Chapter Thirty-Six
Marina
“Good, Jaci.”
I watch her bring Butter Bean down from the run, my eyes following every stride of the young mare as they circle back toward me.
“You got better as you got to the third barrel. That’s what I want.” I point toward the far end of the arena. “And don’t be afraid when you get to that back side. Shoot her like she’s a bottle rocket.”
Jaci nods, still breathing hard.
“Like I saw you doing yesterday. When you get to that back side, it’s go, go, go.”
She looks frustrated, so I hold up a hand.
“Let’s run it again.”
I turn Rowdy toward the alley and give Jaci a little space. “Go to your spot.”
She guides Butter Bean into position.
“Shoulder up, Jaci!”
She straightens.
“Straight line all the way up. Melt.” I make a downward motion with my hand, showing her the timing. “Up, up, up, up, up. Straight line! Ride all the way up into your turn and then melt. Then. Not before.”
Jaci nods.
“And don’t drop over that front end, looking down. Keep your eyes up.”
She takes a breath.
I start the watch.
Butter Bean launches forward.
Jaci heads for the first barrel, and I watch the two of them work. The mare is quick, athletic, but still green. Jaci has the talent. She just has to learn to trust what she’s feeling underneath her.
They finish the pattern, and I stop the watch.
I glance down. “Seventeen point four three.”
Jaci’s shoulders slump.
“And you knocked a barrel. That’d be a no-time.”
A rider receives a no-time when they break the rules or fail to complete the required cloverleaf pattern correctly.
“Dammit,” she sputters.
I ride Rowdy over beside her.
“Hey.” I keep my voice calm. “You’re dropping in and looking right down at your turns.”
“I know.”
“You’ve gotta sit up. Keep steady. Your first turn was perfect.”
“No, it wasn’t. I was way out of place.”
I nod. “Okay. But you corrected and still cleared through it.”
She looks toward the barrels. “Then I flipped out.”
Bingo.
“And that’s the problem.”
She looks back at me.
“You need to take a breath and relax. You’re trying to fix everything at once, and that’s when you get in your horse’s way.”
Jaci nods slowly.
I smile. “Let’s go again.”
We turn toward the alley.
I reset my watch. “Take a breath.”
She does.
“Now go.”
Butter Bean surges forward, and Jaci sits deep, her hands steady.
They fly toward the first barrel.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I see her start to get ahead of herself before she corrects. “That’s it! That’s it! Go on!”
Butter Bean wraps the first barrel.
“All the way up! All the way up!”
Jaci keeps her shoulder up and rides the mare forward instead of collapsing into the turn. They clear the second barrel and drive toward the third.
“Drive up!”
Butter Bean drops her shoulder.
“Drive up!”
Jaci stays with her, and they explode out of the turn and race for home.
I stop the watch.
“Fifteen point five seven.”
Jaci pulls Butter Bean up, her face breaking into a grin, and I can’t help but grin back.
“That was it!”
She laughs, relief washing over her face.
“See?” I call. “When you and your horse work together, you’re gonna be unstoppable.”
From the look on her face, I think she finally believes it too.
“That’s enough for today. Go put Butter Bean up and get some lunch.”
Jaci pats the mare’s neck. “Thank you, Marina. I know I have to relax in the moment, but as soon as I make that first mistake, I spiral.”
“I get it. I was the same way until I realized I was trying to play an all-physical game when eighty percent of it is mental. You’re good. Start trusting yourself.”
I watch her lead Butter Bean from the arena, her shoulders a little straighter than when she came in. Good. She needed that last run.
Once they disappear through the gate, I glance over my shoulder at the barrels.
Three bright markers sitting exactly where they should.
I look down at Rowdy and lean forward, running my hand along the thick muscle of his neck, feeling the familiar warmth beneath my palm.
“What do you think, boy?” I murmur. “For old times’ sake?”
His ears prick forward.
Then he snorts.
I laugh under my breath. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
I gather my reins and back him up, settling into the saddle. The moment I give him the slightest cue, his entire body changes beneath me.
He knows.
We’ve done this a thousand times.
