Page 1 of Buck Me (Kingridge Ranch #5)
BECCA
Two Weeks Before, The Farm to Table Gala at the Velvet Spur
“Here.” Danner Kingridge smiles down at me, and it takes my breath away.
I’ve heard the rumors, of course. You can’t grow up in Sagebrush Creek and escape the stories about the elusive Kingridge brothers. I’ve met most of them. But Danner is a new addition, and he rarely makes public appearances.
Danner offers me something, and it takes a second to register.
“A cocktail napkin?” I arch a brow and pull my shoulders back, smoothing invisible wrinkles from my dress in a move I’ve practiced since cotillion school.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice warm and a little amused. “You don’t have any space left on yours. We’re only an hour into this night. I figured I'd better bring you another.”
He smiles again, and I know there’s no amount of whispered gossip that could prepare me for the real thing. Being this close to him is like standing in front of a movie star. He’s quietly stunning and impossible to ignore.
I glance down at the napkin on the table in front of me. Sure enough, it’s covered corner to corner in ink. My loops, vines, and wild swirls suggest a garden more magical than manicured. I hadn’t even realized how much I’d doodled.
The familiar weight of performance settles on my shoulders like a lead blanket. Twenty-two years of this… smile, nod, don't embarrass the family name . I shake my head and slide my napkin toward myself. “Habit,” I admit with a sheepish smile.
He pulls it away before I can grab it. His calloused fingers graze mine for a second too long. That fleeting contact sends an electric tingle up my arm and lodges somewhere in the vicinity of my ribs.
“You’ve got both sides covered,” he says, turning the napkin over in his massive palm. “And it’s good. Like, really good. What is this?”
“It’s a garden.” My voice is softer now, shy even. “I spend a lot of time outside. I like painting and being among the plants. It’s kind of my escape. I wasn’t sure how tonight was going to go, so I guess…” I gesture vaguely. “Nervous habit.”
But he doesn’t stop the examination. There’s something about Danner’s genuine interest in my doodles that makes me want to push back against my usual script.
For once, I don't have the urge to deflect or minimize what I've created.
Having him glimpse into the world I see when I close my eyes feels right.
“So one more isn’t gonna cut it then… I’ll get you the whole stack. I figure it’s that or spend the night talking to these people.”
I laugh, and the sound is light and surprising, even to my own ears. “Then by all means, bring all the bar has to offer. But I have to hand it to your brothers. They know how to throw a party.” I glance around the room.
The wildflowers on the tables, the candlelight, and the soft music set the perfect backdrop for the event. It’s dripping with country-chic charm, and the open bar promises an incredible night.
“Ah, that they do.”Danner slides into the chair beside me.
The move is as casual as anything, but my heart gives a completely unnecessary thud anyway. Up close, he smells like cedar and clean laundry. His dark blue button-down shirt is rolled to the elbows, revealing forearms that could absolutely cause a stir on TikTok.
“I’m Danner.”
No kidding.
“I know.” The words escape with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Becca… Bellcourt.”
“Oh no. Bellcourt, as in Mayor Bellcourt’s?—”
“Daughter,” I cut him off before he can finish the sentence. I can't stomach another person mistaking me for my father’s latest girlfriend. Not that I can blame them. She and I could be sisters both in looks and in age.
Danner chuckles, and it’s a warm, rough sound that settles into my skin.
“So, me sitting with you when your father hates my family is high stakes. I like it.” His eyes twinkle, and a deep-set dimple appears on one cheek.
“Tell you what, I won’t hold your family against you if you don’t hold mine against me. ”
I look up at him in surprise. This is different. A Kingridge who doesn’t make his last name his entire personality. Interesting. I finish my drink. “Now that sounds like a deal.”
Our eyes meet for just a beat longer than necessary. I can’t tell if it's the alcohol or the proximity to the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met, but something shifts. It’s like a spark that electrifies the air and makes it hard to breathe.
