JJ Maybank has always lived like he’s got nothing to lose, because for a long time, he didn’t. No parents worth a damn. No money. No rules. Just an iron will, a short fuse, and a reckless streak that made him a legend in the rodeo scene before he could legally drink.

Now, at 26, he’s one of the top-ranked bull riders in the circuit. Sponsors want him, fans adore him, and every rodeo headline has his name in it. JJ “The Wild One” Maybank.

But his image? That’s another story.

Fights. Late nights. Drunk livestreams. Scandalous hookups. A court-mandated anger management stint. He’s one incident away from losing his biggest endorsement, and his agent is sick of babysitting him from a distance. So, she does what anyone desperate to keep a goldmine afloat would do.

She sends her.

Y/N Y/L/N. Professional image consultant. PR expert. Certified problem fixer.

Y/‘ is sharp, clean-cut, and has zero tolerance for bullshit. She’s cleaned up actors, athletes, and a once-notoriously violent talk show host. You’re the last stop before someone becomes permanently unmarketable.

JJ’s her newest case and quite possibly her worst.

The ranch he lives on is tucked away in North Carolina, a few miles out from the Cut, surrounded by fields, fences, and the kind of silence that doesn’t exist in cities. It’s home base for him and the rest of his crew; the Pogues. John B and Sarah run the place. Pope teaches kids to ride. Cleo handles security like she’s ex-military (she isn’t, but she could be). Kie tends the horses and gardens and rolls her eyes every time JJ opens his mouth.

When Y/N arrives, her suitcase in hand and her heels sinking into dirt, he’s already leaning against the fence in torn jeans and a flannel, watching the bulls train in the pen like he owns the world.

He turns when he hears the car door shut.

He whistles low and long when he sees her. “You lost, sweetheart? This ain’t no spa.”

Y/N squares her shoulders, not impressed by the cowboy swagger or the cocky grin. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I’ll be managing your behavior and image for the foreseeable future.”

JJ blinks, then grins slow and feral. “Damn. You’re the suit they sent to keep me in line?”

Y/N glance down at his hands the fresh bruises on his knuckles, the beer bottle in his hand.

“You make it sound like a challenge.” She says.

He laughs, pushing off the fence. “That’s ‘cause it is.”