Page 29 of Fall With Me (Sugarland Creek)

“Mom!”

She laughs. “I’m just sayin’. You’ve been barrel racin’ for a long time. It’s okay to add in other hobbies and make friends. Otherwise, you’re gonna end up old and alone.”

“I have friends.” I snag one of the biscuits and take a harsh bite, nearly burning my tongue. “And I can’t have otherhobbiesif I wanna win first at nationals. I can’t afford to slow down when I’ve been so close.”

“You will, sweetie. But it wouldn’t hurt for you to have a life outside of racin’.” Mom pats my shoulder with a sincere smile. “And I’d like to meet thesefriendsof yours.”

“You’ve met Noah.”

“Someone we ain’t payin’.” She gives me a challenging look.

Holding up my hand, I count on my fingers. “Magnolia. Mallory. Fisher. Wilder. Waylon. Ayden. Tripp. Ruby.”

Over the past four years, I’ve become friendly with most of the people who live and work on the ranch. Magnolia owns a mobile coffee business and whenever she’s parked at the retreat, I always swing by for a latte and chat.

Fisher helped treat Ranger when a nail got stuck in his hoof a few years ago, but I still see him around, too.

Ayden and Ruby work in the stables, so I see them almost every day. Ayden’s married with two kids. Ruby’s been with her boyfriend for years but constantly reminds us they’re not engaged. Trey moved to Georgia with his high school sweetheart over a year ago, but when he was here, I’d wave and say hello.

Mallory’s fifteen and loves to talk my ear off about Taylor Swift and the latest boy she’s crushing on. Usually ones with a J name, and I warn her to run far away from them.

And the other Hollis siblings,excludingLanden, I’m nice to them anytime I see them.

So if that’s not having friends, then I don’t know what is. We may not hang out and talk about pop culture or who’s sleeping with who, but being social doesn’t come easy to me. Small talk makes me uncomfortable, but I still attempt it so people don’t think I’m being rude or ignoring them.

Mom tilts her head. “All from the ranch. And talkin’ to ’em in passing doesn’t count. You need to have actual conversations outside of work. Go to a bar like a normal twenty-something woman. Have some drinks and dance. Not every aspect of your life has to be structured.”

Sighing, I drop my arm and blow out a frustrated breath. This isn’t the first time she’s lectured me about not having a social life, and I’m willing to bet it won’t be the last, so I give in so she’ll drop it.

“Fine. I’ll make plans if it means you’ll leave me alone about becoming an old horsewoman.”

She laughs softly, and I take that as confirmation of a deal.

“Seinfeld’s over. Dinnertime.” Aunt Phoebe comes in and sits in her spot across from mine. Before I take my seat, I help Mom bring the food to the table and then we all hold hands and say grace. It’s Wednesday, which means it’s breakfast for dinner—biscuits and gravy with a side of scrambled eggs.

We eat until five-thirty, Mom serves homemade Apple Pie à la Mode for dessert, and then by six, I’m loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters. Tonight’s laundry night, so I can pack tomorrow for this weekend’s race, and then like clockwork, I’ll shower, get ready for bed, and read for an hour before I fall asleep by ten.

Routine.It’s the only way I know how to function after my mental state tanked, and I lost the one person in my life who meant more to me than anything.

Chapter Six

LANDEN

As I watch one of our stallions attempt to mate with one of the many mares we board during breeding season, I find amusement in how watching them have sex is my job.

Ranchers from around the state bring us their horses, I make sure they get pregnant, and then once the season is over, we send them home to deliver their babies.

At the moment, Rocky’s in the pasture with Maggie Mae, getting more action than I’ve had in the past two years.

When I’m not witnessing horses getting it on, I’m hooking up our stallions to a breeding mount, inserting their massive dicks into an artificial vagina, and collecting their sperm. It’s another option for ranchers to impregnate their mares without bringing them to a stud farm. Afterward, we send the semen for evaluation and processing before it’s shipped out.

So every day, I watch. I ensure the mares get pregnant to keep up our ninety-nine percent success rate.

Worst part? I signed up for this voluntarily.

My siblings love to give me shit for it, too. Wilder started sending me live webcam streams as a joke, but the joke was on him because who was I to say no to watching pretty girls? Andbecause my brothers can’t keep their mouths shut, word got out about it. Not only that, I asked Tripponemanscape question and Magnolia, having no boundaries with their phones, saw various angles of my dick.

That was the last time I reached out for help.

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