Page 12 of Ace of Spades
“Oh?” I ask, a smirk pulling at my lips.
“No—it’s nothing,” Hailey is quick to respond, making my smile widen.
“Oh, come on. Try me,” I wink.
She narrows her eyes at me, and I can see the flame in those amber irises come to life at the challenge.
“I don’t need help, I’ve got it handled. Just some issues coming down the alley is all, and cutting too close into the third. She’s just a little bit… hot-headed. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Right, well,theoretically—what would you do in that situation, Wes? If you were working on someone’s barrel horse?” Ava asks.
Hailey’s features set to a scowl, but I don’t miss the way her eyes glance my way. This girl was too stubborn for her own good.
“Well,theoretically, I would try going back to the basics. I would cut down full-outs altogether during practices, and only practice the routine at a light lope, or even a trot.”
“Your advice is going slower? Correct me if I’m wrong, but from my understanding barrelracingis supposed to be a race,” she responds.
“You knocked over the third today because she rushed it, right? Not you, her—shemade that decision.Shecut it tight because she anticipated that home stretch coming. After all, you let her race it every single time, so that’s what she expects.”
Hailey’s scowl softens the slightest, as if she knows I’m right.
“At least try this,” I continue. “Go ahead and run the pattern, and then slow her down coming into third. She’s going to try to test you, because she’ll want to run, but that’s exactly why you’ll bring her down to lope. Better yet, bring her down to a walk if you can. Do that a handful of times, and then try going full-out. It’s not about her speed, the mare can run–I’ve seen it. It’s about the control coming into the barrel. If you blast right through it, you’ll knock it over every time. Don’t let her get the upper hand on you,” I finish, bringing my beer to my lips and slamming the last of it before placing the empty bottle on the counter between us.
Hailey remains silent, her eyes studying me curiously. I can tell she’s probably trying to figure out if it was quality advice, or if I was trying to mess with her.
“Thanks,” she finally admits, sticking her nose in the air in the same fashion that she had a tendency of doing around me. The girl was every bit as spoiled, and definitely the slightest bit bratty, as expected. Everything she owned was top-of-the-line, from her forty-foot living quarter horse trailer to her brand new truck and custom saddles and tack. But that's beside the point, because the fact was, it doesn’t matter what someone has or doesn’t have; it was their attitude. And whether or not she realized it, Hailey seemed to have a bit of a snobby one.
Or maybe that was just my built-up anger from dealing with her father all week, trying to make my mom look like a crazy person for having the audacity to stand up to him. He was an emotionless prick, and I could only imagine that Hailey must have picked up some tendencies from him along the way.
There was one thing I was willing to credit her with though, and that was her drive. When I had watched her ride today, it hadn’t been like some of those other ‘daddy’s money’ cowgirls around here that were here for the parties and the attention. No, she genuinely looked like she belonged in the saddle, with a fierce determination and a hunger for the sport. But it didn’t change the fact that as much as I found myself attracted to her, and as much as I didn’t blame her for her father’s actions, I still couldn’t help the grudge that rested somewhere in the back of my mind.
“Don’t sweat it. There are just some things that those high-end trainers can’t teach,” I tell her, offering her a saccharine smile. As much as I couldn’t stand her half of the time, there was some part deep inside of me that wanted to keep pushing her to seewhat would happen. There was something so satisfying about egging her on.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she demands, her guards instantly rising back up.
“Take it how you will, Sorrels.”
“You don’t even know me,” she argues with growing frustration.
“I don’t particularly care to,” I tell her, my tone completely unbothered.
“Okay, what is going on between the two of you?” Ava interrupts.
“Nothing,” Hailey says, shooting daggers at me as I lean back against the counter, popping open a new beer and bringing it to my lips.
“Doesn’t sound like nothing to me,” Chance pretends to whisper to Rafe before taking a sip of his own.
“Just some friendly banter, isn’t that right, Hailey?” I ask, a smug smile lifting at the corner of my lips as she offers me a malicious one in return.
“Totally,” Hailey states. “Say, Wes—I heard earlier that you got kicked out of the WRS finals banquet last year for getting too drunk. I’m so sorry, that must be pretty embarrassing.”
The others remain silent as they continue to watch us, exchanging silent glances and sipping from their drinks.
“It’s all good. Speaking of embarrassing—How’s your boyfriend?”
Hailey tries to act unphased, but I can see the slight tick in her jaw.
“Oh, he’s great. Two-time champion team roper, if you haven’t heard.”
