Hell Creek Boys - Endless Sky #1 - Signed Paperback PREORDER

Jesse
I swore I’d never set foot on Hell Creek again. The last time I left that driveway, I was eighteen with a split lip, a packed duffel, and a promise to never look back. But death has a way of dragging you home. My stepfather’s will is simple and cruel: live on the ranch for one full year—with my stepbrother—or we lose everything. No sale. No shortcuts. No running.

Cole was the golden boy who stayed, the cowboy whose silence cut deeper than words. We learned to fight before we learned to talk. Now we’re fixing fence at dawn, sharing coffee from a chipped thermos, sleeping under a roof that smells like leather and rain. The anger thaws. Looks linger. The line we swore we’d never cross starts calling our names.

But Hell Creek keeps score. Old debts. Older lies. And if I choose him, I’m gambling the last thing my stepfather left me—this land, this legacy, this chance to make something right.

Cole
Hell Creek raised me—the dust, the cattle, the busted knuckles, the quiet that settles after a storm. I stayed when Jesse ran. I held the ranch together with baling twine and stubbornness while our father got mean and the winters got meaner. I told myself I hated Jesse for leaving, but the truth is uglier: I never stopped looking for his truck in the rearview.

Now he’s back, taller, sharper, wearing the city on his shoulders like armor. We trade barbs at breakfast and silence at supper. Then the work does what work always does—knocks the edges off. Fixing fences side by side. Driving the cattle down to winter pasture. Sharing heat when the generator dies and the house goes cold. The past doesn’t disappear, but it makes more sense in the dim glow of a lantern and the sound of his breath in the next room.

Wanting him is wrong by every story we were told. But out here under a sky so wide it could swallow you whole, I’m starting to think the only sin is walking away from the one person who makes this place feel like home.

Hell Creek Boys is a gritty, taboo slow burn about enemies-to-lovers, family secrets, and the price of legacy—nostalgic small-town grit, frost-bit Montana nights, and a hard-won love fierce enough to outlast the storm.

