Chapter Twenty
Marina
By the time I walk through the gates to the academy this morning, Ryder is already settled in with Evelyn.
After breakfast, I dropped him off with her, and she promised me she’d take him over to her church, where Ruby goes to day care. She wants to introduce him to the staff, let him meet some of the other kids, and give him a chance to get comfortable there before I leave him for a full day.
My stomach has been in knots since I woke up.
It’s my first day as an instructor.
I find Shelby inside the arena with the other instructors, and we stand together while Bryce addresses the crowd from the center of the dirt.
The academy is buzzing around us. Students’ voices carry from the bleachers. Somewhere nearby, a gate clangs shut, followed by a horse’s impatient snort.
This place is alive.
And now I’m part of it.
Bryce gives a welcome speech, talking about the facilities, the schedule, expectations, and safety. These kids will stay for two weeks before heading out, and then another group will come in.
Two weeks.
Two weeks to make a difference in their lives and their future sports careers.
I look around at the other instructors. Some of them have been doing this for years, recruited from other rodeo schools. Some are former coaches. My eyes fall on Royce. Others are current rodeo stars, sharing their knowledge.
Me?
I’ve spent years learning how to ride and race. Not necessarily how to teach someone else to do it.
When Bryce moves on to the next part of the orientation, I lean toward Shelby.
“I hope I’m going to be a good teacher.”
She looks at me like I just said something ridiculous. “You will be.”
I give her a doubtful look. “How do you know?”
“Because you know what it’s like to be the one sitting in the saddle.” She nudges my shoulder. “Don’t worry so much. Just lean into it.”
I breathe out slowly.
“Most of these kids already have experience,” she continues. “They don’t need someone to teach them how to ride from scratch. They just need a little extra help getting to the next level.”
I nod, listening.
“Watch them ride,” she says. “Really watch them. Figure out what they’re struggling with.
Maybe it’s their hands. Their seat. Their timing.
Maybe they’re getting in their horse’s way without realizing it.
” She gestures toward the arena. “Then break it down for them the way you wanted your own coaches to break it down for you.”
I glance at her. “My coaches were brutal.”
“Exactly.” She smiles. “They were demanding. They expected a lot from us. We should too.”
I look back toward the students gathering along the rail.
Shelby’s voice softens. “But we’re gentle about it. Gentle, but expectant.”
I consider that.
Gentle, but expectant. Not tough and critical like a coach.
But not lowering the bar. Just helping them figure out how to reach it.
A smile pulls at my mouth. “I like that.”
Shelby grins. “Good. I knew if anyone would get it, you would.”
I look out across the arena again.
For the first time since I woke up this morning, the knot in my stomach loosens.
I can do this.
I can be exactly the kind of coach I always needed.
The barn smells like leather, hay, and horse sweat—the familiar combination settling something inside me, even as my nerves keep fluttering beneath my ribs.
I’m halfway through tightening the cinch on one of the academy’s barrel horses when I hear a low laugh from the other end of the barn.
I glance over.
And there’s Royce.
He’s sauntering through the barn beside one of the other female instructors. She’s hanging on every word he says, smiling up at him with the kind of interest that would be impossible to miss even if I weren’t watching.
He looks good.
Really good.
Flannel shirt, sleeves pushed up enough to show his forearms, worn leather chaps over his jeans, boots, hat pulled low.
There’s something about a cowboy in leather that has always been my particular weakness.
Apparently, that weakness hasn’t gone anywhere.
His scar catches my eye when he turns his head, the pale line cutting through his eyebrow. I hate that I notice it.
I hate even more that I like it.
He says something that makes the woman laugh again, then glances across the barn.
Straight at me.
His smile changes. “Excuse me for a second.” He leaves her standing beside the stall and crosses toward me. “Morning, Rina.”
The nickname lands somewhere low in my chest.
Rina.
I shouldn’t like it. But I do.
He called me that the first night we spent together, a fleeting moment, one that wasn’t supposed to mean anything to either of us.
Funny how two syllables can carry the weight of a memory with them.
“Good morning.”
His eyes drop to the horse, then back to me. “You ready for today?”
I tug the strap through the ring, pretending to be much more interested in the task than I am in the man.
“Mostly.” I sigh. “I’m a little nervous.”
“You?”
I shoot him a look. “Yes, me.”
His grin widens. “Don’t worry; once you’re on this girl”—he gestures to the chestnut mare with his chin—“it’ll feel like second nature. You’re gonna do great.”
The woman behind him calls out, “Royce?”
He glances over his shoulder.
She’s leading a horse out of one of the stalls, reins looped loosely in one hand.
“I’ll be right there,” he calls back.
Then his attention returns to me. “What are you doing after classes?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“I’ve got PT.” He grimaces faintly. “Then I was gonna grab dinner in the dining hall. You wanna join me?”
The offer catches me off guard.
“I was going to pick Ryder up and cook dinner at home.”
Disappointment flickers across his face. It’s gone almost immediately, but not before I see it.
“I already told you,” I remind him quietly, “I don’t date cowboys anymore.”
He steps closer. Not enough to touch me, but enough that I feel his heat, and his hand rises, palm resting against the wooden stall behind my shoulder as he leans in.
His eyes hold mine. “When I ask you on a date, Rina, you’ll know it.”
My pulse kicks.
“And it won’t be eating in the dining hall with everyone else.”
I swallow.
The confidence in his voice should irritate me. Instead, it sends a shiver skimming down my spine.
The woman calls for him again, a little louder this time.
I look past Royce, around the solid line of his body. She’s waiting with her horse, watching us closely.
I look back at him.
“You probably won’t have a hard time finding someone to have dinner with.”
His mouth twitches. “No?”
I shake my head.
His eyes stay on mine for another beat. Then he pushes away from the stall and turns toward the waiting instructor, leaving me standing there with my heart beating far too hard for eight thirty in the morning.
I look down at the horse.
“Don’t,” I mutter.
The horse flicks an ear.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” I say, tightening the cinch another notch. “I was talking to me.”