Page 15 of Rodeo Rivals
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Wyatt
What washerproblem? Wyatt had said nothing to her he wouldn’t have said to any other rider. Well, that was a lie. He’d never talk to Seth about his form. If anything, Seth was the guy handing out unsolicited tips.
The more Wyatt thought about it, Seth was kind of a dick. He wasn’t always that way, but as he climbed higher in the ranks, the bigger his head got. That ego would get him in trouble.
Blowing out a breath, Wyatt took off his hat and scrubbed a hand through his hair. Talking to McKayla hadn’t gone how he would have liked. He meant to compliment her. What she’d done was damn impressive. He’d never seen a woman ride like that before.
As she walked farther away from him, he wondered what he should do. If he chased after her, he’d only make it worse. Why did it matter? There were dozens of rodeos going on. The odds of them seeing each other again were slim to none.
Well, that wasn’t really true. If they were on the same schedule and working toward the same goal, it was highly likely he’d see her again. He was getting back to the arena, and she had just qualified. So, yeah, they’d cross paths again.
Hopefully next time he’d do better. Right now, he had to get his head on straight. The only female that mattered was Virginia, a pretty little filly.
With his hat back on his head, he turned on his heel. Seth was done. Which meant it was Wyatt’s turn next.
As the judges announced Seth’s score, eighty-seven, Wyatt nodded. That was to be expected. Seth was at the top of his game. He led not only in the standings, but now he was the score to beat for this rodeo.
Wyatt was up for the challenge. He’d scored a ninety in the past. He could do it again. Why not tonight?
Shaking his hand, he got the last of the jitters out of his system.
“Showtime,” he mumbled to himself as he headed for the chute.
McKayla
McKayla bit her lower lip as she watched Wyatt rock back and forth in the saddle. When the horse dipped forward, he bent over her. Then she kicked her hind legs, and he flung himself backward, spurring her neck. Though he didn’t get very high. There had to be a good six inches between his heels and her mane.
He rode well, like a seasoned veteran with stiffness. It took a well-trained eye to see the kinks. Like when the mare switched leads, Wyatt lost the rhythm. The change of direction nearly tossed him off. He leaned a bit too hard in the wrong direction.
McKayla actually flinched with that last twist. He didn’t go with the animal. That was a dangerous move. It could end careers. Thankfully, he rebounded. He didn’t land in the dirt. He lasted the full eight seconds.
She nodded and clapped for him along with the crowd. Apparently, it was his return from an injury that had kept him sidelined for a while. At least, that was what the announcer said. The Texas crowd sure welcomed him back.
As the pickup men wrangled the horse and got Wyatt to safety, the speakers crackled. With bated breath, she interlaced her fingers and brought them to her chin. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she anxiously waited for his score. How would she compare?
Wyatt wasn’t a bad guy. She had wanted him to do well, but then again, if he did too well, it would be bad for her. Not that she hoped for him to have a bad day. She only wanted to have a better one.
There was no honor in wishing for others to perform poorly. She didn’t want to beat them because they weren’t at their best. The only way to prove to herself, and to the rodeo world, that she had what it took to compete was to beat them in their prime. While she may not have outscored Seth, she’d done damn well. There wereothermen she’d beaten. Would Wyatt be one of them?
“Wyatt Chase, out of Tennessee, on the night of his triumphant return to the arena, scored seventy-seven.”
McKayla winced on his behalf. It wasn’t a bad score. Hell, it was respectable, but she wasn’t sure if it would earn him a check worth cashing. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so mean to him before.
Wyatt
A goddamn seventy-seven. What the hell was that? He hadn’t scored that low in five years. What had gotten into him?
Seventy-fucking-seven.
What was he? A rookie? Anger vibrated in every one of his bones. How had he done so damn badly? He’d been loose. He was in better shape than he had been before his injury. How inthe hell had he scored so low? It had to have been the horse. Virginia had done him dirty.
Practically growling, he ground his teeth as he stomped away from the arena.
A hand clapped on his back, and he shrugged it off.
“You’re just rusty,” Toby, another rider, said.