Excerpt from Chapter Twelve
“I’m not used to this anymore,” he admitted quietly. “Being at the mercy of the elements. In Seattle, the worst we got was rain.”
“You get used to it again,” I said, surprising myself with how gentle my voice sounded. I let out a deep sigh. “And I’m… sorry.”
Jesse furrowed his brows. “For what?”
“For snapping at you just now. I know this morning was an accident.” He opened his mouth to reply, but I cut him off. “But that doesn’t mean I want to talk about it.”
Jesse nodded slowly, his eyes dropping to the thermos clutched between his hands. The silence stretched between us, filled only by the howling wind outside the tent. A particularly strong gust shook the canvas, making us both glance up.
“Fair enough,” he finally said, his voice barely audible over the storm.
I busied myself with checking my gear, needing something to do with my hands. The tent felt smaller by the minute, the air thick with unspoken words. Jesse continued to shiver despite his dry clothes, his teeth chattering slightly.
“You need to get in that sleeping bag,” I said, nodding toward the bedroll I’d laid out for him. “It’s rated for below freezing.”
He hesitated, then crawled over to it, sliding inside with stiff movements. Even in the sleeping bag, he continued to shake, his body curled into a tight ball. Dammit. He wasn’t warming up fast enough.
“You’ve got mountain sickness,” I muttered, recognizing the signs. The shivering that wouldn’t stop, the pallor of his skin. His body wasn’t acclimated to the altitude and cold anymore. “Your core temperature’s dropping too low.”
“I’m f-fine,” he insisted through chattering teeth.
“Like hell you are.” I ran a hand through my hair, weighing my options. There was really only one solution, and neither of us was going to like it. “We need to share body heat.”
Jesse’s eyes widened. “W-what?”
“Don’t make it weird,” I growled, already unzipping my sleeping bag. “It’s basic survival. Evelyn packed the bags that can zip together.”
He watched me with those damn hazel eyes as I efficiently connected our sleeping bags into one larger one. My hands moved with practiced skill while my mind screamed at me about what a terrible idea this was. But I couldn’t let him freeze. No matter how complicated things were between us, that wasn’t an option.
“Scoot over,” I ordered, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Jesse reluctantly shifted to make room, and I slid in beside him, immediately feeling the chill radiating from his body. Christ, he was like ice. Without giving myself time to reconsider, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling his back against my chest.
“This is just for warmth,” I said firmly, as much to myself as to him. “Nothing else.”
“R-right,” Jesse stammered, his body rigid against mine. “Just s-survival.”
Gradually, as my warmth seeped into him, his shivering began to subside. His muscles relaxed incrementally, his breathing becoming more regular. I tried to focus on anything but the feeling of him pressed against me. I listened to the sound of the storm, mentally listed the tasks we’d need to complete once it passed, and counted the cattle waiting in the high meadow.
“Better?” I asked after several minutes had passed.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “S-Still cold though.”
He wasn’t lying. I gritted my teeth, knowing this was a bad move. “Take off your shirt,” I said, pulling away from him as I peeled my own off. “Skin to skin heats up faster.”
I heard Jesse’s sharp intake of breath, felt him tense up against me.
“I... I don’t think that’s necessary,” he said, but his teeth were still chattering slightly.
“It is,” I insisted, trying to keep my voice even. “This isn’t my first rodeo with hypothermia, Jesse. I’ve seen men lose fingers up here.”
He hesitated another moment, then reluctantly pulled his sweater over his head. In the dim light of the tent, I could make out the tribal tattoos running down his right arm, dark against his pale skin. He’d gotten those after he left. I wondered what they meant to him.
When he settled back against me, the contact of skin on skin sent a jolt through me that had nothing to do with the cold. I forced myself to breathe normally, to keep my heart rate steady as I wrapped my arms around him again. His back pressed against my chest, our legs tangled together in the cramped sleeping bag. Despite my deep breaths, I could not stop my cock from thickening in my jeans. I just hoped the denim was enough for him not to notice.
“Your heart’s racing,” Jesse murmured, and I realized with horror that he could feel it hammering against his back.
“Just the altitude,” I lied, my voice gruff. “Now shut up and get warm.”
He fell silent, but I could tell he wasn’t asleep. His breathing was too measured, too controlled. Outside, the wind continued to howl, snow piling against our tent. I tried to focus on the sound rather than the feel of Jesse’s skin under my fingertips, the scent of him filling my lungs with every breath.
“I really am sorry,” Jesse said suddenly, his voice barely audible over the storm. “About the freezer, about this morning... about everything.”
I swallowed hard, staring at the back of his head. His hair was still damp from the snow, curling slightly at the nape of his neck. I had the insane urge to press my lips against that spot.
“You don’t need to keep apologizing,” I muttered. “What’s done is done.”
“But that’s just it,” he continued, shifting slightly in my arms. “I’ve never properly apologized for leaving. For hitting Jack. For... for abandoning you.”
My chest tightened. Fifteen years of buried anger and hurt threatened to surface. “Now’s not the time for this conversation.”
“When is the time then?” Jesse challenged, his body tensing against mine. “You’re always running away from talking about anything real.”
“Me?” I scoffed, the words bursting out before I could stop them. “You’re the one who ran, Jesse. Not me.”
He turned in my arms then, facing me in the tight confines of the sleeping bag. Our faces were inches apart, his breath warm on my skin. Those hazel eyes stared into mine, searching for something I wasn’t sure I wanted him to find.
“I was a kid,” he said softly. “And the more I think about it, so were you.”
“What the hell difference does it make?” I asked, trying to avoid his gaze. Instead, I ended up looking at those pink lips of his, wondering how they’d taste. “It’s in the past now.”
“It is,” he replied. “But it’s obviously still haunting both of us. You… You still hate me.”
“Jesse,” I sighed, shaking my head. “I don’t… I don’t hate you.”
“Then why won’t you even look at me, Cole?”
“Because I…” I faltered for a moment. “Because I’m afraid.”
“Of me?” he scoffed. “Why?”
I shook my head again, lowering my voice even further. “Of myself.”
Jesse’s expression softened, his eyes searching mine in the dim light of our tent. “Afraid of what, Cole?”
I could barely hear my own voice over the howling wind. “Of how I feel when I look at you.”