Riley Davenport is a runaway heiress looking to start a new life, away from her cruel family. Jason Walker is a ranch hand weighing on whether to move to the city or stay in his small town. When a missed bus and a runaway horse bring these two together, their lives are forever changed. Can Riley stay hidden once she gets roped into joining Jason’s all-star trick-riding team?
Age Rating: 18+
Ride by Sommer Briddon is now available to read on the Galatea app! Read the first two chapters below, or download Galatea for the full experience.
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1
Riley Davenport is a runaway heiress looking to start a new life, away from her cruel family. Jason Walker is a ranch hand weighing on whether to move to the city or stay in his small town. When a missed bus and a runaway horse bring these two together, their lives are forever changed. Can Riley stay hidden once she gets roped into joining Jason’s all-star trick-riding team?
Age Rating: 18+
Original Author: Sommer Briddon
“Say cheese!” the photographer chirped.
No one in my family did what he asked, but there was a quiet shuffle to look ever more presentable.
My father Eric Davenportsmoothed down the lapels of his tailored suit and puffed his chest.
It was his signature pose, befitting of his role as property developer, philanthropist, and third-richest man in America.
Mom turned a little toward him, giving the camera her best angle while looking the devoted wife.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my sister, Casey, standing a little taller and angling her face down in a way that would make her look even slimmer.
Me, I adjusted the shoulder straps of my unironed, vintage frock and forced my face into a smile.
I’m pretty sure I blinked just as the camera flashed.
***
After our portrait session, we were driven to a private section of the Boston Veteran’s Day Parade.
I never much liked this kinda crap to be honest, but as we watched the horses trot by with their banner holders riding tall, I couldn’t help feeling nostalgic.
I glanced over at Casey.
She looked so poised with her twinset and pearls, joined by her white-bread lawyer boyfriend, Digby Fairbanks III.
Back when we were kids, we used to do everything together. Backyard camping, making up songs, and holding concerts in the living room.
Riding. We loved riding together.
We’d spend weeks at summer horse camp, mucking about, taking the ponies through forest trails.
Those were some of my happiest memories.
But at that moment, they felt like a hazy, half-forgotten dream.
I don’t ride anymore. I don’t do much.
And my sister and I barely spoke anymore.
That was because she was busy being my dad’s chief advisor.
And I’m busy being everything he hates.
“You ready for the party later?” she asked coolly, referring to the main event of the day, a fundraiser my dad was throwing for his friend, Massachusetts senator and presidential hopeful Neil Bowry.
“I guess, though Dad would probably prefer for me not to go. He hates me right now.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Casey sniffed as a brass band marched by, tooting out some inappropriately cheerful tune.
“Well, he sure as hell doesn’t like me,” I murmured.
“He’s just upset that you didn’t finish the school year,” Casey replied.
The truth is I should be at Purdue right now, back in West Lafayette, Indiana.
Instead, I’m stuck at home after dropping out the first semester of my sophomore year.
I guess you could say I’m the bad apple of our family. Dad blamed me and my “hard partying”—helpfully documented by some more nefarious tabloids.
I blame myself too, but not for the same reasons.
Yeah, I went a little off the rails, but after growing up in an insanely controlling family, it was easy to give in to temptation.
But the reasons I dropped out had very little to do with partying.
It was pressure.
The pressure to pick a suitable major that Dad would approve of—business, obviously, with a minor in political science.
Then, as well as being academically successful, I had to be:
Thin.
Pretty.
Funny.
Cool.
Popular.
Healthy.
Fashionable.
And if that wasn’t enough, I had to keep up a positive online presence, develop professional networks, know what I would do after I graduated…
It seems so easy for some people.
My sister, for example, never struggled like this. She skipped from milestone to milestone effortlessly.
But I felt so overwhelmed by life that I caved and failed at everything.
So it’s no wonder I partied a little; it was something I was good at.
Something that made me feel better.
At least until the next day.
As the procession petered out, it was time to return to the main focus of the day: Neil Bowry’s fundraiser.
Dad was donating a buttload of cash to Neil’s fledgling presidential campaign, so I guess we were the guests of honor.
This is gonna suck.
***
Once we arrived at the Senate House, I was meant to mingle, which meant one thing…
Lots of fucking questions.
