Chapter Eight
Aweek after the festival started, Zoey finally got her opportunity to go full bore on constructing an arena. Brandon and Allie were both working the morning shift at the fair, so she had the property to herself—well, with Honey, but she didn’t mind that one bit. The large Labrador mutt mix with long white hair and massive paws was intimidating in size but cuddly as a teddy bear. She got up before dawn and was out the door, meeting Honey in the back, the moment Allie and Brandon pulled out of the driveway.
She let the horses out, all seven of them—her three and Brandon’s four—and they wandered in the adjoining corral. Honey ran around with them, rolling in the dirt and rubbing against their legs. Seeing the horses out in the small space was all the motivation Zoey needed to push forward with her plan. Remembering what Hunter told her about his tractor and what it could and couldn’t plow, she went out to the field behind the house and spent an hour clearing big rocks and branches.
She’d seen Brandon working with his horse, Titan, and she just knew that that horse was a rodeo horse. Just like her horses, that wild spirit needed competition to feed his soul. But Brandon’s other horses deserved an arena of their own too. After clearing the area as best she could without the tractor, she grabbed the flags she’d purchased at the hardware store in town, and she marked off where she wanted it to go.
It was going to be marvelous.
Cher Bear came to the fence separating the corral from the field and snuffed at her.
She rubbed his jaw. “It’s all right, buddy. The arena will be done soon, and we can get back to practicing more.” When her dad had given her Cherokee, he said it was because the horse had the same wild spirit she had—and he did. Neither one of them could stand being cooped up for long, and both needed the freedom rodeo offered that they found nowhere else.
He nuzzled into her hair, and she gave him a squeeze.
“You understand, don’t you,” she said.
Not that she minded going to the Westbrooks’, but she never felt she could stay as long as she wanted. Hunter was always right there, waiting his turn in the arena. The man was a machine, arriving at the same time every day. He always ran the tractor around the arena first and then went to saddle. If she was in the barn when the tractor started up, his horse, Penny, would snort and paw at the stall door, knowing she was about to get a workout.
Zoey finished the field with a skip in her step, took a shower, picked a cute but functional outfit, and did her hair and makeup—not because she was going to see Hunter, but because her exertions had made her sweaty. She didn’t even bother thinking about why he’d popped into her head as a solution to her arena issue as she applied a liberal amount of mascara on her already dark lashes. It wasn’t like she was borrowing him; she wanted the tractor.
At a little after eight, she pulled up to the Westbrooks’ arena, her heart picking up speed when she saw Hunter out on a massive black stallion with a smattering of gray spots running up his legs and covering his belly—it was a beautiful stud. Hunter had a dark felt hat on today and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. In the low light and mist of the morning, he made a fine figure. She parked her truck and noticed him looking her way.
She paused a beat, taking a deep breath to calm herself.
Last she’d seen him, really seen him, had been on Sunday when she’d been at church with Brandon and Allie. She’d gotten to officially meet most of Hunter’s family, but they hadn’t talked much and barely had a moment alone together, which had disappointed her more than a little.
She’d gotten to talk to Hunter’s mom, Carrie, a bit, though, and she adored the woman, whose optimistic attitude and quick wit reminded her of her own mother. Plus, she admired her. The Westbrooks worked hard on their land and with their cows and the horses, and Carrie Westbrook was the hub that held them all together. Tom had made that fact more than clear.
Zoey had found herself stealing glances at Hunter, admiring his strong physique and broad shoulders, the way he talked with his hands, and the pretty coppery brown of his hair as he’d run his long fingers through what looked to be silky locks. He’d seemed so reserved until he’d been with his family, and then it’d been open smiles and laughter and teasing. That had left a different kind of longing in her, making her think of her brothers and how she needed to fix the mess they’d gotten into.
Then, for the rest of the week, Hunter was either just finishing up or just getting started with his horses when she’d arrived.
Now, she walked over to the barrier around the arena and leaned against the rough edge of the wooden fence to watch.
He put on a good show for a few minutes, then slowly made his way over to her, mist wisping around the horse’s feet as he got closer. He pulled up a couple yards from the fence and lifted the brim of his hat.
“Zoey.” He leaned forward on his pommel, making his forearms flex. “Not riding this morning?”
She grinned. “Actually, I have other plans in mind.” Had that sounded suggestive? Her cheeks heated.
He quirked a brow and held back what would’ve surely been a smirk. “Such as?”
Swallowing hard, she turned from him and pointed across the field. “Can I borrow your tractor?”
Sliding off his horse, he gripped the reins and came over to the fence by where she stood,
leaning against it. “What for?”
“An arena behind Brandon’s house,” she said. “I cleared the ground of large rocks and branches this morning. And I was hoping I could do the rest with the tractor.”
He stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Nope.”
She pulled her chin back. “Nope?”
“Nope.” He moved away from the fence and led his new horse toward the barn. She’d overheard him talking about the stud to his cousin, Leanne, after church.
Blinking in surprise, she watched him strut off as her brain stuttered to a stop. It took a solid ten seconds before she got her wits about her and chased after him. “Why not?”
