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Sam's waiting in the foyer with flowers again. My favorites again.

He’s all smiles and cologne, that same safe, polished Sam who helped me through college tests and cleaned up horse stalls in loafers the week Mama died. The man my father liked. The man I probably should’ve ended up with.

Only I didn’t. I ended up kidnapped, heartbroken, and halfway convinced there’s something monstrous still roaming the woods.

“I thought maybe we could talk,” Sam says, handing me the flowers like they’re gonna fix what’s broken. “About us. About the future.”

I give him a tight smile and take the bouquet. “You’ve been good to me, Sam. Really.”

He looks hopeful. “So that’s a yes?”

I shake my head. “It’s a not right now. Maybe not ever.”

He sighs, posture stiff but still polite. “Is this about him?”

“No,” I lie. “It’s about me.”

He doesn’t push. He never does. And that’s part of the problem.

The next morning, I drive down to Official with a box of canned goods and hot trays of cornbread. The food bank's still low from Derby week, and with Daddy still in that hospital bed, this town’s the only place that feels halfway real.

Lex is outside unloading a van when I pull up. “If it ain’t Miss Montgomery herself,” he calls, grinning. “You bring the good stuff?”

“Six pans of it,” I say, handing him the first tray. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

Then I hear it. That rumble. Low and gruff like a storm on the horizon.

Legend.

He rolls up on his Harley, dust trailing behind him like the devil's shadow. His beard's a little longer, his hair too, messier, but he’s still that same too broad, too dangerous shape that wrecks my composure every time.

He’s got a box of goods strapped to the back and a solemn look I can’t read.

“Wasn’t expectin’ to see you here,” I say, steadying my voice.

“Same,” he says, cutting the engine. “But I got somethin’ I need to say.”

Lex winks at me and takes the all cornbread inside. Legend’s eyes stay on me.

“You free for a bit?”

I nod. “Let me follow you.”

The outside of the Kings' clubhouse is a dump, but inside it's a party. I absentmindedly take a sip of this pink drink someone offered. It's probably dangerous. If not poison, it’s strong as all get out. But I’m trying to hide how unwelcome I still feel.

Legend sits beside me, distant, like he doesn’t know what to do with me now, he’s got me here. Maybe he’s waiting for me to finish this drink.

Damn. I’m paranoid.

But I know deep down this man doesn’t want to hurt me.

He hasn’t said he wants me back. Maybe he just wanted to clear his conscience. Maybe this is goodbye.

So, I do what any heart-shattered, bourbon-buzzed rich girl would do in a room full of outlaw women.

Downing my drink, I prove I’m just as wild.

Peeling off my jacket, I’m in just the fitted tank underneath. I strut through the room like I belong here, because screw him if he thinks I’m too soft to ride beside him.

Then she appears.

Becki.

Black hair, jagged and stuck to her head, like she’s some mental patient. I heard she cut it as a protest. Because of Legend’s relationship with me. Leather hugs her every curve as her eyes zero in on me like she smells blood.

“You lost again, doll face?” she purrs.

I smile sweetly. “Don’t think so. I was invited.”

She steps in close, all fake sugar and real venom. “You’re not one of us. You never will be.”

“Funny,” I say, flicking my gaze to him. “Legend didn’t seem to mind when he was in my bed.”

That does it.

She lunges first, hands clawed like a damn catfight's gonna settle this. But I’ve wrestled horses twice her size. I sidestep, grab her wrist, and shove her into the table behind us. Glass shatters. Cheers erupt. Someone yells, “Bet ten on the rich girl!”

Becki snarls, coming at me again, but I don’t have to duck low to land a solid punch to her stomach. She doubles over, wheezing.

I step over her like the damn queen I was born to be.

She spits blood, grabs her purse off the floor, and bolts through the front door.

I don’t chase her.

But Becki bellows over her shoulder, “This isn’t over, Bitch.”

I just turn back to Legend, who’s standing like a statue, eyes shining.

“Still think I don’t belong in your world?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer.

But he damn sure looks like he’s seeing me for the first time in a long time.