“So, Riley, what’s the plan after college?” a friend of my dad’s who I vaguely recognized asked me as I waited at the bar.
“I dropped out,” I replied simply.
If there was something I could confidently say I was good at, it was pouring ice water on conversations I didn’t want to be in.
“Oh, well good for you, like Steve Jobs!” the man replied before hurriedly slipping away.
The bartender handed me a bottle of IPA, and I downed about half in one gulp.
It’s going to be a long night.
I mingled among the crowd of well-heeled society types, smiling and greeting people as I passed.
From across the room, I clocked my sister downing a beer like she was at a frat party.
Can’t she learn to sip?
No wonder she dropped out.
I shouldn’t be so judgy, I know, but I wish she’d behave with a little class.
I had pulled all the strings to make this event happen, so I was feeling the heat.
Not that I was going to show it.
My father caught my eye and nodded—his way of saying, “I need to speak to you, now.”
“Your sister,” he murmured under his breath once I had navigated the crowd. “I told her not to tell people about her disgrace at school, but she’s doing it anyway.”
I pursed my lips, unsure of what to say.
My sister and I had grown apart over the last ten years. Now that I was working for Dad, I guess she saw me as the enemy—even if she didn’t say as much.
“I’ll go find her someone to talk to so she doesn’t go round making us look bad,” I offered.
“And while you’re at it, get her to put a sweater on. She looks like a hussy.”
I nodded, glancing at my sister’s rockabilly dress. It was cute, although it was more Warped tour than political fundraiser.
I drifted toward where she was standing at the buffet table.
“How’s it going?” I asked tentatively.
“Good. Eating my weight in shrimp. Did Dad tell you to come talk to me?”
“No, why?”
“You were talking to him and then came right over.”
Goddamnit.
“Just wanted to check you’re okay?”
She glared at me.
“Casey, great job on the catering. These guys are dope,” said a jovial voice from behind me.
Oh God, not Neil.
“Hey, I’m so glad you like it,” I said, turning to give Senator Bowry an air-kiss. I noticed his eyes on Riley as he threw a caviar blin into his mouth.
Of all the people I wanted to keep away from Riley, my dad’s most important political contact was right up there.
“Have you met my sister, Riley?” I asked.
“Not properly,” he said, grinning as he extended a hand to her. “Sorry, I probably have hot sauce all over my hands,” he added as they shook.
“No worries, I’ve got all sorts of shrimp guts on mine,” she said.
I cringed inside.
“Well, that’s one hell of a combination,” Neil replied. “We’re halfway to making a jambalaya.”
Riley grinned at that.
I should have expected her and Neil to get along. At 39, he was way younger and way more gregarious than Dad’s other friends.
He cultivated that everyman, “guy you could go for a beer with” image, and it had seen his profile skyrocket.
Dad felt he was the perfect guy to support in the primaries.
And Neil thought, should he be successful in his bid, that Dad would be perfect for the Supreme Court.
Sure, he’d dragged himself up from being a factory worker’s son to a billionaire, but Dad wanted real power—and the respect that came with it.
What better way to get it than a lifetime appointment in the highest court in the country?
Hence the fact that I felt uneasy letting these two get to know each other.
It didn’t help that Neil was warm and charming. He would encourage her to be herself, which was not who I needed her to be right now.
“Neil, I have some people I’d love for you to meet…,” I said, trying to get him to move on from Riley.
I caught her looking at me, a smile pulling at her lips.
“In a bit. So, are you enjoying the party, Riley?” Neil purred at my sister.
“Sure am. Great place you got,” Riley said dryly, before shoving another canapé into her mouth. “Must be a pain in the ass to furnish.”
“I like you,” he told my sister with a chuckle. “Can I get you a drink?”
“It’s a free bar,” Riley shrugged.
“Perfect,” Neil replied smoothly as he gently guided Riley away.
I felt a hand slip around my waist.
Digby. My college sweetheart.
While the spark sure seemed to have died between us, we’d been together five years.
Too late to give up on it now.
“I’ve been looking for you forever,” he said, pecking me on the cheek.
I glanced at my sister and Neil, deep in goofy conversation.
At least he’s not a reporter.
