I wipe my brow and resettle my hat as I head away from the horse trailer. Claps hit my shoulder with every other step.

“Good job tonight,” Dan, the rodeo producer, tells me. Without breaking stride, I nod at him and mumble a word of thanks. The night was a good one, but I’m not in the mood for socializing.

At least not for the next ten minutes, anyway. Not until I do something about the rock-hard boner I’m using all my strength to keep in check.

I could hardly believe seeing Cheyenne in the crowd. At first, I didn’t recognize her. I thought she was just some other hot sandy-haired girl. Gazing into her big brown eyes, though, I knew it was her.

I also nearly fell off my horse.

Nash leans against the open driver’s side door of his truck, looking bored. Maybe being a part of the rodeo cycle for twenty years does that to you, but for me, it’s all still fresh. Nash has been roping and wrestling since he was eight. Seven years into the game and I still find it… decent.

It’s not quite exciting, but it’s preferable to the alternatives.

“Hey,” he nods.

“Hey.”

I walk around the truck and swing myself up into the cab.

“Hot showers, here we come,” Nash says, starting the truck engine.

I smirk. Staying at my dad's will be nice. He’s visiting his sister in Maine the whole two weeks the rodeo is here. With the exception of Dad’s ranch hands, Nash and I will have the entire place to ourselves.

A shower sounds good. It’ll give me a great opportunity to do something about this raging hard on. I shift in my seat in an attempt to get comfortable.

Nash eyes me from behind the wheel. “You okay there?”

“Yeah,” I grumble.

“Adjust your junk if you need to,” he chuckles. “Don’t mind me.”

I cross my arms and stare out across the dashboard. The truck’s lights slice through the night. “You’re gonna take a left up here,” I monotonously tell him.

“So, what’s up?”

“Huh?” I barely glance at him.

“Something’s going on.”

“Yeah,” I rasp, remembering Cheyenne’s big, almond-shaped brown eyes and flushed cheeks. I didn’t get the opportunity to eye her tits or ass, but I get the sense they don’t disappoint. “I saw this girl I used to know.”

Nash whoops. “Spill. Who is she? Where can we find her?”

I run my thumb over my bottom lip. “I don’t know. Haven’t seen her in years. She used to live next to me. As best as I know, she still does.”

“She hot?”

I exhale heavily. “She is now.”

“Let’s go pay her a visit, feel her out.”

The mention of ‘feeling her out’ makes my toes curl. I groan and drop my head back against the seat. Exactly what year did Cheyenne McGee become cover model worthy? Last I saw her she was still nothing but awkward limbs, maybe with some boob action in there, sure, but nothing to get excited about.

Though I’ve visited home more than a few times over the last seven years, the stops have always been quick. I never thought about going around and checking in on old neighbors. Plus, there’s the whole thing with Cheyenne’s dad’s, and his poor health.

Though maybe that means she’s got some stress and she needs to let loose. No one can give her an opportunity better than the one Nash and I can offer. A hot night with the both of us at the same time and no strings attached. It’s every girl’s dream.

Or at least it should be.

Nash’s phone starts ringing away. He pulls it from his pocket and looks at it, his dark brow furrowing.

“Hey,” I chastise, “Eyes on the road.”

He drops the phone down on the seat between us. “I don’t know who it is anyway. Some unknown number. Hey, are we really about to just head home and call it a night?”

“What else did you have in mind?”

“You could show me around the area,” he grins. “Introduce me to some local girls. Unless you’re thinking you’re going to save yourself all for your hot neighbor.”

I scoff. “Not likely.”

“Then tell me the way back to town.”

“Cheyenne.”

“Huh?”

“Cheyenne, that’s her name.”

Nash growls low in his chest. “That’s a good one.”

“Yeah,” I throatily agree. “Sure is.”

“Well, how about we go pay her a visit tomorrow?”

“How about now?”

“Let’s pay a visit to whatever local drinking hole this town has. That’s what we can do now.”

“Fuck. All right.” I prop my foot up on the dash. Nash eyes my boot but says nothing.

Between us, his cell phone lights up again. ‘Unknown Caller’ pops up on the screen. Nash hits the phone’s button to kill it.

“What are you feeling?” he asks. “Blonde? Brunette?”

“Blonde,” I instantly say, thinking of Cheyenne. “Dark blonde.”

“Don’t worry,” Nash says. “Between the two of us, we’ll get her. Remember that girl back in Omaha?”

“Yeah.” We chased her for two weeks and got her in the sack a day before leaving town. She acted all pure and chaste and ended up being one of the best fucks we’d ever had.

“No one can say no for long,” Nash says. “This woman is as good as ours.”