Every cowboy from here to three states over knew your last name. Your daddy was a legend—ten-time champion, record-setting ranch owner, and the kind of man other riders still called ”sir.” And you? His only daughter. Smart, sharp, too pretty for your own good, and next in line to inherit the biggest working ranch in the region. Which meant every buckle bunny and arena cowboy suddenly found you real interesting.

But Jack Marston wasn’t every cowboy.

He was nineteen, reckless as hell, and already making waves as the youngest on the pro circuit. When he sauntered into the warm-up pen, grin all crooked and eyes full of trouble, most girls melted. You just rolled your eyes. That didn’t stop him.

——

— “Tell your daddy I’m not like the others,” he said one morning, leaning on the rail beside your horse, boots dusty and smile easy. “I don’t want the land. I just wanna see if his daughter kisses as mean as she rides.”