He was getting too damn old to wake up in an unfamiliar bed.
Shea Montgomery opened his eyes. “Shit.” He wasn’t in a bed at all.
His entire body ached, and he could only hope he didn’t have the emblem from the steering wheel imprinted on his cheek. Head reeling, he sat up and squinted out the windshield of his Ram pickup, guessing it was close to seven in the morning.
Bits and pieces of the previous night played air hockey in his head as he remembered why he ended up sleeping in his truck in the parking lot of the Round Up rather than in the nice big bed he had waiting for him at the ranch.
One year since his daddy died, and how did he commemorate it? By pouring shot after shot of tequila down his throat, trying to drown out the pain, with his ex, Toby, helping him along. Toby had likely hoped they’d end up in bed together, and Shea winced as he recalled them kissing at one point.
“You almost let it happen, you damn fool,” Shea muttered, disgusted with himself. “Where the hell was your brain at, gettin’ yourself so wrecked?” Shea owed Dusty, the owner and bartender, a heap of thanks for cutting him off and telling his sorry ass to go home. He’d barely made it inside his truck before he passed out.
Lord have mercy, he’d better lay off the tequila.
Careful not to move too quickly, Shea searched for a water bottle, and after finding one, warm as it was, he cracked it open and drank it greedily.
He rested his forehead on the wheel. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
He needed to get out of this town, this state…this life. How ironic that he lived in Remembrance, Texas, when all he wanted was to leave and forget. Since that first time he and his father took a trip to Dallas when he was fifteen and a man stopped them and asked if Shea was interested in modeling, Shea had big dreams of leaving his tiny town. And he knew exactly where he wanted to go.
New York City.
He devoured every television show and movie filmed there and followed all the influencers recording every moment of their lives. Shea dreamed of an apartment in trendy Tribeca or maybe hipster Williamsburg and walking through the crowds of Times Square, bathing his face in the bright lights. He wanted to eat all the food and drink all the drinks. Experience everything waiting for him.
New York City held the answers to all his dreams, and he was ready for it.
But with his father gone, Shea couldn’t find it in himself to take that last step and cut the ties that bound him to Forget Me Not. Everything he loved, everyone he cared about, was here. He wanted…dammit. He pounded his fist on the dash. He didn’t know what the hell he wanted anymore.
Like golden honey poured across the wide-open sky, the beautiful blaze of a June sunrise rose before him, but Shea ignored it and started the engine. He bounced along the familiar road he could probably drive with his eyes closed. His ranch was about ten miles from town and the Round Up, where he’d gotten so stupidly drunk. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
“No way is that gonna happen again.”
He slowed on the gravel turn-off from the main road to pass through the gates of the Forget Me Not ranch. Although he’d often thought of the ranch as an albatross shackling him to a life he wanted nothing more than to escape, its wild beauty never failed to touch him.
“Yo, Shea.” Craig, along with Johnny, his two best friends and lead ranch hands, rode up to meet him on the grassy pathway to the main house. “Nice of you to join us this morning. It is still morning, right?” He made a big show of pulling out his phone to check.
“Shut up.” He put the truck in park, and Mable, Johnny’s mare, stuck her nose through his open window. He petted her. “Sorry, girl. No treats here. Try biting him instead.”
Mable nickered and backed up, shaking her head. Johnny stroked her neck. “Glad to see you found your way home after last night.”
He scowled. “And where were you two idiots to save my ass from doing somethin’ stupid?”
With a shit-eating grin, Craig pulled up Blackjack, his big ebony gelding. “We tried, but you told us to fuck off. Loudly. Thought maybe Toby was gonna take care