Page 107 of The Wildest Ride

“My horse won’t eat.” Normally, he wouldn’t be so blunt, easing into the thing with a little conversation before running her down with his needs, but a night with no sleep, following multiple nights with poor sleep, coupled with a hungry yearling, and he didn’t have time for niceties. His horse needed help and he knew she was honorable enough to give it, no matter how close they were in the competition.

Lil frowned, her familiar seriousness returning to her visage.

“Where’s he at now?”

That she’d remembered he’d chosen a colt said something about her attention to horses.

Noting the signs of horse madness on her, he smiled, tucking the detail away as he led her through his bunk, the bed obviously unslept in, and into the connecting stall.

Inside, Bullet stood against the far wall of the stall, half-hidden in shadows.

Immediately, Lil started making babbling soothing noises and the horse’s ears began to twitch.

Not long after, the colt had made its way to Lil and was sniffing at the oat mix she held in her hand.

Soon, the horse was eating, albeit right next to Lil, chestnut flank pressed against her thigh, while AJ watched in amazement as she accomplished in minutes what he hadn’t been able to do all night.

“How’d you do it?” he asked.

“I didn’t do anything,” she replied. “He’s just lonely.” She said it matter-of-factly, like she’d heard it directly from the horse’s mouth, when there’d been not a real word exchanged.

“Oh,” he said lamely. What she said made sense, though.

They’d been instructed to keep the colts separate, scheduling the round pens individually and using the pastures, treadmills, and lead machines on a rotating basis. AJ’d been good about following the rule but hadn’t otherwise thought about the colt’s company.

Reading his thoughts, Lil said, “It’s a big adjustment to go from being wild and free, playing with your friends and nuzzling your mother, to settling down and getting to the work of life. A horse can get lonely.”

If she weren’t talking about his charge, and the situation hadn’t had genuine consequences, he might have laughed at her complete earnestness. She was unselfconscious in her methods, whether they were the little twist she added to steer wrestling, or her consideration for a horse’s emotional life, and he admired that about her.

“I guess I’ll be spending more time with him, then.”

Bullet headbutted her in the thigh, and she laughed at him before patting his neck, her smile entirely for him, the lucky little bastard.

She wore a thin old T-shirt with her jeans and boots, the faded wordsIandrodeoseparated by a big red heart. The T-shirt, combined with the ponytail, made her look about ten years younger, far too young for a man his age.

Yet, despite the fact that she was nearly eight years younger than he was, she was an adult woman, well old enough to decide if she wanted the same thing he did.

The bigger question, then, was was he sure about what he wanted?

From the ages of twelve to thirty, there had been no question: the only thing he wanted was rodeo. For the last six years, though, and particularly since he’d retired, things had become more complicated. What did he want to do with the rest of his time? He’d exhausted himself running from the answer for so long, but looking at Lil, her attention back on the horse, snuggling and breathing deep, to its coltish delight, he was reminded once again that now those questions had an answer, at least a part of it, and she was right in front of him.

Now he just needed to figure out if she would bolt if he told her, or stick around.

Sensing his stare, she looked up, her cheeks heating, going dark with their blush. Straightening, she separated herself from the horse and brushed her palms off on her thighs.

“I’d better get back. Little Beauty will be missing me by now.”

“Little Beauty?” he asked, eyebrow lifting. They’d all been instructed not to name their horses. Clearly, he wasn’t the only renegade.

Lil shrugged. “I had to call her something. It’s more of an adjective than a name, anyway.”

He laughed, the sound of Bullet munching in the background bringing him a greater level of relief than he would have expected.

“Thank you. I was worried about the little guy.”

Looking away, she mumbled, “Didn’t do much, ultimately.”

He shook his head. “You cured him and more.” And if there hadn’t been cameras trained on them, he would have drawn her into a kiss to show her how much he really appreciated it.