5. Dylan
The haybale scratches my skin as I haul it against my chest, carrying it from one end of the barn to the other as quickly as my feet allow. I stack the bale on top of the other ten, my heart beating fast and my face flushed—no mirror needed. Another ten, and I”ll stop.
Can I move them all in under three minutes?
I”m asking for a hemorrhage, but I need to be ready. I won”t go into the rodeo in peak condition if I can”t strengthen.
I”ve been lifting haybales on the ranch, stacking them, doing pushups, and channeling my inner Rocky. Pull-ups and crunches follow—anything I can do to get in shape and win the bronc-busting, I”m doing it.
When I”ve moved five more bales, I”m gasping for breath and ready to keel over. Every muscle protests at the weight in my arms, and the hay has left red marks on my arms.
It”s not good enough.
I”ve got to be the best.
If I want that kiss.
It”s wrong to keep thinking about Lara the night I spied on her. Wrong, and keeping my mind away from the memory is beyond my ability. In my head, I remember the way she stood there peeling off her bikini bottoms.
The erotic nature of the scene burned itself into my brain, and I see those images again when I go to sleep at night. Sometimes, the dreams are disjointed, and she”s angry with me. Other nights, she splays out on the bed and crooks a finger at me to get me to join her. In those dreams, I kick the door closed and act out every one of my fantasies.
Fantasy is pretty damn far from reality, though.
Which is partially why I train.
I drop the bale into place and bend over, wheezing. I”ll have to stop training and return to my ranch chores. There are fences to check and feed to stock, all kinds of shit.
My cell vibrates in the back pocket of my jeans, and I straighten, taking a beat before reaching for it.
What are you doing, sexy?
The text is from Sloan, who”s been sending me texts laced with innuendo since the night of the party.
A ghost of a smile flickers across my face as I swipe away sweat.
Not much. HBU?
Three dots appear in the text bubble, and her response buzzes through half a second later.
Thinking about what it”s going to take to get you over here. How do I get you, Dylan?
Coming on strong! A picture of her loads and gives me a delightful view of her bright smile and, farther south, her cleavage. My abdomen tightens, and my dick, against all better judgment, starts to thicken. Maybe it”s my typical guy horniness, which plagues everyone regardless of our situation, but it”s getting harder and harder to resist Sloan when she”s trying so damn hard.
It”s not like Lara is available, so getting with her friend wouldn”t be wrong of me.
But why does it feel that way?
I imagine how I”d feel if I”d snuck a look at Sloan instead of Lara that night. Suppose I”d accidentally seen Sloan slide her bikini bottoms down?
The mental image is damn sexy. Would it be wrong to scratch an itch?
Oh, God.
You want more?Sloan asks the question a second later, and instead of getting into this conversation, I turn notifications off on my phone and stuff it back in my pocket. I”m done with the hay. Distractions won”t win the competition, so that has to be my focus. I slide my hands into my back pockets and enter the bright sunlight. Immediately, the open sky relieves some of the stuffiness of the barn, and I draw in a clear breath.
The rodeo.
There”s only one way I”ll be great enough to beat everyone, and that”s with practice.
”Where you going with that chip on your shoulder, son?” A couple of ranch hands lean against a black Jeep, the rear filled with tools and wire to fix fences. ”If you need something to work off that energy, I can think of a few thousand things for ya.”
I shoot them a smile. ”I”m doing a little riding.”
”Your cousin is out by the ring. Guess he”s waiting on ya.” The guy on the left jerks his head as though I need a reminder of how to get to the ring. ”Who you looking to saddle up?”
”Ares,” I tell them. I”ll have to go for the big guns if Carter is out there. It”s all part of the friendly, competitive part of our relationship. Since we”re the same age, we”re always trying to one-up each other. Lovingly, of course.
The ring comes into view, and Carter has saddled Bandit, one of the geldings. My baby sister Juliet leans on the fence with her midsection pressed against the rails. Her face lights up when she sees me.