A couple of hours and several drinks later, Neil and I were deep in conversation, sharing a cigarette as we stumbled around the gardens.
I initially started speaking to him to piss off Casey, but now we were actually starting to hit it off. It probably looked like I was hitting on him.
I probably am.
He’d led me outside to visit the parade horses. They’d been put in a temporary pen set back from the great house. The horse trailers were parked beside it.
I beckoned to one from the fence—a friendly giant with soulful eyes.
“I used to love riding,” I told Neil as I rubbed the horse’s nose.
“Why did you stop?”
I shrugged. “Other stuff got in the way, I guess. School. College. Though you know how that went.”
I’d already filled Neil in on the dumpster fire that was my life. I was surprised at how open I was being with him.
He was nice company. Argumentative in a way that invited candor and debate. Fun. Most of all, he was totally nonjudgmental.
“So what if you dropped out?” he asked as he joined me in patting the horse. “All the best people do.”
“Did you?”
“I graduated with honors from Princeton, but then again, I am an asshole,” he joked.
I couldn’t help but snort at that.
“Thanks for trying to make me feel better. But all the successful people who drop out did it so they could single-mindedly pursue something else. And unlike them, I have no idea what to do with my life.”
Neil shrugged. “It’s so dumb that we think our job should complete us anyway.”
“Says the guy who’s literally running for president.”
“Which means you should probably take my advice—which is just to pick one thing you want and find something that helps you get there.”
“What did you pick?” I asked.
“Power, obviously.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“And now it’s your turn. What is one thing you want?”
I took a long drag of the cigarette. “I want to stop feeling judged.”
“Well, that’s simple. You just need to stop feeling it.” He grinned. I rolled my eyes.
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve volunteered for this life, while I’ve grown up always being scrutinized—by my own family and everyone else.”
“Without wanting to minimize your suffering, a lot of people would love to be in your position.”
“I know, I’m super privileged. But the downside is, I get to be followed around by paparazzi and micromanaged by my family but never openly acknowledge it sucks.”
I stubbed out the cigarette, feeling a twinge of regret for being so open.
“That does sound rough,” he replied. “But I’m sure you’ll be fine. I mean, look at you…you’re rich, beautiful, funny. A triple threat.”
Despite myself, I was crushing on him hard.
Why not? He’s handsome. Smart.
Twice my age.
Neil must have seen something in my eye. His hand drifted to my face.
His expression suddenly had this strange, hungry look as he leaned toward me.
Is this really happening?
I was frozen in the moment as he kissed me hard on the mouth.
At first, I kissed back, thrilled that such an accomplished man saw something in me.
But then he got more aggressive. His fingers suddenly found their way under my dress.
“Slow down,” I said softly, trying to push his hands away.
Instead, he tugged hard at my panties, groping my most private place.
“Let’s take it slow,” I whispered fearfully. He laughed cruelly and grabbed my upper thigh even harder as his other hand found its way around my neck.
“You’re hurting me,” I yelped, trying to break free, panicking as I struggled to breathe.
“I know you want it,” he growled as he pinned me hard against the side of a horse trailer.
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2
A million thoughts were flooding my mind.
I had wanted Neil to kiss me, but not like this.
I struggled to get free. A cruel smile spread over his face as his grip around my neck got tighter.
“Please stop,” I choked.
He released his hand, letting me gasp for air. But he didn’t let me go.
Instead, he bit me hard on the neck and forced me down onto the damp grass.
“You’ve been giving me eyes all night,” he purred. “Now stop being so coy.”
He was a big guy, and he was now on top of me, holding me down, forcing my legs apart.
I heard him unzip his pants.
Oh fuck.
This is it. He’s going to rape me.
I screamed as loud as I could.
His hand was quickly over my mouth, but the noise must have spooked the horses. The Thoroughbred started neighing loudly.
Neil glanced over at the commotion, and in a sudden fight-or-flight moment, I managed to bend my knee enough to make contact with his groin.
He was temporarily stunned, which gave me just enough time to wriggle out from under him.
And run.
Man, did I run. I tried to get as far away from him as possible, my face streaked in tears.
I was in panic mode, just wanting to be safe.
I saw a cop car pulled up outside the house, keeping watch over the party’s prestigious guests.
I ran up to it, my mascara running, and banged on the window.
