Page 20 of Ace of Spades (Hidden Creek Ranch #1)

HAILEY

It had been a week since I’d moved into the ranch, and I’d slowly had the chance to meet everyone. I hadn’t seen Weston much, and I wasn’t sure if it was because he was just busy, or if he had been avoiding me.

I’d only seen him a handful of times since the cattle drive.

We had parted ways upon arrival to the ranch, after he had told the ranch hands to send our calf back to the field with the other cattle.

Only after I had pestered him the entire way back down the mountain about not selling Tito with the other calves.

And yes, I had named him.

I hadn’t thought Weston would listen to me, partially due to the fact that he had spent the entire trek back lecturing me for getting attached to the creature. Imagine the look on my face when he’d made the call not to sell the little guy.

I was still trying to adjust to the change of pace, and actually being able to use an arena once more. There was something still off with the horses, especially Casino. Ever since we broke the pattern at the rodeo in Montana, I hadn’t been able to get us back to normal.

I take a deep breath in, forcing myself to relax.

Once I feel ready, I nudge Casino up to a light trot, letting her jog to the first barrel as cool and collected as possible.

I can feel her tense up beneath me, ready to bolt at any given chance.

Putting more pressure on the reins, I hold her back, fighting to keep control.

Right as we turn into the barrel, my mare lunges, knocking us right into it.

A bang echoes through the arena as my shin hits the hollow metal, a curse on my breath as I force her back down to a walk before bending over to rub the sore spot.

I never hit barrels—like, ever—so why was it becoming a common occurrence now?

Between hitting barrels and not being able to maintain control over my horse, I was both mentally exhausted and covered in bruises.

I decide to take a lap around the arena, seeing if Weston’s advice of coming back down to the basics could help. I refused to ask him for any more help, especially not after having essentially just moved in with him and his friends.

As if my thoughts had summoned him, I look up to find Weston leaning against the arena gate, his hat hanging over his eyes and a dirty white t-shirt stretching across his toned chest. Chance stands at his side, the two of them watching intently.

I guess the universe must have decided that my mid-afternoon practice wasn’t already rough enough, she just had to invite more people to come watch me embarrass myself.

“Great,” I muttered under my breath, bringing Casino to the center of the arena before dismounting and leading her by the reins, rubbing my sweaty hands over my ripped jeans. The two guys step away from the gate to let me walk through, Weston stepping up to walk alongside me.

“You’re stressed, and it’s stressing her out,” he tells me, his hands in his pockets.

“I’m stressed because she’s stressing me out,” I argue, turning to face him and readjusting my ball cap as the early summer sun hits me in the face.

“You’re tense, and she can feel it. It’s making her nervous.”

“I think I know my horse better than you,” I tell him, inwardly cringing at how rude that sounded.

“Sorry,” I breathe. “I just—I just don’t know what to do, okay?”

“Wow, Sorrels. Did you just apologize? I never thought I would see the day, this is one for the history books,” he teases, a dimple pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, get lost,” I tell him, turning back towards the stables.

“Oh, come on. You see, this is exactly what I’m talking about—you need to relax a bit, unwind. You’re wound up so tightly it’s no wonder your horses are acting weird, they’re trying to figure out what’s going on with you.”

“I don’t need to relax, I need to practice.”

“Suit yourself, then. ”

He turns to walk away and I take another step towards the barn before stopping once more, a war raging in my head before I finally relent.

“Weston?” I call after him. He stops and turns to look at me expectantly, an eyebrow lifting.

“Let’s say I were to listen to you. How would I go about it? Relaxing, I mean?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he says, looking overly satisfied with himself. “You’re in luck, I finished early today. Wait right here, let me go grab Lark and I’ll be right back.”

He reappears a few minutes later with his black mare, a saddle under one arm as he leads her with the other.

“Hold this for a second,” he tells me, handing me Lark’s reins as he steps around her and throws the saddle over her back, fastening it as the two horses rub noses.

He grabs the reins back from me and I continue walking, turning Casino around and heading for the direction of the arena.