”Have you decided to come out and play?” she calls.
”I had some stuff to do,” I call back.
She clucks her tongue when I get closer. ”All work and no play, Dyl.”
”It gives him a stick up the ass!” Carter replies with a laugh. A dark cowboy hat hides his face from the glare of the midmorning sun. ”But he doesn”t need any help with that, does he?”
I roll my eyes at Carter”s teasing as I grab some tack, a nice bridle with supple leather reins, and my favorite western saddle. ”It”s not going to stop me, cuz.”
”I brought Ares out for your ride. You”re like clockwork, Dyl.” He uses Juliet”s name for me with a little sneer. ”Figured you”d want things to be harder than they have to. Always a glutton for punishment.”
”Thus the stick.” I carry my tack to the side of the fence where Carter has Ares tied.
The mustang is savage. That”s the best word for him. He”s the wildest on the ranch, and riding him will get me more than ready for the competition. He”s about four years old and a buck on him like I”ve never seen before. Only Carter”s dad has ridden him before me, and not often. Too much for the ol” bones to handle, Malcom likes to say.
The mustang”s white and chestnut coat makes him stand out in whatever herd he”s part of. He”s gorgeous, strong, and moves like the wind.
”I”d like to see you handle that horse without breaking your ass, McClintock.” Two ranch hands join Juliet at the fence, and the one who spoke leans his elbows on the rail. ”Ares is too much for a boy.”
I grit my teeth, rounding the fence to approach Ares with the saddle. His eyes are wide and angry, and his ears flick back at my approach. When I”m close enough to touch him, he bares his teeth.
”You”re going to have to get used to it,” I tell him calmly. I adjust the saddle pad on his back, ensuring it”s centered before I slide it into place. He puffs out his chest to make it impossible for me to adjust the girth, but I”m used to his tricks.
Carter jogs by on his smooth gelding and flashes me a smile. Waiting, just waiting, to see how this will play out. I”ve got an audience, but it”s far from the size that”ll be gathered to watch the rodeo.
I finish with Ares, barely managing to get the bit in his mouth with all my digits intact, then toss my cell to Juliet. ”Watch that for me, will you?”
”I”ll get 911 cued up for you,” she says.
”Perfect,” I mutter and unloop the reins, keeping Ares tethered.
Juliet cups her hands around her mouth to encourage me once I”m on the horse. ”You”ve got this, big bro.”
It takes all my focus not to lose my seat when Ares does his best to dismount me. He lurches ahead with a hump or two. Or four. His back legs kick out, and he squeals, fighting me and fighting the bit. I”ve been on horses like him before, but none as fighting for freedom.
I work the reins a little and soften my seat. ”Easy, now.”
Carter keeps nearby without crowding us to give Ares time.
If I manage to control this bad boy, the horse I ride for the bronc busting will be a piece of cake, and it pays to be ready for anything. Most of the horses in the rodeo are used to noises and crowds and used to competition.
I almost lose my hat when Ares kicks out, donkey style. The ranch hands whoop, and I”m unsure if it”s because they want me to fall on my ass or not. Only Juliet is there to cheer me on, for sure.
Carter watches me, no doubt judging my skills.
Although it”s exhausting, although my stomach wants to roll, I keep steady. Horses sense emotions. They know when you”re nervous or when you”re controlled. Ares knows.
”Easy, now,” I mutter again. I steer him toward the ring”s outer edge and let him lope. No easy stride here, though. He”s fighting for control, and the lope devolves into a gallop with his ears flat. I let him go for a few minutes and get his energy out. I wanted a challenge, and I got one. It takes Ares much longer than an average horse to calm enough for me to guide him to where Carter waits.
My cousin, as close to me as any brother, shoots me a pride-filled smile. ”Knew you had it in you,” he says.
”You just wanted to see how long it would take.” I try not to sound out of breath.
Carter laughs. ”Yeah, that, too. It”s a good thing you kept your cool because you”ve got a bigger audience now.”
