Page 3 of Maverick
Harmony has always been suited to her name. She’s always seemed to be singing notes that complement the song my parents are writing for their family.
I’m the discordant note.
I’m out on the rodeo circuit, and they’re still going to all of my sister’s events around, in pursuit of the brass ring – or the gold medal, as it were. Or even just trying to get on the main Olympic team and off the shortlist – which is where she made it last time. But still, farther than I did.
And yes, part of me misses that goal.
Because it meant a lot to me, because it has that cachet.
I’m trying to let it go.
I’m a winner in my field, and that has to matter. It has to be the only thing that matters.
Anyway, I have an event tonight, and I need to keep my thoughts in order. This season has gone off the rails since Colt’s injury, and I am not in an advantageous position. To go from winning the championship last year to not even making it would be such a punch in the stomach.
But I’m afraid I’m teetering on the brink of that.
And my sister is engaged, which shouldn’t bother me. It really shouldn’t. I don’t want to get married right now. I don’tfeel like I care about that at all, but I know my parents do, and it’s just more evidence of how much better she is than I am.
I’ve always thought it would be nice to be close to Harmony. When we were kids, we almost were. But there was always competition. We were always pitted against each other, even when we didn’t want to be. I think my parents really believed it would make us better. That a healthy competition would make us both work harder.
That worked with Harmony, I think.
Not so much with me.
But that urge to compete with her still exists inside me. It doesn’t motivate me. I’m much more likely to see her succeed, throw my hands up, and go off in another direction – see my whole barrel racing gambit.
But for some reason, knowing she’s taking this step that feels so…grown up makes me feel inadequate. Makes me feel like the screw-up.
My mid-twenties are feeling very mid indeed.
I take a breath and open up the back of the horse trailer, ready to get Cloud Dancing out of the back, when two guys walk by. Cade Lawson and Holt James; one of them rides saddle bronc and the other one is a tie-down roper. “Morning, Stella,” Cade says.
“Good morning.”
“We’re playing poker tonight. Fancy joining?”
He might be hitting on me. And maybe I wouldn’t even mind that. That’s another thing that keeps coming up with Colt getting injured like that. I just feel like time is passing by. I’ve been lost in this for the last few years, and nothing else has existed in my life. Especially not flirtation of any kind.
And if I’m honest…
I feel a shiver go up my spine, and I tell myself not to turn around. Because I already know exactly who has just approached us, I don’t even need to look.
My guilty pleasure, my deepest shame, the greatest sin I’ve never committed.
“What exactly’s happening?”
His voice is low, mellow, and enticing. He’s like one of those poisonous animals that lures you in by being appealing before he strikes.
Maverick Quinn.
I turn around, because there’s no avoiding it now. And Holt speaks before I can. “Poker game.”
Holt and Cade both look cagey now; Maverick has that effect on people.
He’s so good-looking it’s criminal. And hell, maybe so is he.
He has that look about him. Like he would be the outlaw in a western. And he really does look more like an actor than an actual cowboy. Like the guy you would cast, not a guy who should actually be here organically. His hair is such a dark brown it’s almost black, and he has a dark, heavy beard that covers what I sense is a perfectly square jaw. His eyes are dark, piercing. His nose angular, his lips…
