Chasin' Eight (Rough Riders #11)(5)

“You’re f*ckin’ hilarious. That’s another reason I need to get away. Too many temptations of the female flesh around me, and I’m willing to admit I’m a weak, weak man.”

Kane laughed.
“So is anyone living in your old trailer?”

“Nope. Me’n Red hang out there occasionally when we need a break from the kids. I’ll ask Ginger—”

“That’s the other thing. Can we keep it strictly between us?”

A sigh. “I ain’t gonna lie to my wife. I’ll do this much. I won’t tell Ginger you’re comin’, but once you’re here, I’ll let her know. If she suspects someone’s squatting in our love shack, she’ll call Cam. Wouldn’t want our cousin to shoot ya on accident.”

“That’ll work. Thanks.”

“Happy to help. Though, I’ll point out your folks and brothers will be pissed if they hear you’re around and hiding from them. So if it comes up, you keep me out of it. We just straightened out the last of the family drama.”

“Quinn and Ben tell me the new arrangement is workin’ great.” The older generation had officially retired the last few months, forcing changes in the way McKay Ranches were run, leaving his brothers and cousins in charge for the first time.
“So far,” Kane said.
“No fistfights yet?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

Once again Chase was glad he’d cashed out his portion of the McKay Ranch with the change in ownership. The financial windfall provided him options and freedom. Yet…he half-wondered if not having a burning need for that prize money contributed to him slacking off on tour.
“When do you plan on bein’ here?” Kane asked.
“I don’t know. I’ll call you after I get in.”

“Fair enough. There’s a key under the bottom porch step.”

“Thanks, Kane, I really appreciate it.”

“Glad to help. Drive safe.”

Chapter Two

“Ava! Over here!”

Ava Cooper ignored the photographers snapping pictures as she waited for the valet to bring her Mazerati around.
“Come on,” the photographer cajoled. “Give us something. Anything.”

She recognized the fat, balding man, the most aggressive of the paparazzi. In the not-too-distant past she would’ve given him a sound bite. Now they circled her, waiting to swoop in and pick off the remaining bits of her dignity.
Fucking vultures.
“Ava. Open up to us. You know our readers are on your side. Don’t you have anything to say to your fans?”

Her black sports car rumbled at the curb. She skirted the back end, colliding with the valet. “Pardon me, Miss Cooper.”

“No problem. I’m ready to get the hell out of here.” Ava peeled out, burning rubber before she even buckled her seat belt.
The traffic was light on the freeway this time of day as she headed…where? Home? Most paparazzi were on to fresher stories, but a couple persistent buggers detailed her comings and goings on a Twitter feed. If she didn’t leave her house for a few days, rumors would fly she was too depressed, too drunk, too emotionally eviscerated to be seen in public. If she ran errands, or met with her agent, or visited her friends and family, or dined out, she’d put on a brave face through her personal heartache.
Ava wasn’t sure when the ridiculousness of the situation occurred to her. She was a B-list actress. Why would anyone give a shit about her?
Because in the last month, her life, as she’d known it, had been turned upside down, and everyone gawked at a train wreck. She hadn’t been in a state of denial as much as shock. It wasn’t every day a woman found out via press conference that the man she’d been involved with for months was in a relationship…with another man.