Page 5 of Ace of Spades (Hidden Creek Ranch #1)

WESTON

“Party at Ryan’s,” Chance announces, the two of us driving back to the Denver rodeo grounds after taking gas station showers. “Chelsea said they’re headed there now.”

I placed first tonight in both saddle bronc and bareback, the earnings burning a hole in my pocket.

I’d bought us a round at the bar and paid for our showers, and I’d be sitting down on the drive back in the morning to figure out how to divide it among the ranch, my mom, and anywhere else around town.

Neither of us had brought any horses with us this weekend since Chance had decided not to compete in tie-down, so we could go straight to the party without having to worry about pulling the trailer .

“Sounds good to me,” I tell him, running my fingers through my still-damp hair before replacing my cowboy hat with a backwards ball cap.

Ryan Lockwood was a Denver local, and had been on the circuit for long enough that his post-rodeo parties had become more known than he was for actual team roping. His house was just a few miles down from the rodeo grounds, an open invite for anybody looking to let loose for the night.

The front lawn was jam-packed with trucks as we pulled in, the sound of the music and laughter pulling us around the back of the house. String lights decorated the covered patio of the single-story red brick home, the cattle in the back field wholly unbothered by all of the partygoers.

We find Beau sitting on one of the laminate countertops inside, Chelsea resting between his jean-clad legs as he rests his chin over the top of her head. Rafe observes everything around him, beer in hand as he takes in the crowd.

The two of them could fool anyone into believing they were the mature ones in our group. Meeting them now, nobody might guess that Rafe and I actually met at the Juvenile Delinquent Center back in high school, and Beau never went anywhere without a joint stuffed down his boot.

“Well if it isn’t Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumb,” Chance laughs, grabbing a beer from a nearby cooler and greeting our friends.

I look around the house after doing the same, trying to see if there could be anyone here tonight that might pique my interest. A five-foot-two barrel racer with amber eyes and onyx hair crosses my mind, and I instantly shake my head.

No, most definitely not her. But of course, I would find myself attracted to the one person on this circuit that I should be staying furthest away from.

As if my thoughts summon her, the back door opens, and none other than Hailey Sorrels walks through the door, following Ava inside.

Her long black hair is straightened, making it appear smooth and sleek against her fair skin.

She’s wearing a denim jacket over her hoodie, with jeans that look like they were custom-made just for her.

As if she can feel my stare, she turns to face me, an adorable blush grazing her cheeks as our eyes meet, making her light dusting of freckles even more discernible. I flash her a wide grin, watching her throat bob as she lifts her chin in defiance.

There’s something about her—she has this feistiness, this fight that draws me to keep pushing her more. I watch her nervously look around for a place to sit before Ava notices us, dragging Hailey along with her.

I wouldn’t put it past her to go after Chance again tonight, but I think our entire group knew exactly how that would go. My friend had a strict one-and-done rule.

“Hey guys!” Ava greets, offering each of us a hug as Hailey stands behind her, wrapping her arms around her middle and looking around as if she doesn’t know what to do with herself.

“Hey,” Hailey offers, giving us a small one-handed wave as she looks to everyone but me, refusing to meet my eyes.

“How’d you guys do today?” Ava asks, her attention primarily directed towards Chance.

“Rafe and Beau got a no score. Rafe caught the horns, but Beau missed on the heel,” Chance offers, shooting an apologetic glance at our friends .

“I got a gnarly draw, but I got a good score out of it. And this fucker over here got first in both of his events,” he says, motioning to me. “What about you two?”

“I shaved off almost a whole second from last week,” Ava flashes us a warm smile. “Got me in the top three!”

“Congratulations,” we tell her, each clinking our beer with hers before turning towards Hailey expectantly.

“I did fine,” she says. “I placed in breakaway, but I knocked over the third barrel during my run.”

She was being modest—I had watched her earlier in both of her events, and as much as I hated to admit it, that girl has some serious skill. Even with the penalty, her time still landed her just short of placing in the top three.

