Page 7 of Ride Me Reckless (Millionaire Cowboys of Lucky Ranch #1)

Chapter Seven

The Line Drawn

Colt

B y the time I finished brushing down Windstorm, the sun was sinking low over the ridge. He shifted under my hand, restless, flicking his ears toward the music starting to drift in from the house.

Kenzie’s parents had gone all out to celebrate her eighteenth birthday.

A bonfire was stacked and ready, and string lights were strung like stars over the fence line.

Red solo cups were already in half the hands in the backyard, and the sound of someone firing up the karaoke machine early was deafening.

Windstorm had been stabled here for the last few weeks, ever since Kenzie's training schedule kicked into overdrive.

She needed daily access, and I figured it would be easier for everyone if he stayed put.

Normally, I'd have charged a handsome rental fee for one of my prize horses, especially one with Windstorm's record.

But hell… after hitting the Powerball, what was the point?

Didn't mean I handed over the reins completely. I still came by every day, made sure Windstorm stayed sharp, and made sure Kenzie didn't push him too hard. Not that she needed much coaching anymore. The girl had grit. Fire in her blood. But it wasn't just her riding that had me uneasy tonight.

Something about this whole damn party set my teeth on edge.

Windstorm snorted as I moved to his flank. "Yeah, I know, boy," I muttered. "Too much noise for your liking too."

The truth was, I needed the quiet. The rhythm of grooming, the scent of leather and horse sweat, the familiar feel of calluses against a curry comb—it gave my hands something to do besides ball into fists every time I thought about her.

Tessa.

Hell.

I could still see her from a week ago, straddling me in the trailer like she was riding out a storm she didn't want to outrun. But it wasn't the sex that hit me the hardest.

It was the way she'd cracked. Mid-thrust, mid-breath, mid-sob—whatever you'd call it. She fell apart in my arms like something had finally snapped loose. Like she'd been holding her whole damn self together with dental floss and denial.

And I'd held her. No questions. No fixing. Just… held her.

But it haunted me more than I wanted to admit. What kind of pain did she carry that she'd rather break in silence than speak it out loud?

I pressed my forehead to Windstorm's shoulder for a second, exhaling slowly. "Still gets under my damn skin," I muttered.

The sound of an approaching vehicle behind me made Windstorm jerk his head. I turned as Rhett's truck rolled in, country twang leaking from the open windows.

He jumped out, grinning like a man who'd already had two beers and was looking for trouble. "Don't say I never bring you anything, old man."

He tossed me a cold one. I caught it without much grace.

"Didn't ask for a party."

"You also didn't ask for Kenzie to turn eighteen, but here we are."

I shot him a look. He didn't flinch. Just popped the top off his own bottle and leaned against the stall door.

"Kenzie's not subtle, Colt," he said after a beat. "You're gonna have to figure out how to let her down easy, or she's gonna get hurt."

I didn't answer. Just turned back to Windstorm and ran a hand along his mane. The gelding flicked his tail and settled.

"She ain't Tessa," Rhett added quietly. "But that don't mean she won't try to be."

I clenched my jaw.

Kenzie was sweet. Eager. Talented as hell. But she wasn't the girl who'd kissed me with tears in her eyes and asked nothing from me but the space to fall apart.

She wasn't the girl who still haunted my nights, even after all this time.

"Let's get through the party," I finally said. "And keep your damn mouth shut."

Rhett chuckled and lifted his bottle in salute. "Your wish is my hangover."

As we walked back toward the lights and laughter, I felt that low thrum in my chest again.

Like something was coming.

Or maybe, something I hadn't finished with was already here.

The fire was crackling by the time I made my way back to the edge of the yard. Beer in hand. Boots planted just outside the ring of light. That's where I liked it—close enough to see, far enough not to be seen.

Kenzie's birthday bash was in full swing.

A couple dozen folks from the rodeo circuit, all loose-limbed and loud, circled the bonfire like it was a damn altar.

Someone passed a guitar, someone else passed a bottle.

The karaoke machine had mercifully died, but the stories hadn't. Too many lies wrapped in laughter.

And then there was Kenzie.

She was radiant tonight—tight jeans painted on, her boots kicking up dust as she flitted from group to group.

Her top shimmered under the string lights, and glitter dusted her collarbone like she'd rolled in stardust on purpose.

She was holding court, eyes bright, smile aimed to kill.

Every guy within a ten-foot radius was already a casualty.

I took a long pull from my beer, leaned against the fence, and looked anywhere but at her.

"You act like you're at a damn funeral," Rhett said, sliding up beside me with his own drink and a smirk that knew too much.

