“You never know. A horse could need to be tacked up or untacked in a hurry. Or something else that needs extra hands. It’ll be fine,” I say in my most convincing voice.
Being relatively new to the town and even newer to the rodeo and bull riding scene, I really don’t want to be there alone for my first event. I know this isn’t Rayna’s thing, so I’m crossing everything that she isn’t about to back out.
“Let me borrow a pair of cowboy boots so I can at least look like I belong there.”
My mood is a million times lighter knowing she didn’t bring me here to cancel. I barely even remember the asshole from the parking lot as I look forward to later. Taking a relieved breath, I lean back in my seat with my arms folded and a grin across my face.
“I’ll even let you borrow the beat-up ones to make it more convincing.”
Chapter 2
Tate
Mytruckdoorslamswhen I close it with way more force than is necessary. I’m not sure why I keep allowing Grayson to get to me with the same shit over and over. And to the point I backed into a woman’s car. Still fuming after slamming the door of my truck, I do the same with my front door to see if that might help. It doesn’t.
I barely have time to shower and get changed before heading back to Boulder Ranch. It’s opening night, so we don’t have to ride, but we’re pickup men for the amateur roughstock events. And, somehow, that’s my fault too. Grayson’s attitude problem is getting really fucking old. I shake my hand to relieve the ache. Thankfully it isn’t broken. I knew better than to hit him. Even though I’m not riding tonight, I need to be able to hold the reins, and maybe even toss a rope.
“I don’t know why you’re always trying to be Dad. He didn’t like you either.”
Grayson’s words echo in my mind. They hurt, but I probably deserved them after possibly breaking his jaw. I squeeze my eyes closed to combat the sting. Fuck. He’s been my responsibility for the past fifteen years and, whether he resents it or not, I’m the only family he’s got. And he’s all I have.
My mind drifts back to the woman in the parking lot as I step into the shower and rush to get clean. She was pissed. But fucking gorgeous even though she definitely wanted to kill me. I shouldn’t have hit her car, but she didn’t have to get so worked up when there was barely even a scratch. The way she stormed out of her car, curls wild and eyes blazing, you would have thought I aimed for her.
A few minutes later, I’m walking back out the door, my hair still damp and bag in hand. Opening night has always been my favorite, and it’s taking everything in me not to let Grayson ruin it. Clenching and unclenching my fist, I fight against the bandage. I’m still pissed that he pushed me that far. Dr. Robinson suggested I take tonight off, but that would be ridiculous. I’ve made the eight on the back of a bull in worse shape than this.
As I pull into the gravel parking area and reach for my bag, I wish I’d listened to that doctor. Lining up and getting introduced is one thing. Having to be pickup with Grayson when all I want to do is punch him again seems like a recipe for failure.
The weight of my bag on my shoulder and the chaps across my arm remind me that this is it. All I need to do is avoid that asshole as much as possible and I’ll be able to enjoy the rest of the night. The event is a big one, and we only have to work together for part of it. I round the corner feeling slightly better about everything. But of course, the first person I lay eyes on is Grayson. Fucking perfect.
Chapter 3
Joy
AssoonasIstep out of the barn, I see Rayna walking across the grass heading away from the parking area and breathe a sigh of relief. Being a ranch hand, no day is exactly the same. I’ve finished up in the stalls and with the odd jobs and need something to distract me from feeling out of place. I haven’t lived here long, moving only after Rayna convinced me to follow her to Cole County. She came here on vacation, met Wyatt, and never returned home.
“Is your man aware of how hot you look? Damn, girl,” I tease as soon as she’s within earshot. Her flannel shirt is tied at the front, and her bootcut jeans look like they were tailored to fit her. My boots complete the outfit. “I see you found my boots.”
“Are these the right ones?” She looks momentarily panicked.
“Yes, you’re fine. I wouldn’t care what pair you picked. But those are the ones I was talking about. I wore those back when I used to help out at my aunt’s stables. They should be nice and broken in.”
My work is complete for now, so I lead Rayna to the gate alongside where the competitors enter for the timed events and climb up to sit on the gate. She hesitates for a moment before climbing up next to me. I can’t explain why, but it’s this simple act that makes me feel at home on the ranch. My aunt runs stables where they board and train horses. Even though I grew up closer to the city, I spent so many summers with her, helping out where I could, that somehow, this ranch makes me a little less homesick.
Before we can continue the conversation, the screens on either side of the arena light up as the announcer gains the crowd’s attention. Goosebumps spread across my flesh as anticipation courses through me. This is my first time at opening night here, but even I can feel the excitement racing through the crowd. Glancing over at Rayna, I can tell she’s feeling it too as a grin spreads across her face.
Trinity is carrying the American flag as she rides up next to us to wait. I’ve been to enough events in general to have an idea of what to expect. Lights flash as a slideshow begins. I grip Rayna’s hand in pure excitement as grainy images of cowboys and barrel racers flicker across the screens. As the music plays, my eyes remain glued to the images. Highlights of years past. My breath hitches when they stop on a photo of a saddle bronc rider, one arm raised to the sky as he holds on to the rigging. Even with his hat hiding most of his face, I can practically see his scowl of concentration. I know that face.
When they announce the last year of Boulder Ranch under ownership of the Miller family, the crowd gasps. I’ve barely registered what’s been said when Trinity leads her horse around the track, flag held high, as a voice begins singing the National Anthem. The crowd stands in silence, keeping their eyes on the flag as the woman finishes singing.
“Not going to lie; I’m beyond excited,” Rayna squeals, gripping my hand.
The announcer begins speaking, but I’m not really paying attention. The fact that I’m here and a part of the event that brings the town together is more than I’m ready to think about. I’m from the suburbs. Even though a lot of things seem to be the same no matter where we come from, there’s nothing quite like the excitement of a small town.
The announcer begins introducing each contestant, including those competing in the next day’s events. From what I gathered, opening night features all but the pro roughstock competitors. A group of men and women line up, stepping forward as their names are called.
“Tate Garrison,” the announcer continues, as the next person in line steps forward, removing his hat and waving it toward the crowd.
“Wait a minute,” I hiss, quickly gaining Rayna’s attention. “That’s him. That’s the asshole who backed into me.”
