Page 1 of Hawt Cowboy
Chapter 1
Savannah
The mirror catches my stare as I refresh my lipstick. “You’ve handled worse,” I whisper. The words sound like a lie. And … the lie tastes like caffeine and nerves.
The room still smells faintly of the travel-size hairspray I drowned myself in before leaving Austin at dawn. A twelve-hour drive, two coffees, and one pep-talk podcast later, I’m standing in a motel bathroom trying to convince myself that I can manage a man the entire rodeo can’t.
The email from my boss still burns in my mind:Clean him up, or pack your desk.So here I am—powder, polish, and panic wrapped in a blazer—heading straight into the dusty stadium.
I’ve managed rock stars, politicians, even a viral TikTok cowboy with an attitude problem. But none of them came with this kind of warning:Keep him out of trouble, or we both burn.
Thirty minutes later, I’m standing at the edge of the rodeo arena, my company badge clipped to my blazer and my heart beating in sync with the crowd’s roar. The air smells like dirt, sweat, and pure chaos.
Cash Dalton raises one hand to his hat and one to the sky, owning the arena like he was born in it. The man’s built like he was carved for this life with broad shoulders under dust and denim, every line of muscle cut to hold on and let go at the same time.
The camera loves him for the same reason every woman in the stands can’t look away. He wears confidence like it’s stitched into his skin.
Eight seconds … that’s all it takes for him to break another record. Eight seconds for every camera to flash. Eight seconds for me to realize exactly why my boss warned me:Don’t let him charm you.
Immediately, I sense his rebel spirit. He tames animals but everyone has trouble taming him. Cash doesn’t look like a man who follows rules. He looks like the reason they were invented.
When the buzzer sounds, he lands on his feet, grin flashing bright enough to blind. Sponsors will love that. I’ll make sure of it.
But first, I have to introduce myself to the rodeo’s most reckless cowboy … and convince him I’m not here to fall for his smile.
But as the cheers fade, I feel that old tug in my chest. It’s the one that reminds me why I swore off cowboys for good.
Two years ago, I fell for one. Different hat, same swagger. I learned the hard way that charm is a currency men like that spend freely and never pay back. He’d promised forever between arenas and hotel rooms, right up until I found out I wasn’t the only woman wearing his lucky bracelet.
Now every time I see a man ride like he owns the sky, I remember how it felt to fall … fast and reckless. Cash Dalton might wear a different smile, but it shines the same way. He’s dangerous, dazzling, and built to break hearts.
I tuck my tablet under my arm, spine straightening. This time, the only thing I plan to tame is his reputation. Even if part of me already wonders what it would feel like to try and tame the man himself.
Chapter 2
Cash
Crowds don’t bother me. Neither do rules. Both are meant to be broken.
I’m still buzzing from the ride—heart pounding, blood hot. I spot her standing by the gate. Too polished for this place. Black blazer, red lipstick, eyes sharp enough to cut through the dust. Her hair catches the sun, the kind of shine you only notice after you’ve been living on the road too long. That pouty full mouth is pure painted trouble.
She’s not a buckle bunny. This must be the new marketing manager. Whoever she is, with those dangerous curves to ride, she’s something else.
The other cowboys are slapping my back, laughing, telling me I made it look easy. But my attention’s already glued … to her.
She’s watching me like I’m a storm she’s been sent to study, not survive. I tilt my hat in her direction, just to see ifshe’ll flinch. She doesn’t. I watch her cross her arms and narrow her gaze, like she’s already unimpressed.
That does it. Hell, I don’t even know her name yet, but suddenly I want to make her smile. Or blush. Or curse. Maybe all three.
If she’s the new public relations arm of my career, Marlene just sent me the gift I didn’t know I needed.
Chapter 3
Savannah
Oklahoma heat sticks like a memory you can’t get rid of. The fairgrounds smell of corn dogs and diesel hangs in the air. Dust grits under my heels with every step as I cross behind the chutes. Cowboys slap backs, bulls snort, and somewhere a teenage girl is crying because she didn’t get the photo of Cash that she wanted.
I angle my badge where it catches the light and keep moving.
