Chapter 3
Three
Quinn
Jumping from my trailer, I slapped my hands on my thighs.
Everything that I put in the trailer was finally in my own small condo, and the joy that radiated through my body was palpable.
All the mixed emotions I was feeling while packing were gone, and contentment flowed through me.
A stillness that I wasn’t quite used to.
Was this what life was supposed to feel like?
Because if it was, I didn’t want any part of it to change.
“That’s everything.” Lachlan, the only Hartwell I knew nothing about, came out of the condo, my condo. He flipped his hat forward again, giving me a quick nod. “Anything else?”
I shook my head. “No, thank you. I really appreciate the help.”
“No problem.” He walked past me, giving my shoulder a quick pat. “See you at the ranch.”
“Bye, Lachlan,” I called, waving even though he was already in his truck, before I jogged my way into my condo.
I was going to love calling it that.
Cash and Rhett were still inside, each grabbing a box and putting it in the correct room.
The condo had an open concept, which I adored.
The living room and kitchen blended into one space, the small kitchen island the only thing to mark which room was which.
The stairs leading up to the two bedrooms were off to the right, and a small coat closet sat empty, waiting for my many hats and boots.
There was also another small closet for a washer and dryer.
A window let the natural light in, and I could just see all the possibilities I could do with it.
When I handed Jeff Richards, the owner of the condo, the check for the entire year’s worth of rent, his jaw basically dropped. It was half my earnings from the year prior, but looking at the place…it was worth it. My condo.
“Do you have any pots and pans?” Rhett asked, opening a single box that was labeled kitchen to reveal two of everything. Two plates, two cups, two bowls, two sets of silverware, but no pans. He pulled out the plates and set them on the counter. “This is the only box that says kitchen.”
“I have to go shopping. I need to get a few things.” I smiled, excitement that I got to pick out my own things soon showing on my face. “Like a couch.” I looked at the empty living room. “Or a futon.”
“A couch. This isn’t a bachelor pad,” Cash said as he came up behind me. “Abi and Kyla could go shopping with you. I’m sure they’d have a blast.”
“Is it weird I want to do it alone?” I pinched my brow and looked at my trainer.
He snorted. “Not at all. I take it you want to organize and unpack by yourself, too?” He looked around at my condo and the piles of boxes in front of me.
“Kinda.” I shrugged my shoulders up to my ears.
“At least let us set up your bed.” Rhett didn’t even wait for an answer; he just bounded up the stairs two at a time. Cash gave me a smile before he followed, leaving me alone in the living room.
I pulled out my phone, bringing up the chat with my dad. I had updated my parents on the journey so far, but once I made it there, I got so caught up in the unpacking that I had forgotten to let them know I was already feeling settled.
Me
Made it and semi unpacked. Take a look.
I snapped a quick photo of my living room and kitchen and sent it off.
Dad
Looks good, pumpkin! Send a pic when it’s all set up.
I smiled, huffing at his positivity when a text from my mother instantly followed. I opened her chat with a deep breath.
Mom
Why don’t you have any furniture? You need a coffee table, a couch, and a love seat. It looks small. Can you even get a full couch in there?
Inhaling, I typed out a response to her.
Me
I’m just getting settled. I have to go shopping.
Mom
Don’t get too much. It’s a tiny space, you’re used to our house, just make sure you stay within your means, Quinn.
I locked my phone and shoved it in my pocket. The place isn’t too small. It’s perfect. And it’s mine.
Two weeks later, I not only had a couch, but a coffee table, a small dining room table, a bookshelf, and everything was unpacked and where it should be.
My photos lined the mantel of the small electric fireplace, the orange glow of the fire filling the room as the sun set.
The small speaker played country music as I finished cleaning the kitchen from dinner, and there was a small glass boot filled with some flowers sitting on the kitchen counter.
I was—to say the least—settled. Comfortable. Home.
With January coming to a close, I started to piece together my schedule.
I knew this year would be packed with rodeo after rodeo, trying to earn as much cash as I could to make it to the NFR.
I had to coordinate with Cash on the training, I had to make sure Hook and Charming were ready and up for journeys, and I had to sign up for the rodeos.
Last year, Cash handled all of that for me.
Being his only client, he acted more like an agent than a trainer.
He called the arenas, he got my name on the boards, he booked the hotels and stables, leaving me with no worries at all.
This year it was all me. I had done it before, and I could do it again.
First things first…
I set up my laptop on the kitchen island, taking a seat on the stool. I pulled my water and phone near me.
Me
How many clients do you have now?
I typed out the quick message to Cash, setting my phone down to search for the local equestrian vet, only to pick it right back up again.
Me
And can I have Abi’s number?
Cash
I have you, two saddle broncs, and three other barrel racers. Plus, I help the bull riders who use the arena. Why??
555-8436. Told her you were going to text her, she’s ready for you.
Me
Just figuring out my training schedule. What do you think?
