Page 38 of Wild Horses

Kit waves his goodbyes, and then it’s just Laramie and me. And Xpresso, of course. “Tell me what to do.” I shove my hands in my pockets and lean against the stall door.

The slight smile from earlier grows. “Well, you can start by actually coming into the stall.”

“Ah, yes. I see.” In two quick strides, I’m right next to her, gripping her hips, anchoring her to me.

There’s the barest hint of a sniffle when she says, “I think a hug first, then we can move on to getting X brushed, watered, and fed.”

I wrap my arms around her and bury my nose in her hair. She smells faintly of sweat, along with the usual sunshine, hay, and wildflowers: things I never knew I’d love mixed into a perfect bouquet that is uniquely her.

With a sigh, she breaks the hug. Her eyes dart between a shovel and a large bucket, but a glance at my tennis shoes has her laughing. Jerking her thumb at a bucket on the wall, shegives me instructions. “Fill that bucket with water; there’s a spigot in the center of the walkway.” She removes all the gear X wears, not even looking at me as she talks. “Xpresso isn’t a fan of the Lubbock water, so I sweeten it a little to encourage her to drink. When you get back with the water, you can add that half bottle of apple juice in the corner to it.”

Stepping up behind her, I brush her hair to the side and give her nape a kiss. “Yes, ma’am.”

She shivers. “Such a good boy.” My lips trace down the length of her neck until X snorts.

“I hear you, I hear you,” I say to the horse, raising my hands. I snag the bucket and go to find the water. It’s easy enough. There’s a line of people waiting with buckets that look like mine. Everyone is friendly, chatting while they wait, and I soak in the atmosphere and opportunity to people-watch.

Finally, it’s my turn, and I fill the bucket as instructed. I’m almost to the stall when a deep voice catches my attention. “Well, well, well, Lucky. Today just wasn’t your day, was it?” There’s an unmistakable sneer in his words.

“Why are you here, Cyrus?”

Quickening my steps, all my goodwill toward the rodeo community evaporates when the man—Cyrus—says, “Came to offer you another chance to ride something and actually get a prize.”

I step into the stall as he grabs his cock through his jeans.What the hell?

My mouth opens, ready to tell this asshole to fuck off, but Laramie beats me to it.

“I told you the last time you made that disgusting offer, I don’t ride Mini Shetlands. And even if I did, you couldn’t pay me to touch you. Hell, the head of the NFR could walk up right now and promise me the title just to look at your nasty cock, and it’d be the easiest no ever.”

My hands ball into fists when the cowboy rears back as if he’s going to come after her, but then he spots my furious glare and shrugs. “Whatever. All you barrel bunnies are the same. Enjoy faking it for the prick, Lucky.”

Laramie huffs out a brittle laugh. “Trust me, there’s no faking where he’s involved.” Then her brown eyes harden. “Now, get out of my stall.”

Every muscle in my body is taut, ready to forcibly remove this creep if he doesn’t leave on his own, but he slinks away, muttering a few more insults over his shoulder.

“Who was that?” I ask, setting the bucket down and mixing in the apple juice.

“That was Cyrus McClain. The asshole X bit and part of the reason I ended up in PT.” At my raised eyebrows, she waves. “Ninety percent my fault, but I’m putting the other ten on him. He baited me, and like a dummy, I fell for it, needing to prove myself.”

“Does he always talk to you like that?” I can’t stop the frown that pulls at my mouth.

“Yeah, but I can handle it.”

Echoes of Tuesday and the creep at work who preyed on her and then tried to blackmail her flicker through my mind. “I’m sure you can, but what about someone who can’t?”

She stops brushing X. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, not everyone is as brave as you. Sometimes men like that… they take advantage of others, and the ones they hurt find themselves with no one on their side.” I run my fingers through my hair. “Is there a governing board or someone you can report him to? That way, if anything else ever happens, there’ll be a record of his behavior on file.”

Laramie worries her lip between her teeth, deep in thought. “I never thought of that, to be honest. I always told him off, and he’d leave me alone for half a dozen events.” Sheabsently rubs her shoulder. “Shit, what if something happened because I didn’t report him?”

“Hey.” I move her hand away and lightly massage the area the way Dr. Panter did on my injury. “You aren’t responsible for his actions.” I swallow, the realization that what I said also applies to my father, Tuesday, and me. “And I’m not trying to mansplain or pressure you into doing anything.”

Her chuckle is a balm. “Let me finish up with X, and then I’ll go see the officials.”

Before moving away from her, I ask, “Besides what just happened, how are you? I know your ride didn’t go the way you planned.”

“I’m okay.” When I make a humming sound, she pauses and tilts her head as if reconsidering what she said. Slowly, she says, “I’m disappointed and embarrassed. I’m a better rider than what I showed today.” Turning her beautiful face to mine, she whispers, “Knowing you were here, watching me, I got a little in my head.”

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