Page 1 of One Heated Summer

Chapter One

Harlyn

July

The air hung thick and heavy over Grantin, Texas, like a sweaty, flannel shirt. The sun beat down with a relentless fury, turning the asphalt to shimmering mirages and the tumbleweeds into desperate pilgrims seeking shade that didn't exist. It felt like the weather was mirroring my mood.

The ancient pickup, affectionatelynicknamed ‘Betsy,’ or so I’d been informed by one of the ranch hands, had coughed its last breath right on Main Street, in front of the godforsaken Blue Diamond Saloon. One week earlier, townsfolk had made a pointof informing me of the reputation of the place on the first day I’d ventured into town.

I pulled the lever to pop the hood and pushed against the driver’s side door which opened with a tired groan of protest. I stepped out onto what masqueraded as a road full of potholes and inches thick in dust and stomped to the front of the truck. Grunting, groaning, and turning the air blue around me with expletives, I wrestled with the hood that felt welded into place, Finally winning the battle, I lifted the rusted metal so I could see what was going on underneath. Once released, a fountain of steam billowed into the dust riddled air, smelling suspiciously like burnt sugar and defeat.

I slammed the hood with a frustrated squeal that echoed for yards in every direction. Grantin was the kind of town where you could hear a pin drop a mile away, if the cicadas weren’t screaming loud enough to drown out a jet engine like they were at that moment.

“Well, Betsy, you’ve officially outdone yourself,” I muttered, wiping a bead of sweat from my brow. I'd inherited Betsy, along with my grandfather’s dilapidated ranch, two weeks ago. After spending a few days signing what seemed to be a billion pieces of paper, making everything mine, I’d packed up and left my old life behind—Good riddance.

Since arriving at the ranch I’d been living a nightmare, trying to salvage what was left of grandfather’s legacy, and fighting a losing battle with rust, dust, and a general feeling of being completely out of my depth.

After a messy breakup with Finn, my asshole lover of eight years—why in God’s name I’d stayed around for so long was a mystery, I had been in desperate need of a challenge to help take my mind off everything I’d lost, and men in general. I hadn’texpected to be handed quite as much of a challenge and the saying, ‘be careful what you wish for,’ had never been truer .

Finn had turned out to be a cheating, lying, gold digging bastard and even though desperate to be rid of him, I’d fought for a generous payout in return for his keeping our joint diving business and home. I’d inherited a large estate from my parents and didn’t need the money but was damned if I’d allow the prick to walk away with too much more than he’d put into our combined assets.

My grandfather’s death, sad for some, had come at an opportune time and given me a reason to flee my hometown of Farrer. Why he’d chosen to leave me everything was a puzzle I still couldn’t piece together. Although I was his only grandchild, I’d seen him exactly twice in my life, both times when I was young. The last time we’d visited, my father, Caleb, and grandfather, Bill, had engaged in an argument of epic proportions and we had never visited his ranch in Grantin again. I’d called Bill eight years ago to inform him of my mother and father’s deaths in a diving accident, but he’d only grunted and hung up so I assumed he had no interest in any further contact. I’d been right, not a word had been exchanged between us since which was why the news of my inheriting his estate had come as a shock.

A low rumble cut through the cicada chorus and I turned to see a black pickup, gleaming and impossibly clean, rolled to a stop alongside where I stood, intent on kicking the shit out of Betsy’s tires. The tinted window rolled down, revealing a face that could launch a thousand heatwaves. Dark eyes, a strong jaw dusted with stubble, and a smirk that radiated pure, unadulterated arrogance were locked onto me.

"Having a little trouble there, darlin'?" the drawl dripped with Texas honey, but I detected a hint of something else—amusement.

I bristled. "No, just admiring the fucking scenery.” I waved one arm around in the air. “This picturesque location is just begging for a photo op with my fully functional vehicle, don’t you think?" Sarcasm dripped from every word

Jensen chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down my spine, despite my becoming increasingly annoyed with the stranger and his attitude. "Sure it is. You new in town…Haven't seen you around before?"

"Relatively," I said, crossing my arms. "And who's asking?"

"Name's Jensen…Jensen Thomas. I own a ranch just south of here, right on the Pecos."

He leaned back, surveying me with an audacity that made my blood boil. Attraction sizzled between us, hot enough we could have ignited the fuse on the next rocket headed to space. Did they still send rockets to space?Focus Harlyn.

Jensen spoke again, breaking into my musing. "You look a little lost and in need of help, city girl. Take a wrong turn?"

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," I snapped, hating that he'd pegged me as a city girl so easily. I was a biologist/ecologist with a particular interest in marine ecology and used to navigating the treacherous waters of the Pacific. A broken-down truck in a dusty Texas town shouldn’t feel so utterly…debasing. So why did it?

"Maybe," Jensen conceded, the smirk widening. "But maybe a little help wouldn't hurt? Grantin isn't exactly known for its roadside assistance."

“I’d rather push Betsy all the way to the Gulf of Mexico,” I huffed, knowing full well that was a physical impossibility.

Jensen raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying my frustration. "Suit yourself.” He cocked his head toward the clapboard hotel behind me. “Just so you know, that saloon's been known to attract a certain…clientele. Might not be the safest place for a pretty little thing like you to stand alone." He winked, and I wanted to punch him in the face.

He started to roll up his window. "Alright, darlin'. Good luck. See you around."

Before the window fully closed, I surprised myself by stepping closer to his truck and shouting, "Wait!"

Jensen stopped and rolled his window back down, a glint of victory in his eyes. He rested an elbow on the open window and leaned forward. "Changed your mind?"

"Just…can you at least tell me who I can call for a tow?"

He chuckled again, a sound I was already beginning to associate with pure, unadulterated aggravation.

"That depends. Are you willing to accept help from a cowboy? Because I just happen to know a guy with a tow truck and a lot of free time."

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