Page 7 of Reckless Hearts

The man raises both hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, didn’t know she was taken.”

And just like that, an idea starts to form. A risky one. If I’m going to get these two to start acting like friends again, I need to force them into situations where theyhaveto be around each other. This guy just handed me a perfect opportunity.

“I’m not,” I say sweetly, flashing my best smile. “We’re friends.”

The tension spikes instantly.

I’m playing with fire, and I know it. Colt and Maverick have never liked sharing my attention. Not when we were kids, and definitely not now. But maybe they need a little push. Maybe I need to rattle them enough to get a reaction.

Colt makes a low sound in his chest, more growl than breath, but he doesn’t argue.

The room goes quiet for a beat, then erupts into rowdy laughter and jabs, the other riders catching on to the shift in energy. It’s like someone flipped a switch. I can practically feel the heat of the unspoken challenge:Who’s going to get the girl?

“In that case,” the stranger says, grinning wider, “you should come out with us. We’re hitting up a local bar. Wouldn’t mind having a pretty face like yours tag along.”

I feel a little like prey, but I can hold my own. They don’t know I grew up around boys just like them. Boys who think they’re all that just because they had a good ride.

I know my plan will work when I catch Colt and Maverick glaring at the guy, arms crossed, jaws tight. Well, at least one thing still brings them together, and I’m going to use it to my advantage.

“I’m in,” I say easily, swinging my hair back over my shoulder. “Meet you outside?”

“I don’t think so,” Colt says, stepping forward. His hand lands gently but firmly on my shoulder, and when I look up,I meet those sky-blue eyes of his, like a punch to the gut. My stomach tightens, but I force myself not to get swept up in it.

Stepping away, I shoot him a mischievous smile. “Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t ask you.”

Maverick goes to say something, but I shake my head, pushing the door open. “You can keep whatever you were about to say to yourself too.”

The door swings shut behind me with a satisfyingclick.

I hesitate for half a second, tempted to press my ear to the wood as a flurry of muffled voices breaks out on the other side. They’re probably trying to figure out who I am and what the hell just happened.

Instead, I move through the maze of corridors, past rows of gear and echoes of the past, and out the back toward the trucks.

Time to stir the pot.

I lean against the hitching rail, boots scuffing the ground as I set a three-minute timer on my phone. If Colt and Maverick are anything like they used to be, that’s all it’ll take.

While I wait, my thumb hovers over my mom’s latest message.

Mom: How are you doing, sweetheart. I know this is hard on you.

Me: All good here. Made it in time to see Colt and Maverick’s rides.

Mom: They did well. Tell them both I say hi.

She still doesn’t watch the events live. Instead, waits for the results and then watches a recording. If it were up to her, she probably wouldn’t watch at all, but as the owner of Harper Ridge Ranch, it’s her job to stay informed.

Mom: You sure you’re okay? I know your therapist said it was a good idea, but I’m still not sure.

Me: You promised me you’d trust me this summer. I’ll be fine.

I’ll be fine… I type it with more confidence than I feel. Coming back was something I needed to do, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare the shit out of me. Not that I’ll tell her that.

Mom: You’re right. You’re all grown up now. I love you, kiddo. Just take care of yourself.

Me: Always do. Love you too.

Mom: Text me when you get back to your motel.

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