Page 6 of Saving the Rain
So, I’m bracing myself for when winter rolls up her sleeves. I gotta make the most of these next tour stops and then keep my fitness up so I can be back out there again come spring.
The years only seem to be going by quicker, and the injuries take longer to heal. Back when I first started out, it was like I was made from rubber, able to bounce back from anything. Nowadays, I fucking feel it jarring deep in my bones. The aches and pains are almost a full-time job to manage in their own right. A race against time before the next competition kicks off. Constantly trying to beat the ticking clock in order to be fit and ready to climb on the back of a bronc. Determinedly hanging on until that buzzer sounds.
Thoughts of my early rodeo years inevitably bring me back to the man I’m doing my best to shove from my mind.
Raine competed in the bareback bronc division, too. As I was coming into my own, still wet behind the ears— green as fuck, and only just getting myself out in the arena for the first time—he was the established name on our home circuit. Zeke Rainer was the guy to look up to, and the guy everyone was trying to beat.
At seventeen and anxious to learn, I should have relished the factmy own stepbrother was the star taking out first place. By all rights, it should have been a gift to have someone in my life to study, to learn the ropes from. Instead, I was left eating dirt and covered in shame wherever our interactions were concerned.
He was a cocky asshole. With five years between us, didn’t he love to remind me of that fact. How could I compare with everything he had that I didn’t?Older. More experienced.More desired. Everything from sponsorships to buckle bunnies, prize money to event invitations, success circled him at all times like a damn halo.
The smug prick never let me live it down. Reminding me just how easy it was to beat me any time he launched out of the bucking chute. The guy had the world and any horse he rode on a string, and I’d never been more relieved than when he took off for Canada.
But it stung like a bitch to realize theonlyreason I started to win was because he’d moved on from our region’s competition. If he’d been there, I’d still have been stuck watching him walk away with the buckle, the top spot, and giving me that superior fucking look as he did so.
A raised eyebrow and tip of his lips. Always the silent promise that he could see straight through me.
No surprise, we haven't kept in touch. The guy is a jerk and a selfish dick.
I certainly don’t need to spend any more time thinking about my stepbrother, or what he’s doing in Crimson Ridge. I’ve got my own life to live, and my own future ahead of me.
He left me to survive those two assholes on my own.
And that’s whatI did.
Chapter 3
Gushing water fills my cupped palms beneath the tap. Bending forward, I splash a couple of handfuls over my face, digging callused fingers into the corners of my eyes in an effort to scrub away the fogginess of sleep.
When I straighten and dry off the droplets coating my skin, I’m greeted in the mirror by the sight of my stubble and scattering of early grays popping through. With the towel, I catch the rogue droplets that have flicked down onto my bare chest and upper arms. Rolling my neck, I blow out a heavy breath. My mind is already five steps ahead, starting to run through the list of shit I need to get done before the day is through.
Another ranch. Another job. Another place where I can keep to myself and do what I do best.
There’s something goddamn cathartic about living this way. Rarely having to deal withpeopleand getting to enjoy being left the fuck alone. It doesn’t matter if it’s here in Montana, or north of the border, or wherever you can find yourself a bed and a horse really.
Some might see it as a sort of fresh hell. Those are the kind of people who would think it’s a punishment to be ripped away from the noise and thrum of a city that never sleeps. I couldn’t give a crap aboutany of it. Being able to stay about as far away from that garbage is fine by me.
Although, now that I know what I know, I probably should’ve just stayed where I was in Canada.
Fucking Kayce Wilder.
Resting my hands on the edge of the vanity unit, I exhale a silent curse. That blue-eyed, blond-headed idiot really had to be here in Crimson Ridge, didn’t he? With all his stupid smiles and jokes about every goddamn thing when it’s plain to see that beneath that surface, he’s a mess.
The dick has always been that way. Never wanting to take responsibility, or to face up to reality. It used to grate on my nerves back then, and it won’t be any different now.
Man, it was always the most satisfying thing to see him eat shit and lose. The kid would always look about two seconds away from bursting into tears. For some reason, that used to give me a goddamn kick to have him realize there were actual consequences for not living up to his potential.
Kayce had a hard time, with a momma who popped pills? So fucking what. Some of us ate the broken glass life tossed at us, putting up and shutting up. He got it easy, but he was just too much of a weak little bitch to see that. I certainly didn’t need to spend my time coddling him, or doing any more than was absolutely necessary where his ass was concerned.
His stupid, doe-eyed expression at the bonfire the other night was the last thing I was expecting and one heck of an unwelcome surprise. Watching him stutter and stammer his way through protests about me being here—hearing just how easily he freaked the hell out about me competing again—might’ve been satisfying, but left me in no mood to carry on with the girl I’d been chatting to.
Jamie? Jenny? Fuck. Who cares, it doesn’t even matter. She gave me her number, but I’ll come up with some reason to cut it off from turning into anything more. Even though she seemed cute and all, if I see her again I’ll only end up thinking of Kayce, who she wouldn’t shut up about anyway. There were too many stars in her eyes saying his name, and I’m not inclined to have anything to do with the guy. Nothanks. I’d rather gnaw my own arm off than get tied up with a girl harboring a crush on that fucking princess.
My golden boy stepbrother.Christ. I wasn’t to fucking know this was the backwater of Montana where his goddamn father’s ranch is located.
Pushing off the edge of the vanity, I swipe up my shirt. This loft is small, a self-contained apartment really, perfect for what I need while I’m on contract here. I’ve got these quarters all to myself, right above the barn. Frankly, it’s a breath of fresh air after how many ranches I’ve worked on where the cabins are cramped, shared between any number of men and women living on top of one another.
The space is compact—a simple bedroom, ensuite, and a single room with a kitchen and living all squeezed in—but hell, it might as well be a palace after the last place I stayed. Besides, the fact I don’t have a whole house to take care of makes life easier on the seemingly unending days. When you’re bone weary after herding cattle from dawn until dusk, all you feel capable of doing is to eat a hot meal, shower, and get some shut-eye.