Back to Love: Cameron Falls: A Small Town Romance, #4

By TC Matson

TC Matson brings us back to the small town of Cameron Falls for an emotional enemies to lovers, second chance standalone.

 

Willow

What's worse than having a crush on your brother's friend?

Giving him your virginity and being called a mistake.

Now, four years later, Tucker Jones is back in town and helping out at the ranch.

Too bad he broke my heart and I fricking hate him.

Or I would be caught back up in his tantalizing blue eyes and his charming swagger.

Lesson learned. I won't fall for that sexy cowboy again.

But after getting kicked by a horse, the very man I despise shows up at my door.

He may be sweet talking and irresistible, but I refuse to fall for him again.

Tucker

Willow Helms.

Little sister to three overbearing brothers who happen to be my close friends.

That should make her off limits… and it does.

Except for the time she gave me the one thing I didn't deserve.

I should've said no. I should've never given in to temptation.

Because from that moment on my heart belonged to her.

Resisting her was easy while I was on the road, but now that I've retired from bull riding, it's a little more difficult than that.

She's determined to push me away.

I'm determined to stay.

 

 

Note: This is a full-length, interconnected standalone. The series can be read in any order as each book features a different family member in the Helms family. However, it's highly recommended to start with book one—Back to Me—to learn the dynamics of the family and watch them grow.

 

 

Cameron Falls Series

Back to Me

Back to Us

Back to Home

Back to Love

• Language: English
• Publisher: TC Matson
• Release date: Mar 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201539320

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

TUCKER

Tapps is swarming tonight. It’s as if the whole damn town decided to pile into this two-thousand-square-foot building and let loose. It isn’t a holiday, and last I checked it’s not ladies’ night or half off drinks night. It’s just a typical Friday night. I know I’ve been gone more than I’ve been home, but I could’ve sworn there weren’t this many people in good ol’ Cameron Falls.

A cold beer slides my way from across the high-top table where I’m sitting. Danny—I guess you could call him my best friend seeing as how I’ve known him all my life—grins as he pulls out a chair and takes a seat.

Fancy meeting you here, he says with a thicker than normal accent.

Chuckling, I bring the bottle to my lips and take a long draw, enjoying the feel of the cold, carbonated liquid before replying. Yeah. How ironic I’m here after I told you I’d meet you here.

As he shakes his head, it causes the long, ink black strands on top to fall across his forehead. I’m just glad I got you the hell out of the house. I was starting to think you were turning into a hermit.

"He is a hermit," Austin, another friend of mine, says as he takes the seat to my left and slaps my shoulder.

He and I traveled the PBRA—Professional Bull Riding Association—together. I had already been in the scene for seven years when he joined. He was fresh and new, and although nervous as hell his first time, I recognized really quickly the kid was damn good. He’s much younger than I am, so imagine my surprise when I learned we were from the same town. From then on, we became traveling buddies, riding to and from home and everywhere in between together. However, I learned early on not to share a hotel room with the kid. Beyond riding bulls, he’s only got one other thing on his mind. He claims as he gets older and more mature, he’s not actively engaging with the buckle bunnies as often, but it doesn’t matter. I learned my lesson the first time I walked in on him. Seeing his sex face and some girl’s tits bouncing as he bucked into her was my final straw.

Just because I’m not into the bar scene doesn’t make me a hermit, I say.

Austin tosses his head back with a laugh that causes his shaggy brown hair to bounce back before slinging forward. Kid needs to cut his hair. I’ve been home a week and ain’t seen you once.

You ain’t been looking hard enough then, kid.

He’s right. Danny nods, coming to my defense. If anyone in this town knows where I’m at, it’s him. If you want to see him, just go to his house.

Did I say defense?

Both of you can kiss my ass. I’ve been around.

Danny laughs again. Your mom’s house doesn’t count.

Austin cracks up when I glare at Danny, light-heartedly of course. We’re just giving you hell, he says. How’s the knee doing?

Ah, my knee—the deciding factor of my future. The doc warned me that it could be the next injury or the tenth injury, but one of them was going to cause enough damage to require a total knee replacement. Sure, I’ve had my fair share of bumps and bruises. I’ve broken several bones, bruised a kidney, have had several concussions and torn ligaments to name a few, but the worst injury is my knee. I pride myself in still having all my original parts, along with a few screws and plates here and there. A total knee replacement would not only shatter that pride, but it’d be hell on my tired body.

I may love my career, but I’m tired of the pain. When I first started thirteen years ago, pain was just part of being a cowboy, a daily thing I could walk off. Now, though, I don’t bounce back quite as fast.

The worst is behind me, I say. And by the worst, I mean the damn crutches. Those things are damn near more dangerous than a bull.