“Help!” I cried to the surprised-looking officers inside. “I’ve been assaulted!”
***
An hour later, I was sitting opposite Officer Hardy and Detective Michaels at the police station.
I couldn’t say that we were getting along.
“Can you tell me again, what you were doing outside with Senator Bowry?” Michaels asked me.
“I was outside with him talking. He kissed me.”
“And you kissed him back?”
“At first, yeah.”
“And you have been drinking,” Michaels continued.
“Well, yeah.”
“So how can you be sure he assaulted you?” Hardy then asked, as if he’d just outfoxed me.
“Because I asked him to stop, and instead he forced me onto the ground and unzipped his fucking pants,” I snapped.
We’d been going around in circles, and it was becoming clear that they weren’t going to take my word for it.
“We can’t help you if you’re going to take that tone,” Officer Hardy growled.
That TONE?!
I want to smack him in his dumb face.
I was beginning to regret asking for help.
I should have just gotten a taxi home.
The officers outside the party had taken me to the station, but instead of trying to gather any useful evidence, the police seemed hell-bent on discrediting me.
“I’ve just been assaulted and you’re treating me like a fucking criminal!” I snapped.
“Keep cussing and you can spend the night in the cell,” Detective Michaels said smugly.
“That’s not a thing,” I snarled. It was all I could do to keep from screaming.
Then I said something dumb. “If you guys want to treat me like this, go ahead. I’ll tell my father, Eric Davenport, all about the officers who refused to help me,” I stated with forced calm, folding my arms defensively.
They exchanged glances.
I hoped that would be the end of it, and they would start doing their goddamned job.
But instead, they called my bluff.
“Fine.” Detective Michaels pushed my confiscated phone back toward me. “Call him.”
The next day, I woke up feeling fresh and positive.
The fundraiser had been a huge success. Not only were Neil’s campaign coffers full, the polls were very positive.
That was good news for us Davenports.
After my morning Pilates routine, I wandered up to the kitchen to make myself a post-workout smoothie.
That was when my day took a very un-zen turn.
Father marched into the kitchen, his face filled with quiet fury.
“Your sister is at the police station,” he said grimly. “We need to go pick her up.”
“What’d she do?” I asked instinctively. By the anger in his eyes, I knew it was something bad.
“She was apparently wasted,” he growled. I nodded and grabbed my coat from a hanger.
That did sound like Riley.
“Is that why they booked her?” I asked, mentally preparing myself for the PR firestorm.
“They haven’t booked her. She was banging on some cop-car window claiming some guy assaulted her,” Dad said coldly.
“Wait, she was attacked?” I said, my voice rising in panic. “By who?”
“Come on. It never happened. As per usual, she’s drunk and desperate for attention. And the last thing we need right now is her getting any.”
It stung to hear him talk about Riley that way.
I knew she’d been a pain in his ass, but he could be downright callous.
Still, I followed him out to his car of choice, a Mercedes SUV with tinted windows, and we made our way to the station.
Surprise, surprise, the two officers did not suddenly get all woke once I proved who my father was.
It didn’t help that the second Dad picked up he’d asked over the speakerphone: “What is it now?”
They knew then that they were dealing with a guy who would be happy to believe whatever they told him about me.
He barely said a word to me when he arrived with Casey through the back door of the station.
As much as I tried to hide it, it stung so badly.
He had a quiet word with the officers while I sat with my sister in the waiting room.
She looked irritatingly fresh this morning in her fancy yoga pants and Max Mara coat.
And here I was, makeup still smeared around my eyes, and a bruise developing on my upper arm from where Neil had pinned me down.
I kept looking at it and wanting to cry.
But what hurt more than the terrifying few minutes of my attack was the way I was treated by police.
And worse, far worse than that, was the cold way my father looked at me as he dragged me out of the station.
***
All I wanted was to curl up, sleep, and forget about the traumatic evening I’d had.
But Dad wasn’t having it.
He demanded that I join the family for lunch. Mom greeted me as if everything was normal and great. “Hope you’re in the mood for kale Caesar salad,” she said perkily.
Casey said nothing, as usual. My dad’s favorite lackey.
We sat down. Everyone ate in silence. I wasn’t hungry.
