Shawna turns to grin at me over her shoulder, her excitement practically radiating. And even though I’m sweaty and already counting down the hours until this night is over, I can’t help but smile back. After all, she’s my sister, my best friend—and this weekend, is all about her.
“Do you mind going with Ryder to grab us food and drinks?” my sister yells at me over the loud noise.
I nod, eager to put some space between myself and the giggly group as I follow behind her fiancé towards the concessions.
“You think they'll eat hot dogs?” Ryder asks, looking at the food options sprinkled around the space. It’s mostly bar food, what you’d expect from an event like this so there aren’t many options to choose from.
I shrug. “Seems like something they’d be into.”
He smirks and walks over to one of the lines that’s serving food while I continue to look around. There’s hay and dirt splatteredon the floor of the arena, and the energy is electric as attendees fill the space, talking, pointing, and waiting for the show to begin. I have no idea what to expect from an event this size and from what little I know about rodeos, I’m not sure how I’ll feel about animals performing for show. It feels a little… unethical.
I make my way to the edge of the railing overlooking section 20, watching as the crowd filters in, finding their seats and settling in for the night. My eyes drift to the far side of the space—falling on someone who looks extremely familiar.
Wilder?
It’s him, no doubt about it. That all-black cowboy hat, the same worn jeans he had on earlier, and a white t-shirt with the rodeo’s logo stretched tight across his broad chest and shoulders. He’s leading a stunning brown horse, guiding it toward the exit with a quiet confidence that’s so… him. Strong jaw fixed in determination and the way he walks, like he owns the ground under his boots, is enough to make my stomach flip as memories of our night together resurface.
“Hey,” Ryder says, nudging me with his hands full of hot dogs. “You see someone you know?”
“I'm not sure,” I respond.
He nods. “You want to take these to the girls? I’ll grab the drinks. Shawna said they’re in the 70s section seating.”
I snap out of it and spread my arms as he artfully balances ten hot dogs in my hold. Once he piles me up, he heads back to the concessions for drinks. I make my way to section 70, before unloading the food on my sister and her friends, then wander back to the top of the arena searching for someone I’m not sure I’m ready to find.
Guests are still milling around, chatting and laughing as they find their spots. I linger, unsure what I’m even looking for that’ll tell me who I saw was really Wilder. That’s when I spot someone in the same white rodeo t-shirt Wilder was wearing. A worker,standing near the entrance. Maybe they know where he went—or maybe I just need a reason to ask.
“Hi, excuse me. I have a friend who works with the animals at the rodeo. Do you know where I might find him?”
“Who’s your friend?” she asks politely with a smile.
“His name is Wilder Cameron.”
She nods in recognition. “He’ll be in the holding barn area. Go all the way to the seating in section 10. There’s a door that leads outside to the stables. You can't miss it.”
Following her directions, I make my way to Section 10, push through the door, and step outside into the crisp air. A narrow dirt path winds behind the arena, leading to a towering barn framed by a large, fenced-in field. Inside the fence, a man is trotting alongside a chestnut horse, his boots kicking up small clouds of dust. Nearby, a woman rides a sleek, black mare bareback, effortlessly swirling a lasso in one hand as the horse moves with practiced ease.
The scene is mesmerizing, but I don’t linger too long. I keep my head down and scurry along the path, hoping no one notices me as I slip into the barn undetected. The air inside smells of hay and leather, mixed with the earthy scent of the animals. Shafts of sunlight filter through the slatted walls, casting warm golden stripes across the barn floor.
I move quietly, glancing into each stall as I pass. Horses of various colors and sizes peer back at me, some curious, others indifferent. Finally, near the back, I spot Wilder in an empty lot with the same stunning brown horse I saw him walking earlier.
He hasn’t noticed me yet, his back turned as he works. Gently, he brushes the horse’s mane, his movements steady and soothing as he murmurs something to the horse in low whispers. Then, stooping down, he grabs a handful of hay and tosses it into the trough. I watch as beads of sweat soak through his white shirt, clinging to his broad back. Before I can even prepare myself, hegrips the hem of his shirt, strips it off, and tosses it over the wooden board of the stall.
My breath catches. His muscles ripple as he continues to brush the horse, his movements effortless and strong. When he turns slightly to the side, I get a glimpse of those tan, chiseled abs and a body that could’ve been carved from marble. My imagination last night had been generous, but even it hadn’t done him justice. Wilder isn’t just farmhand strong—his body is downright sinful.
He bends to pick up an empty metal bucket and a hose coiled on the floor. Filling the bucket with water from a nearby tap, he carries it back to the horse, holding it steady as the animal drinks deeply.
It’s only then that I muster the courage to step out from my hiding spot. “She’s incredible,” I murmur, my voice soft but steady.
Wilder glances over his shoulder, catching my eye with a crooked smile that makes my stomach flip. It’s like he knew I’d been standing there watching him the entire time. “She is a beauty,” he says, his tone easy as he strokes the horse’s mane. “Her name’s Daisy.”
He pauses for a moment, his hand stilling on Daisy’s neck as he looks back at me, his green eyes bright under the warm glow of sunlight. “You ever ride before?” he asks, his voice low and inviting, like he’s not just talking about horses.
I nod my head, my cheeks warming under his gaze. “Yes, but not since I was a teen,” I admit, taking a tentative step closer. “I used to. I grew up on a farm that had three horses. One of them was mine.”
He nods. “You want to warm her up for me?”
Despite not being on a horse in years, I don’t hesitate at the offer. “I’d love to.”
