Page 21 of Since Day One

“That he’d make a great reining horse,” Bill said. Gunnar furrowed his brows for a moment as the wheels turned in his head.

“I don’t know much about training reining horses, but he ain’t cowey enough for cutting so might as well give him a shot,” Gunnar said, his face relaxing.

“I wanna see Willow ride him,” Bill replied, and both my mouth and Gunnar’s jaw dropped open.

“I’m sorry?” I blurted out in shock. Pointing at my chest, blinking rapidly, confused. “Me? You know me?”

“Her?” Gunnar exclaimed at the same time with a matching surprise etched across every inch of his face.

“Yes, her,” Bill said and faced me with concern. “You are Willow Summers, aren’t you?”

I nodded slowly, completely bewildered that this stranger knew who I was. We had not shared more than a word or two, and even that was only because I’d been unable to keep my mouth shut.

“Then yes, I want you to ride him. I did some research once I noticed that Outlaw just wasn’t quite like the other colts I’ve bred and came across T-Bar Ranch out in Texas. They’re rated the best reining facility in the country right now,” Bill stated, watching me closely, and at his words, a huge smile split my face.

“What’s that got to do with Willow?” Gunnar asked, confused.

“Well, Gunnar, Willow here is their head trainer.” Bill looked wide-eyed at Gunnar. “Did you not know that?”

Gunnar’s eyes drilled holes as deep as oil wells into me, and I couldn’t help it. I grinned even wider, feeling a little bit of justice come my way.

“Head trainer?” Gunnar breathed, still trying to comprehend the information that was just given.

“She’s been the NRHA champ for the past three consecutive years. Well, until this year, but that was a fluke.”

“HA!” I exclaimed, throwing a finger at Gunnar. His body sat rigid in the saddle, steam spouting from his ears.

“How the hell do you not know this?” Bill questioned, looking between Gunnar and me. The expression on his face was absolutely priceless, every ounce of my soul reveling in the astonishment that pulled his features still.

“Nah,” he muttered, staring at me in disbelief. His eyes dropped as I lifted my t-shirt and flashed my shiny buckle.

“You’re not the only one. Got this one last year,” I said with great satisfaction, pointing at the big trophy keeping my pants up.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Gunnar shook his head in disbelief. “No. No. That’s not real.”

Sensing there was no time like the present, I slipped my hand into my sweatshirt pocket, pulled out my spurs, and skipped down the bleachers. Hoisting myself up onto the rail, I dangled the shiny objects connected by leather straps in front of me.

“Come here, big boy,” I said, wagging a finger at Gunnar to come closer. He rode up beside me, and I pointed at the spurs. “These are mine.” I lifted my shirt again. Pointing at the buckle, I traced my finger across the word his eyes scanned. “Champion.”

Gunnar clicked his tongue and then began to laugh. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered, swinging a leg over and dismounting. Without hesitation, he marched right up to me, pushing himself between my thighs and leaned forward, studying the buckle once more.

“Stop staring at my crotch,” I demanded, and he rolled his eyes.

“Woman, you should’ve said something.” He lifted his hand and offered me the reins, his face practically level with mine.

“Would it have changed anything?” I asked, sliding them from his grasp and letting my fingers drift across his palm. His hazel eyes flashed toward where my touch lingered against his skin. My heart jumped into my throat, pounding heavily as the tips of my fingers tingled from where they grazed against his hand.

I wanted to touch him again; I wanted him to touch me again.

“I would’ve said yes,” he mumbled, his voice lower as he blinked, finally lifting his gaze to meet mine. He was so close, resting between my legs, the pressure of his hips against my thighs so distracting.

“Why?” I said, barely audible.

“Because you wouldn’t have set my training back that much.” The words slipped breathlessly from his lips. He was unable to move, and I didn’t want him to. I didn’t care what he was actually saying, even though I understood what he meant. While I didn’t know cutting, I was a top-end rider and understood the mechanics of a horse, which meant learning cutting would go smoother and with fewer mistakes than if I had less experience.

But that’s not what tumbled heavily around in my mind; that’s not what danced lightly through my head. It was his smell that gently floated around me. It was his warmth that draped softly around my figure. It was his hot breath that escaped his lips with every heavy pound of his heart. That was what was playing on repeat for me.

“The bruise and your finger,” he began, breaking the fire-roaring stillness.

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