Jesse James Jones, or ‘Triple J’, as he was called in the world of professional bull riding, may have paved the way for her, but Skye had held her own from day one. She worked like a dog, she rode like a cowboy, and she only had to be shown how to do something once before she mastered it. If Benji occasionally wondered why she jumped at shadows and always kept her duffel bag packed and ready to go in the wranglers’ cabin, he didn’t ask her about it. Some things, he knew, hurt too much to talk about and if Skye had wanted any of them to know about it, she would have told them.
She moved forward to stroke Diablo’s neck, her typically frenetic movements pointedly slowing when she came close to the horse. Her dog, a blue heeler mix named Bandit, sat at her feet, always perfectly behaved. ‘Do you think you could give me some lessons?’
‘Barrels?’
‘Yeah. Smokey’s not quite soft yet, but she wants to go. It’s taken me months just to get across that we don’t need to break into a gallop the moment I’m in the saddle.’
Benji thought about it. Skye and her Grulla Quarter Horse, Smokey, were an athletic pair. Skye was a good horsewoman, if a little green. But barrel racing was deceptively difficult.
The total distance run on a standard cloverleaf pattern was relatively short, but it required a horse and rider to reach speeds of up to thirty-five miles an hour on the straights and then make quick stops or ‘checks’ before turning each barrel. If the sanded arena conditions were too wet or too dry, if a horse took a barrel without perfect form, or a rider lost their seat, terrible accidents could occur. Horses could slip and hurt themselves, or tragically, fall onto their riders.
‘You plan on competing?’
‘I’m thinking about it. I would have said no even a few months ago.’ She shrugged. ‘But Smokey’s so athletic. It feels like a crime to deprive her of the chance to show off a bit.’
Benji nodded, considering. ‘I’m not the best at barrels. But Sierra …’ He trailed off as the beginnings of an idea took hold.
‘Sierra?’ Skye asked incredulously. ‘Sierra Hunt? The woman who just left in a business suit and a pair of shoes that cost more than I make in a month?’
‘That girl could whip both our asseswhilein those heels,’ he affirmed.
‘Nah.’
‘Oh yeah. Last time we did a barrel run for time, she beat me by a full two seconds.’ Two seconds didn’t sound like a lot to anyone who wasn’t a horseman, but it may as well have been two minutes in barrel racing, which was timed to the hundredth second.
Skye’s blue eyes widened. ‘Okay, I’m impressed. But I don’t think I’ve ever evenseenSierra in the barn before.’
‘Yeah, she …’She what?he thought. ‘She doesn’t ride anymore. But I’ll make a deal with you. Ask Sierra first. If she says no, I’ll give you the lessons.’
Skye eyed him sceptically. ‘Why do I get the feeling that you’re setting me up?’
‘Look.’ Benji turned, giving her his full attention. ‘I’ve been trying to get her back on a horse for over a year now,’ he said, sharing just enough. ‘She won’t hear it from me. But maybe if it was coming from someone else, someone who genuinely needs the help …’
Skye pursed her lips, considering. ‘What’s in it for you? No offence or anything, but Sierra doesn’t need the cash for giving lessons.’
‘None taken.’ Benji knew what people saw when they looked at him. It didn’t matter that he had hoarded every penny, forgoing vacations and expensive clothes and new cars so that he had had a decent pile of savings. His jeans were faded, his boots were scuffed, and he preferred it that way because when people looked at his clothes, they knew exactly who he was on the inside too.
‘What’s in it for me?’ he repeated. ‘Well, I’d get to see my girl on a horse again.’ Sierra wouldn’t have appreciated the sentiment, but that was exactly why he had to keep trying. Because maybe then the distance wouldn’t burn a hole in his stomach anymore. If he knew that Sierra had Ty to comfort her once he’d left again …
‘Oh.’ Skye ran one hand through her short, blonde hair. ‘I didn’t realize you two were an item …’
He didn’t explain, didn’t correct her. He said, ‘Honestly, Skye, if you get Sierra to agree to help you, I’ll add another two lessons a week until Mav’s on his feet and I have to leave. Free of charge.’
Skye cocked one hip. Her blue eyes narrowed in determination even as she said, ‘I’m getting the sense that convincing her isn’t going to be easy.’
Benji only smiled.
Chapter 4
True to Sierra’s prediction, Maverick was restless and grumpy by Friday night, only three days since returning home. As she and Nina filled out wedding invites and slipped them into their envelopes with the matching RSVP cards, Poppy sealed them and carefully placed stickers with the Hunt Ranch brand on the front. The five-year-old was intently focused on her task, her brown eyes narrowed, her tongue caught between her teeth. Even though most of the stickers were wonky, Poppy didn’t lose interest in her task.
Unlike her father.
Mav sat at the head of the kitchen table, restlessly tapping his fingers against the tabletop.
The lasagne that Sierra and Poppy had put together and timed to – hopefully – coincide with Markus’s arrival from LA was baking in the oven. Norah Jones crooned to them over the vinyl record playing in the lounge. The night was peaceful.Or should have been, Sierra thought as Maverick tapped his fingers on the table again.
Knowing that she would have been just as restless under the same circumstances, Sierra bit her tongue for a full twenty minutes. Instead of snapping at her brother, she deliberately tried to redirect her attention. ‘Nina, what time does Markus arrive?’
