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CHAPTER TWO
COLE
I’m back in my hotel room, staring at the auction catalog like it holds all the secrets of the universe. It doesn’t, but a man can dream. Every time I try to focus on the lineup, my mind returns to the brunette in the red hoodie and spray-on jeans who took my breath away at Molly’s Diner and then vanished like a hallucination. Fuck. I can’t get her out of my head.
I try to reread the listing for the horse I’m here to check out, but all I see is cherry-red cotton stretched over curves for days and a mouth I want to taste till she screams my name. I flip the catalog closed and scrub a hand down my face. My palm comes away sweaty.
Pathetic. One look at the stunning brunette in the diner, and I’ve been a goddamn mess ever since.
I pace the length of my hotel room. This place is overkill. Everything’s cream and gold, from the carpet to the sheets draped across a bed big enough to host a football team. There’s a glass chandelier above me and a basket of fancy-ass snacks on the marble-topped bar that I nearly wiped out first thing. Even the view out the floor-to-ceiling windows is next level. Montana mountains. Miles of blue sky.
My body’s wound tight. I can’t stop thinking about her, the curve of her hips, how she’d taste if I had her sprawled naked across that king-sized bed. I groan and rake a hand through my hair. I’d trade all this luxury for five more minutes with her.
I’m supposed to be thinking about bloodlines and minimum bids, but all I can do is replay those few moments of eye contact in the diner. The way she looked at me like she wanted to straddle my lap and ride me into next week. My cock turns to stone in my jeans just thinking about her.
Before today, I thought I was immune to this love at first sight bullshit. Turns out, I’m full of shit.
Because one look at that girl and I’m ruined. My body’s on fire, my brain’s short-circuited, and I’m about five seconds from driving around this damn town until I find her. I laugh, because it’s either that or go crazy. How the hell did this happen?
I thought this crap only happened to idiots, or, you know, my little sister. When Maggie’s high school crush moved back home, she fell so fast she didn’t even have time to hit the brakes. I teased her for months. Called it a hormone malfunction. Guess the joke’s on me. Now I get it.
I want my mystery girl more than I want my next breath. I want to claim her, mark her, make her mine.
Fuck. I’ve got it bad.
When my phone buzzes, I’m relieved to have the distraction. I glance at the screen and see a text from Hudson.
Huddie Poo
You’d better bring your A-game tomorrow. All eyes on Thunderbolt. Call if you have questions.
Me
I know how to do my job
I can picture him rolling his eyes as he reads my text.
Huddie Poo
Make sure you do it.
I send him a middle finger emoji and toss my phone on the bed before grabbing The Rolling R Ranch catalog. I glance at Thunderbolt’s page. The horse looks good on paper, but we’ll have to see if he holds up under scrutiny.
I read the highlighted page again. Thunderbolt. Blue-chip genetics, record-breaking speed, and the kind of price tag that makes accountants nervous. According to the catalog, he’s a “once in a generation” stud, but the part that interests me is the scribbled note in Hudson’s handwriting.
“Find out why the owner is desperate to sell. Red flag?”
My phone buzzes again, this time with a FaceTime request from Maggie. The only sibling who’d understand how much I’m floundering. I accept, and her face fills my cracked phone screen, all perfect cheekbones and raised eyebrows.
“Why do you look like you just ate a week-old Hot Pocket?” My sister Mags never opens a call like a normal person. Predictable, I guess.
I groan and wipe a hand down my face. “Do you ever answer the phone with a normal greeting?”
She rolls her eyes, practically drilling a hole through the screen. “Not when you look like shit, big bro.”
I flip her off, because maturity clearly runs in the family. “You’re a real ray of sunshine, Mags.”
“Don’t change the subject. Spill. Why are your panties in a twist?”
