Page 41 of Tame Our Wild

If Harlow wants to keep our rivalry perfectly intact, I’ll give her what she wants, but I’m not taking it easy on her.

After all, she thinks I’m the biggest asshole in the PBR. It’s only fair that I act like one.

SEVENTEEN | HARLOW

“You good?” A voice breaks through the fog clouding my head.

I blink, releasing the inside of my cheek from being smashed between my teeth—another nervous habit I find myself becoming painfully aware of. The dirt arena around me comes back into focus, the metal chutes, bull pens, and neon flashing lights from the early introduction of the start of the event caging me in. The announcer’s voice booms over the speakers, the lively cheers and country music assaulting my ears.

“Harlow.” I look to my right to see Brian Sanders’ mouth, which is usually lifted into a smile, pulled downward into a frown. The lights above cast a dark shadow over his cowboy hat, hiding his deep brown eyes. “They are starting the lineup for the introduction.”

“Oh. Sorry.” I shake my head, attempting to wipe away the thoughts running rampant. However, my focus remains on one individual near the gate that has been opened to allow all riders to walk through the dirt arena in a single line for the big introduction, with fireworks and fire.

Brian follows my gaze, landing on the man I’m staring at. Colson’s broad arms are folded over his chest, one of his boots propped up on one of the fence rails in a cocky way that has my blood rushing. He’s so damn intimidating in this way.

Brian starts walking that way to get in line, and I follow behind. He surprises me when he says, “He’s not as bad as you think. He can be a decent guy once you get to know him.”

“Who?” I know who.

He side-eyes me with an unconvinced look.

I sigh, wiping my sweaty palms on my chaps—they’re brown tonight with light pink detailing. “Easy for you to say; you have a dick. I’m the only rider without one, and Colson Payne has made his stance on women riding in the professional league perfectly clear.”

“You can’t blame everyone for still getting used to it; it’s rare to see a woman competing at this level. You should be owning it. It’s cool as shit.” He waves a hand, gesturing to the herd of riders in front of us. “If it makes you feel better, I consider you as much of a competitor as the rest of them.”

God, he is so kind and handsome in a way that I wish I were more attracted to him. I don’t know, maybe it’s the fact that he is a little younger? There’s a block there for some reason, and I can’t identify the issue. And with that mustache hovering above his dark lips that only ever speak nice words … He’s a one-of-a-kind man, that’s for sure.

“You should come out with us tonight to the bar afterward. Colson invited everyone,” he says.

My lips twist to the side. “I know. I’m in the group chat.” When he stays silent, I add, “He probably just wants to show you that he can outdrink you all and still ride like a god the next day.”

Shit, did that sound like a compliment?

Honestly, pretending that Colson isn’t coaching me is uncomfortable as hell. I feel like I have this secret that’s carved into my chest that I’ve been wearing around since we arrived, and it’s making me uneasy. My nerves are sizzling beneath my skin more than usual, leaving me even more vulnerable than I already feel coming into this event. I have only one training with Colson under my belt.

When we arrived at the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, Colson and Matt took an Uber to the hotel, leaving me scrambling to book my own. Don’t get me wrong, I travel so much on my own that it isn’t an issue—independence is knitted into my DNA. I didn’t mind since parting ways was my idea. What was throwing me off was the sour, bitter tone that seemed to blend with any words Colson spoke to me the moment I suggested we keep acting like we’re rivals.

We are rivals. That hasn’t changed.

I’ve only had one simple and easy training day with him, so I don’t expect to ride any differently this weekend than I have been. Besides some pointers he gave me in the truck when we left the ranch to catch our flight, we’ve barely spoken since we got here. I’ve typed out too many texts to him to count, all of which have been deleted the moment I finished writing them.

Just because we aren’t interacting in person doesn’t mean we have to cut off all communication. Right? He’s my coach. He offered to coach me through this season.

“Plus, I don’t particularly feel like subjecting myself to being swarmed by buckle bunnies all night, considering those girls are chasing a completely different ride than I am,” I joke. Brian laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “That may be your guys’ thing, but it’s not mine.”

His mouth curves. “Don’t worry, it’s not mine either.” Brian’s eyes roam the space, his stare landing on someone in the line of riders getting ready to walk out into the arena.

The line that we should be in, but are taking our sweet time.

At first, I think Brian is looking at Colson, but then another rider’s head turns our way. Dalton Carroll’s soft smile appears when he notices us staring. I practically feel the shift in the air from Brian next to me as he releases a sharp breath.

When he turns back to me, I realize there’s a deeper meaning behind that comment, one that blazes like allure in his eyes. I scan his features, his mouth tilting in a way that makes me think he wants me to catch on to something.

Something jumps to the forefront of my mind. Whenever he travels to and from an event, he’s always with Dalton Carroll, another rookie rider from Brian’s hometown. From what I know, they grew up together, their family ranches sharing the same property line. They are always together. I thought it was for convenience, since they go to the same events and have to be in the same places whenever we are required to be somewhere, but now I see it clearly.

I can’t stop my excited gasp as I lift my hand to cover my mouth. “Holy shit. You and Dalton?”

He chuckles. “I thought we were being obvious about it, but maybe not.”