Riding the High (Silver Pines Ranch Series)

by Paisley Hope

He’s so damn cocky, so damn sure his Yanks have us beat, but I guess most of the time they do. I’m used to my team losing to the Yankees, because I am a tried-and-true Cincinnati Reds fan, though not really by choice. It was simply ingrained in me. My first solid memory is eating nachos with my grandfather at a Reds game when I was six. My granddad is no longer earthside, but he was the best man I’ve ever known, and the only man who’s never let me down. My mother never inherited his love for the game, so he passed his passion on to me. Sadly, these days the Reds don’t play quite as well as they used to.

“I mean, I’d be waiting exactly zero days before trying to jump that man’s bones. Those arms, that grin, those dimples. Oh my.” “We’re not friends. He’s my best friend’s brother,” I correct her, and I know he’s hot, trust me. “You’re just new to town, so all the men around here pique your interest. I’m desensitized.” “Either way, that man is pure fire,” she says over her shoulder as she serves another customer.

The worst thing about trying to be friends with Cole? He’s gorgeous.

Those eyes turn to whiskey fire when he is up to no good, and they’ve had my attention since I started hanging around his baby sister, CeCe, at school. Cole is older than us by three years, which meant I spent hours sitting in the stands watching him play hockey, baseball, or football every weekend with the Ashby clan. I was a lovesick teenager the moment I realized my first and true love, Zac Efron, had nothing on Cole Ashby.

Back then, I was constantly stumbling over my words and getting caught staring at him. A few torturous years passed like this, but then something changed. I grew up and into my God-given curves. After that, it felt as though Cole was staring back a lot more often.

To say he’s never been a real one-woman man since his disaster of a marriage would be an understatement. I’m not sure if he’ll ever settle down again and I’d be okay if he didn’t at least for a little while. I like what we have. Over the last couple years we’ve become friends, sort of. I mean, he’s definitely the one who pushes all my buttons, but he’s also the first person I’d call to bail me out of jail. Our friendship is unique and it’s enough. After all, sometimes I get lonely too. Hookups are easy, but finding someone you don’t hate watching TV with? Someone who actually puts the comfortable in comfortable silence? Not so much.

“Hey, Vixen?” Cole’s hand darts out to stop me. He’s been calling me that more often this year, mostly whenever he’s bailing me out of one harebrained situation or another, like this one. He doesn’t have a nickname for any of CeCe’s other friends, so I take it as a win. I turn to face him.

“I’m calling in my first favor,” he blurts. I gulp and raise an eyebrow. “Oh?” “Yeah, oh,” he says. “Just, fuck. You don’t…see yourself the way other people do.” I laugh nervously and look out the front window. “Are you complimenting me, Cole Ashby?” He shakes his head. “I mean it, Ginger. I’m telling you this so that, even though I give you a hard time, you know your worth. And I’ll always come when you call, okay? Just…find someone better.”

Maybe a combination of all three? But something inside me breaks. I very slowly and intently inch my body closer across the bench seat, notching myself against him, alcohol-induced confidence taking over. I reach my hand to the side of his face and look deep into his eyes, like I’m asking permission. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak, so I tilt my head, slide my hand around his chiseled waist, and pull him close, capturing his lips with mine. The moment we connect, static lines every part of me. I’m no longer liquid, I’m pure fire, every inch of me burning for him. I moan as Cole’s hands circle my waist, and I press my body closer against his. For one second, everything feels so right, perfect even. For one second. Until those hands push me away.

“But just so we’re clear, you have no thoughts whatsoever about him hovering his strong body over the top of you? And I won’t find you two together in the morning this weekend in Vegas?” I scoff as the picture she paints washes over me. I think of the way he looked this morning. His brow knotted in sleep, his full lips slightly parted. I clear my throat as my heart rate starts to accelerate. “Not a chance,” I lie.

Carrying everything on my shoulders might be overwhelming, but, fuck, I wouldn’t change this life for anything. Every time I look at my daughter’s face, I know I’m one hundred percent the luckiest man in the world. Mabel eats while I clean and we talk about her weekend. I make sure we both have everything ready to go and check the clock. It’s sin city time.

but I already know who he’s looking at before I see her. Because I hear her, and I smell her. Ginger always smells like she has just walked in from the ocean on a Caribbean island. Some mix of coconut, vanilla, and citrus.

