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“It’s okay,” Cole said. “But are you okay?”

His tone was more tender than I expected. He rubbed my back—something he shouldn’t do, but it comforted me.

“I’m… I’m fine,” I promised him. “I mean, I am going to have a huge bruise probably. I’ll replace Piper’s chaps⁠—”

“I’m not worried about that. Let’s get out of here and take care of your leg. That horse is dangerous with that woman up there.”

“I don’t even know what to say. The trainer and rider should be booted! She’s going to get herself or someone else killed.”

“That’s what happens when the trainer wants a horse, the rider has more money than self-awareness, and they want to strike a deal,” Cole muttered on the way out.

My leg smarted. Riley, taking a few hours to observe what the fuss was about, looked worried. Jerry, observed as Cole worked magic with leather conditioner, cleaning up the spots where she tagged me.

“I’m sorry,” Riley said. “That’s going to hurt.”

“It could have been worse,” I said. “Now you know why I’m wearing a damn helmet, Cole.”

We’d argued about my headgear. I agreed—probably stupidly now—to wear a hat only to compete in pattern classes when I was alone in the ring. However, I compromised and hoped I didn’t die. I told him there was no way I was wearing a damn hunter cap on a green horse in hunt seat. He agreed that was dumb and acquiesced. After his tumble the other day, he’d worn a hat every ride without an excuse.

“Keep it on,” Cole sighed. “If it stresses you less, just do what you want. If you’re on edge, Chlo, it will be worse. I don’t care.”

“Where did the ‘you’re showing my horse, so make her good’ stance go?” I said annoyed.

“My heart was in my throat,” he said tenderly. “I know when to call it and your brain isn’t worth the risk.”

Cole meant it. I wanted to swoon over his sweetness, but Riley shot us a confused look. Somehow, I worried they were on to us and changed the conversation.

“Unbuckle your chaps,” Cole said as we stopped.

“At least take her to dinner first,” Riley joked.

Cole rolled his eyes while I laughed and complied—or tried to. It hurt. He pulled down the double zipper to give me a break, but didn’t hesitate or worry about offending me.

“It’s really swollen. You need to take them off and ice,” he insisted under Riley’s watchful eye.

“What if I cannot get them back on?” I sighed. “No. It really isn’t that bad. Grab me some vet wrap and ice and I will wait until they call our class with my chaps like this.

“I’ll grab it,” Cole rushed off.

I fought the urge to let on how much my leg hurt. I was fine. Nothing was broken, but it throbbed. I knew some ice would do me good. I was too old just to rub some dirt on it.

“You okay?” A middle-aged woman held a can of Pepi—a beautiful spray that smelled like cotton candy.

We never used the stuff, but it was all the rage with quarter horses and paints.

“I’m alright,” I said.

“Here,” her husband handed me a chair. “Just sit and take a load off.”

“I think you’re too kind, but thanks,” I said.

“Don’t worry about it,” she assured. “You know Cole? He’s good people. Are you a new rider? I didn’t know there was anyone else showing Opal.”

“Piper is one of Riley’s students now.” I nodded in their direction. “She’s moving to dressage. I am also a dressage rider but he’s trying to sell the horse, and I volunteered to ride her in an open show. It’s a bit of an experiment, but we’ll see.”

“I couldn’t even tell,” the man chuckled. “Good on you. How long have you been riding?”

“About three weeks. Well, this horse, anyhow. Cole is working with a couple of my greenies. I have no idea why I agreed to do this, but here we are. I’m either brave or stupid. Do you have a rider here?”