SNEAK PEEK COWBOY DRAGON’S ROSE It’s a long drive into town. Long enough for me to stew in my own misery and rehearse how much I’m going to hate this. Because it’s a holiday fucking weekend. Because the ranch is crawling with lovebirds and mates and happy-ever-afters I can’t stand to watch anymore. Because my Dragon’s Rose is almost gone, and every hour that passes tightens the noose around my ribs just a little more. And now I’m supposed to play chauffeur to some random woman who doesn’t even know how to drive out here? Great. Perfect. Exactly how I wanted to spend my Saturday. Grumpy, flammable, and babysitting some lost city girl with no idea she’s landed herself in the middle of a Shifter ranch full of hormonal mates and magical livestock. But the weirdest part? No matter how I tell myself the pretty female from the wedding is not mine, the closer I get to Avery’s old place, the louder my Dragon gets. Like something’s calling him. She’s calling to him. And for the first time in a long while, he sounds hopeful. Town is full of folks trying to head down the shore for the weekend, so streets are crowded, and everyone is losing their patience and their minds as the traffic slows to a crawl. Finally, I arrive. I’m barely out of the truck when the front door swings open and she steps out. Dark blonde hair. Big brown eyes flecked with gold. Curves that make my Dragon sit up and take notice—fast. She’s wearing jeans that hug her hips like a second skin, a soft-looking T-shirt with a loaded hot dog printed on the front and the words “I like my wieners loaded” scrawled across her impressive chest. I fight my smile and pretend like that isn’t the most outrageously funny thing I’ve seen all day. Goddamn, she is even prettier than I remember. She’s dragging a massive rolling suitcase behind her that hits every damn porch step on the way down like it’s challenging me to a duel. And the second I lock eyes with her, the world shifts. The heat in my chest punches to life. My Dragon damn near tears through my skin, snarling mine-mine-mine like a lunatic, and I actually stumble a step backward. No. Fucking. Way. I might be able to admit right now that yes, my Dragon was right the first time we met. But I’m still not gonna do anything about it. Her eyes narrow as she takes me in, chest heaving slightly from the effort of hauling that giant bag. “Oh, um, hi. You’re Zeke,” she says, and squirms with what I assume is discomfort. I don’t answer. I can’t. Because this time I know it’s not some fluke. Not some trick created by wedding ambiance and moonlight. It really is her. My mate. My rose. The Dragon’s Rose on my chest burns against my skin. It all happens so fast I snarl with the wonderful welcome pain of it. “You alright there?” Casey asks, her brown eyes wide and curious. I don’t respond. She arches a brow and tilts her head, voice dry. “Okay, strong silent type. That’s cute. But if you plan on brooding the whole drive, can you at least help me get this thing in the truck?” I blink. “That’s your suitcase?” I ask. “No, it’s my mobile panic room. Yes, it’s my suitcase.” She hauls it toward me and practically dares me not to help. I grunt, grabbing the handle and lifting it like it weighs nothing—because it doesn’t weigh a goddamn thing. I’m a Dragon shifter, not a noodle-armed farm boy. She watches me toss it into the truck bed and makes a little hmm noise. “Nice. You didn’t even throw out your back. Promising.” I stare at her. “You always this mouthy?” Her lips curve. “Only when I’m nervous. Or annoyed. Or breathing.”