King's Ranch Series Book 1: Hell of a Ride
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CC Adele
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Ashton lives fast and rides hard. Love is a distant memory, at least until the thrill of the ride isn’t enough to fill the Sydnee-sized void in his chest. She is off-limits in every way that matters, yet impossible to ignore—all sharp edges and a strength that demands notice. But when trauma strikes, it drives the forgiveness they both desperately seek. As shadows continue to creep in, they are pulled into a dangerous game neither of them signed up for. Secrets deepen, trust gets tested, and every choice feels heavier than the last. Ashton and Sydnee must face more than just their pasts. Because sometimes the biggest risk is not the danger around you… it’s the person standing right in front of you.
Rodeo (Garth Brooks)
ASHTON
Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I hear the roar of the crowd. The air is thick with tension, dust, and manure. A scent that is as familiar as it is comforting after the past ten years of competing, five years professionally.
I take a few deep breaths to focus better and center myself. I’m a Roughie in the Professional Bull Riders (PBR) Circuit; this is what I live for. I put on my glove, replace my lucky cowboy hat with my helmet, and ensure my vest fits snugly.
The chute boss calls out the following four riders, all members of my team, myself included, the Kansas City Outlaws: “Silas Cole, Ty Wyatt, Luke Dylan, Ashton Evans, you’re up!”
I nod to the other riders, wishing them luck as I head to my assigned chute. Coach Hart steps up, giving us quick coaching and advice on our bulls and jets as we head back to his spot near the chutes.
I position myself above the chute, with a nod from my best friend, River, and the rest of the chute handlers. River slaps my shoulder. “Take him down, Ashton, you’ve got this!”
I slide my six-foot-three, built frame down deep onto the saddle of the beast. I drew the short straw on the bulls and got assigned to Bruiser and Bust. Bruiser and Bust has a mixed style of bucking, spinning, and jumping.
He is explosive, unpredictable, and powerful, and his burning gaze has only one goal: not only to knock the rider off but also to pummel them.
I get balanced and grab the bull rope, warming the resin. Only six more rodeos are left in the series before the PBR World Finals, and I need this win to place.
I am ready; this ride is mine. “Something to Talk About” by Koe Wetzel plays across the stadium speakers. The announcer of the PBR Tour energizes the crowd, then calls out my name, and the chute bursts open, unleashing the beast.
Bruiser and Bust ignites with raw power. He starts with a spinner and then propels himself, leaping into the air while bucking. He kicks his hind legs to the side when he lands, trying to knock my center off.
I am reading him; every twitch, move, and shift of his muscles is my book as he prepares to launch this attack.
I gently encourage him to achieve the necessary reactions to maintain the top score before time runs out. Taking one last effort to knock me off his back, Bruiser and Bust twists to the left.
He bucks, then launches again, kicking his hind legs and landing as the eight-second alarm sounds. Not wanting to tempt fate further, I quickly loosen the bull rope and swing over the bull’s back to kick off and dismount.
I hit the ground on my shoulder, aggravating an old injury, and roll quickly to the fence, as the bullfighters encourage Bruiser and Bust to the exit.
Once the bull is back behind the wall, I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Looking up into the crowd, I see the Baja blues of my dreams staring back at me, and my breath gets knocked out of me for the second time tonight.
The crowd erupts, breaking the spell as I blink to the board with my score: 81.75. My best ride yet in this series, and snatching a qualified ride for my team.
Launching a fist in the air, I search back for those soul-searching eyes, which are gone like a ghost in the mist.
I wave again to the crowd, who continue to chant my name. I head over the fence, where River is jumping up and down like a lunatic. Several other riders and buckle bunnies come up to congratulate me.
A few bunnies try to capture my attention, including Janice, as she snuggles up, pressing her breasts into my chest.
She was a good time for a short while, but just like the rest of the bunnies, they get old quickly. Plus, when you know they have been with almost every cowboy in the circuit, it is not someone you want to pursue anything special with.
I push through and give River a “man hug.”
“Man, that was a sick ride! Probably one of your best yet,” River says with a big smile.
“Thanks, man. Had to show Bruiser who’s boss,” I respond, proud of the ride.
Once the final ride is done and the scores are posted, I am called back to the crammed eighteen-thousand-seat multipurpose Simmons Bank Arena floor.
As scores are posted, I hold onto first place in the event. If I do not get knocked off my ride tomorrow, I should take first place, helping my team distance itself from the others.
