Page 9 of A Montana Rodeo Star

Brent stiffened.

No.

Why did it have to be that day? How was he supposed to compete in the national event if he had to be in Tripp’s wedding?

“Brent, honey, are you okay? You look pale.”

He whipped his head around to stare at his mother. The concern in her eyes only added to his growing guilt. He didn’t feel well at all. He might actually get sick. Tripp cared about him. He would understand if Brent had to leave for a few hours to compete.

Wouldn’t he?

Or was this one more thing he would need to keep secret?

Probably.

What if he wasn’t good enough to compete in August? He wouldn’t miss Tripp’s wedding just to make a fool of himself in the arena. Maybe he could keep training and as the date got closer, he could talk to Tripp about his plans.

Everyone was staring at him now.

Shoot! He hadn’t answered.

Clearing his throat, he pushed away from the table. “Yeah, just tired. I had a long day. I’m going to head to bed.”

“But it’s barely eight o’clock.”

He flashed his brother a smile, but he could tell that he wasn’t fooling anyone. “All good. Nice seeing you, Wendy.”

She nodded, a small frown marring her own features.

Brent made it to his room without incident. About an hour later, he was still lying on his back staring up at the ceiling, contemplating his next steps when he heard the knock on his door. Tripp didn’t bother waiting for Brent to invite him in before he strode inside, hands in his pockets and acting like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Maybe he didn’t.

“Okay, you gonna tell me what’s going on or am I going to have to wrestle it out of you?”

Brent scoffed. “You haven’t beat me in a wrestling competition since we entered high school. You were too focused on the girls to care about maintaining your strength training.”

“I bet I could take you if you weren’t expecting it.”

His gaze slid across the room to where his brother now leaned against the door. “Yeah, well, that’s what we call cheating.”

Tripp chuckled and moved farther into the room. “So, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Bull.”

“You can believe what you want,” Brent murmured. “It’s never stopped you before.”

The mattress dipped when Tripp settled on the edge. “Is this about the wedding?”

Not really, and at the same time absolutely. Brent sighed. “No.”

“Liar.”

Brent sighed again. “If you think you know the answer already, why even ask?”

Tripp shifted, leaning back on his hands. “What’s going on, baby brother.”