Page 100 of Hidden Memories

“You sure you want to lose in front of an audience?”

“Big talk,” she says, standing up straighter.

Somewhere in our back-and-forth, I didn’t even notice Owen sidle up next to us.

“Wait. Are you two racing?”

Now Theo is here, interested, too.

Owen’s eyes light up. “On the trails?”

Am I really letting her on my track?

This woman has already torn down walls I thought were impenetrable. And now I’m about to let her set foot on the one place I swore was mine alone?

Who the hell am I kidding? She can have anything she wants from me.

Still burning intimidation in Kat’s direction, I answer Owen, “On the track.”

His face falls. “Wait, but you said…”

“I know what I said.” I place a hand on his shoulder. “But Kat and I have unfinished business.”

And because sayingnoto her isn’t something I’m capable of.

I offer a distraction before they can argue. “We’ll warm up the horses, take a ride around the perimeter. Then, if you and Theo want more time, after our race, we’ll head to the indoor arena. You can pop some jumps, show off on the barrels, maybe teach Theo how to use a rope.”

But they’re barely listening. The boys have already forgotten about themselves.

They’re ready for a showdown.

The track shimmers under the afternoon sun, an oblong ring of earth bordered by sturdy fences and rolling hills.Theo and Owen sit perched on the top rail, their cheers and jeering carrying on the breeze. Keeper and Mila sit obediently at their feet, tails thumping in the dirt.

Kat mounts Fuego, her movements smooth and confident. She’s a vision, her hair catching the sunlight as she adjusts the reins and settles into the saddle.

I climb onto Chispa, shooting her a cocky grin. “Last chance to back out.”

She snorts. “Keep dreaming, cowboy.”

But when she pats Fuego’s neck, I see that prayer in her touch.

Owen raises his arm, his excitement contagious. “On your marks… get set… go!”

We’re off, the horses surging forward in unison. The wind rushes past, carrying with it the echoes of our past—a time when we were younger, wilder, and untethered. For a few fleeting moments, it’s as if nothing has changed.

Kat pulls ahead, her almost nervous laughter ringing out as Fuego stretches into a full gallop. She’s not unsteady but bounces around more than she used to. Her joy is infectious, and I can’t help but laugh, too, urging Chispa to close the gap.

It’s only five furlongs—twenty seconds at most—but damn if it doesn’t feel longer. I could pull ahead. Ishouldpull ahead. But something in me won’t.

Instead, I watch her. The way her body moves with the horse, just a fraction off from what it used to be, her balance less instinctual than it once was. But the grit? The fire? That’s still there.

And so is the part of me that would still give her the world, even if it means letting her win.

We cross the finish line neck and neck, and I barely have time to process how fucking good this feels before she’sslowing down, her hair a mess of wind-tossed waves, her cheeks flushed with exhilaration.

God help me, I want to lay her down right here in the dirt and wreck us both.

I fucking loved every minute of that. I’m proud of the man I am, but sometimes, I miss my youthful abandon. A reckless race with no prize to win. The chase…

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