Chapter Ten
Ten
Wyatt
If I weren’t in the kitchen, I wouldn’t have heard the knock.
It was so light, but it was there. Two steps and my hand was on the doorknob, swinging it open—a rush flying through my chest when I saw who was standing there.
Quinn held her laptop to her body, and she took a few deep breaths.
Her eyes trailed down slowly, but then popped back up, blinking rapidly as she looked away.
“Quinn?” My voice rose at least an octave in surprise. Trying to shrug that off and play it cool, I flashed her a smirk and leaned against the open door.
A light blush spread across her cheeks when she looked away, her gaze anywhere but on me.
Pinching my brow, I looked down at myself, my frown vanishing with the realization of the reason for her blush.
I stood shirtless, my gray sweatpants sitting low on my hips, I was barefoot, and my hair was still wet from my shower.
I raised a single eyebrow, folding my arms across my bare chest, using my shoulder to prop me up on the door.
I would be lying if I said that the fact that her blush was because of me didn’t send confidence roaring through my veins.
Now, if only she’d act like that when I was clothed.
She cleared her throat and swallowed so hard I could see her throat bob.
“I was thinking,” she finally croaked. “Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have you come along with me. I was looking at my schedule, and I seem to have…” She trailed off, her jaw clenching.
“Come on in.” I held up a hand and stepped back from the entry, giving her plenty of space to cross the threshold into my small apartment.
She passed me, her scent wafting through the air between us.
This girl was around horses nonstop, yet she still smelled of coconut.
I grinned, inhaling it in. “Let me just go get a shirt on,” I said, closing the door behind her.
“Please,” she said hastily. She placed her laptop on the small kitchen peninsula, and as I walked to my dresser, I caught her licking her lips, the blush on her cheeks still visible.
Tugging a simple black hoodie over my head, I approached the peninsula where Quinn was opening her laptop. I pulled the stool out and took a seat, watching as her fingers ran against the mouse pad.
“Okay, what did you seem to do?”
“First,” she started, “I’m not sure how I managed to do this, so you’re not going to ask any questions about how I screwed up so bad—”
“You didn’t screw up,” I mumbled, and she kept talking as if she didn’t even hear me.
“But I was looking at my schedule,” Quinn continued, her eyes moving all over her computer screen.
“I have five rides coming up. One in Idaho, New Mexico, and Colorado, and two in Arizona. I have this planned over seven days, and in confirming everything when I got home,”—she paused and turned her laptop to me—“I noticed that a rodeo hadn’t confirmed me as a rider, and a few boarding stables only had me booked for one stall. ”
“Okay, easy fixes.” I slid the laptop closer to me, now seeing the multiple screens she had opened.
A rodeo website, stable confirmations, and a document with her schedule and travel plans.
First, I went to the rodeo website, already having an idea as to what was going on.
There had been times when Rhett was too eager to get to the next step that he didn’t—
“Second,” she said, catching me off guard from my thought. I looked up at her, my brow raised. “This is strictly business. If you do anything outside of helping me here and on the road, I will punch you.”
I chuckled. “Noted. I’ll be good.” I gave her a smirk, which quickly vanished as soon as I saw her vacant expression. I cleared my throat. “So, I’m looking at the rodeo. Looks like Flagstaff?” Right to business.
“Yes, which happens to be the first rodeo this weekend. Phoenix, Albuquerque, Grand Junction, and Boise all confirmed.” She looked down and picked at her nails.
I hummed. “You scheduled them in a circle.” I motioned with my finger in the air, thinking of the map in my mind. “Good plan.”
“It made sense, and the dates worked. I just missed Flagstaff.”
“Okay, first thing, let’s get that confirmed. Did you pay your fee?” I asked, and when her answer was a shrug, I inhaled and gave her a knowing nod. “We’ll do that. Then the stables.” I opened the browser tab and pulled up her registration form. “How many rodeos did you book at a time?”
“A few months in advance. I have my life planned up through May.”
“Mainly weekends, right?”
“A few weekdays.”
I nodded and scrolled through her forms, tilting my head in confirmation. “Well, this is easy—you didn’t submit the registration.”
“What?”
I spun the computer to her. “You never submitted the form for the Flagstaff Rodeo.”
Quinn pinched her brow. “I didn’t?”
I shrugged. “It happens. I can’t tell you how many times Rhett didn’t finish his registration.”
“How many times? And you handled it for him?” She furrowed her brow, the expression of disbelief not hard to miss.
“You’d be surprised how many times. And yeah, I’d help the best I could.
When our schedules aligned, he packed, and I took care of this.
I made sure to book everything. Rodeos, hotels, camp sites, stables.
All of it. He traveled with his mare, Buckle, but I was easy.
No horse required.” I quickly scanned through her form, adding any details I could.
“So, committees hired you because of Rhett?”
I scoffed. “Hell no. I may not ride any events, but I made a name for myself.” I kept my concentration on the submission, not closing the browser until I got the Welcome to the Rodeo banner. I quickly moved to the stable website, searching in her email for confirmations.
Quinn just…watched. She was studying me as I worked, leaving me in silence for a bit.
This was something I actually liked to do, the organization of it all.
The planning, the prepping, making sure it all ran smoothly for Rhett.
Then I’d relax as we traveled, knowing everything was booked and taken care of.
“Why don’t you ride in any events?” Quinn asked, breaking her silence, placing her hands on the counter.
I met her gaze and raised a brow in question, giving her a dubious look.
“I mean,” she continued, “I’ve seen you do tie down. You were terrible, but I can see you doing this now, and you’re like…a completely different person.”
