Flawless (Chestnut Springs, #1)

by Elsie Silver

I don’t get too specific, because I’m hoping he’s picking up what I’m putting down as I speak in vague generalities about his behavior—that Little Rhett needs to stay in his pants. Because having to dictate a man’s sexual activities is just way beyond my pay grade. Kip can call him and break those details down himself. Rhett and I are going to need to maintain some semblance of dignity if we’re spending the next two months stuck together.

Can you explain the scoring? So I understand what I’m watching next weekend?” He eyes me a suspiciously and then he starts. “So, you’ve got two judges. Each judge gives the rider a score out of twenty-five and the bull out of twenty-five. Add them up and you get an overall score out of one hundred.”

“And what are they judging on?” My hope is that if I can get him talking about something he likes, he’ll warm up a bit. “Several things. Their agility, speed, whether they turn. You pull a bull that runs down the arena in a straight line and you aren’t going to get good style points. But you pull one that wants to kill you and will spin in a circle and toss his hooves to the roof? Then you’re talking.” Rhett is more animated than I’ve ever seen him as he explains the sport. His excitement is almost infectious.

“Now the rider is more about his form. His balance. His control.” He shows me how that looks by moving his hands into the position. “The way he covers the bull. If you can spur ‘em, they buck harder and there are extra points for that...

Harvey Eaton loves his boys with a fierceness I admire.

“Wait.” Beau’s face brightens. “Did you get assigned a babysitter?” Rhett groans and drops his head back against the couch. “I don’t like my babysitter either, Uncle Rhett.” Luke pats him like a dog and a laugh bubbles up out of me.

I howled at this

“I think Miss Hamilton might be full of shit though.” “Mind your manners, Daddy!” Luke shouts, right as Harvey scolds him, “Cade!”

“I’ll go grab dinner in town, leave you all to it. I don’t want to be a nuisance.” Beau holds up a hand to stop me. “Not a chance, Summer. You’re going to take a seat and tell us everything over Cade’s famous pot roast. Then I’m going to take us all for drinks in town at The Railspur so you can get a warm Chestnut Springs welcome and meet my buddy, Jasper.”

The pub is not what I was expecting from a small town. In fact, Chestnut Springs is not what I was expecting from a small town. I think my dad and I have watched a few too many old western movies, and I’m realizing that I am truly an oblivious city girl.

Chestnut Springs is beautiful. The main street has these adorable bricked-in sidewalks, ornate lamp posts with little town flags dangling from them, and the businesses down here have maintained the historic facades while modernizing or adding on to the rest. Old brick buildings with dramatic archways or charming colorful awnings line each side of Rosewood Street, the main thoroughfare in town.

If this were my last moment alive, how would I want it to be?

Because in my last moments, I’d want to feel happy. If I step out of this car and get run down, I want to go out feeling good, not pissed off at some long-haired, broad-shouldered, round-assed cowboy. That is not how Summer Hamilton goes.

“Opening your door for you. Now get out.” My lips tug up and a silent giggle fills me as I realize he’s trying to be gentlemanlike while also being a grumpy dick.

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.

One man squeezes Rhett’s shoulder. “We know you, Rhett. We know your family. What the media tells us about you doesn’t matter. You’re a good boy.” I almost snort. Boy. Maybe that’s the problem. Everyone still coddles him like he’s a little boy rather than telling him to take some responsibility for his actions. Should he be in trouble for what he said? No. But he doesn’t need a bunch of back pats over it either.

They all dissolve into a fit of giggles that are dulled only by the sound of me peeing and rubbing my hands over my face. Because it’s only Day One, and I’m already going to be called upon to help keep Little Rhett in his pants.

It isn’t until I get closer to the low-slung table between them that I get a good look at the other man. And even with a beard and cap pulled down over his face, I recognize him. Everyone in this country probably does. 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.

Kip: I know you love me. Rhett: I don’t. You sicced an attack dog on me. Your princess is a real ball-buster. Kip: Good. Your balls could use some busting.

I ditched her and didn’t think twice about it when we got here. Not my finest moment. And definitely not a gentlemanly way to welcome her to town. I swivel on my stool, trying to see where she landed. When I finally find her, she looks deep in conversation with my brother and his friend. They all seem relaxed, and oblivious to whatever this stunt is here.

Though my eyes linger. She’s talking, and those fuckers are hanging on every word like she’s the most interesting person in the world. And truth be told, if I wasn’t so miffed about this whole thing, I might be interested in talking to her more. She does seem interesting. There’s something intriguing about her. The way she looks, the way she talks, her confidence and spunk. Summer Hamilton is an unusual combination.

“All good. I’m a big boy.” She smiles suggestively, reading an innuendo that isn’t there, and I take another swallow. Because that was not how I intended for it to come out. With a wink, she slides her hand up to play with the ends of my hair. “I’ve heard.” And that is why I don’t hook up with women in this town anymore. I had one casual girlfriend before I learned my lesson. You get a blowjob from someone in Chestnut Springs and the next thing you know, it’s in the newspaper, and the ladies at the salon are planning a fucking wedding.

And then I’m moving across the bar. Storming up toward them. Half amused and half pissed off that these fucking traitors are playing tricks on me with the woman whose presence they know I don’t like. It seems like they’re taking her side when it’s me they’ve known their entire lives. Am I having a minor internal temper tantrum over it? Maybe.

