Page 22 of Destry

I frowned, confused, but followed his gaze. He wasn’t looking at the barrel racers, he was watching the tie-down event on the other side of the fence.

Specifically, he was watching Titus Cole, a new roper I had heard people out here praising but didn’t know much about because he wasn’t from Millers Pointe. What I did know was that he was fast and had been making a name for himself lately.

“Titus,” Destry said, nodding toward him. “He’s got talent. I’m watching him figure out his rhythm.”

I studied the cowboy for a moment as he curled his rope with his eyes locked and focused. He was damn sure efficient, and when he rode out, lassoed the calf, and had it tied in nine point six seconds I knew why people were whispering about him.

“Not bad,” I admitted.

“Not bad at all.”

The crowd cheered and I glanced toward the barrel racing side, noticing the next group of riders getting ready. The secondI saw the barrels lined up, my attention snapped away from Destry and I was hooked.

The first racer came shooting down the lane with the horse moving tightly and controlled as she rounded the first barrel with incredible speed.

I was stuck and every part of me was locked in, following every turn, every powerful movement, every calculated shift in the rider’s weight. I wanted this so badly.

I barely noticed when Destry turned his attention to me instead of the race but I could feel him watching and studying me, not the horses. I didn’t care.

This was my dream and I let myself absorb every detail. The race ended with a solid time, and as the rider slowed her horse, my pulse was still racing.

Destry chuckled beside me. “Didn’t think you could sit still long enough to watch something like this.”

I finally looked at him. “If it’s important to me I can.”

He smirked, catching my meaning that he wasn’t.

“And I’m learning, not just watching.”

His eyes left me and moved to the arena.

For a moment, we just stood there with the sound of the announcer calling the next rider’s name filling the space but the energy shifted again when the next rider took her place at the starting line. The announcer’s voice rumbled through the speakers and the crowd started in again, but my focus wasn’t on the barrels anymore.

It was on him...

He was still leaning against the gate, arms crossed, one boot propped on the bottom rail, watching me like I was more interesting than the actual competition.

I raised a brow. “What? You forget where the barrels are?”

His smirk deepened. Lazy, cocky and sexy. “Isn’t my fault they can’t hold my attention like you.”

“I won’t cry if you share?”

He grinned. “Not even a little?”

I rolled my eyes, turning back toward the arena, but I still felt him there, his presence so damn loud and dominant beside me.

“You ever gonna stop staring at me like I’m your next ride?” I muttered, smirking to myself.

Destry chuckled. “You’re saying that like I don’t already have the saddle picked out.”

I snapped my head toward him with my mouth opening, but no words came out.

He laughed and winked while I groaned, shaking my head. “I should be surprised that left your mouth, but I’m not.”

“You haven’t walked away so I’ll consider that a compliment.”

“I’m exhausted and comfortable. It’s not about you. Trust me.”

---