Austin sets his beer down on the table, his jovial expression turning serious. I’m still shocked you decided to leave. I mean, you’ve won three world championships, five nationals, and who knows how many circuits. You’re still in your prime. I—

Laughter rushes out of me. In my prime? I interject. I was in my prime when I rounded the corner of my twenties. Fuck, man. I’m thirty-two now. Back then I could grit my way through being battered and beaten. I could walk off dislocations, fractures, and even broken bones. I rode and never worried about the what-ifs. I played the game and took the pain, but all that’s catching up to me. Now, I feel everything I ignored, and it’s taking me twice as long to bounce back. This last knee injury let me know it was time to hang my hat and let the younger generation try to achieve their goals without me standing in their way. I smirk. For years, Austin’s tried to top me, but I stop him in his tracks every time. I’ve got money. I’ve won championships. I got everything I was gunning for. The best know when to stop before they get stopped. My heart just ain’t in it anymore.

Austin blows a long breath, giving his head a little shake. I just hate to see you go. The place won’t be the same.

You’ll get by just fine without me. You’ve got all the other guys out there watching your back. We’re all like an oversized family.

Alright, ladies. Do I need to grab tissues before or after the tears start flowing? Danny rocks his bottle back and forth, making all types of racket. I don’t know cowboy protocol here.

Fuck off, I scoff, laughing.

He shrugs. Just trying to liven up the mood from this emotional fuck. He tips his chin toward Austin. "Next thing we know he’ll be singing ‘There’s a Tear in My Beer.’"

Fuck off, Danny. Austin cackles, shoving him in the shoulder. I just hate he’s done when I know he’s got a lot left in him.

After my last surgery, I confided in Danny. He knows my decision didn’t come easily. I love riding, but I’m tired. My body’s tired. My heart isn’t in it anymore. It’s time.

Danny takes a swig of his beer. Let the man retire in peace. Getting old isn’t for the wary.

Cracking up, I throw my cardboard coaster at him, hitting him in the neck. Cheap coming from you, old man.

One year, Tucker. One damn year older than you and you hold it over my head. At least I won’t need a rocker before you.

I see wheelchair races in the future, Austin adds and it instantly wins him glares from Danny and me.

You might be ten years younger than us, but we’ll still kick your ass all over this damn place. Don’t mind Danny. He’s only teasing… sort of.

Austin grins like he doesn’t believe a word Danny said. No use getting your Depends in a twist. He rises to his feet. I’m gonna grab us another round.

The moment he steps away, my gaze immediately falls onto a blonde dancing around the middle of the dance floor without a single care in the world.

Willow Helms.

Glowing and beautiful as ever.

She’s dyed her hair from bay brown to the color of sun-brushed wheat and it looks really damn good on her too. Usually when I’m in town, I do my best to make sure we don’t cross paths. For four years I’ve managed that, but tonight, the universe has put us under the same roof.

Her petite slender body dips and sways as she keeps up with the beat of the music. Her hair swishes with her body as her curvy hips sashay from side to side in a tantalizing show. She’s got a smile that’s contagious and magnet-like, eyes the color of deep mahogany, warm with promises of heaven. Beautiful is an understatement for Willow.

Several guys have made their way closer to her, each hoping she’ll pick them to dance with, most definitely with intentions for more. They’re either dumb as hell or brave as shit. It won’t end well for any of them.

Alyssa, her best friend since grade school, moves into the crowd, dragging a tall lanky guy in behind her. I watch as she leans in and whispers something in Willow’s ear that blesses the room with a smile so bright it’s as if someone turned on a spotlight. Willow glances over her friend’s shoulder to the guy standing with a smug smirk before she spins Alyssa around and gives her a little push. I track Alyssa and the guy as they make their way through the crowd and out the exit before my gaze settles back on Willow. Carefree, she’s still dancing and still in her own little world when she trips, causing her to stumble straight into Dickhead Lawrence. Immediately, his arms go around her waist, trapping her against his body. His eyes burn for her. Willow’s burn with frustration.

He’s a fucking idiot. Everyone in a hundred-mile radius knows you don’t mess with Willow Helms. She’s got a pack of brothers who will shred every last one of us in here before dragging her out, and the last thing any of us need is an appearance from them.

Exhaling, I slide my chair back and get to my feet. I’m going to put out a fire before it starts. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, I tell Danny and then make my way closer to the flames.

Just as I approach, she spins away from Dickhead, the skirt of her turquoise dress whirling up, and lands directly into my chest with her hands bracing herself. I clutch them, locking eyes with her—my blues colliding with her browns.

You keep this up and you’ll have your brothers in here burning the place down, I say low just for her ears.

Anger flashes in her eyes like lightning skittering across a stormy sky. Her top lip curls. Bullshit. She tries to yank her hands away, but I tighten my grip. "I’m an adult. No one can ruin my good time except you."

I arch a brow knowing she isn’t an idiot. You’ve caught the attention of every single, horny man in here. I bet someone with good intentions has already called one of them.

She rolls her eyes and jerks her hands. This time I let go. She takes a small step back and narrows her gaze. No one has called any of my brothers. We’re all having a good time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get another drink.

No. Come on. I’ll take you home before—

She spins around on me so fast I almost flinch, expecting to be smacked. Fury roars from her. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?

Man, she’s drunk. Taking her by the wrist, I start to lead her off the dance floor, but in her small protest against good judgment, she trips, stumbling over her heels. She squeals as she goes down, but before she can hit the floor, I yank her arm up and catch her by the waist.