I follow the line of his gaze to the fence beside Juliet, and my heart stops dead in my chest because Lara is in perfectly hugging jeans, a pink T-shirt, and a pair of dark sunglasses, keeping those beautiful green eyes from view. And her dad is with her.
”You better go and say your hellos,” Carter urges. ”Then we can get down to business.”
I urge Ares toward the fence, and he begrudgingly walks slowly, using his latest method for getting his way.
Mr. Bain tips his hat to me. ”I stopped by to see if Malcolm wants to buy two or three of my bulls, and I see this instead,” he says. ”You handle him well, Dylan.”
”Good strong grip,” Lara agrees.
For the first time today, I practically slip from the saddle. I”m hearing innuendo everywhere because her words are loaded.
”He”s doing a great job on Ares. Don”t you think, Papa?” Lara asks her dad.
Mr. Bain nods. ”He does indeed.”
”I”d like to see what else he can do since he has a death wish, this boy.” Malcolm swaggers out of the stable and claps Mr. Bain on the shoulder. ”What”re you doing out here, ol” man? You”ll get too much sun and turn into a prune.”
”I came for the show.” Mr. Bain shoots a smile at me.
”Guess if we”re all here, we might as well see what the fuss is about.” Uncle Malcolm turns to me with his lips pursed ruefully at me riding Ares. ”Dylan, I swear to god—” He”s not angry. More amused than anything.
Carter lets out a bark of laughter. ”I knew he was headed for that one and thought I”d sign myself up for a front-row seat. I”m the one who took Ares out for him.”
”By all means, continue.” My uncle flicks his hand toward me. ”Take him through his paces, son, since you”re the only one who seems able to handle him.”
I”m aware Lara is watching as I back Ares a few steps before turning him in a tight circle.
I warm Ares up, keeping him calm and collected in a slow jog, then lope, with Carter falling into a leisurely pace at my side. Ares tries to nip at Bandit when he gets too close, but eventually, they find balance.
Ares fights me here and there, too, but I keep him in check.
Lara is tracking my movements while Malcolm stands beside Mr. Bain. I try not to let the attention get the best of me, but the shivering of nerves erupt, knowing my uncle is there, and he”s the best. And he”s trained Carter well because my cousin doesn”t even break a sweat. I”m like an overheated dog, hoping Lara won”t notice. If it means I”ll prove myself, I”ll let myself get torn to bits.
Prove I”m worthy of her.
Carter pulls up to my side. ”Care to race from one end to the other?”
I ease back on the reins when Ares doesn”t want to slow. ”You ready to lose?”
”You understand how fast Bandit is,” he says, stroking his horse”s neck. ”Or you just scared?”
I pointedly avoid looking at the crowd. ”We”ll see who”s scared when you eat my dust.”
We move to the farthest end of the ring, and it”s not a small distance to the other end, where the others wait.
”Ready?” I ask.
Carter responds, and Bandit flies ahead to gain a head start.
So my cousin thinks he”ll win by cheating, eh? His laughter is nothing but gas to a flame. The moment I let loose, Ares blasts off. His hooves kick up dust funnels, and he surpasses Carter and his gelding in a flash. I let out a whoop and reach the opposite end of the ring ahead of them.
Furious clapping greets me, and when I turn to Lara, she”s jumping up and down, her dark hair swinging beneath her hat.
”That was great, Dylan!” She holds out her hand to high-five Juliet.
”Yeah,” my sister agrees. ”Even though someone thought they could cheat.”
”All in good fun, I swear.” Carter laughs.
I don”t miss the loaded look Mr. Bain flicks between me and his daughter or the calculating smile from my uncle with his new assessment of me.
”Looks like we”re going to have some great competition this year,” Malcolm says.
My chest puffs, every piece of me swelling with pride and purpose.
Yeah, that kiss is mine, and all this practice will pay off in more ways than that. I have a gut feeling this is the start of what I can do if I”m determined enough.
The rodeo is the first step, and whatever”s next? I look forward to it.