Destry (Rodeo Season #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER

ONE

Savannah ‘Savvy’ Gentry.

I pulled my Jeep into the dusty lot behind the fairgrounds and cut the engine. The morning sun was already climbing, casting a warm glow over the place that, for the next two weeks, would be my world.

I sat there for a second, just taking it in.

The fairgrounds stretched wide in front of me with barns lined up neatly along the back fence, the large arena in the center, and beyond that, the pens holding the stock. I was here and not as a competitor but this was the first step.

I grabbed my hat off the passenger seat, and secured it onto my head before pushing the door open.

The second my boots hit the ground, the dry dirt kicked up, settling in a thin film on my jeans. I adjusted my hat, squared my shoulders, and started toward the barns.

Time to find Lou.

I spotted him near the tack room, frowning with a permanent squint rattling off instructions to another worker until he noticed me and paused.

“You Gentry?” he asked, barely looking at me as I approached.

“Yes, sir.”

He nodded once. “Alright, listen close, ’cause I don’t have time to repeat myself. You’ll be doin’ whatever needs doin’. That means muckin’ stalls, preppin’ tack, haulin’ gear, helpin’ with stock, whatever I tell ya. Got it?”

I nodded. “Got it.”

Lou kept going. “Ain’t no slack ’cause you’re a woman. You work just as hard as the rest of ’em or you don’t work at all. Understand?”

I held back a smirk. “I can handle it.”

He gave me a look like he’d believe it when he saw it, then jerked a thumb toward the tack room. “Go pull saddles. Make sure they’re prepped for the boys ridin’ today.”

He turned on his heels and walked off, barking orders at someone else. I turned back toward the row of stalls realizing I had no idea which way the tack room was.

I frowned, swinging my head around. A cowboy passed by, clearly amused by my hesitation. He tipped his hat as he passed. “Tack room’s that way, darlin’.”

Before I could even thank him, he was gone. I straightened my hat and marched in the direction he’d pointed.

I had work to do.

I shifted the heavy saddle in my arms, gritting my teeth as the leather dug into my side. The sun beat down on me, hot and relentless, but I kept moving. The dirt beneath my boots was dry and packed from hours of work. The scent of hay, sweat, and horses was thick in the air. It was familiar, almost comforting.

I spent my whole life in Millers Pointe, working whatever jobs I could find to keep my head above water. Ranch hand, waitress, bartender, hell, I had done it all. But this job? Working the rodeo for the season? This one meant something.

My parents and I were close. They raised me well but were barely getting by. They couldn’t afford to pour anything into my dream so I put it off for years. Now, I was over that and decided it was now or never. This was my shot at making a connection that could get me on a horse in this arena and to know that the cowboys here shared the same brown skin as my own was that much more humbling. I wanted to carry the same pride. They were the best of the best and competed at the top of every bracket across all states.

I hauled the saddle toward the stalls with my arms burning from the effort. It was the tenth one I had moved that day, and my body was already screaming at me, but I wasn’t about to stop. If I slowed down, someone might start asking questions, wondering why I was here instead of one of the guys. The last thing I needed was some cowboy thinking I couldn’t handle my own.

“Need a hand, beautiful?”

The voice was deep, smooth, and carried the unmistakable drawl of someone who had spent their whole life under an open sky. I didn’t even have to look up to know who it belonged to.

Destry Callahan.

Millers Pointe’s golden boy.

I didn’t have the energy for this. He was the bull riding champion which meant there was no way to miss him out here but I truly hadn’t expected him to acknowledge me.

“I got it,” I said without breaking my stride.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him standing just outside the stalls, arms crossed, cowboy hat tipped low over his eyes. His button-down shirt was unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up, exposing chocolate tattooed skin and forearms roped with inked muscle. I didn’t need to look directly at him to know every woman within a five-mile radius was probably following his every move.

Not me.

“Looks like that damn saddle is about as big as you are,” he teased, stepping into my path like he had all the time in the world.

I huffed, adjusting my grip. “I’m still carrying it, aren’t I?”

Destry grinned, lazily, like he had nowhere else to be. He massaged his bearded jaw and arched his brow.

“Stubborn.”

“Independent.” I moved to walk past him, but he reached out and grabbed the edge of the saddle with one hand like it weighed nothing.

I glared in annoyance. “Seriously?”

“Very fucking serious.” He winked. “Let the shit go, I got it.”

I sucked in a breath, debating whether it was worth the fight. But my arms were screaming and I still had a full shift ahead of me. So, I let go. Just this once.

Destry hoisted the saddle over his shoulder with ease and walked toward the stall like he owned the place. Which, to be fair, he kind of did. The Callahans had more money than anyone around here, but you’d never know it by looking at him. He might have been a champion bull rider, but he was still just a cowboy.

He set the saddle down, then turned back to me with his eyes full of amusement. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

I crossed my arms. “I had it handled.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No the fuck you didn’t.”

The way he was looking at me, like I was some kind of puzzle he wanted to figure out, made my skin prickle. I didn’t get flustered by cowboys, especially not ones like him, but Destry Callahan was sort of hard to ignore. Unfortunately for him, I was really good at deflecting.

“Well,” I said, brushing the dust off my jeans, “if you’re done playing hero, I’ve got work to do.”

His grin widened, slow and sexy. “Don’t work too hard, Savvy.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“Too late, it’s already stuck.” He tipped his hat and strolled off, leaving me standing there, half irritated, half… something else.

Damn cowboys.

I shook it off and got back to work because no matter how many championships Destry Callahan had won which had countless numbers of women throwing themselves at him, I vowed not to be in that number. I didn’t have time for distractions. I had a plan and no smooth-talking bull rider was going to get in my way.