Page 28 of Rodeo Rivals
Shaking her head, she turned to head back to her truck. She needed to think about this long and hard. This was about more than just her feelings for Wyatt and his for her. This was about their careers. Their carelessness had already impeded his competing. What would happen if they took it further?
Did she even want that?
Did he?
They should talk. Everything was up in the air. It was a recipe for disaster. They were on the wrong road. Unfortunately, they hadn’t exchanged numbers or anything. So, speaking with him would have to be done in person. Hopefully, they’d meet up at the next stop.
Or not.
Either way, the next time they ran into each other, they would have a conversation.
20
Wyatt
It was crazy. Wyatt had been off the circuit for months. He’d attended one and a half events since his return. Yet the break he was forced to take by missing out on Dalhart refreshed him. He refocused. The mental clarity he had achieved over the last few days had given him perspective. Between the gym and yoga classes, he planned a course of action.
It made his brain clear. Nothing muddied the waters, and it allowed him to truly embrace his sport. Finding a space where he could clock a few sessions on a bucking machine improved his timing.
His head was officially back in. Now, all he needed to do was get in the arena. His return to Mesquite, Texas, was his secondchance at his meteoric rise to the top of the standings. It’d be the magnificent night he’d dreamed of. Nothing would get in his way.
No distractions.
No nights out.
No one in his bed.
Wyatt wasn’t messing around anymore. This was his career—his life. He was a saddle bronc rider. It was time to get back to the seriousness. No more games.
Seth could fuck all the way off. They weren’t friends. There was absolutely no reason for them to speak to each other. His focus would remain solely on the horse he’d ride into glory, Miss Flora.
Keeping his gaze straight, his shoulders back, and his hands on his hips, Wyatt lunged forward, stretching to get himself limber for his time in the arena. No fuckups tonight. He would take it all. No excuses.
“You got a minute?” McKayla’s voice thrummed through every cell in his body.
It’d only been days since he’d seen her, and it felt like months. This was the opportunity he’d wanted. Though he would’ve preferred it to happenafterthe two of them had competed, he’d make now work.
“I don’t want to bother you or anything. I just want to clear the air,” she said.
Straightening, he nodded, doing his best to restrain himself. He had a lot to say, but this was her turn. His heart thundered within his chest. It felt like they were lovers parted by war for a year, and this was her triumphant return.
Damn. He’d never taken himself for a sentimental asshole before, but here he was, giddy as a schoolgirl that she showed up looking for him. What had happened to him over the last few days? He didn’t recognize himself.
“We’re fine,” he said, trying to keep this conversation short. He didn’t want to rehash what he had put behind him.
She picked at her fingernails and shifted her weight from foot to foot. McKayla had always appeared confident—a badass in every situation. Why was she so nervous now?
“I really appreciate what you did.”
He waved it off. “It was stupid.”
She frowned.
“I mean, I shouldn’t have hit the guy.” He scrubbed a hand up and down the back of his neck as he glanced around, noting that they were drawing a crowd again.
Shit.
He didn’t want complications. This had gone a thousand times better in his head. Then again, he’d planned this to happenafterthey got their scores. He needed to regroup and word it better.
