silenced her protest with a deep, lingering kiss. Sabrina’s hand slid up, as it always did, to cradle his head, a possessive gesture. You’re mine. All mine, she often said. Trevor gripped her hip hard. She was his, too.

  When they surfaced for air, she pushed back from his chest. “I should go see how the guests are doing before Pete has them fixing fences,” she told him. But she paused in the stall door, smiling fondly. “You’re happy?”

  “I am.”

  Her face lit up with pride, and a surge of affection.

  “You know, Trevor Wild, you’re a very lucky man.”

  Trevor knew why he was lucky, but he was curious what she thought. “Oh, how’s that?”

  “You have an awesome girlfriend who loves you. And the sweetest damn ranch in the whole USA.” She strutted out the door and called down to the guests. “Who wants to bedazzle a horseshoe?”

  Laughing, Trevor reached to pick up his hat and set it back on his head. “Yep. I am a very lucky man.”

  EPILOGUE

  Trevor paused in his work to wipe the sweat from his brow.

  He could afford to take a break from his chores, he decided. The old barn wasn’t going to clean itself, but he needed to refuel. He pulled his gloves off and crossed to the old coffee maker he had unearthed earlier. A few rinses with hot water and soap, and he had felt adventurous enough to brew up a pot, and he hadn’t been disappointed. It had worked like a charm, and the coffee was hot. When Sabrina got back from town, he’d have to tell her he’d upcycled it. Or was what he’d done recycling? Or was it salvage? Whatever—he had coffee, and he’d saved a buck. Sabrina would love that, by any name.

  Trevor poured himself a refill of the robust black brew, stirred in a sugar cube for the hell of it, and leaned against the barn door with a sigh of contentment. Only when he was alone like this could he truly take it all in. He watched the white morning mist receding slowly from the pastures, watched the horses grazing quietly on the dew-freshened grass.

  He saw the cloud of dirt billowing up from the road before he saw the ranch’s pickup. He watched as Sabrina made the turn into Wildhorse and slowed as she came up on the barn. She hung out the window, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Morning, cowboy!” she shouted.

  Trevor detached himself from the doorway to come out and meet her, his own smile tucking up one corner of his face. “You’re gettin’ real handy with driving that thing.” He nodded toward the truck. Sabrina leaned out further, looking radiant enough to outshine the Texas sun, and Trevor bent to press a welcoming kiss to her lips.

  “Don’t be mad,” she preempted as he drew away. Trevor raised an eyebrow in amusement.

  “Mrs. Miller treat you okay?”

  Sabrina grimaced. “No, she’s still mad about the beds. Ever since Mr. Miller found out how much I was willing to pay, he’s been doing his best to sell me as much as he can. I think they both still see me as some sort of city girl who doesn’t know a copper bowl from a tin box. Still, a deal’s a deal. Let them think what they want.”

  “Well, you’re doing everyone a service, cleaning up that property. I shouldn’t have been surprised you mistook it for the junkyard.”

  “Oh, speaking of junk!” Sabrina’s eyes lit up, and Trevor sensed gossip. “Mrs. Miller bought a new padlock for one of the barns, and she won’t give her husband the key. I’m dying to find out what she has hidden in there.”

  “More junk,” said Trevor.

  “I don’t know…could be crap.”

  “Garbage.”

  “Detritus.”

  “De-whatzy-who, now?” Trevor moved to intercept her as she headed for the house. “Hold on, little detour.”

  “Huh?”

  He took her hand and led her toward the barn. Sabrina frowned up at him.

  “What have you got in there? You never told me why you were clearing out this old barn. You know our next batch of glampers is scheduled to show up tomorrow, and you’re bound to get one or two of them walking through here by accident. What’s the big secret?”

  “Come and see.” Trevor wrapped his arm around her slender shoulders and guided her to the entrance. Sabrina peeked inside and whistled. He took a certain amount of pride in that whistle—he had been so busy moving and sorting stuff all morning that he had developed a kind of tunnel vision. Sabrina’s appreciation of his effort made it all worthwhile, and helped him see all he’d accomplished.

  “Think it’d make a good workshop?” he asked her.

  “Workshop? For what?” she inquired.

  “For you.” He pulled her against his side, knocking hips as he casually raised his coffee to his lips. “Surprise,” he added.

  Sabrina threw her arms around his neck unexpectedly, and Trevor nearly spilled his coffee. “Careful!” he laughed. As Sabrina hugged him fiercely, he thought he could feel a wet patch starting to form in his shirt. She drew away quickly and wiped her eyes.

  “Sorry. It’s just that…wow.” She laughed to make light of her emotional response. “I can’t believe you’re finally embracing this whole upcycling thing.”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m ‘embracing’ it, exactly,” Trevor said. “But I figured if you’re going to be sticking around here for a while, I might as well give you your own space to work out of. It will cut back on the junk piling up on the lawn, anyway.”

