‘Ditto.’ Bianca raises a perfect eyebrow at her brother. ‘I’m not running after the horses. I trust you can handle it.’ She smiles wryly before turning her grin my way. ‘With Jordan.’
Now it’s my turn to wrangle shock. Which, I mean, I shouldn’t be shocked. Rebecca warned me. This is a Wilson family ambush. ‘What?’
‘You’re doing black magic, woman,’ Rod grumbles, poking Bianca in the shoulder as he heads out the doors and up towards the house.
Bianca scoffs. ‘Flying a little too close to the sun, dumbass,’ she calls behind her.
‘Well, then.’ Genny practically glows with satisfaction. ‘Jordan, want to tack up Hermes?’
Chapter Sixteen
Free Spirit
Rod
Jordan flies on horseback.
I’m not sure what the image was when I thought of her working the ranch back home, but what I get to see is incredible. She moves with her horse, in total sync, her body swaying with his gait. Her loose ponytail of straight black hair fans out behind her, the sun kissing her cheeks beneath the shade of the cap she’s thrown on, and yeah, even in those overalls she hates, she looks like an angel.
I’m hanging on for dear life by comparison. I meant it when I said I haven’t ridden since high school. It was very much a fad, and my horse, Tiramisu (yeah, I know, blame Genny), knows it. He whinnies amusedly as I twitch with every bump. We’re literally going, like, five miles an hour to Jordan’s light speed. I don’t know what I’m so scared of at this point.
By the time we finally come to a stop out by the pasture gates, on the other side of the property, where the horses are roaming freely, Jordan has the biggest smile on her face. Her eyes crinkle as she shields them from the sun. ‘How’s it feel to be riding again?’
‘Terrifying.’ I eke out a breath of relief when Tiramisu pauses before the gate. ‘How do you do this? Like … that was so …’
‘Rodeo. I’m just like May.’ She beams, ruffling Hermes’s mane proudly. ‘You think I got my belt buckles from eBay, cowboy?’
‘Uhhh …’
‘You earn the buckles by winning events,’ she explains. A semblance of laughter dances in her eyes. ‘Always earned, never given. May barrel-raced. I rode broncs.’
Well, that’s a can of worms she can’t close. My jaw practically goes slack. Broncs, as in bucking broncos? Death wish. This chick has a death wish.
‘Basically since I was a kid, I started riding. The bronc thing came later. I stopped rodeo two years back, though. And it was saddle broncs,’ she amends her previous statement, as if that makes it any better. For the record, I have no idea what that is, so I don’t actually know if it’s better or worse. She tips her head at the fence. ‘You wanna open this, or should I? Once it’s open, they’ll go. Whoever opens it can hold up the rear.’
There must be nothing but fear in my eyes, because Jordan smiles knowingly. ‘You’re not gettin’ down from there, are you?’
‘Nope.’ I shudder at the thought. I might be hallucinating, but I think Tiramisu shudders, too.
‘Alright, then.’ She clicks her tongue. ‘So you can rally rabid first graders like a pro, but you can’t stomach horses, huh?’
I shake my head insistently.
‘Special breed,’ laughs Jordan, but she swings her way off her horse, hopping down with a clop of her boots against the gravel. ‘No time like the present, then.’
Oh, no way. I’m not sure exactly how I got up here, but I’m pretty confident I’m not getting down. ‘Nope. Nope, nope, this is not gonna go well.’
‘Rodney.’ Jordan plants her hands on her hips exasperatedly. ‘This is not rocket science. This is not finding the meaning of life. You can get off the damn horse.’
‘I don’t know.’ My hands practically shake. I never had a traumatic horse experience or anything, just got thrashed around a few times. There’s something about it. Not being in total control of where you’ll go, what could happen. There are no best-laid plans when you’re on a horse.
‘Let me incentivize.’ She arches an eyebrow, crossing her arms. ‘You get off that horse, I owe you a very special tradition we follow in rodeo.’
Well. That freezes my shaky hands. ‘What kind of tradition?’
‘If you get the hell down, I’ll show you.’
Her eyes bore into mine expectantly. This woman is testing me. Messing with my brain chemistry. A smirk plays at the corners of her mouth, her dark eyes dancing. ‘Need help?’
