Page 53 of Wild Horses

Four.

Three.

Two.

A toothy smile stretches across my face.

One.

And here we go.

Some people wait to change into a buckle they’ve won. Some never wear them at all. And some, the really cool ones, strip off their old buckle and slide the new one on the minute they jump off their horse.

I’m fiddling with my new hardware when a big hand settles on my lower back. Instantly, I know who it is. The bugs crawling up my spine are all the indication I need.

“Cyrus, get your goddamn hands off me.”

“Easy, Lucky.” His breath reeks, a mix of stale beer and gingivitis. The paw on my back shifts forward, sliding toward my hip. “Since you’ve already got your belt undone, why don’t we?—”

The words cut off, followed by a grunt and the sound of flesh hitting flesh.Shit.I spin, expecting to find my dad gettinghis butt kicked by Cyrus. Dad’s a tough guy, but Cyrus is a scrapper with a lifetime of stupidity on his side.

My mouth drops when, instead of my fifty-year-old father, I see a handsome man with russet hair, a clean-shaven face, and the shoulders of a swimmer.

War pins Cyrus to the ground, his phone to his ear, as he grins at me. “Hey, sweetheart. I know you can handle yourself, but I’ve had enough of this guy.”

I move to hug him, ready to lay him out in a full-body tackle but decide at the last second to drop my weight onto Cyrus’ legs instead. Hugging War from behind, I ask, “What are you doing?”

“Here? Or right now?”

I stifle a laugh and bury my face in the soft flannel of his shirt. “Both.”

War grunts and shifts, fighting to keep Cy on the ground. “Right now, I’m keeping this asshole from running off before security can get here. In general, I’m here to celebrate with the woman I lo—really like.”

I’m about to correct him, to encourage him to say the rest of that first word. Love. Because I feel it, too. The last three weeks have been challenging, but it’s also given us time to get to know each other. Fast? Sure. But also achingly slow.

A familiar pair of boots and two sets of dark combat-style shoes drift into my peripheral. I look up to find Dad and two security guards watching us. Dad quirks an eyebrow. “Should have known following these guys would lead me to you, Mimi.”

I extend an arm and Dad pulls me to standing while the large uniformed men separate War and Cyrus. Pointing at the cowboy who once again attempted to ruin my night, I say, “He has a history of harassment. I have a complaint on file.”

The security guard mumbles something into the radio onhis shoulder before nodding at me. They grip Cyrus’ arms and lead him away; all the while, he’s cussing and swearing and making an even bigger ass of himself.

As soon as they’re out of sight, War has me in his arms.Thistouch is welcome. So, so welcome.

He presses a sweet kiss to my lips. “You kicked ass, Laramie. You and X were a well-oiled machine.”

My cheeks heat with his compliment. “You saw me? I was worried you might be bad luck. The one race I knew you were there for was a disaster.”

War throws back his head and laughs.The way I want to lick this man’s Adam’s apple…

“No way I’m bad luck. I watched you race live all three nights at Pueblo and Denver and for rounds one and two here.”

“What?”

He tilts his head toward my dad, who shrugs and tucks his hands into his pockets. “You aren’t the only one who knows how to video chat.”

Every cell inside me combusts into a pile of goo. “You watched all my races?”

“Yep. Cheered for you, alongside Tuesday, Bond, and the rest. You’ve got a pretty big fan club in Trail Creek.” He nuzzles his nose against mine until a cough from Dad pulls us apart.

---