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“Why didn’t you guys tell me we were finally going to kick these pansy asses?” Grady jumped into the fray.
“Sorry, I didn’t have time to make a call,” I gritted through my teeth.
It wasn’t long till Travis was groaning in pain, another guy was doubled over clutching his stomach, and Grady had the third pinned to the side of the barn.
“That was fun, but I was just getting warmed up. Wanna go again?” Grady asked the guy who glared at him.
“Let’s go.”. I released Kinsley, spit on the ground, and kicked a spray of dirt towards Travis before stalking off into the cool shade of the barn.
I was aware of my friends and Kinsley following me, but I didn’t slow my steps. The adrenaline was still pumping through my veins as I leaned against the barn’s wall, my chest heaving with each ragged breath. The dirt and sweat trickled down my back. My knuckles throbbed where they had connected with Travis’s jaw, and my stomach ached from the blow he had landed on me.
I hated this feeling, the raw aggression that took over. It was like a switch flipped inside me, turning me into a different person—one who didn’t care about the consequences of his actions.
I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself down, but the images of the fight played over and over again in my mind. Kinsley’s fierce determination as she choked Travis. Finn’s furious curses as he fought off his attacker. Grady’s brashness as he jumped into the fray. It’d all been so intense, so primal. So out of control.
My nightmare had come true. Other competitors saw me differently now, thinking I was getting lucky because I was riding Kinsley’s fancy horse. I couldn’t shake the feeling that my wins weren’t about my own skills anymore but because I’d taken what wasn’t mine and I hadn’t earned.
Chapter 27
Home - Dierks Bentley
Wyatt
As Kinsley rounded the third barrel and raced towards the finish line, her arms stretched out over Cher’s neck, giving the mare all the rein she needed to soar.
My fists clenched in anticipation. I was ready to leap into the air in victory.
But as soon as she crossed the line, my eyes darted to the clock. Damn. She didn’t post the fastest time; Maisey and three other competitors had beaten her. There was a flash of frustration on Kinsley’s face as she glanced back to see her time.
“Good ride,” Grady commented from beside me.
“Not good enough,” Finn muttered under his breath from my other side.
I elbowed him in the ribs before walking off to meet my girl. I caught up with Kinsley as she headed back to the barn.
Throwing my arm around her shoulder, I pulled her into me. “So close,” I murmured into her ear and kissed her temple.
She shot me a dirty look. “Close isn’t going to cut it. With the time off I had to take, I’m behind in points. If I’m going to make it to the finals, I have to do better.” Her fingers trailed through Cher’s red mane, and her scrutinizing gaze fixed on her horse.
My stomach tied up in knots. The thought crossed my mind: give her back Gambler. But I remained silent. Gambler had made it clear he wasn’t a fan of barrel racing, and I couldn’t bear the thought of Kinsley getting hurt again. If she was considering riding him again, she’d bring it up in her own time.
“You’re still getting your groove back after your accident. It’ll get better,” I assured her, trying to sound confident though I wasn’t sure I conveyed it convincingly.
We fell into a rhythm, getting our horses settled for the night, but my eyes were on Kinsley. Her gaze kept flickering over to Gambler, her brow furrowed in thought.
My stomach twisted as if in a vise. “All done?” I asked once we had finished.
She nodded, and we entwined our fingers, walking back to her trailer in silence.
Since we returned from her parents’ place, I’d been sleeping in Kinsley’s trailer instead of camping out with the guys. It was a hell of a lot more comfortable than the bedroll in my tent. Also, she was in it.
She was stomping around the trailer, doing nothing in particular, except maybe making a mess.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ventured.
“Nope.” She plopped down on the couch, grabbed a magazine, and started flipping through it, not pausing long enough on any page to actually read anything.
“If you’re trying to start a new interior design trend, I think ‘post-rodeo chaos chic’ could catch on.”