I pinched my brow.
“I mean…” she started, pausing as if trying to find the words that weren’t going to be a direct insult to me. “I just didn’t think you would be the one people went to for”—she waved her hand in front of me—“all of this.”
The corner of my lips tugged. “All of this?”
“You don’t seem interested in this.”
“I’m going to need you to define this.” I mimicked her hand gesture from earlier.
She slumped her shoulders. “I didn’t envision you being so organized when it came to rodeos. I just saw you as the one who tagged along and let everyone else take care of everything.”
I gave her a grin. “Rodeos take work, a lot of planning. It’s a lot for one person to handle and, Quinn…” I heaved a sigh. “This is my career, too. Not just a hobby.”
I could visibly see her chewing on her bottom lip. Her jaw tensed.
Studying her, I finally answered her question from before. “I don’t do livestock events because I grew up mutton busting and hated it. That’s the start. Now it’s because I don’t want to hurt myself.”
“You jumped off a roof,” Quinn said, her tone void, like she couldn’t believe my reasoning. “But you won’t ride livestock events?”
“I’ve done more than jump off a roof, but yeah, that is a huge reason.
I’ve seen Rhett tear muscles and Lachlan break bones.
My dad has a bad back, and a few bull riders have retired early due to injury.
Hell, I saw my brother-in-law die. I love to ride horses, but…
when I have control of them.” I broke eye contact and went to the browser for the boarding stables.
“I grew up a Hartwell. We live and breathe rodeo. And I just found my own way to love and enjoy it.”
“Announcing.”
“I like to talk.” I shrugged a shoulder, giving her a quick grin before turning back to the computer screen. “Can you pull up all the boarding confirmations?” I turned the computer to her and waited.
After a few moments of silence, watching her tap away at the keys, she slid the laptop back to me with several browsers open.
“Okay, this is just as easy; just pray they have stalls.”
“Praying.”
After sending a few emails to the stables and myself her schedule, I closed Quinn’s laptop. “What about you?”
“Huh?”
“How did you start barrel racing?”
She inhaled, letting out a long breath through her nose. “My mom was a rodeo queen. As much as she tried to get me into that part of the rodeo world, I wanted to do my own thing—a little like you, I guess.”
“You were a rodeo queen?”
“Up until I was about thirteen, then I stopped to work at a stable. I bought Hook and started training and just…knew it was the right thing for me.” She slid her laptop close to her, her hands running along the closed lid. “I wasn’t the rodeo queen type.”
Looking at her, I could absolutely see her as the rodeo queen type.
Quinn was beauty personified. I could picture it, clear as day.
A crown on her hat with her hair teased and curled to perfection, her smile bright and radiant.
Her hands on her hips, with her chest jutted out, displaying her brand-new sash.
Her lips red, her shadowed eyes with long lashes, her blouse perfectly pressed, and her jeans free of any dirt.
Custom chaps that caught your eye as she rode and waved to the crowd that just saw her be queened…
And even though I could see it, she was right. It wasn’t her.
Her hair was natural, cascading down her shoulders in waves, not a forced curl in sight.
Her skin was flawless, a slight blush to her cheeks—most likely residual from earlier—but it still created the perfect glow to her.
She wore a light coat of mascara, but no other makeup adorned her skin.
She didn’t need it—she was stunning without it.
Her lips were perfectly pink and kissable, even without lip gloss or lipstick to make them pop.
Just looking at her sent heat through my body, a bolt of lightning shocking my entire being.
Months ago, I had come to the conclusion she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and looking at her now, seeing her in the most casual clothing, horsehair still lingering on the cotton—I stood by it.
There was an urge to pull her to me, to feel her soft skin, her hair weaving through my fingers.
I wanted so much more with her than I had ever dreamed. This feeling…just from looking at her.
Quinn was perfect. In every sense of the word.
“I need you to stop looking at me like that,” Quinn said softly, filling the silence that began to hang in the air.
“Like what?” I asked, my voice husky, furrowing my brow.
“Like you want to kiss me.”
I took a breath, not realizing I was looking at her that intently. But…
“I do want to kiss you,” I smirked, knowing that lying wouldn’t do me any good. “There’s no other way to look at you.”
She rolled her eyes slightly and looked away from me, her gaze falling on the window. “Wyatt, what was the second point I made when I first got here?”
I pushed myself up from the stool, heaving a sigh. “Strictly business.” I held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
“Then stop looking at me like that.” She met my gaze, and the gleam from her emerald eyes told me I was still looking at her like I wanted to cradle her face, take her mouth with mine, and taste her. I broke eye contact before I made that a reality.
I inhaled, holding my breath for a beat before exhaling heavily, my hands finding the pockets of my sweats.
“According to your schedule, we leave on Wednesday for a full day of travel.” I took a step closer to her, only tempting myself more to kiss her.
I balled my hands into fists in my pockets.
“I’ll tell Abi I won’t be around, and I’ll get the horses prepped for the drive. ”
“I can prep the horses—”
“Quinn,” I stopped her, “Let me help. You focus on packing for five rides, and I’ll prep the horses.”
Her eyes narrowed for a millisecond, then she nodded.
“Okay, fine. You prep the horses. I’ll pack, and we leave for Flagstaff on Wednesday.
” She grabbed her laptop and once again held it to her chest. “Thank you, Wyatt,” she said, her voice sweet.
“For everything…except the awkward moment for a second there.”
I raised a brow. “Nothing was awkward. Happy to help.”
“See you tomorrow?” She opened the door and slipped through before I even had time to respond. Then, she was gone.
“Tomorrow,” I repeated to an empty apartment.