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Slade
Copyright © January 2017 by Kade Boehme
All rights reserved. This is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-
book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written
permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the
author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Cover Artist: Meg Bawden, Bawd Designs
http://www.megbawden.com
Published in the United States of America
This is a work of fiction. While may include actual historical events or existing locations, the names,
characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously,
and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is
entirely coincidental.
Warning
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to
some readers. For adults 18+ ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your
purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you Jenna Kendrick for making us shine and Melissa Womochil for staying up late because I’m
neurotic. And Angela French, thank you for cheering me on when I was ready to collapse and admit
defeat. You’re all the very best. I’d be lost without you.
DEDICATION
As always, I must dedicate to my readers, my friends. You make this journey amazing.
Remember to take risks. Even if it’s just telling yourself to “stay”.
one
Shane struggled to press his phone to his ear, propped on his shoulder. The heat of Texas in August was
grueling, and between that and the phone being warm from use, the sweat that slid down his face made it
hard to keep it in place. But he was trying to wash the dirt off his hands so he could make lunch.
“So you’re not coming for a visit, then?” Shane tried to cover his disappointment, which was
easier than it had been the last time and the time before that and all the other times Travis had made the
same proclamation over the last four years.
“Sorry,” Travis said, voice laced with sympathy but not true contrition.
“No, don’t worry about it. It’s almost back-to-school time anyway, so I’ll start getting new
students signed up for riding classes soon.” Shane ignored the grunt Travis let out. That same grunt Travis
always used when he was unsurprised by Shane’s plans to stay in his hometown another semester.
Truth was, at almost twenty-three, Shane didn’t think he’d be going off to college. Ever. He’d done
the part-time thing long enough to get his two-year degree — which took three years — but his hopes of
transferring his credits grew slimmer by the year. His savings had been a hopeful tether to the dream, but
the older he got, the more miserly he’d gotten with those hard earned pennies, and the more responsibility
he felt to stick around. A story ages old, so Shane didn’t dwell on it much anymore.
“I just can’t make it for Labor Day weekend. It’s crazy here.” Of course it was. That’s why Travis
had left, gone far away. Big dreams and big dollars weren’t found in little towns like where they grew up.
Travis’s life was in New Orleans now. Five hours away.
Shane didn’t begrudge him that, not anymore. He didn’t think he ever really had been angry about
Travis’s leaving. Jealous, yes. Sad, definitely. Angry, not so much. Not after seeing Travis blossom in his
new life, excelling in his studies and then his internship.
Shane sighed but smiled. He was happy for his friend. “I understand. Really, I do.” He turned off
the faucet and dried his hands, finally able to switch ears and wipe the sweat from his face and the
phone’s screen. “Sorry if I sounded put out. I’ve been out feeding all morning.” He glanced out the kitchen
window to the mares running in the pasture behind the house. “Getting ready to make Dad some lunch and
head out to work.”
“I thought you might be.” Travis’s voice was teasing, warm and full of the familiarity that came
with having been in a person’s life a hundred years. It also grated a bit, that tone, because more than once
Travis had called Shane predictable. It’d never been nice, always when he was defensive or during an
argument.
Shane didn’t want to argue or call him on it, though, so he took it for a friendly taunt and chuckled.
“You know me.” He opened the refrigerator and started pulling out leftovers from last night’s dinner,
placing them on the counter top. He paused and watched the mares playing, running about a moment

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