“You know, Wes trains horses for a living—maybe he can help you with Casino’s problem in the alley?” Ava offers on Hailey’s behalf with a wink, the latter blanching at the suggestion.

“Oh?” I ask, a smirk pulling at my lips.

“No—it’s nothing,” Hailey is quick to respond, making my smile widen.

“Oh, come on. Try me,” I wink.

She narrows her eyes at me, and I can see the flame in those amber irises come to life at the challenge.

“I don’t need help, I’ve got it handled. Just some issues coming down the alley is all, and cutting too close into the third. She’s just a little bit… hot-headed. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Right, well, theoretically —what would you do in that situation, Wes? If you were working on someone’s barrel horse?” Ava asks .

Hailey’s features set to a scowl, but I don’t miss the way her eyes glance my way. This girl was too stubborn for her own good.

“Well, theoretically , I would try going back to the basics. I would cut down full-outs altogether during practices, and only practice the routine at a light lope, or even a trot.”

“Your advice is going slower? Correct me if I’m wrong, but from my understanding barrel racing is supposed to be a race,” she responds.

“You knocked over the third today because she rushed it, right? Not you, her— she made that decision. She cut it tight because she anticipated that home stretch coming. After all, you let her race it every single time, so that’s what she expects.”

Hailey’s scowl softens the slightest, as if she knows I’m right.

“At least try this,” I continue. “Go ahead and run the pattern, and then slow her down coming into third. She’s going to try to test you, because she’ll want to run, but that’s exactly why you’ll bring her down to lope.

Better yet, bring her down to a walk if you can.

Do that a handful of times, and then try going full-out.

It’s not about her speed, the mare can run–I’ve seen it.

It’s about the control coming into the barrel.

If you blast right through it, you’ll knock it over every time.

Don’t let her get the upper hand on you,” I finish, bringing my beer to my lips and slamming the last of it before placing the empty bottle on the counter between us.

Hailey remains silent, her eyes studying me curiously. I can tell she’s probably trying to figure out if it was quality advice, or if I was trying to mess with her .

“Thanks,” she finally admits, sticking her nose in the air in the same fashion that she had a tendency of doing around me.

The girl was every bit as spoiled, and definitely the slightest bit bratty, as expected.

Everything she owned was top-of-the-line, from her forty-foot living quarter horse trailer to her brand new truck and custom saddles and tack.

But that's beside the point, because the fact was, it doesn’t matter what someone has or doesn’t have; it was their attitude.

And whether or not she realized it, Hailey seemed to have a bit of a snobby one.

Or maybe that was just my built-up anger from dealing with her father all week, trying to make my mom look like a crazy person for having the audacity to stand up to him. He was an emotionless prick, and I could only imagine that Hailey must have picked up some tendencies from him along the way.

There was one thing I was willing to credit her with though, and that was her drive.

When I had watched her ride today, it hadn’t been like some of those other ‘daddy’s money’ cowgirls around here that were here for the parties and the attention.

No, she genuinely looked like she belonged in the saddle, with a fierce determination and a hunger for the sport.

But it didn’t change the fact that as much as I found myself attracted to her, and as much as I didn’t blame her for her father’s actions, I still couldn’t help the grudge that rested somewhere in the back of my mind.

“Don’t sweat it. There are just some things that those high-end trainers can’t teach,” I tell her, offering her a saccharine smile.

As much as I couldn’t stand her half of the time, there was some part deep inside of me that wanted to keep pushing her to see what would happen.

There was something so satisfying about egging her on.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she demands, her guards instantly rising back up.

“Take it how you will, Sorrels.”

“You don’t even know me,” she argues with growing frustration.

“I don’t particularly care to,” I tell her, my tone completely unbothered.

“Okay, what is going on between the two of you?” Ava interrupts.

“Nothing,” Hailey says, shooting daggers at me as I lean back against the counter, popping open a new beer and bringing it to my lips.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing to me,” Chance pretends to whisper to Rafe before taking a sip of his own.