Ginger is hard not to stare at on a regular day but in those leggings. Goddamn. I swallow and turn my eyes back to Chris. He’s fucking eating her up.

“Exactly!” she exclaims as we cross Las Vegas Boulevard. “And gotta stay true to my own rules. I don’t get down with fuckboys.” I nod, but those words sober me right up. Because she’s talking about guys like me.

When we meet back up with the boys in front of Caesars, everyone is chatting away, but it all fades into background noise when I lay my eyes on Mr. Cole Weston Ashby approaching me. He’s gorgeous; his wavy hair still perfectly imperfect in the Vegas heat, and his freshly shaved jaw is looking like the ideal place for me to plant my lips. I can usually block out his hotness and remind myself of who he is, but the way he’s looking like the ultimate tall, dark, and handsome snack in that fitted white button-down, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms revealing his inked left arm that ripples with vein and muscle, is…shit, it’s a lot.

“Look, it’s simple.” I turn to face her, little brat. “Mabel is my priority. I don’t ever see myself putting anyone in front of her, but I like human connection, and I like…sex.” I shrug, not embarrassed to admit it, at least not to her. “It’s the only time I can just be me. Free. Hence, double life.” She nods like the shit I’m spewing actually makes sense. “My life with Mabes is my life, and the life I live on the side is a form of release. Not real. I never lie to women about my intentions. I tell them exactly what I’m looking for. But the problem is, most of them only seem to want the same thing until the act is over.” Ginger nods, thinking. “I just hope one day you find both, Cole. Someone you can be with who fits into your life. Your real life.” I shrug. “Who has time for the love story? I spend my days battling my ex and her dick of a boyfriend who I’m pretty sure is hot to take my job the second he can.”

“I don’t, I didn’t…I mean…shit.” “Please, on some level you always have, but after the ‘dreaded kiss’ you can’t admit it to yourself.” She grins. “Because it was the most embarrassing moment of my life! He rejected me. Pushed me away mid-kiss. Told me it wasn’t a good idea, remember? It sent the message loud and clear. Cole Ashby doesn’t think of me that way. It took me over a month and a boyfriend in tow before I could even show my face at the ranch after that.” I put my head in my hands with the humiliating memory. Liv snickers and fiddles with the bow of her paper bag shorts. “He was dating someone then, and that was eight years ago. Hell, you two were barely legal. Do you not understand the way he looks at you now? Or how he does anything he can to get under your skin? Do you think he does that because he isn’t attracted to you?” I shrug and toss my lip gloss in my clutch. “I never thought of it. It’s Cole. He looks at me half the time like I annoy the shit out of him and the other half like I’m a loose cannon.” “Maybe so, but there’s a part you’re forgetting, the part that never takes his eyes off you. Especially when you aren’t looking.” “That’s a bit dramatic.” I look up at her and blow out a raspberry. But Olivia’s not entirely wrong. Cole looked at me like that last night, and just the thought of his eyes on me sends heat through my core.

Liv may be on to me, but of course CeCe isn’t. Why should she be? After all, I’ve been hiding the way I look at Cole for years.

“Get your shit together, Ashby. Anything with her would complicate years of keeping things platonic, and you care about her in ways that have nothing to do with sex.” I give myself a pep talk.

I try to make it through the rest of the show without watching Ginger, but I can’t. She’s mesmerizing, the way her chest rises and falls with shallow breath, how her pulse hammers away in her throat, the feel of her leg against mine as she shifts in her seat. I should be watching the stage, but this view? The one where I get to watch Ginger’s every expression, every reaction, is downright fucking captivating. For no reason I can understand, I’m finding it hard to ignore the feelings I haven’t let myself feel in a long damn time. Suddenly, it’s Ginger I don’t want to miss one second of.

This is Ginger. We can barely go a day without rattling each other. Not to mention, we’re totally different. I need order and stability. I do the same things every day. I have a calendar on my fridge that maps out laundry days and bath nights. But Ginger, Christ, she’s the opposite of routine. She is unpredictable. She’s sarcastic and feisty, and she drives me fucking crazy.

