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“Gee, thanks.” I wiped my face on my sleeve. “Was that a yes or a no?”
A loud truck rolled by at that moment, blasting a Miranda Lambert song.
My stomach tied up in knots because I knew it was Kinsley; I could feel her presence in my bones.
Sure enough, I glimpsed long blonde hair whipping out of the driver’s side window as the truck rambled over the gravel road next to our little patch of grass. My heart jumped in my chest. It was her truck, a black RAM Longhorn, but the trailer was new. A fancy brand-new Sundowner, complete with living quarters. I imagined what that thing had cost her daddy.
She focused on navigating through the bustling stable yard, so she didn’t see us but would soon enough when she stopped to unload.
I rose to my feet and brushed the bits of grass off my jeans with my now sweaty palms. I needed to go hide or something.
I led Drifter back to the barn, going around the backside so I wouldn’t run into her. The place was filling up, and voices—mostly gossip—carried through the air. I tried to tune it out, but when I heard Kinsley’s name mentioned, I couldn’t help myself; I paused outside a tack stall, where two girls were talking. They were barrel racers I didn’t recognize.
“I can’t believe she bought that horse!” one said.
“This is either going to make her unbeatable or take her out of the running altogether,” the other responded.
On impulse, I barged into the stall. “What horse?” I demanded.
The two girls looked at me wide-eyed.
“What horse?”
“Uh, Mr. Lucky Gambler. He’s, uh-uh—” the first girl stammered.
My pulse quickened, thrumming in my ears. “I know the one.”
Fuck.
I turned and marched down the aisle, pulling Drifter along behind me.
Oh, I knew the horse. I saw him splatter Sherry what’s-her-name into a barrel last year. That horse was dangerous. Everyone knew it.
What was Kinsley thinking?
Who was I kidding? I knew exactly what she was thinking.
Anything to win, right, Kins? Impulsive, reckless, and competitive-as-all hell girl.
I was so glad I was done with all her drama.
I put Drifter in his stall and tossed him a few flakes of hay and a scoop of his feed. After filling his water bucket, the anger I felt about Kinsley’s foolishness still hadn’t dissipated.
Maybe they’d had it wrong; maybe it was just a rumour. I had to see for myself.
I’ll just wander over to the unloading area…
Chapter 3
Wranglers - Miranda Lambert
Kinsley
Gambler’s kicking did not cease. It wasn’t scared or even angry kicking. It was I’m-going-to-annoy-the-hell-out-of-Kinsley kicking. Thank goodness for rubber-coated walls, I thought for the billionth time that trip, saving both my horse’s legs and my trailer.
As I pulled into the rodeo grounds, I couldn’t wait to get that horse off the trailer and into a stall, then get out of earshot of him.
“You’re a pain in the ass, Gambler!” I yelled back at him.
