Page 3 of Destry

I smirked, remembering the way she’d wanted to deck my ass earlier when I took the saddle from her. Stubborn little rebel. I half expected her to punch me for helping, but she let me do it, even if it had damn near killed her pride.

I found myself wondering what else would make her give in.

“You gonna stare at her all day or you actually gonna get some practice in?”

I turned my head and caught sight of Jace, my best friend. The only person who could call me out on my shit without getting knocked on his ass. He was leaning against the fence next to me with a cocky grin on his face.

“Not staring,” I muttered.

Jace snorted. “Right. Just standing here, watching her like a lost fucking calf. What is it with you and the ones that don’t give a damn about you?”

“She’s interesting,” I admitted.

“That’s one way to put it.”

I ignored him and kept my eyes on Savannah as she finished up with the horse. When she turned, she caught me watching, and instead of looking away, she raised an eyebrow like she was daring me to say something. That shit made my dick hard. She was rebellious as fuck and damn sure didn’t give a damn about my name or status.

I liked that. I fucking liked her. I pushed off the fence and made my way over.

“Don’t you have bulls to ride or something?” she asked before I could even get a word out.

I grinned. “Don’t you have saddles to carry?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You helped once, I’ve been working hard all morning.”

“I’m sure you have.” I adjusted my hat, taking my time as I looked her over. The way her jeans fit, hugging her thighs and ass, was a nice visual. “You’re doing your thing. You work pretty fast.”

“I work hard.”

I nodded, pretending to consider that. “You like it out here?”

She hesitated, just for a second, and that told me more than words ever could.

“I like the horses,” she finally said. When she wasn’t watching me, she was watching the women practicing their runs with the barrels.

“You race?” I asked. The few times I had time to check on her throughout the morning her focus was on the barrel racers who were practicing. I figured that had to be her thing

She stiffened, just a little. “I don’t have a horse to race.”

I knew that wasn’t the whole story. If she had the skills, she could find a way to compete. She could borrow, lease, hell, train under someone. Something was stopping her. I let the silence stretch between us, watching the way her fingers curled into fists at her sides, like she was holding something back.

“You wanna race?” I asked.

She blinked up at me, guarded. “What’s it to you?”

I shrugged. “Maybe I like seeing you ride.”

A flicker of something crossed her face before she masked it.

“You haven’t seen me ride,” she said.

“Not yet.”

Her eyes narrowed like I struck a nerve. Damn her pretty ass really wasn’t fucking with me. She took a step back, shaking her head. “I have work to do.”

I let her go, but I didn’t miss the way she hesitated before walking away like maybe she wanted to stay. I watched her disappear into the stables, with a plan already forming in my head. Something about her pretty ass had my attention and my dick hard and a woman doing both didn’t happen often.

Savannah Gentry might not have been impressed by me like the others, but that just meant I had to work a little harder and I didn’t work for women. Didn’t really have to. She was holding something back, and I was curious to know what, but it would have to wait because I had my own work to do.

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