I’ve always been the joke in this family. The one that gets poked fun at. The one nobody takes seriously.

Their laughter is infectious, and I’m trying to not let it overtake me. I don’t want to find this funny. But if there was ever a person who could give me the giggles, it would be Beau. And right now, he is unhinged.

“Shove over, asshole.” I flop down beside our childhood friend and feel immediately more at ease than I did at that other table—even with my lush-lipped babysitter princess here.

I reach forward and swipe the White Russian off the table in front of me and take a big swig of it as I throw an arm over the back of the couch. “Fucking delicious,” I announce with a cocky grin. Beau giggles like a schoolgirl all over again. Idiot. I roll my eyes at him and then turn my attention to Summer as I take another sip of the milky disaster in my hand. She’s smiling at me now. And as much as I hate to admit it, I like her eyes on me.

Once I retire, I’ll build, just like my brothers have. Once I retire. That’s what I keep telling myself. That’s what I keep putting off. Because without a bull to get on every weekend, I have no idea who I’ll be. Or what I’ll do. It’s a terrifying prospect. One I’m happy to continue ignoring.

“Hi,” she says carefully, like she’s not sure how I’ll react to her presence. Things seemed to settle between us at the bar after we all got a good laugh out of the way. I don’t want to be a dick to Summer. None of this is her fault. But I’m pretty sure I’ve been one all the same.

It’s one thing I love about coming home. The silence. You just don’t get that in hotels or in the city. Out here, it is truly quiet. Truly peaceful.

“Probably. It’s my default when I’m uncomfortable.” She doesn’t whisper or drop my eyes; she just says something vulnerable like sharing that kind of shit is normal. “You’re uncomfortable?”

She reaches up, combing her fingers through her long silky hair. Tresses that shimmer like her matching pajamas. And it’s now I notice the scar on her chest,

“You think this is ideal for me?” she asks. “Trial by fire? Having to follow around someone who clearly can’t stand me as I try to do a brand-new job while also trying not to make him hate me more? Oh, yeah. Sign me up. Good times.”

Having you join in with my dickhead brother felt great.” That actually might be the worst part. I wanted her to pick my team, not Beau’s. Everyone picks Beau because he’s all sunny and handsome and shit.

“And for crying out loud, Rhett.” She stands and swipes her phone off the table before pointing down at me. “Realize that I’m on your side. I don’t want this to be miserable. I don’t want to embarrass you. If you let me, we can be a team rather than fighting the entire time. Use your head.”

Dad: Is he being a dick? Summer: No. Dad: Would you tell me if he was? Summer: Also no.

If he gets up, give him a tranquilizer until I return.”

“I was unwell as a teenager. I had a surgery that went wrong,” I say quietly, letting myself think back on that time. “I spent a lot of time in the hospital. I even spent some of that time thinking I’d never leave that hospital. So, I came up with a new way of looking at things. Are you interested in hearing the musings of an eternally optimistic teenager?”

“I was not laughing at you. I was laughing at this situation. Because you know what I think?” “Yeah. That I’m a dumb cowboy.” I rear back, face scrunching. “No. I think they blew this so far out of proportion that I can’t help but laugh. Who the hell cares what you prefer as a beverage? I’m laughing, or smirking, or whatever you think, because this entire situation is so insulting and far-fetched that if I didn’t laugh about it, I’d straight up quit my job and become a personal trainer.”

Eventually, she reaches out and readjusts the seat. Up. Down. And then settles on the exact same spot I had it in the first place. Stubborn.

It’s almost annoying. That I can’t stop stealing glances. That I’m so painfully aware of her right next to me. But the most annoying thing of all is that she doesn’t pay me any attention at all.

She’s seated on the ground with her back pressed against a bench and a long barbell resting across her waist. When my gaze traces down to the end of it, my eyes bulge. The number of plates she has stacked there seems, well, almost impossible for a woman her size. But then her hips thrust up, and she lifts the bar with the strength of her . . . I don’t even know.

It’s all just confirmation that I’m a fucking pervert. Just perverted enough to ditch my bike and wander over for a closer look. I don’t have to like Summer to be impressed by her, right?

“What’s this one called?” I ask as I approach. “Hip thrust. Want to try?” Do I ever.

I feel relief that this hasn’t turned into a scolding or a conversation about how reckless I am.

Twenty minutes later, I wheeze, “I’m tapping out.” I flop back on the mat, absolutely brutalized by the petite powerhouse who just tried to murder me with her “specialized workout.” Specialized to kill me.

“Why do you look so pleased with yourself? I can see that evil little smile,” I pant out, still trying and failing to catch my breath. She just laughs, reaching for some long piece of foam that she brought over earlier. “It’s a satisfied smile. That was fun.” “You like to torture men for kicks. Got it.” She pats me on the shoulder. “Only the ones who deserve it.”

I peer up at her, taking in the earnest expression on her face. The damp hairs at the base of her neck just below her ear. She really is fucking lovely. And all her attention is on me.

She brightens, a soft, satisfied smile gracing her features. “You’re welcome. Any time.” And just like that, I think I have my first gym crush.

I resolve not to mention that I almost climbed on top of him at the gym yesterday. That he looked good enough to eat and that he finally treated me like he might not totally hate me.

When the lights go dark, I stop breathing. But then spotlights flash and the announcer talks about the points race for the upcoming finals. 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.