Flawless (Chestnut Springs, #1)

by Elsie Silver

Sometimes we seize the moment, and sometimes it seizes us. —Gregg Levoy

I don’t think the paparazzi usually follow bull riders, but Rhett Eaton has become something of a household name over the years. Not a paragon of purity by any stretch, but a symbol of rough and tumble, rugged country men.

I know all about Rhett Eaton, heartthrob bull riding sensation and mainstay teenaged crush, but almost nothing about the actual industry or sport.

God knows my sister, Winter, was never on the receiving end of this kind of grilling. She and Kip have a different relationship than mine with our father. With me, he’s playful and shoots from the hip; with her, he stays almost professional. I think she likes that better anyway.

And based on the way he’s looking at me right now, I think Rhett Eaton’s new babysitter just might be me.

“So, I have a plan.” I peer back at Kip through the slits of my eyes. “I already hate it.” He laughs. And smiles. Because that fucker knows he has me over a barrel. We both know my days are numbered, and I’ve made the mistake of telling him my family needs more money to maintain the ranch long-term. I’ll take what I need to live comfortably somewhere on our land and then work with my older brother, Cade, to keep Wishing Well Ranch up and running.

The houses where I grew up were almost at war with the landscape. Fighting it with their sharp corners and harsh tones. This house—big as it is—almost looks like it sprouted up from the ground. Like it’s just part of the scenery, in perfect harmony. It looks like it belongs here.

“That hellion has never given a shit what I have to say.” He winks, and I take his palm in a firm handshake. “Harvey Eaton, Rhett’s father. Pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Wishing Well Ranch.”

I have no problem with hunting, not the type of hunting that’s done responsibly anyway, but I’m such a city girl that the sight of this majestic animal hanging up in the house makes me a little sad about the deer and whatever end he might have faced. Let’s be honest. I’m thinking about Bambi.

Cade pulls a post out of the back of his pickup and hefts it over his shoulder with a grunt. He looks the most like our dad, wide shoulders and tightly cut hair. The only thing missing is a mustache. Something I love to harass him about, especially since he’s one growly motherfucker.

This kid runs my brother into the ground. He keeps him light—and God knows Cade needs that. That said, we’re all a bunch of softies where Luke is concerned. Our little sister may have left the ranch, but we’ve got Luke to dote on now.

“What does knock someone up mean?” We both stare blankly down at the little boy, but before we can respond, my dad and Summer show up at the top of the hill.

You’d have to be dead to not appreciate a man like Rhett Eaton. He’s not pretty and polished. He’s rugged and a little rough around the edges. He’s all man.

and then a man who has to be the third brother. He’s a dead ringer for every other man in this family—except he smiles like his dad and his eyes are light. “You must be Summer,” he says, grinning at me appreciatively as he leans up against the door frame. His hair is trimmed tight and there’s a polish about him that Rhett and Cade don’t have. “This is Beau,”

We don’t look at each other as we walk, but he touches my shoulder gently and gestures me across his body. He moves me to the opposite side of him before taking up position by the road.

Jasper Gervais, professional hockey player. Goaltender extraordinaire. Canadian Olympic sensation. And another one of my dad’s clients, whose name I know from spending the last several summers of my life doing paperwork at Hamilton Elite.

“Rhett, you forgot your warm milk,” Jasper says as I approach. Beau makes some honking noise as he tries, and fails, to keep himself from bursting out laughing. He always has been the giddy, lighthearted one of us. Which is fucking wild considering he’s JTF2, Canada’s top special forces unit.

My cheeks heat all the same. After all, Rhett Eaton just checked out my ass in gym tights.

Rhett is firmly in first place, someone named Emmett Bush is sitting in second, and Theo Silva, the younger guy from the infamous milk clip, is in third.

I whistle so loud that you can hear it over everything. I whistle so loud that Rhett’s head snaps up in my direction. And when he sees me in the crowd, grinning back at him, the sad look on his face washes away. Replaced by one of surprise.

I want to high-five him. Or give him a thumbs up. Or do some other equally professional celebration with him. But not before I bend down to the woman beside me who just told me he thinks he’s God’s gift to this sport and say, “Maybe he is.”

“Careful. Your dad told me to keep my hands off you.” “Yeah, well, he didn’t tell me to keep my hands off you.”

The difference between Emmett and me is I like women . . . with him, I’m not so sure. I wouldn’t want my sister stuck in an elevator with him. That’s for sure.

His dad, a world-famous bull rider from Brazil, was my mentor, until a bull took him from us. So, I’ve taken Theo under my wing, and I make it my business to see him succeed.

I’ve always told myself as soon as I look down at a bull and feel fear rather than anticipation, that’s when I’ll know my career is done.

