We stood in silence for a bit, watching the event.
“All right, folks. Our next roping team is a couple of cowboys from Montana. Hayden Watkins and Keenan Chase! Let’s see what they’ve got!”
As the pair backed their horses into the roping boxes, Haley nudged me gently with her elbow. “Isn’t that the team roper you’re always hanging around?” When I nodded, she continued. “Is he your boyfriend?”
I puffed out a breath, trying to conceal a laugh. “No. Keenan is like an annoying brother.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, I meant theother one. His partner. Hayden.”
Sucking on the inside of my cheek, I averted my eyes. “Hayden’s just a friend.”
In the arena, Hayden had already roped the steer’s horns, turning Peanut Butter around the corner for Keenan. He roped the hind legs with ease, and the announcer called out, “Five-point-six seconds for Hayden Watkins and Keenan Chase! Let them hear you!”
Haley shot me a look of understanding. “I see. Well, he seems like a good one, Sierra. Glad to catch up. I’ll see you around?” Her eyes flicked to the arena, and we exchanged parting pleasantries before heading in opposite directions.
Fate must not have been on my side, because despite my pleasant conversation with Haley, shortly after she left, another one of the barrel racers shoved past me. Michaela Monroe.
Her blonde hair was curled into too-tight ringlets that fell mid-back. She looked like a beacon with her glittery, neon-pink button-up and stark white cowboy hat.However, instead of leading me to safety like a lighthouse, she was a siren song, steering me to imminent doom.
Michaela was one of my biggest barrel racing competitors at the moment. We’d been flip-flopping positions in the standings all year. She also happened to be a Grade-A bitch, always picking apart my appearance and performances.
“Oh, sorry, Sierra.” She stopped a few feet away before spinning around on her heel to face me, gaze fixed on me, no doubt scrutinizing something. “Your hair’s gotten so long. I can’t believe it doesn’t get in the way while you ride.”
I kept my gaze locked on the arena as I bit back a sarcastic comment, resisting the urge to ask how her tight curls don’t give her a massive headache. I could be the bigger person…sometimes.
“Pure skill,” I deadpanned, suddenly finding something on my nails to inspect.
She hummed, a subtle, patronizing mannerism that I’d gotten used to in our years of competing against each other. “Where have you competed this year? I haven’t seen you around that much.”
My eyes flicked toward her. “I’ve been in Montana the last few months.”
“I was wondering where you were when I didn’t see you in Reno or Cheyenne. Thought you might have disappeared off the face of the Earth again after Houston. Or maybe you just weren’t good enough to make it to those ones.” She let out a snicker that to any bystander would have sounded like we were old friends having a good time. However, I knew better.
“No, I just had different priorities this year. Clearly, it’sbeen working out for me. Where are you sitting in the standings?”
The corners of her mouth fell into a frown. “Apparently. I’m sixteenth, but there’s still a lot of season left. Anything can happen, you know.”
“That’s so true.” Turning on a saccharine charm, I rotated my body toward her. “Well, Michaela, it’s alwayssuch a pleasurecatching up with you. I’d better go warm up my horse. Good luck out there today.”
I heard her scoff as I walked away, my lips curling up in a satisfied grin.
Lucky chuffed and pawed at the ground when I approached him to warm up.
I took my time securing his tack, careful to double-check the straps for any damage, going as far as to triple-check the saddle was tight enough and wouldn’t slip.
With the announcer and roar of the crowd in the background, I rode Lucky around a warmup pen a few times at a lope. We didn’t do that for very long, but once we were going, we didn’t stop moving, continuing to walk around the rodeo grounds because otherwise he got impatient and restless.
“Go get ’em, cowgirl.” Hayden winked as he passed by me and Lucky as we stood in the queue for our race. The rider immediately before us had just finished, exiting the alleyway. Her time was decent, but I knew I could beat it easily.
I shot him a lopsided smirk before leading Lucky toward the alleyway.
“Sierra Bayley from the state of Montana! Here she comes!” The pounding of my heartbeat in my ears drowned out the crackle of the announcer’s voice on the speakers and the roar of the crowd.
Lucky sped down the alleyway into the arena, and I guided him toward the first barrel, cutting around it with ease. Dust rose into the air, surrounding us in a hazy cloud. The second barrel came easy, too, and Lucky glided around it like it was nothing.
He ran toward the final barrel with my gentle kicks urging him on. Our position was solid, and we should have been able to make it around the last barrel without a hitch.
“Let her hear you, folks! Help her around the third and final barrel!” The announcer called out his encouragement as we approached the turn.