I glance over his shoulder and look at the rest of the Kingridge brothers.
Each one of them moves through the room like they were born in boots and baptized in charisma.
Callum shakes hands with the district rep.
Fallon chats with an event coordinator. Alex broods near the stage effortlessly carrying the weight of leadership on his shoulders.
“No wonder my father’s threatened by them,” I murmur, half to myself. “He might be the mayor, but if they ever wanted it, the Sagebrush Creek popular vote would be Kingridge— even with all the skeletons in their closets. They hold all the influence in this town. Not to mention most of the money.”
Danner hums in agreement, his gaze following mine. “That seems to be true. It doesn’t mean they don’t have some things to learn.”
“I’ve heard they haven’t exactly made it easy for you since your arrival…” I trail off.
Danner smirks. But before he can respond, a pair of shrill voices hit a crescendo behind us. It’s all pitch and perk, something like a pair of overly caffeinated cicadas. I already know exactly who I’ll see when I turn. My heart promptly sinks into my chest like a stone in wet cement.
Patty June and Brandi Rose. The unofficial eyes and ears of Sagebrush Creek…
and in Patty’s case, Kingridge Ranch, too.
One is a gossip columnist without a column, and the other’s a small-town celebrity with delusions of a reality show comeback.
Together? They’re a pack of lip-glossed piranhas.
And their target tonight… is clearly me.
“Well, if it isn’t little Becki,” Brandi croons, her Southern twang thick enough to drown in. “Bless your heart, you look grown in that backless dress. And good for you, not at all ashamed to show off those curves.” Her eyes rake up and down my body, pausing with pointed emphasis at my cleavage.
“Ashamed?” I cut my eyes at her, arching a brow. My voice is sharp enough to draw blood.
“I hear you graduated. Moved right back home to Sagebrush. Good girl,” Patty June adds with a syrupy smile. “Daddy must be proud.”
Danner’s eyes flick toward mine, and something in them shifts. “Graduated? It has to be from art school.”
Danner has no idea that this conversation is poison. Anything we say can and will be spread like wildfire.
“I wish.” I force a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “No, definitely not art school. My father only had a few approved majors on his list. I’ve got a business degree.”
I shake my head slowly, bitterness creeping in around the edges. I don’t say how much I hated every second of those four years pretending to care about spreadsheets instead of sketchpads. Not with this audience.
“You might’ve gotten that B.A., but you didn’t find that Mrs.” Brandi’s voice goes sing-song. “Unbelievable because you are so sweet. But now you’ve got something to fall back on while you wait for Mr. Right. Maybe get you a job up at the law office. I hear they’re looking for a clerk.”
“And they’ve got more than one attorney who is ready to settle down,” Patty June adds.
“Sure, yeah. Maybe I’ll do that. Or I missed my true calling,” I murmur. I reach for my glass and when I find it empty, I toss back the rest of Danners.
Danner leans in slightly, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Or maybe she’ll open an art school,” he says, eyes gleaming as he tosses the lifeline. “Bring some creativity to this town.”
He winks, and my heart trips over itself. That wink? Illegal. Dangerous. Capable of inspiring regrettable decisions and lifelong infatuation. I can’t join the I heart Kingridge club now, not when I’ve spent a lifetime avoiding it.
“Ladies, if you’ll excuse us.” Danner rises smoothly to his feet and pulls out my chair. “We’re heading to the bar.” He holds out a hand to me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Patty June and Brandi Rose look like their eyes might just fall out of their heads. I hesitate for only half a second before sliding my hand into his. His palm is rough, and it shoots warmth through me.
The room swells with the sound of collective interest. I can all but see the tongues wagging, but for once, I can’t bring myself to care. The way Danner is looking at me makes me feel seen. Not managed. Not polished. But seen.
I start to stand, but a voice dripping with sarcasm bursts through the buzz of the room like a firecracker.
“With all due respect, Mayor Randolph Bellcourt, I think you should stop talking while you’re ahead.”