Page 13 of Rodeo Rivals (Hope Runs Deep #11)

McKayla

H oly hell. Third place. McKayla took third place . She not only earned a check, but she got third motherfucking place. It was her first official professional rodeo in the PRCA, and she took third place .

The thought of outscoring him brought a massive smile to her face. One day she would. It was now her only mission this season—beat Seth Allen.

For now, though, she basked in the greatness that was a check with a comma in it. Sitting on the edge of her bed with her forearms resting on her knees, she stared at her score sheet. Were there things she should work on? Absolutely, but not right now.

She wanted to go out and celebrate. With a few days between now and the next stop on the circuit, she had time.

Though after the rodeo’s festivities had concluded, it was a bit late for her to hit the town. Sure, there were others who were out partying, but not her. Excited as she was, she probably wouldn’t go to sleep for several hours, but she didn’t have the energy to socialize.

Instead, she hunkered down in her camper. With her comforter wrapped around her and a remote in her hand, she skimmed through Netflix to find something she could watch while she rewarded herself with the best Tex-Mex she could find.

This was the perfect ending to the best day of her life—so far. The next time she got in the arena, she would do better, but tonight she would relish the fact that she beat out so many others and placed third .

Tomorrow was fair game, though.

Tomorrow night, after she drove for a bit, she’d find a place to properly celebrate.

It wouldn’t be some dive bar like last night.

While she’d had fun, probably too much fun—her mind wandered to the feel of Wyatt’s lips against hers, his hands on her skin, and his body between her thighs as she rode him.

Nope .

Don’t go there. Her body heated at the memory of her tryst with the competition.

He was a dick. Remember? A cockknocker extraordinaire.

A talented one. Her core tingled as she recalled the feeling of him filling her deeply when she’d mounted him.

Stop it. She shouldn’t be thinking about him like that anymore. They agreed to a one and done situation. They were competitors. Without a doubt, they’d run into one another again on the circuit. They chased the same dream.

In order to make things less awkward, she had to push him out of her mind. She shouldn’t shit where she eats. Not that it was on the menu or anything, but getting involved with someone she was actively trying to outrank would end terribly for everyone involved.

Men, especially those who rode rough stock, notoriously had fragile egos.

Which he displayed when he got snippy as hell with her after he had a less than stellar showing in the arena.

She’d beaten him, and he hadn’t taken it well.

She saw the red flag and acknowledged it.

No need to tell her twice. Wyatt could be a fond memory.

The only way she could keep her focus and not screw up this opportunity was to forget Wyatt even existed. Put him in the asshole category. She didn’t have time to be chasing dudes. There were more important things at stake—like her legacy.

Kaila Mussell didn’t let affairs of the heart get in the way of her dream. McKayla couldn’t either. She had devoted her life to riding. Her peak had yet to be reached. There were plenty more horses to ride.

She was still climbing. Maybe if she fell off, she could think about men. For now, guys were just something she did to take the edge off. Her focus had to be on conditioning, competing, and improving. There was no time or room for anything else.

Wyatt

Eighth place. Jesus Christ. Eighth . While not his worst showing in history, he’d definitely ridden better, obviously. The mere five hundred and change check he’d gotten barely covered his travel expenses and entry fee. If he kept performing this way, he might as well hang up his spurs.

As he packed up his saddle and tossed his bag into his truck, the scuffle of boots against the asphalt nearby drew his attention. He turned toward the sound and inhaled deeply, bracing himself for Seth’s bragging. The more time Wyatt spent with him, the less he liked Seth.

The man who had taken first place and the biggest check of the night hooked his thumbs in his belt loops as he approached. “You headed to Dalhart?”

That was the next logical stop on the circuit. Of course, Wyatt was going in that direction. “Yeah.”

Seth leaned against Wyatt’s truck. “This band from Amarillo is gonna play there. You hanging out for that?”

Having secured his belongings, Wyatt slammed the door to his truck shut—probably a little too hard. He wasn’t in the mood. He didn’t want to talk. It hadn’t been going well lately. It suited him just fine to climb into the cab of his truck and get out of Mesquite, Texas.

But he couldn’t be rude.

So he ran his tongue along his teeth and tried to squash down the anger and disappointment he had in himself to answer Seth. It wasn’t his fault Wyatt bombed. Wyatt shouldn’t take it out on Seth. Even if Seth was being a raging asshole.

“Maybe. I should focus on my conditioning.”

Seth scoffed and shook his head. “Nah. You were fine.” He waved a hand dismissively. “You were just stiff. A few more times in the saddle and you’ll get the kinks out. I say after another two or three events, you’re going to be giving me a run for my money.”

When he winked, it took all of Wyatt’s composure not to punch him square in the face. Seth had gotten far too big for his britches. The guy needed to be knocked down a few pegs, but not by Wyatt. Not today anyway.

Seth may lead in the standings. First place went to him tonight, but no one could stay on top forever. If anyone needed to be humbled, it was Seth.

Swallowing his annoyance, Wyatt cracked his neck. “I don’t know. I just want to get on the road.”

Seth pushed off the pickup and nodded. “Well, think about it. It’ll be a good time.”

“Yeah,” Wyatt said as he reached for the handle of the driver’s door and opened it.

“Lighten up. It was one event.” Seth chuckled. “See you in a few days.”

Wyatt climbed into the truck and offered a wave before he closed the door. Maybe after he got a few miles away from Mesquite, Texas, he would be in a better mood. Right now, he didn’t want to think about being around anyone related to the rodeo. He needed the isolation to recenter himself.