Page 5 of Her Filthy Cowboy

And I was back to being Savannah Sullivan, the nerdy journalist and the rival rancher’s daughter.

I can’t help but wonder if this bet is just another way for Brody to tease me. To prove that he can have any woman he wants. Old insecurities start to rise up inside me but I force them back down.

I’m not that shy, insecure girl anymore. I’m a grown woman, and I refuse to let Brody Clayton get under my skin.

“Fine, you’re on,” I reply. “And I hope you’re ready to lose.”

A sexy grin spreads across his face. “Well, well. Looks like my girl’s got some fire in her after all.”

“I’m not your girl.” I snap back. “And I’ve always had fire. You were just too dense to notice.”

Brody chuckles. “Trust me, sweetheart. I noticed.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever. Just don’t cry when I leave you in the dust, Clayton. Remember that time in high school when I beat you by a full length?”

Brody takes a step closer. Suddenly I notice how tall he is, and how his shoulders block out the sun. “Ancient history. I’ve learned a few things since then.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

He leans in close. “How to play the long game. Sometimes, losing the battle means winning the war.”

My heart races, and I struggle to form a witty comeback. Before I can, Brody straightens up and winks.

“Better get ready, Sullivan. Something tells me my luck’s about to change.” He gestures toward the distant tree line. “We’ll race to the old oak at the edge of the property and back. First one to cross this fence line wins.”

I nod, but I’m barely listening. My eyes are drawn to the way his muscles flex as he adjusts in his saddle.

Brody’s voice snaps me back to reality. “You got all that, Sullivan?”

“Yeah, yeah. To the oak and back. Simple enough.”

I swing back up into the saddle. Buttercup snorts and paws at the ground, sensing the tension in the air. I give her a reassuring pat on the neck as we trot over to the starting line Brody has marked out in the dirt.

“Ready?” Brody’s voice holds a hint of challenge.

I nod, gripping the reins tightly. “Ready.”

With a shared nod, we’re off.

The moment my horse breaks into a gallop, everything else fades away. The wind whips through my hair, and the rhythmic pounding of hooves fills my ears.

This—this is what I’ve missed.

New York was exciting, but nothing compares to the rush of racing across open Wyoming land. No towering skyscraper could ever match the majesty of the mountains in the distance, no busy street can compare to the beauty of the wildflowers blurring past.

For a moment, I forget all about Brody and this stupid bet. I’m just a girl on a horse, free and alive in a way I haven’t felt in years.

But as I glance over at him and see the fierce concentration on his face, a small part of me wonders what it would be like to lose. To give in to the attraction that’s been simmering between us for years.

As we round the old oak, and head back toward the finish line, reality comes crashing back. I lean forward and urge my horse faster. But it’s not enough. Brody surges ahead in the final stretch, crossing the finish line mere seconds before me.

Shit.

My heart pounds as I slow to a stop. Brody trots up beside me, a triumphant grin spreading across his face.

“And the winner is Brody Clayton!” The smile he gives me is pure sin. “Looks like you’ll be spending the night with me after all.”

I dismount slowly, my legs shaky beneath me. I’m not sure if it’s from the ride or Brody’s words. Probably both.

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