“I’ve got no idea what it’s like to date anyone.”
“That’s not an answer.”
I wet my lips, trying not to grit my teeth at being put on the spot like this. “We’ll talk about this later.”
“So . . . thereissomething to talk about,” Shade says, his voice lifting with intrigue.
Keeping my expression blank, I warn, “I’m going to knock your teeth out.”
His mouth closes. Ash rolls his eyes but reluctantly lets it go with a stiff nod. There’s a tension in the air around us now. Ash has always been a fundamental part of my life. We’re far from teenagers, and what we do with our lives isn’t ever up for debate. He knows I’d accept the worst version of him, and he’s already had to accept mine more times than I can count.
My relationship with his sister has always been there, even if it wasn’t exactly like it is now. If he doesn’t like what we’re doing, then he’ll be open about it. Yet at the same time, as angry or worried as he may get, I know he won’t act out. There won’t beany fighting or physical blows between us. We’re adults, and so is Tilly.
There’s nobody who knows more about her than Ash does. Not even me. If she’s mine, it’s because she’s already decided that’s what she’s going to be. There’s nothing he can say that’ll change that. I guess I’ve always had that reminder in the back of my head. Even when we were exchanging letters all those years ago, I knew Ash wouldn’t have kicked my ass for it.
The only reason I never told him about what happened between us was because he would have decided to get involved.
“Speak of the She-Devil, and she shall appear,” Shade drawls, drawing our attention to the group of girls hanging over the railing for the stands. “And she comes with such beautiful company.”
I ignore him and the two girls flanking mine. Tilly smirks down at me, still too far to speak to, but close enough that I can get a solid, long look at her. The toe of her boot slides through the railing and taps impatiently as her arms drape over it.
I chuck my roll of tape at Ash but don’t pay attention to whether he catches it. Tilly’s attention slips to her brother for a brief moment before returning to me. The quirk of her brow speaks for her. I shake my head, flexing my gloved fingers, wanting to touch her.
She trails her eyes up and down my body, then looks at the crowded chutes. A few horses have already been loaded in. The first one kicks at the gate, making the metal rattle. There’s a symphony of chaos breaking out now. With every second that passes, more riders make their way over, and the announcer starts blabbering.
I’d take a pass on having someone address the crowd with past records, expected results, and facts about each of us. I find the announcers more annoying than helpful. They’re always talking about every mistake we make, what we should have donebetter, and reminding us and everyone here about the pressure we’re under to succeed. It doesn’t matter if you’re at the CFR or some small-town rodeo, there’s always someone talking out of their ass.
Tilly seems to read every thought in my head and laughs. I can’t hear it from this far away, but I want to. Every shake of her chest and crinkle beside her mouth makes me want to kiss the living fuck out of her. There’s no settling this throbbing sensation of want in my chest. Not now that I’ve rekindled it.
“Carrigan!”
The guy standing at the steps of the chute platform waves a hand at me. My stomach jolts. One last look at Tilly is all I allow myself before turning away from everyone else. I move onto the platform with an ease that I don’t feel.
To everyone in the stands and back here watching me, I’m unfeeling. This is what I’ve always done, and I’m one of the best despite the decade I stayed off the circuit. There’s a natural confidence that I’ve always felt in this environment, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get nervous.
The horse in the third chute’s mine. He’s a cross of something thick and mean with a buck-off percentage that makes my gut tighten. I’ve ridden him a couple of times now, and each time, it seems like he gets smarter and more pissed. The last time he was beneath me, he slammed down hard enough that I tasted my spine.
My saddle’s gripping his body so tight it looks like it’s going to pop off at any moment. Diesel’s a big fucking horse, but he’s nowhere near the size of this one.
With a slow inhale, I climb onto the chute rail and balance over the horse’s back. I can feel the eyes on me from every goddamn direction as I lower myself into the saddle. The horse shifts, and a snort comes from him as the hands around mefiddle with every fucking thing they can reach. I take the rope held in front of me and run my glove up and down it a few times.
Someone fusses with the horse’s flank strap, and he rears forward, making the gate clang and clatter. I curse and steady myself as I hear my name get called out. The music is loud in my ears, proving to be the usual distraction it always is. The hands retreat, and then it’s just me and the horse.
Fuck. I nod my head, and the gate swings open.
We explode out of the chute. My vision blurs as Flatline launches his front end into the air. I jerk forward, gripping onto my rigging like it’s the only thing keeping me from getting launched toward the sun.Eight seconds.I brace myself when the horse stomps down and kicks his back legs.
He rears right, then whips up again,hard. My teeth rattle as my body lurches forward and then to the side. The crowd’s gone, and my ears are full of fuzz. There’s nothing here but me, this horse, and the rope gripped so tightly in my hands that my shoulder could fucking pop right out when he twists mid-buck. My left arm cuts through the air as I drive my heels high.
This fucking horse wants to shake my soul out, and I wonder for a brief moment if he’ll manage it when he hammers his back feet into the ground so hard I grit my jaw to block out the pain in my body. I don’t fly off, though. My ass stays in the saddle, and I yank on the rope, counting the last two seconds down in my mind.
The horn buzzes, and cheers follow. My grip stays tight on the rope as the horse keeps bucking, carrying us further down the arena. I see the pickup riders flanking us and pull my body upright on the saddle, trying to settle the fucking bastard. He doesn’t want anything to do with the idea despite his slowing bucks. His speed picks up as he finds his footing and races us through the dirt.
I’m a stubborn bastard and hold on for another beat before extending my free arm and letting the guy riding beside me take it. He grabs my side, and I dislodge my boots from the stirrups before letting him yank me clean off the horse’s back.
He sets me onto my feet, and I brace on the dirt, trying not to fall over. Once I have my footing, I watch the two of them get the horse back through the gates and out of the arena. My inhales and exhales cut through my throat as I snatch my fallen hat from the dirt and drop it back onto my head. Each step I take back to the chutes is jilted, sore.
There’s only one person I look for in the stands. Tilly’s all but draped herself over the railing as she watches me, her eyes wild and grin stretched as far as it’ll go without ripping her cheeks. There’s a warmth seeping into my chest that only seems to blaze out of control when she kisses her palm and then waves it at me.
