“Just don’t tell my boss I let you," he grins.
Wilder reaches across the stall, grabbing the saddle draped over the railing. With practiced ease, he places it carefully on Daisy's back, his hands working the straps with a precision that makes it look like he does this every day, and I suppose he does. He adjusts everything until it sits perfectly, just like I used to do with my own horse. The familiarity of the scene tugs at something deep inside me, willing me to remember, but it’s been almost six years since my last ride, and the memory feels distant—tainted by hesitation and missteps that occurred along the way.
I take a slow, deliberate step closer, silently reminding myself of the basics. Mount from the left, keep your posture steady, trust the horse. The mantras loop through my mind like a lifeline, but nerves twist in my gut. I keep my face calm, determined not to let Wilder see how rusty—orterrified—I feel right now.
It’s like riding a bike. You just have to get back in the saddle.
Wilder’s hands settle firmly on my hips, his touch grounding me and sending a jolt of warmth straight through my core. Without effort, he lifts me up and guides me into position. For a split second, the sensation of his hands on me takes me right back to last night, to the way it felt having him between my legs.
My cheeks burn, but I plaster on a smile as I adjust myself in the saddle and glance down at him. His eyes meet mine, and the corner of his mouth quirks up, like he knows exactly where my mind wandered because his did too.
Damn it, why didn’t he ask for my phone number then?
“Come on now,” he says, guiding me back through the galley, out of the barn and outside to the fenced area I crossed by earlier that’s not completely empty. “Okay, now start by taking her through a slow walk around the ring, then lead her into a nice, gentle trot. Incorporate some circles and zigzags if you can, then move her to cantering. Once you feel she’s warm enough, if you’re up for it, you can try some short gallops. If not, I’ll hop on and can handle the rest of her routine.”
I nod, following Wilder’s instructions, guiding Daisy around the ring and feeling the raw power and grace beneath my legs as she effortlessly moves through the warmup. She knows what to do better than I do so I let her take the lead, moving through the movements that will help protect her body from injury.
As I guide Daisy forward, the rhythmic motion of her gait stirs up memories from my childhood. I’m suddenly back in those wide-open pastures, the sun warm on my skin, using horseback riding as my escape from the endless fights between my dad and stepmom. The arguments, the tension—it all faded away when I was on the back of a horse.
But then, like an unwelcome guest, the memory of my last ride six years ago creeps in. I shake my head, forcing the thought out. Not now. I’m not letting that ruin this moment.
When Daisy shifts into a canter, the wind brushes against my face, and tears well up in my eyes—not from sadness, but from pure relief and pride. I’m proud of myself. I did it.
I got back in the saddle.
After a few more strides, I guide Daisy over to Wilder, deciding to let him finish the warm-up. The last thing I need is to lose it emotionally while still perched up here. Because despite my confidence in returning, I know how unpredictable a horse can be when spooked.
I swing my leg over and dismount, the ground solid beneath my feet as I hand him the reins. “Your turn,” I say, my voice steady despite the lump in my throat.
“You alright?” he asks, tentatively, noticing my tears for the first time.
I nod and smile. “She’s beautiful. I’ve just missed riding so much.”
Wilder swings up onto Daisy with the kind of effortless grace that makes my stomach flip. He sets off, guiding her through the rest of the warm-up like he was born in the saddle. I leanagainst the gate, unable to look away as he takes her through intricate movements I didn’t dare attempt. He’s so damn natural at this—like he and the horse are speaking a language only they understand. Wilder being a horse whisperer shouldn’t be surprising.
A rush of heat spreads through me as I watch him, my eyes tracing the lines of his strong frame as he moves with quiet confidence. He’s powerful and commanding, but there’s something soft in the way he handles her—like strength and tenderness are perfectly balanced in him. It’s the same way he handled me last night. How can one man embody so much? That quiet mystery, the depth of passion he doesn’t try to show but is always just there, simmering under the surface. It’s maddening.
He finishes up, slowing Daisy to a stop right outside the gate. He glances at me, and his smile—small, barely there—sends a spark shooting through me that says he isn’t finished with me just yet.
"I'm going to give her some water, then she’ll be ready for the show," he says, his voice steady and warm. "Do you want to head back into the stadium or help me cool her down first?"
Without thinking, I answer, "I’ll come with you."
Chapter 8 – Teagan
We walk side by side as he leads Daisy back to her stall, giving her one last brush before settling her with fresh food and water. Then, he motions for me to follow as he takes me deeper into the barn. He stops by a small kitchenette, grabs a bottle of water from the fridge for himself, and hands one to me without a word.
“Thank you.”
He nods. “How’d that feel for you to be riding again?”
I bite my lip, lost in thought, still trying to process how alive riding Daisy made me feel. It’s like a part of me that had been dormant for years finally woke up on the back of her. Sure, it brings up memories from my past—memories I’m not ready to face that are still too raw—but riding in that calm, low-pressure setting with Wilder watching felt like everything I didn’t know I needed.
“It was… incredible. Thank you for allowing me to take her through the warmup.”
He tips his head to me. “They do things as humanely and ethically as possible here. No spurs or electrical prods. The rodeo is mostly about skill and fun. That’s why it’s the most successfulone in the state and continues to draw a crowd. I wouldn’t be a part of it if it wasn’t centered around the animals and their safety.”
“That’s important.” Because it is, and though I’d had my hesitations around the care of these animals when I first got here, hearing from Wilder that they respect their animals and treat them with kindness, puts those to ease.