“Woah woah, where do you think you’re going?” Weston asks.

I look back and forth between him and the arena.

“The arena. I thought we were riding?”

“There are other places to ride. This isn’t about practicing, remember? It’s about reconnecting with your horse.”

With that, he slides a booted foot into the stirrup, pulling himself up and swinging his leg until he’s sitting in the saddle. I do the same, Casino taking a few little antsy steps to the side before I correct her.

“Come on,” Weston tells me, turning Lark and leading the way towards the back corner of the ranch that his house resides on .

“Where are we going?” I ask him again.

“No more questions, Sorrels,” he says. “Just follow.”

We walk along the dirt path leading up to his house and my trailer, veering off into the trees as Weston leads us down a rocky incline into the woods.

“You’re not taking me in here to murder me, are you? Cause I’m telling you right now, Lark may be fast, but there’s no way she’s outrunning Casino,” I tell him.

“Trust me, Sorrels—If I wanted to murder you, I would’ve already done it by now.”

“So does that mean you like me, then?” I tease.

“Enough not to murder you,” he jokes, turning around to offer me a wink. I can’t help the smile that crosses my face, my demeanor already lightening.

“So, what got you into rodeo?” he asks, our horses maneuvering around a fallen log.

“Why does anybody get into rodeo,” I answer. “The adrenaline. The love for speed. The bond you form with your animal.”

“And what about the real reason,” he pushes, giving me a pointed look.

“Alright, you got me,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“But for the record, those are all still accurate. But I guess at first, it started out because it was mine. Everything I ever had was given to me. Rodeo was the first thing I had to earn. And yeah, I was lucky enough to have a family that could afford me the best horses, the best trainers, the best tack, and a state-of-the-art facility. But those early mornings and late evenings? That was me. Those hours spent in the arena, training my own horses from the ground up because I wanted that bond? That was me. The wins? All me. It was something that I could honestly say I had earned myself.”

He stays quiet, nothing but the sounds of the hooves in the dirt echoing around us as the afternoon sun occasionally peeks through the branches.

“I respect that,” he finally speaks. “I can’t say I know what that’s like. But I respect it. And just for the record, I’ve always noticed your drive. It still doesn’t mean that I’m your biggest fan, but it’s… admirable.”

I’m glad he’s walking in front of me at this moment, unable to see the smile that creeps across my face.

“What about you?” I ask him.

“I don’t really know,” he admits, letting out a huff.

“I guess it started off as an outlet. My granddad used to ride broncs back in his day, and I grew up saying I wanted to be just like him. My mom hated the idea, but when I got a bit older and started getting into fights in middle school, she finally relented and let me start. I was mad at life, reaching the age where I should’ve had a dad there to teach me about life.

I felt like I had to take care of my mom and Kota, and I put so much pressure on myself.

Rodeo helped me release that anger in a healthy way.

I needed the adrenaline to keep me sane and level-headed.

And now? I guess I just fell in love with it. It feels like it’s a part of me.”

“I feel that,” I say. “About it becoming a part of you, I mean. I don’t know what I would do if I wasn’t competing.

I’ve been looking for jobs since graduating, something in social media marketing, or social media management, anything along those lines.

I do really love it, but I don’t feel like my heart is fully in it, not if it ends up taking me away from rodeo.

I’ve been trying to find something part-time so that I can still compete on weekends, but everything I’m finding would require too many hours.

I think that’s the main thing holding me back. ”

I’m surprised by how open I’m able to be with him.

I hadn’t told anybody any of this, and a part of me still hadn’t admitted it to myself until now.

Maybe it was the fact that we were walking through the woods and I could get murdered at any moment, or maybe it was because I felt like Weston would be the one person to not judge me.

Maybe it was because he already had such a low opinion of me, that I didn’t think there was much else I could say or do to make him think even less of me. Therefore, I felt liberated, in a weird kind of way that somehow made sense in my head.

He seemed lost in thought for a moment, staying silent for long enough that I thought the conversation was over before he finally spoke again.

“What if you took over social media for the ranch?”

“What?”