Page 84 of Shared on the Ranch

Seven days of grueling, tireless practice. Seven days of long, hot showers and back massages to remove the ache from her muscles. It had been hard, but it was the kind of hard Chyanne liked best.

And it had all been building to this.

“Are you okay?” Daddy asked at her elbow.

She made herself smile as she looked at him. “I’m fine.”

“Liar,” Master accused, but his voice was soft and fond. “We can talk about that later. Let me help you into the saddle.” Without waiting for an answer, he gave her a boost.

As soon as she was in the saddle, Chyanne felt her nerves dissipate.It’s going to be fine. Better than, even.

They’d done more than practice. They’d talked about Lance and worked out every single possible scenario. There had been moments when a repeat of what had happened the last time they rode in the same rodeo terrified her so much, she’d begged them to talk Nate into disqualifying the other man.

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” Daddy had reminded her, his voice full of understanding. “That’s what you’re getting—why shouldn’t he?”

“We’ll be right there,” Master had added. “We’re not going to let anything bad happen to you.”

It was a conversation they’d had a dozen times. She’d voiced her fears over and over again. After all, anything could happen, and faster than they could stop it. But her choices were either to not ride, or to take her chances. At the end of the day, she’d had to put the fear to rest.

And now that she was sitting atop Sunflower, she felt as at ease as it was possible to be right before a competition.

At least this one will be over soon.That was the other big difference between this event and the last one—barrel racing involved just her and her horse. The order that had been set meant that Lance would ride long before she did.

Don’t think about him, she coached herself, feeling Sunflower eager to go. She stroked her mare’s flank. “Almost time, girl. Almost.”

It felt like it took forever, even though it was probably only about five minutes of waiting. As soon as the announcer called her name, they took off—riding as one. They had practiced a lot. Chyanne had saddle sores that had saddle sores at this point. But something happened when her name was called—something rare and magical where she and Sunflower seemed to have an understanding and a common goal.

They took off like a shot and Chyanne held on to the saddle horn, lifting her body and spurring Sunflower on toward the first barrel. She was dimly aware of the noise around her—somewhere in the back of her mind she heard cheers from the crowd. But she had to block them out and concentrate.

Everything moved so fast. All the long, hard days of training boiled down to mere seconds of a competition. She had to keep laser focus, or it was all for nothing.

Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the saddle horn. They rounded the second barrel a little too tightly. Then she lifted in the saddle, spurring Sunflower on as quickly as she knew how.

Her mare responded like a dream, and they were racing for the third barrel at a speed that felt like lightning. They rounded it and headed for home. Only when they made it back to the stable did she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

And when she saw them, both of her handsome men waiting for her, she broke into a smile.

“You did great, baby girl,” Chandler said as he lifted her down from the saddle.

“You were like a blur!” Aaron enthused. “There one second, gone the next! You sure you don’t have some superpower you’ve held out on us?”

Chyanne giggled, all the nervous tension that had been in her chest evaporating. She hugged one arm around each one of them and they stayed like that for a few moments. It felt like coming home.

“So? How did I do?” she couldn’t resist asking when she’d gotten her fill of hugs.

Aaron’s eyes shone with pride as he answered. “Fourteen ten.”

She gasped, a hand going to her mouth. It was her personal best.

“Did I—” Before she could finish the question, she heard the sound of a loud, familiar voice.

“So, you finally found a way.”

She felt both of the men tense. But she walked forward, out of the shelter of their protection, to face the speaker. It was Lance, because of course it was, and his round face was red with anger.

“A way to what?” She couldn’t help but feel proud of the steadiness of her own reply.

“To cheat,” he spat at her, his eyes narrowing.

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