Page 9 of Wild Hearts (Ruby Ridge #1)

Carter stalks beside me, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders tense like he’d rather be anywhere but here. He hasn’t said much since we parked, just grunted when I asked which direction to go.

“Do you ever actually smile?” I ask, glancing up at him.

“Do you ever stop talking?” he grunts, staring at the sidewalk ahead of him.

“Mmmmm. Nope. I’m loud and unapologetically myself, get used to it.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, grunting at me.

I communicate better with a rock than him.

We pass a few storefronts, but nothing catches my eye. No help wanted signs, no chic little boutiques begging for someone to come in and save their entire aesthetic. Just a hardware store, a dusty tackle shop, a bakery—Then I see it.

A neon red cowboy boot swings lazily above a worn door, cursive lettering spelling out: Boots & Bourbon.

Is a bar a smart idea? Probably not, but fuck it.

I immediately spin on my heel, heading straight for the entrance of the bar, but Carter hesitates.

He calls out after me. “You’re not going in there.”

I stop short, whipping around to glare at him. “Um, yes, I am.”

He scowls, his blue gaze piercing into mine.

“That’s not a place for you, princess.”

I scoff, throwing my hands in the air. “And what’s that supposed to mean, pendejo?”

He shoots me a glare as he steps closer, dropping his voice like it’s a damn warning .

“It means you won’t last five seconds before running out with your hands over your ears.”

I arch a brow, crossing my arms. “I’ve been to plenty of music festivals and nightclubs, I think I’ll survive.”

He leans in, his breath tickling my skin. “I’m warning you.”

I nudge his chest with my knuckles, rolling my eyes. “Oh, please. It’s a bar, Carter, not a fucking war zone.”

Before he can spit out whatever grumpy comment is locked and loaded, I yank the heavy wooden door open and march inside. The second we cross the threshold, the air explodes—a booming voice rips through the bar so loud it rattles the glasses behind the counter.

What the fuck?

“Ohhhhh, look who decided to grace us with his presence today!”

I barely have time to blink before a massive man barrels toward us like a freight train on legs.

“WHAT’S UP ASSHOLE.”

I yelp and jump out of the way just in time to avoid being flattened as the guy slams into Carter, locking him into what might be the most aggressive bear hug I’ve ever seen.

Carter grunts under his weight, shoving at him half-heartedly. “Jesus, get the hell off me,” Carter growls, but there’s no real heat in it.

The guy claps a hand so hard against Carter’s back that you can audibly hear the smack .

“What’s wrong, big bro? You too good for a proper hello to your favorite brother?”

Favorite brother?

I blink, completely thrown .

“Wait,” I say, staring between the two of them. “You have a brother?”

Carter lets out a long, exhausted breath. “Two of them, unfortunately.”

The giant man finally steps back, giving me my first real look at him.

He’s massive, even taller than Carter. Easily an inch or two of height on him, with broad shoulders so wide it looks like he has to turn sideways to fit through doors.

He’s built like an athlete, I assume, and fuck is he cocky like one too.

His sharp blue eyes lock onto me, flashing with trouble, and his mouth tilts into a wicked, shit-eating grin.

Light blonde hair sticks out messily from under a backwards sports cap, and his black T-shirt strains over his chest so sculpted it’s an act of violence.

What the fuck do these men eat?

I glance over to the quieter one lingering beside him. He’s tall, of course, a little leaner than the other two brothers, but still carved out of pure muscle. Where the blonde one radiates chaos and golden boy energy, this one carries himself like a slow-burning storm.

His arms are covered in tattoos, intricate black ink curls over the burn scars raised on his skin, and disappears under the sleeves of his dark T-shirt. His green eyes catch mine—steady, sharp, but shadowed by something heavier.

The scars, masked by ink, climb up his neck, just barely visible beneath the collar of his shirt. His dark brown hair, medium in length, is styled with precision. His smile comes easily but stays guarded, partly hidden beneath a well-kept beard and mustache.

The taller one, the walking hurricane of blonde chaos, jerks a thumb toward himself .

“Maverick,” he announces proudly, like I should already fucking know his name.

He gestures to the quieter brother beside him. “That’s Reed. Our resident brooder and youngest brother.”

Reed lifts a hand in a silent wave, his mouth quirking up in a small, almost reluctant smile.