“Just some friendly banter, isn’t that right, Hailey?” I ask, a smug smile lifting at the corner of my lips as she offers me a malicious one in return.

“Totally,” Hailey states. “Say, Wes—I heard earlier that you got kicked out of the WRS finals banquet last year for getting too drunk. I’m so sorry, that must be pretty embarrassing.”

The others remain silent as they continue to watch us, exchanging silent glances and sipping from their drinks.

“It’s all good. Speaking of embarrassing—How’s your boyfriend?”

Hailey tries to act unphased, but I can see the slight tick in her jaw .

“Oh, he’s great. Two-time champion team roper, if you haven’t heard.”

“Wow, that’s so impressive. Not quite as impressive as a three-peat, though. Funny, I don’t see him here tonight?” I feign a look around us.

“He wanted to give his horses a rest,” she says through clenched teeth, her composure slipping. I must have hit a nerve with that one.

“Damn, and he couldn’t even come to support you? I didn’t exactly see him cheering you on last weekend, either. When are you just going to admit that he’s as shitty of a boyfriend as he is a person? Sorry—not boyfriend, right?”

Hailey’s mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out. I offer myself a mental pat on the back for winning this one, but for some reason, it doesn’t feel as good as it should.

“You’re a dick,” she finally spits out, storming out to the backyard.

Well, shit.

Ava offers me a proper glare before following behind her friend, leaving me with my friends.

Okay, so I hadn’t meant to cross the line, but in my defense, Brad truly was an awful person.

And besides, I couldn’t even begin to count the number of times I had watched him cheat on her.

Not that they were official, from my understanding, after the encounter at the bar last weekend, but he slept with an awful lot of girls for someone who thought he had the right to claim a stake on Hailey.

I might be a dick at times. And I suppose I can be a bit arrogant—I mean, I’m a bronc rider, after all—but I still don’t believe in cheating.

Brad has always seemed so slimy to me. And at the end of the day, his family is just as involved in everything going on in Cedar Creek considering his dad’s business partnership with the Sorrels.

“So,” Chance starts, handing me another beer. “Wanna tell us what that was all about?”

“She just… I know I was an ass, okay? But come on, it’s Hailey Sorrels.”

“I see. So, you know that thing that people say— He’s mean to you because he has a crush on you ? Yeah, that doesn’t work in real life, bud.”

I roll my eyes at my friend, leaning back against the counter.

“It’s most definitely not like that. She’s not my type,” I tell him.

“Tell me, what exactly is it about her that isn’t your type? You aren’t into smoking hot barrel racers that have a bit of a temper? Because I hate to break it to you, but that is exactly your type.”

“She ropes, too,” Rafe joins in.

“She’s not my type because I’m not into brats with an attitude problem,” I grind out.

“I hate to tell you this, but I think you’re the only one she actually has an attitude towards,” Chance tells me.

“He’s not wrong, she’s been nothing but nice to me,” Rafe adds.

My annoyance grows by the second.

“She’s not my type because she’s a Sorrels. I know she isn’t her dad, and I know that I can’t blame her for any of it, but I can blame her for standing by his side and defending his decisions.”

“For all we know, she might have no idea what he’s doing,” Chelsea argues. “Is it really fair for us to assume?”

“I’d rather assume the worst rather than get burned down the line,” I tell them, not sure anymore if I was trying to convince my friends or myself.

“As shitty as that sounds—and trust me, I know it does—I would rather keep my distance than get close to her only to find out that she’s been in on it with him the entire time. ”

“He’s not wrong,” Rafe finally admits.

I nod my head, pulling a lighter and a cigarette out of my hoodie pocket.

“Sorry, man. Guess you’ll have to find someone else to get your dick wet,” Chance tells me, clapping me on the shoulder as I roll my eyes.

“Gross,” Chelsea mutters, and Beau breathes out a laugh.

“Right,” Rafe states, clapping his hands. “So we’re all in agreement, then? For now, we stay away from Hailey or anything that has to do with the Sorrels.”

I nod my head.

But why did I have the feeling that it would be easier said than done?