She’s momentarily stunned, her eyes swimming in the glaze over them. She’s beyond drunk. She’s flat wasted. I’ve never seen her like this.

Not giving a damn about the tongue lashing she’s bound to spew, I reach under her and scoop her up, making sure the bottom of her dress is pinned between my arm and her legs.

Automatically, her arms wrap around my neck for support, but her tone is anything but nice. Put me down.

I will when I get you to my truck. I’m taking you home. I ignore her protest and the one from my knee.

Are we going to ride off into the sunset?

The defeat and disappointment in her tone pulls me to glance down at her, and I chuckle. Sun’s down already, sweetheart.

She rolls her eyes in her signature move. No one has an eye roll quite like the one perfected by Willow. Fine, she huffs, clearly aggravated. The night set?

This time I laugh. You wanna ride off with me?

Puh-lease, she rests her head to my shoulder. Just because some of the women in Cameron Falls dubbed you as its sexiest man doesn’t mean every woman wants to be with you.

I push out of the bar and into the parking lot before I smirk down at her. That didn’t answer my question.

She ignores me, allowing the muffled sound of music coming from the bar to blanket us. I manage to open the truck door without setting her down and maneuver her into the passenger seat. The moment her body hits the seat, she curls into her side and her eyes droop.

You come with a purse? I ask.

She reaches out and drags her fingers down the front of my shirt to the buckle on my belt. You should get naked.

I snatch her hand. Willow…

Aww, come on, cowboy, she whines.

Yep. Most definitely trashed. Sober Willow wouldn’t dare to look at me, let alone touch me.

Did you bring a purse? I ask again, placing her hand beside her body.

Nope. She pops the P. Wait! her eyes spring open. Yep. Another pop of the P. Jarrod put it behind the bar with Alyssa’s. Gah… She sighs dreamily, her eyes beginning to droop again. I hope she gets laid tonight.

I’m going to go get it. Don’t you puke in my truck, Willow Helms.

Drunkenly, she laughs, her eyes already closed. I won’t puke in your baby, cowboy. Ain’t nothing spinning yet.

After rushing in, grabbing her purse, and assuring Jarrod she was getting home safely, I find her rolled over in the seat facing the driver’s side completely passed out. As easily as possibly so I don’t disturb her, I pull out of the gravel parking lot and onto the road toward her house.

I peek over at her. Her long black lashes fan her cheeks. Her soft lips are parted slightly. Her face is relaxed without all the hatred she normally has for me. Beautiful.

She grumbles when I come to a stop at a stop sign. Her eyes pop open, locking onto me. I still fucking hate you. Her words are just as clear as her eyes and then she’s back out. I’ve seen her drunk, but never like this. She usually handles herself well.

A few minutes down the road and a loud ringing blares from her purse. It jolts her wide awake, her gaze following the noise. She slings her hand into it and fishes out her phone.

Hello? she pauses. Where are you? She giggles and then sucks in a breath. Shit. Okay. I’ll find another way in. Another pause. Yep. Don’t worry about me. You ride that dick like it’s up to you and him to save the world.

Willow and her mouth…

She drops the phone into the seat and closes her eyes. Alyssa has my keys.

Then how do we get into your house? My question is met with silence. Willow? Again. Nothing.

Shit.

She’s going to be pissed when she wakes up.

CHAPTER TWO

WILLOW

My head is throbbing like a herd of buffalo are tap dancing against my skull, and the pain drags me awake. What the hell is with all the damn light?

Rolling over, away from the brightness, I bury my head under the covers in hopes it settles the pounding in my skull. But instead of relief, my senses are assaulted by a scent I can’t forget no matter how hard I’ve tried. Raw. Noble. Amberwood. Manly. Memories.

My heart swells as my stomach drops.

Oh shit.

I pull the covers down the bridge of my nose and squint against the god-awful light to take a peek around the room. The walls are light gray with black curtains parted over the windows with the blinds opened. It screams masculinity, and I’m hoping like hell the remaining alcohol in my system is only playing tricks on me.

Shit… What if I…

I can’t finish the thought as my pulse spikes and slams a tsunami of blood to rush into my ears. Slowly, I turn my head to check when another weird combination of feelings hit me—relief yet utter disappointment—when I find the bed empty. The covers aren’t messed up and the pillow doesn’t look like it’s been laid on either.

Blowing out a breath, I push to sit up, which is a miserable mistake. The tap-dancing buffalo are now on the run and my head feels like it’s about to explode.

Shit, I hiss, grabbing the sides of my head.

The blanket slides to my waist as the cold air hits my skin. My eyes spring open. Quickly, I lift the covers to find I’m only rocking my underwear—a thong to be exact—and what the hell does that cover? Where the hell is my dress?

Shit. Double shit. Shit to the tenth degree.

What the hell did I do last night?

Clasping the sheet to my chest, I peek over the side of the bed to find my dress crumpled in a pile along with my dignity. After slipping it over my head, I go to the