Page 2 of One Wild Chance

Crouching next to my flower field is a man in sunglasses, holding a bouquet of zinnias and sunflowers. My flowers.

I pick up my pace. “Excuse me, sir!”

He doesn’t look up, just keeps picking flowers, one by one, like he doesn’t realize those flowers are really my livelihood. “Sir, you can’t take those!”

He clips the last one, then walks to his truck and climbs in, ignoring the crazy lady yelling at him from across the field.

That’s when I slide into the saddle and press my heels to Sally’s side.

She takes off like she’s been waiting all morning for this. We cut hard across the field, hooves beating the ground as I lean into her neck. The truck is moving fast, but I know this land better than he does, and I cut through the trees to catch it. We break out of the tree line at a gallop, and I pull Sally up hard in the middle of the road, planting her in his path.

The truck’s brakes lock as the tires skid. A wall of dust billows up behind him as he comes to a stop about twenty feet short of us.

Sally tosses her head. Nobody moves while the dust settles slowly around us. Then the driver’s side door swings open.

If this is going to be a standoff, I intend to win. I’ve been up since four-thirty, I have a will reading that will determine my future, and I just galloped across a field to stop a guy from stealing my flowers.

A tall, broad-shouldered man climbs out of the truck, moving with an unhurried swagger. The morning sun is directly behind him, turning him into a charcoal silhouette as he pulls off his sunglasses.

I blink, my eyes adjusting to the light before I take in the chiseled jaw and stormy gray eyes I’ve spent years trying to block out of my mind.

Jaxon Chance.

My pulse skips, and I inwardly scold my body for reacting.

His eyebrows rise for a second while something I can’t read passes over his face. I don’t know what he expected to find this morning, but I have a feeling it wasn’t me blocking his truck on a horse.

I grip Sally’s reins a little tighter. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He stares at me, his mouth curving into that infuriating confidence, like he’s used to women falling at his feet the second he smiles. “Nice to see you too, Summer Daniels.” His drawl has a lazy warmth to it, but the hand he waves toward the road tells me exactly what he means. Move. “In case you haven’t noticed—” He wets his lips, and my eyes track the movement. “—you’re blocking my road.”

His road? I’m the one who’s been working here since high school.

I lift my chin. “You’re stealing my flowers.”

“Yours?” His eyes graze over me, guarded. “Last I knew, this was my parents’ farm.”

His voice still has that deep rumble that makes my heart stumble. I hold his gaze, not moving an inch.

“Which means…” He crosses his arms, his jaw set. “You’re on my property now.”

At least I was right about one thing. Surprises never arrive at a convenient time. Especially when it’s Jaxon Chance.

Chapter 2

Jaxon

I can’t believe this woman just parked her horse in my way.

And yes, I said horse. I feel like I’ve time-traveled back to an 1800s Wild West standoff. All we’re missing is a tumbleweed and a harmonica.

She looks exactly the same as she did the day I left. Same sky-blue eyes, same blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. Judging by the fact that she just stopped her mare in front of my truck, the same stubborn streak too.

Normally, I know how to charm my way past a scowl like that. But not with her.

“Jaxon Chance.” Her drawl is as sweet as sorghum pie, but behind her eyes she’s holding a card she hasn’t played yet. “Just so we’re clear, this might be your property, but you don’t own my flowers. I grew them on that plot of land, with your mother’s permission.”

I glance at the stunning field of flowers by the farmhouse, filled with zinnias, sunflowers, cosmos, coneflowers, and bee balm. Technically, these flowers might not be mine, but I’m in no mood to argue over semantics.