I’m being honest, I haven’t been looking hard enough for my someone. Because if I find a man who wants more from me, that means I have to give up whatever it is that Cole and I have been doing, this odd friendship that’s grown deeper over the last two years when I was the only one he felt he could turn to about the divorce. No judgment. And I’m not ready to throw that away.

soulmate. I recall my mother’s words from the other night when she asked if I was still spending time with Cole Ashby. She always liked Cole, but after realizing nothing would ever happen with him, she’s encouraged me to put distance between us. “The right one will come. Stop giving your best years to the playboy ‘friend’ that doesn’t ever want to settle down.” After spending the weekend around Cole like this, without the distraction of TV or Mabel, I know she’s right. I have been pining for him for years, and it’s self-sabotage at its finest. How many other opportunities am I ignoring on the off chance Cole texts me and asks me to come over?

“When was the last time I said no to you, Ginger?” “I—” My mouth falls open slightly. The reality that I can’t remember a time when Cole said no to me hits me square in the chest. Going against my pact with myself, I launch myself into his hard warm body and sling my arms around his neck. I grip him tightly in appreciation and whisper, “Thank you, Cole.”

“Don’t make me lose control tonight, Ginger. Promise me.” A shiver runs down my spine, and I lean back to look up into his amber eyes. “I promise. It’s us, Cole, what could go wrong?”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Ashby.” Cole’s eyes lock onto mine and hold them. “In case you don’t remember, we have a big fucking problem.”

What. The. Fuck? Cole’s voice is low and deep and his words echo in my ears. Mrs. Ashby. Everything comes crashing down around me as memories from last night continue to play in my head like a foggy reel. The dance floor, his mouth on mine. How I told him I wouldn’t be his one-night stand. His hands, my hands…everywhere. Him…everywhere…us. “How adventurous are you feeling tonight?” he asks, a drunken smirk on his face. “Always adventurous,” I answer almost instantly. Cole brings his lips down to hover over mine. The incredible scent of him this close washes into me. “Prove it,” he taunts. “Truth or dare?” A challenge. “Always a dare, Cole,” I whisper. Challenge accepted.

“If you don’t want to be my one-night stand, then it’s a good thing we’re in Vegas. I dare you to marry me, Ginger, so I can properly fucking worship you.”

We’ll just…yes…that’s what we’ll do, we’ll get an annulment,” I say, rubbing my temples. Cole starts to laugh, then turns to stare out the window. He suddenly doesn’t seem as calm as he did two minutes ago. “I’m a cop, Ginger, remember? Pretty sure you have to not have sex, prove fraud or lack of consent to get the marriage annulled. We definitely had sex, and we definitely both consented.”

“They can’t see you out there, Vixen, but they can hear you. Let them hear how much you like my tongue buried in your sweet cunt. Scream my name. Let this whole fucking city know whose wife you are.”

“I haven’t even been sworn in yet. One week on the job and the single dad sheriff goes to Vegas, gets drunk, and gets married to the incumbent congressman’s daughter? If that doesn’t scream small-town scandal, I don’t know what does.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I promised we wouldn’t lose control, and we—” “It’s not your fault, Ginger. I chose to drink that much. I chose to come up with the bright idea of getting married. Clearly I wanted you last night. This is my fault. It was a drunken moment of weakness, and I should have known better.” “This doesn’t have to change anything…” I mutter, desperately wishing I could rewind time.

“My receipt says I got the gold package. There will be photos to prove it, so I’d say everything has changed.” His eyes grow serious. “But, Ginger, me and you, we’re in this together. And us? There’s not a shot in hell one reckless night could ever ruin that.” I breathe out a sigh of relief. “I’ll handle it all,” he continues, my hand still in his. “I’ll find out everything I can tomorrow. I’m going to text Bev in the morning, have her pull all our options together. I can’t have any scandal right now. It’s for the best that we keep this to ourselves. Everything that happened last night. We can’t tell a soul.”

I left Laurel Creek ready to blow off some steam with my girls and I’m coming home Cole Ashby’s wife.

I’m going to stay Cole Ashby’s wife, even if it’s just for a little longer. I remember the written pact sitting somewhere in my purse that says I will no longer come when he calls. Should I be surprised I haven’t followed my own rules? Probably not. When it comes to Cole Ashby, I’m starting to wonder if there’s anything I wouldn’t do.