  “Oh, I plan on sticking around as long as you’ll have me, Mr. Wild,” she agreed. She rested her chin on his chest and gazed up at him. “No more coordinating new glamping programs and cutting out as soon as they’re off the ground. My nomad days are far behind me. I intend to make sure this program in particular grows and thrives. And…”

  Sabrina ducked her head a little and blushed as she summoned the words. Trevor waited for her, ever patient, even as his heart hitched in anticipation.

  “And I intend to make Wildhorse my home. If you’ll agree to have me.”

  “No compromise needed on that front,” he replied. When she glanced up curiously at his gruff tone, Trevor ensnared her in a surprise kiss. He felt her muffled sigh of contentment as she relaxed into his one-armed embrace. His neglected cup of coffee was growing colder by the second, but there was nothing he would rather taste on a Saturday morning than the woman he loved.

  “Speaking of surprises.” Sabrina pulled away and headed back to the truck. “I picked something up for you in town.”

  Trevor watched her climb up onto the bed of the truck. He took a long sip from his mug. He hadn’t had enough coffee yet to feel real apprehension at what she was about to show him. When he saw her struggling with something heavy, he quickly set his mug aside and jogged over to help. He had just hauled himself up after her when he saw what she was attempting to lift on her own. He froze in astonishment.

  “You…” He couldn’t find the words.

  Sabrina straightened triumphantly and tucked a loose lock of blonde hair behind one ear. “Didn’t think you’d like my surprise, did you?” she said with a laugh.

  She stood grinning over his father’s saddle—the one he had pawned and given up for lost weeks ago. The leather was freshly polished, and there wasn’t a cinch or stirrup out of place. It looked better than he remembered.

  “How did you…?” He trailed off in disbelief.

  “I haven’t only been going to the flea market every weekend to spend money,” she explained. “I’ve been selling a lot of the stuff I’ve upcycled that doesn’t fit here on the ranch. I managed to sweet-talk the guy at the pawn shop into holding onto your dad’s saddle until I could come up with the money.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Surprised?”

  Trevor didn’t know what to say. He didn’t think there were words in the English language to convey how touched he was by her gesture. When was the last time he had asked anything of anyone? When was the last time anyone had gone out of their way to do a thing like this for him?

  Sabrina bent and managed to lift the saddle into her arms all on her own. She grinned as she presented it to him. “What do you think? Want to take a break and go for a ride with me?” she asked.

  He hadn’t budgeted time for a ride into his weekend schedule. But Trevor knew his commitment to routine had transformed into a commitment to something—or someone—else. Routine, it turned out, wasn’t any damn fun without someone around to challenge him to break out of it.

  Trevor pulled the saddle out of her hands and grinned. “You’re on.”

  END OF WILD RIDE

  WILDHORSE RANCH BROTHERS WILD RIDE BOOK 1

  Wild Ride, July 27, 2023

  Wild Heart, August 3, 2023

  Wild Dream, August 10, 2023

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  BLURB

  Recovering at the ranch has never been so… vigorous.

  With a knee injury capable of ending his football career, all Charlie Wild should be focusing on is recovery. But that's the last thing on his mind when Dylan Rose walks into the small-town hospital he’s healing at. She's stunningly beautiful…Too bad the gorgeous doctor seems immune to his charms.

  Dylan Rose isn’t looking for romance when she meets her newest patient. Sure, Charlie is charming, handsome and built like the star quarterback he is. But she knows better than to fall for a player.

  Yet over time, she begins to see that he’s more than just a cute jock. Charlie has heart. He’s also persistent as all get out, and no matter how hard she tries, she can’t ignore the sizzling attraction growing between them. But just when she’s starting to fall for the big lug, Charlie betrays her, putting himself and their relationship in danger.

  Can she forgive him? Or will Charlie have to add heartache to the list of injuries keeping him on the sidelines?

  Grab your copy of Wild Heart

  August 3, 2023

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  EXCERPT

  Chapter 1

  DYLAN

  Dylan Rose was a sports medicine specialist and probably not supposed to have a favorite football team.

  But damn it if she didn’t love the Texas Teamsters.

  She wandered through the packed stadium, munching kettle corn and taking in the football fans lining up for their own concessions. She always arrived at the stadium early so she’d have plenty of time to people watch. It was already the second week of September—the start of the regular season—but ninety-degree heat in Austin meant most ticketholders were buying seat cushions and postponing the moment they stepped out into the baking-hot sun. The covered walkway provided shelter from the elements, but it was packed with enough activity to rival a carnival. Children ran screaming underfoot. Dull-eyed custodians mopped up fresh spills and marked the slick patches with yellow WET FLOOR signs. Men and women were decked out in the jerseys of their favorite players. It was an atmosphere of ecstatic celebration, and the air crackled with barely checked pride and rivalry.