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“Bad Bunny,” I mumble. “He’s a rapper. From Puerto Rico. Not a cartoon. Very hot. Lots of swagger. Grammy winner. Cultural icon.”

“You speak Spanish?”

“No, but some things transcend language barriers,” I sigh.

His chuckle slides under my skin and settles somewhere low in my belly. I swear I could melt right here in the passenger seat.

But then it hits me.

Like a bucket of ice water straight to the face.

This is bad.

Because I can see it now, clear as day.

The danger sign in my head flashing a big, screaming red WARNING.

I came here to stay hidden. To keep my head down. To be safe.

Not to crush on a cowboy with a growly voice and eyes like storms.

Not to want.

Not to hope.

And definitely not to start wondering what it’d feel like to have those rough hands on my skin while he whispers my name like a promise.

Nope.

Nope, nope, nope.

Too bad my body didn’t get the memo.

He takes a sharp turn, and I almost slide right out of the seat. I gasp audibly. Zeke’s hand shoots out and steadies me.

“Easy, Petals. I got you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I whisper.

He cocks his head and growls deep in his throat.

“Don’t be afraid. I promise not to bite unless you ask me to.”

CHAPTER FOUR-ZEKE

The second the truck crunches over the gravel drive, my Dragon starts pacing in my chest like a caged animal about to taste freedom.

The main house comes into view, rising up at the end of the gravel drive like a sentinel watching over the land.

Bigger than most people expect, it’s got this rugged, weathered charm to it. A long wraparound porch, aged cedar siding, roof patched in places from storms past, it might look a little country, but damn if it isn’t sturdy.

Proud, even.

Like it knows it’s survived and doesn’t need to prove a damn thing.

Max made some upgrades here and there. Installed better insulation, got a new roof, added a second-story balcony for Penny to read on when the weather’s nice—but nothing that took away from the soul of the place.

Just made it stronger. That’s kind of his thing.