“You are not going to eat?” Mom asked. It occurred to me that she might not know about last night.
“No. I feel sick.”
“That’s your own damn fault,” Dad snapped.
“It’s not,” I growled. Dad’s eyes met mine, blazing.
“I need to tell you something,” I said, my voice dripping with rage. “Last night, in the gardens, Neil assaulted me.” I looked around the table for a sign of shock from Mom and Casey.
I was hoping they hadn’t been briefed. That they would care enough to tell Dad to take my claims seriously.
But I saw neither shock nor sympathy in their faces.
“I spoke to Neil today. He said you were wasted, and he was trying to help you throw up outside and you tried to kiss him, and when he rejected you, you ran off,” Dad growled, voice shaking in anger.
For a while, I said nothing. I just stared at him in shock.
“You don’t seriously believe that?” I replied.
“Who would you believe? The guy polling at sixty-four percent, or the twenty-two-year-old dropout with a drinking problem?”
“I’d believe the person who has the least to gain by telling the truth,” I snapped.
“You’re hysterical,” Dad hollered back.
“And you’re a monster,” I yelled. “Are you seriously going to believe him over your own daughter?”
“I’ll believe you when you earn my trust. And considering your recent behavior, the way you gave up on your future, that will take some time.”
I couldn’t believe he was blaming me for my own assault, all because I’d dropped out of college. It was so heartless.
“You know that no matter what I’ve done, however many mistakes I’ve made, I didn’t deserve what happened to me last night. You know that it wouldn’t have stopped it?”
My mom and sister were both looking at their plates, avoiding my gaze.
“Are you seriously going to say nothing?” I exclaimed.
“Darling, let’s just change the subject, shall we?” Mom offered.
“Casey?” I pleaded.
“You can be a bit dramatic, Riley. Maybe it was a misunderstanding.”
Is she actually taking his side here?
Man, I knew we’d grown apart, but right now I straight up did not recognize this doormat as my sister.
“Oh, I wish it was,” I snapped. “I wish I could erase everything, but it’s burned into my brain.”
“It never happened,” my dad said, banging the table aggressively.
That only made me madder.
“Tell yourself that if it makes it easier for you, Daddy.”
“You think this is easy? You think any of the last twenty-two years having to raise you-no, drag you up has been easy?” Dad raged.
“I get it, you wish I wasn’t here. You wish you just had the one perfect daughter. Well, guess what? I wish I had a father who supported me when I’ve been assaulted rather than treated me as an embarrassment and donated millions to my attacker.”
It was physically painful to get those words out. My throat was tight.
“You can believe what you want. Tell people I was drunk for all I care. That guy is a monster, and I want to press charges.”
At that, my dad slammed his fist onto the table again, this time causing a water glass to fall and smash over the marble floor.
“You will do no such thing.”
“I’m an adult. You can’t do anything about it. I don’t care if you cut me off.”
“Cut you off? If you breathe a word of this, I’ll get you sent to a psychiatric ward. Indefinitely. Like I should have done years ago.”
***
I didn’t think too hard about it. It was like I had tunnel vision.
Sure, I was an adult, but my dad was one of America’s richest, most powerful men. And as long as he controlled my finances, I was under his control.
And I didn’t doubt for a moment that he would follow through on his threat.
After our horror show of lunch, I slipped up to my room, where I spent the rest of the day.
The more I thought about my situation, the more I realized something was really broken between me and my family.
I didn’t know where I wanted to go, but I had to get out.
I couldn’t live here anymore.
I couldn’t forgive them for taking the side of someone who’d hurt me.
I wasn’t one of them. I belonged somewhere else.
Where, I wasn’t sure yet.
But I’d have to go and find out.
I slowly went through my things, trying to pack.
It was therapeutic, cutting down my possessions to the core of what I needed. A sleeping bag. A flashlight. A toothbrush. A few days’ worth of spare panties and socks.
My new life was soon contained in a backpack and a duffel bag.
I wrote a quick, emotionless note before putting on the small backpack and slinging the duffel over my shoulder.
I grabbed a pillow off my bed for the journey and scrambled from the windowsill to the tree outside before shimmying down the trunk.
It was an exit I had used a hundred times before, though admittedly never with luggage.
And it will be the last.
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