“I’m about to cut the shit, Ginger. Judging by what happened in Vegas, I’d say we like each other a little more than we let on.” Ginger’s cheeks start to turn a shade of the lightest pink under her golden skin. She’s flustered, and I like that it’s me making her that way. “Don’t go puffing your chest, loverboy. You can be friends with someone and find them…attractive. I don’t gush about you to her. I tell her where I am when I come over. You know, in case anything ever happens. Like you snap and turn me into a lamp shade.”

Eighty-three days with no sex. Holed up in my house with that ass? I run a hand through my hair and take a breath. Something tells me I’m going to need to brace myself to live with the sexual storm that is Ginger Lily Danforth Ashby. My wife.

I hand her a fluffy white towel and follow her gaze that rakes over the raised G in cursive nestled under my rib cage.

When she’s this close to me, there’s no way she doesn’t see it, and I can see the question in her eyes when they meet mine. I was already in the water with Mabes when she came out, so it wouldn’t have been visible earlier, but I’m not hiding it now. It’s been there since the summer she kissed me. Since the summer she flipped my world upside down and turned into the only woman I’ve never been able to stop from invading my head, a reminder of the summer I thought about her every goddamn night at Grosvenor. How I never said no to her, how I always compared other girls I knew to her. How she was the light in any room she entered.

Those ten seconds she kissed me fucked me right up and showed me why I could never let myself really ever fall for her. I knew in those ten s...

That fucking G has been staring me straight in the face day in, day out, on every notepad and invoice, over every barn door, on the side of every truck, and at the end of the iron. Each time I see it, I think of her. I left to come here for the summer two days after Ginger shocked the shit out of me and kissed me when I drove her home. I haven’t fucking been right since.

But now, I know. I’m hung up on Ginger Danforth, my little sister’s best friend. I spent the first two weeks being angry at her. She had to fucking do it. She had to kiss me, and it had to feel like that. Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. But she’s CeCe Rae’s friend, and she just turned eighteen. Not to mention her

dad scares the shit out of me. I’ve only met him three times, and every single one of those times he’s looked at me like he thought I was lunch meat when his daughter deserved wagyu. And she does. She deserves everything.

and I wonder if the way Ginger’s lips felt on mine will be branded into my mind the same way that G now lives in this cow’s hide. Something tells me the answer might be yes.

In fact, the only word that comes to mind is comfortable. Being with Ginger is oddly comfortable. It hits me that I think I’ve always been more comfortable with Ginger than most other people, even when she gets under my skin. It also hits me that sitting in the early light with her, drinking our morning coffee together, might just be my favorite way to wake up.

but seeing Cole come through the door every day in that damn uniform, and hugging his daughter like the perfect family man he is, I’m really being pushed to the limit.

It’s official, Cole and I are polar opposites in every way.

“She even has a bit of an attachment to our house itself. Our holistic doctor called her an empath, which basically means she feels everything. She worries the house will be lonely when we’re gone, so we put flowers in her room to keep it company. They usually go in the window in the sun. I don’t know why, but it makes her feel better about leaving. Doc says it’s a phase and that it will pass.” My heart swells at the effort this man makes to keep his daughter settled. “Thank you, Cole, they’re so pretty,” I manage. “Go pick your spot in your room while I serve up this delicious dinner,” he says, rubbing my shoulder.

“Looks so good,” I hear him say as I head to my room in search of the perfect place for my flowers. I place them on my end table and stand back to admire them. Cole could never know that this is the first time any man has brought me flowers. It’s a simple gesture that shouldn’t affect me as much as it does. I push down my heart in my throat as I make my way back to Mabel and Cole. I head to the counter and serve myself a slice of lasagna.

of Annie. “Be careful, sheriff. Keep being so nice and I’ll expect flowers every time I have to leave,” I blurt as we put the last clean dishes away. Cole looks at me with a face I don’t quite understand. He leans down to kiss me on the cheek, taking his time before pulling away. “Keep making lasagna like that, and I won’t let you leave,” he says into my ear, sending goose bumps down my spine before backing away and heading off to the shower.