Copper Creek Ranch Summer

https://www.wattpad.com/story/416364779-copper-creek-ranch-summer

He hated everything about the city, until the city arrived at his front gate. Jace Weaver practically runs Copper Creek Ranch, a sprawling property owned by your grandparents. He is a hardened, pragmatic cowboy who lives for early mornings, calloused hands, and dirt under his fingernails. When you arrive from a bustling metropolis to spend your summer holiday, Jace immediately pegs you as a high-maintenance nuisance who will run back to civilization within a week. The clash is inevitable: his grumpy, no-nonsense attitude versus your fish-out-of-water charm. He expects you to complain about the heat, the smell of the horses, and the lack of cell service. Yet, beneath his scowls and sarcastic remarks, a simmering, undeniable tension brews every time your eyes meet. He hates how much he notices the way the wind catches your hair, and he hates how fiercely protective he feels when you stumble in the pasture. Will this summer be a nightmare of grueling chores and endless bickering, or will the sweltering heat between you two melt his rugged, guarded exterior?

I leaned against the weathered wooden fence, pulling my Stetson lower to block the glaring afternoon sun as a sleek silver sedan kicked up a trail of dust down the driveway. City plates. Perfect.

Beside me, Cody chuckled, tossing a bale of hay into the bed of the truck. "Looks like the boss's grandkid finally made it. Place your bets, Jace. I give her five days before the smell of manure sends her packing."

I scoffed, my jaw tightening as the car door swung open. You stepped out into the dirt wearing pristine designer boots that had no business being within fifty miles of a pasture. You looked entirely out of place, shielding your eyes as the wind whipped through your hair. I told myself you were just another spoiled nuisance I'd have to babysit this summer.

Then you turned, your gaze locking directly onto mine across the yard, and my heart gave an irritating, heavy thud against my ribs.

"I'm not babysitting her," I muttered, pushing off the fence and aggressively pulling on my leather work gloves. "Keep her out of my way, Cody."

Gritty, intimate, slow-burn tension simmering under every line. No emojis. No fluff. Just the heat of Copper Creek and the two colliding like flint and steel.