I turn him toward the alley, take one breath, and let him go.
Rowdy explodes forward.
The arena blurs around me as we charge toward the first barrel. I drop into position, keeping my eyes up and my body centered, and Rowdy flies past the barrel before melting into the turn. Smooth, tight, and effortless.
We shoot toward the second.
“Come on, boy!”
His hooves thunder against the dirt.
I can feel the rhythm of him beneath me—the power, the timing, the trust we’ve built over years of doing this together. We clear the second barrel. Then we’re gone.
I lean forward. “Go!”
Rowdy digs in.
We race for the third, and when I give him the cue, he drops into the turn like we never stopped competing.
For a few glorious seconds, there is nothing but dirt beneath us, wind against my face, and the two of us moving as one.
We hit the final stretch, and I give him everything. He gives it right back.
We cross the line, and I finally sit deep, gathering him up as he blows hard beneath me.
I laugh, breathless. “Still got it, old man.”
Rowdy tosses his head like he takes offense to the word old.
“Okay, okay. You’re not old.”
He slows to a walk, and I’m still grinning when a sharp whistle rings through the arena.
I look up.
Royce is standing on the bleachers. Dressed in his vest and chaps.
Damn.
His arms are folded across his chest as he watches me.
I can’t believe he just saw all of that.
I guide Rowdy toward the bleachers, still trying to catch my breath.
Royce doesn’t move.
He just watches me come closer, that devilish grin spreading across his face.
“Damn, baby.” His voice carries across the arena. “You still look like a world champion.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop the smile tugging at my mouth. “Rowdy makes me look good.”
He shakes his head. “No. You just are good.”
I let the compliment pour over me like warm honey as he descends the bleachers and hops up onto the railing.
“So, what are you doing here?” I ask. “Stalking me?”
“What’s your dinner plan?” he asks.
I laugh, turning Rowdy in a slow circle. “Are you still begging for somebody to have dinner with you?”
“Maybe.”
“My mom is going to some church thing with Evelyn tonight, so I was planning to cook for Ryder.”
His eyes go wide. “Your mom?”
“I know,” I say. “Hopefully, lightning won’t strike her on the spot.”
Royce’s expression shifts. “Okay. If I do beg, am I gonna get an invitation to dinner?”
“Mmm, I do like the thought of you on your knees, cowboy.”
His eyes darken, and he licks his lips. “That can be arranged.”
A shiver runs through me. “Stop flirting with me, Trust. I still have a few sessions I have to get through here.”
“What time will you be done?”
“Ruby wasn’t feeling well, so Shelby went to pick her up at day care. So, I’m covering her last session. Which means dinner is gonna be late.”
“What about little man?”
“Mom’s dropping him at the academy before she leaves. He’ll just have to wait around here until I’m done working.”
“He can hang with me. I’m done for the day after I see Jovie,” he says. “I’d better start heading that way.”
I look over at him and narrow my eyes. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
I let my eyes run over him. Stopping on his vest and chaps. “You and my little hell-raiser together? Sounds like trouble to me.”
He smirks. “I won’t get him on the back of any bulls.”
I give him a look that says I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him. “Anything with four legs,” I say.
He chuckles. “I promise. No livestock. Ryder and I can hang out and do whatever it is four-year-olds are into these days.”
“We’re talking about my four-year-old.”
“Right. Maybe I should bring my students’ tapes. Ryder and I can analyze their last rides, see if we can pinpoint what they’re doing wrong.”
I study him for another beat.
“Little man’s got a good eye.”
There’s something about the way he says it—so casual, so certain, like spending time with my son is the most natural thing in the world.
My chest tightens.
I look away before he can see what that does to me.
“Fine.” I sigh. “I’ll make dinner for the three of us when I’m done.”
“The three of us,” he repeats, tapping his fingers against the metal rail. A slow grin spreads across his face. “I like the sound of that.”
He gives me a wink, then turns and saunters out of the arena like he didn’t just send my heart into a tailspin.
“Don’t get used to it, cowboy,” I call after him.
He lifts a hand without looking back.
But damn if I don’t like the sound of it too.