Carter mutters something under his breath, but Maverick elbows him in the ribs hard enough to make him grunt.

“You love us.” Maverick singsongs, gripping Carter’s shoulder.

“Like I love root canals, you dipshit.” Carter fires back, shoving him.

Reed watches them, quiet amusement flickering behind his eyes, like he’s seen this a thousand times and knows better than to get involved.

Maverick’s grin widens as he turns back to me, blue eyes gleaming. “And you are?”

I blink, still trying to process the sheer testosterone and chaotic sibling energy radiating off all of them.

“Catalina,” I manage to say.

Maverick’s grin stretches even wider, mischief flashing across his face. “Catalina, huh? Well, I have to know what a pretty little thing like you is doing with this miserable bastard.”

Carter groans and drags a hand down his face like he’s genuinely reconsidering being his older brother.

“Maverick, shut the fuck up. Not now.”

I could embarrass him, God knows it’s tempting. I flash the brothers a bright smile, choosing mercy—for now.

“I’m looking for a job.” I cut in, pretending not to notice the heat crawling up Carter’s neck.

Aww, the big, rugged cowboy is flustered. Cute .

Reed’s brows lift slightly.

“Do you need work?” Reed asks casually, drying a glass in his hand.

I nod, throwing Carter a pointed look. “Yep. Something local. Since someone refuses to let me drive anywhere without adult supervision.”

Reed’s mouth tugs into a quiet chuckle as he looks me over, considering.

“Well, are you any good with people?”

I grin. “I’m fantastic with people.”

He hums low in his throat, clearly debating, while Carter crosses his arms over his chest with his permanent scowl etched on his face.

“I could use some help here at the bar. Serving drinks, running food. It’s busy most nights. I can pay you bi-weekly, about twenty dollars per hour,” Reed finally says.

I perk up instantly, already feeling the gears spinning in my chest. “I’ll take it!” I quickly say.

Carter’s head whips toward me so fast I’m surprised he doesn’t give himself whiplash.

“The hell you will,” he snaps.

I spin toward him, raising a brow like I’m daring him to say one more word.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, sweet as sugar. “Are you my father?”

His jaw flexes. “It’s not a job for you, princess.”

I cross my arms over my chest and tilt my chin higher, refusing to back down. “Why?” I mock. “Afraid I’ll break a nail?”

He glares.

I glare harder.

Beside us, Maverick and Reed watch the whole exchange like they’ve just bought front row seats to the best damn show in town.

Maverick barks out a laugh and slaps Carter on the shoulder with enough force to make him stumble half a step. “She’s got a point, dude,” he howls, grinning so wide it’s a miracle his face doesn’t split in two.

Carter shoots him a murderous glare that could peel paint off the walls, but Maverick just winks at me, utterly unbothered.

Before Carter can throw another tantrum, I turn back to Reed, flashing my sweetest smile. “When do I start?”

Reed’s mouth twitches into the faintest hint of a smile. “Next week.”

“Perfect!” I chirp, ignoring the furious muttering behind me.

Maverick leans in conspiratorially, nudging my side like we’re already best friends.

“Just a heads up, sugar,” he drawls low enough that only I hear. “Wear something short when you work next week, really short. Tips skyrocket when you’re hot enough to make grown men cry.”

I blink at him, stunned for half a second.

A sharp laugh escapes my lips. Of course, he would say something like that.

Carter’s already moving, stepping in between us like a wall of pissed-off muscle, his fists clenched at his sides.

Fuck, his hands are so hot.

“Say one more fucking thing, Maverick,” Carter growls, “and I’ll bury you in the goddamn pasture.”

Someone’s jealous.

Maverick flashes a wicked grin, completely unbothered by the murder vibes radiating off his brother.

“What?” he shrugs, raising his hands in mock innocence. “Just giving the pretty lady some business tips. Thought you’d appreciate me helping her get a head start.”

Carter turns to me, fixing me with a stare so heated it steals the breath right out of my lungs.

“You are not wearing anything short,” he grits out.

I lift my chin, matching his glare with one of my own. “That’s fucking adorable,” I say sweetly, “but you don’t get to decide what I wear.”

Maverick lets out a howl of laughter behind him, clapping Reed on the back.

Reed, for his part, smirks quietly.

Standing here, surrounded by all their energy, I realize something fucking terrifying.

I think I like it here.