“Yeah, lots of health issues growing up. Turned out to be an undiagnosed congenital heart defect. Fixable with surgery, except surgery went wrong, and there were complications. Big scary ones. Plus, a nice lingering infection. Kind of killed my teenaged years. Just really had to go all out on making myself an extra burden and all that.”

I want to do distinctly ungentlemanly things to Summer Hamilton.

“Are you hiding because your sister is a grade A bitch or because I now know that I’m your teenaged spank bank fodder?” I’m pretty sure I hear her mumble a choked, “Oh, my God.” When she peeks out at me from between her fingers, I waggle my eyebrows.

“Maybe we should give him something to creep on. Do you think he’s in that car?” The rugged man in front of me smirks in a way that has my entire body humming. “Rather than kissing your magazine pages, you can try out the real thing.”

It’s when his lips come down, only a hairsbreadth apart, and his knuckles graze my cheekbone that I notice the driver’s side door of Rob’s car shoot open from the corner of my eye. And it’s then that I murmur, “Okay. But this means nothing.” In response, Rhett growls and dusts his lips across mine.

“He was my doctor,” I blurt out. Rhett goes still, all the jokes sliding away. Probably crushed by the wheels beneath us. “Like your family doctor?” “No. He’s a cardiothoracic surgeon. He performed the corrective heart procedures I had done as a teenager.”

“Bailey isn’t so bad,” Beau interjects. “Yeah, I feel bad for Bailey,” I agree. Bailey is quiet. She works her shifts at the pub at night and keeps her head down. I don’t think being the baby sister of the criminal enterprise in a small town has been easy for her.

“Godspeed to the man who tries to tell Willa Grant what to do.”

“You know, it’s not my place to say, but you should know that what Rhett is doing, he’s doing for you. For this place.”

Not every cowboy who steps in this ring has it. The serenity, the magic as the bull whips around violently. Rhett has something intangible that makes him just a cut above the rest. It’s plain as day for me to see.

“You’re right,” Cindy agrees with a nod. “It looks like she might be Emmett’s.” This time, I stand straight up, catching sight of Summer as she pulls Emmett’s cowboy hat off and plunks it on her head as they head over to the bar across the room. And that’s it.

“Did you not hear me, Bush? I said not a fucking chance. I know your games. Play them somewhere else. Breathe on this girl the wrong way, and I’ll end you right here rather than just kicking your ass in the ring.”

I give her my best cocky, panty-melting smirk and dive back down between her breasts.

I stand tall and wrap an arm around her waist, tugging her against me as I tip my head back and down the shot. I can feel her heart pounding against my ribs. She fits right under my arm, like that spot was meant for her. “Okay, my turn.” Emmett tries to step in, but I turn Summer away under the shelter of my arm. The thought of letting her go now is almost unbearable. To him, to anyone. Turn? This isn’t bowling, asshole.

“What the hell is the cowboy hat rule?” “You wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.”

When the man realizes he’s standing in the middle of two people eyeing each other like they might set one another on fire with the power of their sight alone, he straightens up. I catch him peeking at us, head swiveling as he peers at each of us.

“Go to bed?” “Yes. Before I do something distinctly ungentlemanlike to you.”

With one step forward, my hand darts out and I yank the saddle-brown cowboy hat off his head and place it on mine.

“Having you think I’m out fucking everything that moves when I’ve looked at nothing and no one since the first day I laid eyes on you. I stepped into that godforsaken boardroom, and you practically demanded I become obsessed with you.”

“Having to spend all day, every day, with you and this smart mouth . . .” His spare hand yanks the can of whipping cream from my sweaty grip. He holds it up, hitting me with the most sinful grin. “And not being able to use it the way I want to. To fill it the way I want to.”

“Now, tell me honestly, Summer. If this were your last moment on earth, what would you want me to do?” I don’t even need to think about it. I know what I want from him. “Ruin me.” “Good. I’m about fucking done being a gentleman with you. And the only thing I’m ruining you for is anyone else.”

“Jesus. I’m going to pay for this tomorrow, aren’t I?” Rhett smirks. “If you’re not walking bow-legged tomorrow, I won’t have done my job tonight.”

I pin him with my eyes as I sit up on the edge of the bed and reach for him. “I don’t want it, Rhett. I want you.”

“You’ve got me, Princess. Only you, I promise,” he husks, before kissing me. A consuming kiss.

“I’ve never wanted someone so badly in my life,” I confess to him. His responding smile is soft, one I’m not sure I’ve ever seen on him. His thumb still strokes at my temple with heart-aching gentleness as he slides himself into me. We sigh in unison, and then he says, “Me neither, Princess. Me neither.”