Page 2 of Stay Wild Darlin’

“Porky? Poor guy couldn’t get out his last words before you shoveled him in.”

“Funny, Brooke.”

Brooke Jameson was my nemesis.

Well, a hot nemesis, anyway.

She had her long, blonde hair pulled up in a high ponytail, a flannel shirt tied below her tits, and wore a pair of cut-off denim shorts. Her green eyes matched mine perfectly, and I’d been in love with her ever since we went head-to-head in school.

“Are you even old enough to drink that?”

“Are you old enough to be bartending?” I shot back.

We were the same damn age—both of us turned twenty-one on the exact same day.

We’d been teasing each other about our ages since middle school, never letting each other live it down, and all these years later, nothing had changed.

“You looking to go back to my house tonight?” I asked in a playful rumble.

“With your onion breath?” Brooke snarked, jabbing me in the arm.

“I do—” I turned away, discreetly breathing into my cupped hand and realizing she might’ve been right. “Do not,” I finished, whipping my head back around.

She gave me that crooked smile I loved to hate—or hated to love, depending on who was asking.

“You’re wild, Dalton Culpepper.”

“Wild for you,” I fired back.

My parents made it impossible for me to date, period. They lived in the Dallas area, and the second I decided bull riding was for me—because college sure wasn’t—they kicked me out. I ended up in Lindley, practically on my knees asking Papa Banks to take me in, help me finish high school, and teach me how to ride.

Brooke and I had fallen out of touch for a few years, since I spent most of my time in Lindley. One day, I’d walked into The Dive and found her tending bar in the same tiny town, miles from the big city. Things were always complicated between us, and being together was off-limits—my parents made sure of that. They’d threatened my inheritance every time I so much as looked her way. Which is exactly why I needed to win that one-million-dollar championship bonus next year, so I could finally live my life without them holding anything over my head.

“You gonna finally tell me the truth, Brooke?” I asked, grabbing her thighs and sliding her closer.

“Which truth?”

“The one where you admit you moved here for me.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t.” She dropped her gaze to the floor. “Come on, Dalton. We can’t ever be like that—you’ve made that clear. I’m living my life. I’ve got my friends, I like to⁠—”

“Party.” I finished for her. “Yeah, I know you do.”

That was the other problem: Brooke had fallen in with a crowd out here who partied hard, day or night, no questions asked. After her shift behind the bar, before her shift—hell, sometimes right in the middle of it if she thought she could get away with it. A few of them were known dealers, feeding cheap highs to anyone who’d pay, including kids. It made me sick thinking about it.

Part of me wanted to shake her, make her see how messed up this whole scene was. Another part of me wanted to swoop in and save her from it. If I pulled off that one-million-dollar championship win, I could snap us both out of this place for good. No more shady bars. No more trashed motel parties. No more of my parents threatening my inheritance every time I so much as looked at the girl I’d cared about since middle school.

All I could do was stand there, my hands on her thighs, feeling the heat of her skin and wishing the world were different—wishing I could tear her away from all this chaos without losing everything I’d worked for.

“Come on, let’s go,” I whispered in her ear. “Lemme take you home.”

“To sleep?”

“Nah. Only if you’re into fucking in your dreams too.”

Her breath hitched, but she nodded. I slipped an arm around her waist as we headed for my truck, leaving the engagement party behind us. If I was going to be young, dumb, and wild, I might as well own it.

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