The tarot cards don't lie, and from the moment he ducks into my tent, I know this man is my destiny. He's a cowboy, all rough edges and whiskey-colored eyes, dragged here on a dare from his friends. He thinks this is a joke, but I see the truth in the lines of his hands and the tension in his broad shoulders—a man locked away, convinced he's not meant for a happy ending. My life is the carnival, a constant blur of new towns and temporary connections. It's safe. But Tate Dawson feels like the one thing I can't leave behind. He's rooted to this Texas soil, and every instinct tells me to run before I get tangled in him. But when he looks at me, he doesn't just see a fortune teller; he sees the woman I am beneath the purple hair and mystical act. The cards show me our future, but it's a path I'm terrified to walk. I don't really believe in fortune tellers. I'm only here because my buddies are a pain in the rear. But then I see her. With her tattoos, purple hair and eyes that see right through the walls I've spent years building, she's nothing like I expect. Her name is Violet, and she's about to wreck my perfectly controlled, perfectly empty life. She lays out a few cards and proceeds to tell me every secret I've ever kept, every fear I've buried. She says I'm stuck, that I'm afraid to live, and damn her, she's right. I'm a rancher; my life is about routine and predictability. She's part of a traveling carnival—here one day, gone the next. Getting involved with her is a mistake. She's a temporary storm, and I'm a man who learned his lesson about weathering those. But every time I try to stay away, I find myself drawn back to her tent, to the one woman who makes me feel alive again. She might be my ruin, but I'm starting to think it's a price I'm willing to pay.