Page 95 of Riding the Storm
I grab my hat and shove it on my head.Fuck it.
I’ll find her. I’ll tell her everything—about the school, about my retirement plan, about how I might be about to fire everyone on my team and start from scratch. About how I don’t give a damn about the consequences or how any of it plays out, as long as she knows where my head and heart are.
The ranch is quiet when I step out into the evening air. The rain’s finally stopped. Crickets hum in the grass, and the last of the sunlight is dipping behind the mountains, washing the whole place in shades of violet and gold.
Damn, I love it here.
Charli’s got a way of making every-damn-thing complicated. One minute, she’s laughing with me, sparking with that fire I can’t get enough of, and the next, she’s pulling away like she never wanted any of it. Like none of it meant a thing.
This doesn’t mean anything.Those were the words she said our first night together.
But it meant something to me.
And I’m done pretending it didn’t.
I shove my hands into my jeans pockets and start across the yard, heading toward the barn. I’m not sure where she is exactly, but I figure I’ll start where she usually is—near the horses. Maybe she’s out working late, doing what I do when I’m angry.
Halfway there, I see movement by the far paddock. Headlights from a pickup flash across the gravel. Someone’s loading a horse into a trailer.
Midnight Storm.
I’d know that black coat and white blaze anywhere. The stallion lifts his head as I approach, ears twitching, nostrils flaring.
“Hey, boy,” I call softly.
He lets out a low snort, stamping once before turning his gaze toward me like he recognizes my voice.
Two men are standing nearby, Caison and another older guy, who’s gray around the edges with deep lines around his eyes. Caison’s steadyingMidnight’s lead rope while the older man checks the latch on the trailer door.
Caison looks up when he hears me. “Evenin’, Bryce.”
I nod. “Evenin’. Didn’t realize Midnight was heading out tonight.”
“Yeah,” Caison says. “Charli said he was ready, so we’re moving him over to Ironhorse until the stable is up on my property.”
I walk to Midnight’s right side. “Guess this is it, then, buddy,” I say as I snatch his neck. “Thanks for taking it easy on me.”
The older man glances at me, studying me with something like curiosity. “You’ve been working with this fella?”
“Yeah,” I say, stepping closer, reaching to stroke the stallion’s muzzle. “Spent a lot of mornings with him actually. He’s got more attitude than sense sometimes, but he’s a good boy. Strong. Proud.”
Midnight tosses his head, snorting like he knows exactly what I’m saying.
The older man chuckles.
Caison wipes his hands on his jeans and nods toward him. “Bryce, this is Giles Godwin. Head trainer over at Ironhorse.”
The name makes my jaw tighten. I remember Charli’s words clear as day—the way her voice shook when she told me about him leaving, about how betrayed she felt.
“He was like family. Then he walked out on us. Took everything he knew and handed it to Ironhorse.”
So, this is him. The traitor.
“Ah, yes, the famous bull rider,” Giles says. “It’s nice to meet you.”
I narrow my eyes, giving him a once-over. He doesn’t look like a villain. Just an old cowboy—worn boots, denim shirt faded to the color of the sky, hands rough from years of work. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t hurt them.
“You’re the asshole who left Wildhaven,” I say flatly.