"I'm just tryin' to avoid a hangover," I muttered.

He snorted. "That ain't why your jaw's grinding like a fencepost in a hailstorm." He tipped his bottle toward Kenzie. "She's legal now, you know."

I gave him a look. "Don't start."

"I'm just sayin'. Girl's got plans—and you're in about half of 'em, far as I can tell."

I said nothing. Just stared into the fire like maybe the answer was buried in the flames.

After a beat, Rhett shifted, more serious. "Morris, Kenzie's father, mentioned something a while ago," he said, keeping his voice low. "Tessa is just scraping by in Dallas. Barely had enough to make the race. You knew that?"

My grip tightened on the bottle. "Nope."

"Well, she is. Morris loves to gossip. Lovelace is a small town, you know. Reckless needs a new tranny, and they're deep in credit card debt. Tessa's driving on fumes."

"She always was stubborn," I said, forcing indifference into every syllable.

Rhett laughed, but it wasn't mean. "You've got the loyalty of a damn hound dog, Colt. Even after she ran you over."

"She didn't run me over," I muttered.

He raised a brow. "Then what do you call leavin' without a word? You didn't even check in after?—"

"Drop it," I cut in.

He watched me for a second. Let it settle. "You're still in it, brother. Whether you like it or not. How many times have you two hooked up during her recent visit?"

"None of your business."

"You two are still stringing each other along."

I drained my beer and didn't answer.

Because he was right.

And that pissed me off more than anything.

Most of the guests had peeled off by the time I found my way back to the barn. The fire was still glowing low in the pit, and a few stragglers were laid out on lawn chairs or curled up in truck beds, but the noise had quieted down to a dull hum.

Out here, though, it was just me and the horses.

I hung Windstorm's bridle on the hook and ran my hand over his neck. He nickered softly, calmer now than he'd been earlier. The scent of leather and hay grounded me more than any of the cheap beer back at the house. I needed time to think—needed something honest.

The barn door creaked behind me.

I didn't have to turn.

"Kenzie," I said, already knowing the sound of those boots.

"Guess I'm gettin' predictable," she said with a soft laugh. "But I figured I might find you back here."

I turned then. She stood in the soft spill of moonlight and stable bulbs, her hair loose, makeup smudged just slightly from the heat of the fire and the dancing. A faint shimmer still clung to her collarbone.

"I just wanted to say thanks," she continued, stepping a little closer. "For helpin' me. Trainin' me. Believin' in me—even when I had no idea what the hell I was doing."

"You've earned it," I said. "You got grit."

She smiled at that. "I'm eighteen now, Colt."

I exhaled slowly. "Yeah. I know."

"I mean…" She rested her hand on the stall door. "I'm not a kid anymore. You see that, right?"

"Kenzie…"

She stepped toward me, voice dropping. "I think about you. When I ride. When I lay in bed at night. I want it to be you. My first."

She reached for the hem of her shirt, but I caught her wrist—gentle, but firm.

"Don't do that."

She looked up at me, confused, maybe even hurt.

"You've had a couple too many tonight," I said, trying to soften my tone. "And even if you hadn't, I'm not the one you want."

"I am sober enough to know what I want," she shot back, voice trembly but steady.

"I believe you. I just… can't be that guy."

She pulled away from my grip, arms folding across her chest, shoulders drawn tight.

"You're in love with someone else," she said, more statement than question.

I didn't answer right away. I didn't need to.

She stared at me a moment longer. "You should tell her."

My throat worked. "It's complicated."

Kenzie gave a short, sad smile. "Everything worth fighting for is. You think you're protectin' yourself by keepin' it all locked up, but you're not. You're just stuck."

I huffed, trying to laugh it off. "If you hadn't had three beers and a glittery birthday glow, you might've noticed you're too damn young for me. Tyler seemed pretty interested in you tonight."

She smirked. "Tyler's sweet."

"He's also your age."

She nodded, eyes softening. "Maybe I needed to hear that. And maybe you needed someone to tell you—go after her, Colt. Or you're gonna spend the rest of your life polishin' saddles in barns tryin' to forget what it felt like to love somebody like that."

I looked at her, this young woman who just hours ago had been a kid blowing out candles on a cake.

"Thanks," I said finally.

She leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek. "You're a good man, Colt. That's why I tried. And why you will still only be my coach in the morning.”

Then she turned and walked out into the dark, boots falling in puffs of dust from the soft dirt, her silhouette swallowed by the light of the dying fire outside.

I stood there a long time.

Wonderin' why the right thing still felt like hell.

Wonderin' if maybe fate really did speak—just sometimes through the most unexpected damn lips.