Cash
Four times a week till you’re on the road, then always in between when you’re home. No set schedule, really, just to keep you up on it. What’s your plan?
Me
Not sure, figuring that out! Now, love ya, but on to the next task.
I flipped back to the message screen, opening a new tab and typing Abi’s number.
Me
Hi Abi, it’s Quinn! How are my boys?
The small dots began to dance right away, but instead of a text, a photo showed up of Hook and Charming in their stalls.
Hook was reaching over, his lips curled up, and he tried to bump into Charming’s in his pestering, big brother way.
Charming’s face was turned away from him, ignoring Hook’s attention-seeking schemes.
I loved those two. Each one offered something different, and the photo only showed it.
Completely different, yet two peas in a pod. And I loved them more than anything.
Abi
Happy as can be.
Me
What vet do you use? I need to get them checked for the year. Any recommendations?
Abi
Most definitely, I’ll shoot his info over to you.
Me
Thank you! I’ll stop by later to say hi to them! I know I haven’t been around.
Abi
No worries, it’s my job, and we love having them here. Stetson and Wyatt have been helping—trust me, your boys are in good hands.
Wyatt Hartwell? Helping with horses?
I chuckled at the thought, not being able to picture him anywhere near the stables.
How he and Abi were twins was beyond me.
They were so different. I admired Abi in more ways than one.
I saw how hard she worked at her stables and how much she cared for her family and the ranch.
She turned Cash’s life upside down—for the better—and managed to keep the ranch moving despite overcoming her own obstacles.
Wyatt, on the other hand…he had everything handed to him.
I would have, too, if I had gone down the path my mom wanted me to.
When I told my mother I was done with pageants, it put a rift in our relationship.
Her exact words—and yes, I remember them, they ring through my head every now and then—were “I won’t be supporting this, you can do it, but you’re doing it on your own.
” So I did. I found that stable, I earned the money, and I bought my own damn horses.
I worked my ass off to get to where I am, and there’s nothing I would trade for it.
There was a small sliver of me that wondered if Wyatt was the same. Maybe he wanted more, too, but with the way he acted—the way he relished his life—told me that sliver was just a pipe dream.
That boy didn’t work for anything.
Me? I could see exactly where my life would go, even after I was done competing.
There were a lot of things to consider, but ultimately I wanted to own and run a horse sanctuary.
I wanted to take care of the retired racehorses, the retired show ponies, the horses that needed peace before they took their last breath.
It was always something I thought of, something I would want to consider in the near future. Until then…
I’d compete.
And I’d save every penny I could to make that happen.
Wyatt didn’t have any plans like that for his future. I was certain.
Pushing any and all thoughts of Wyatt out of my head, I dialed the number Abi sent my way, making an appointment for Hook and Charming, then scheduled my first event in four weeks, and then the next, and the next.
I was on a roll, and nothing could stop me.
Not my mother, not Wyatt Hartwell, not another injury—nothing.
That evening, after I had a few months of rodeos scheduled along with hotel room accommodations, I sped to the ranch.
I hadn’t seen my horses since I moved in, and my heart was feeling the heavy weight of horse mom guilt.
The gravel crunched under my tires the second the paved roads ended and Hartwell Hills came into view.
The Nova Luna Stable and Training Arena, freshly painted, looked like a completely different building from when I came here almost a year ago.
Then it was brown and worn, the classic stables look that went on any ranch—but now the white paint with black trim, and the sign hanging above the entrance made it pop.
It was, without a doubt, the most perfect building on Hartwell Hills.
I parked my truck in front and dashed inside, taking a moment to look at Cash’s drawings that hung on the sides of the doors.
It didn’t matter how many times I saw them; they always put a smile on my face.
More had been added in the year since he moved in, and they were just getting better and better.
I heard a whine and a huff, and Charming’s bobbing head was the first thing I saw once I turned the corner.
“Ah, hey, baby boy.” I reached my palm out, his nose nuzzling against it, no doubt looking for a treat. “Do you wanna ride tonight? We can go for a quick one.”
He nodded his head, only proving my theory that horses understood the English language. I scratched behind his ears, cranking my neck to take a look at Hook. When I saw nothing but an empty stable, I turned back to Charming.
“Where’s your brother?” I asked him.
“I have him.”
I half expected Cash or Lachlan, but when I saw who the voice belonged to, I had to keep the irritation down. I was not in the mood to be hit on. I kept my expression vapid—a smile only lightly twitching when I saw Hook.
Wyatt Hartwell held onto my horse’s lead, bringing him in from the pasture.
Hook walked close to him, his stride quickening once he caught sight of me.
Wyatt gave me his signature smile; his blue eyes sparkled the closer he got.
He was wearing gloves on his hands, a gray, long-sleeve Henley, a backwards baseball cap, and jeans that were covered in…
I scrunched my nose.
“Is that mud?”