“Giddy-up!” I said, instantly regretting it.
“Giddy-up!” Colton said enthusiastically back. He started the engine and revved it a couple of times. “YEE-HAW!” he screamed, a huge playful grin on his face.
Okay, I no longer felt embarrassed about my “giddy-up.” I laughed out loud.
“Oh come on, cowgirl!” He said, aiming the truck toward the road. “I need a yee-haw!”
“Yee-haw,” I said awkwardly, pumping my fist.
“You can do much better than that!” He said, revving the engine again. “YEE-HAW!”
Finally, I stopped smiling enough to let out my best, “YEE-HAW!”
“YEE-HAW!” Colton shouted again as he peeled down the driveway.
There was something about Colton that made me forget everything else. He was a big ball of positivity, and it was infectious. I wanted to ride with him to the next rodeo for somany reasons, but one of the main ones was because I needed his optimism.
I loved who I was when I was with him.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The poor Nash family had been bouncing around the country all summer, but luckily, Gurthie, Oklahoma, was only a little over four hours away from Amarillo, Texas.
Lucky me.
I had my mom’s text messages open on my lap, debating whether to text her now or drag out my nerves as long as possible.
“So, are you ready to tell me where you became the world’s greatest horseback rider?”
I turned my phone off, deciding to drag out the inevitable. I leaned on the middle console, smiling at him. “That’s a long, boring story,” I lied.
Colton was sitting comfortably in the driver’s seat, chewing on his fifth piece of jerky in four minutes. His hat was in the back, sitting on my suitcase, and his hair was wild. “I don’t believe it for a second.” He held out the jerky packet.
I shook my head. “That’s your choice,” I said teasingly.
“You’re as stubborn as a Texan,” he said in the same tone.
“How’s the NFR qualifying numbers lookin’?” I said in my Texas accent without thinking.
If Colton noticed, he didn’t say anything. He took a deep breath, threatening to snap the pearl snaps on his baby-blueshirt, unintentionally matching my tank top. “It’s good…it’s good,” he assured himself. “I swear my thumb is gettin’ sore from refreshing the screen all the time.”
“I bet that’s mentally draining.” I switched back to the Chicago Allegra voice.
“It can be,” he admitted. “I got really closelast year, and it wasdevastatin’. Right before qualifying rounds, I got a crap horse.” He leaned back in his seat, thinking back on the memory. “She jumped out of the gate too early, and her feet slammed on the dirt.” He glanced at me.
I didn’t say anything, wanting to hear it all from his perspective, and not wanting to give away how much I actually knew about this.
“That’s a heartbreakin’ moment; it’s an immediate no score. I was screwed after that, so I knew this would be the year. I wanted to have a cushion, even if I got a no-score. I needed a perfect ride every time.”
“And you’ve done just that.”
“Definitely not,” he laughed.
I leaned on the console, resting my hand on my chin. “Mr. Nash, a wise cowboy once told me that you need to accept the compliments you’re given.”
He grinned back at me, his smile almost as big as his dad’s. “Is that right? He sounds incredibly handsome and successful!”
I laughed. “He is! In fact, he’s probably the most attractive cowboy that I have ever met.”
