Asher

by Piper Davenport

  “Stop that right now!” I demanded. “There will be no moping, no sad faces, and no freaking tears, you hear me? We have stuff to do.”

  “Fine. I’ll put on my big girl panties.” She began pilfering through one of her suitcases.

  I stepped into my room and texted Wyatt while Addison changed, then tapped on the connecting door. “You decent?”

  “Yep, come in. I’m putting on my boots.”

  I opened the door and froze. Addison was sitting on the bed zipping up knee-high black boots over her jodhpurs. She wore a fitted T-shirt, but had her protective vest and helmet laid out on the bed beside her.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I laughed. “Is that show gear?”

  “No.” She made it sound like my question was ridiculous. “This is warm-up gear.”

  Whatever it was, I was sure Wyatt would laugh us off his ranch the moment he laid eyes on her.

  “Is that what you’re wearing?” she asked.

  I wore jeans, an old T-shirt, and boots. “Uh...yeah?” I wondered if my attire made me an animal in her book. Probably.

  We headed to the car and she threw her vest and helmet in the trunk.

  “You look like you’re ready for a show,” I said as I drove. I was the designated driver since I knew where we were going.

  “You say that only because you ride like a barbarian. You just don’t know. You’re ignorant. It’s okay, honey, I’m here to educate you. I’ll drag you into the high-class world whether you want it or not.”

  I laughed, but truth be told, her threat did scare me a little. “Oh, okay, thanks, buddy. You’re so good to me.”

  “I know. I’m amazing. Hey, what’s going on here?” She pointed out the window to the fairgrounds.

  “They’re putting up the carnival. It’s our big-ticket event this time of year.”

  “But it’s so small. There’s only a handful of rides.”

  I nodded. “It seemed a lot bigger last time I was here for it. I remember going on the Zipper so many times it felt like I was still flipping when I went home.” I pointed at the partially put together ride. “You and me, kid. I’m gonna make you flip like you’ve never flipped before.”

  “That doesn’t look so safe.”

  “It’s okay. Between the ’80s rock music, the contact high from the carnies, and the chemicals in the cotton candy, you fry enough brain cells you don’t even worry about little things like falling to your death while trapped in a metal car.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  “Hey, I do what I can.”

  Lakeview had one radio station and it played country—which I loathed and Addison liked, ironically enough. There were a handful of rock artists we agreed on and, knowing we’d be somewhere without access to decent tunes, we’d compiled a playlist. As we motored out of town, Pink’s song, “Just Give Me a Reason” came on, so we turned it up and sang along, trying not to laugh too hard when I went totally off-key during Nate’s part.

  “You missed your calling,” Addison said.

  “Oh, don’t I know it. I could totally be the next Taylor Swift.”

  “With autotune, honey, anything is possible.”

  I nodded and turned off the main road.

  “Whoa,” Addison mused. “The houses out here are really spread out. Like one every mile or so.”

  “Yep. Lots of acreage. Wyatt’s family hays. Their house is sitting on eighty acres of alfalfa. Last time I was here they had about twenty head of cattle and one mean-ass Brahma bull. A dozen or so horses, chickens, a couple dogs.”

  “Wait, he still lives with his parents?”

  I laughed. “Yes. I’m sure he makes good money repairing heaters and air conditioners, but the amount of work a farm like this takes, is insane. He couldn’t possibly do it all by himself. Most of these places have families working them.”

  “Why don’t they just hire seasonal workers or something?” she asked.

  I shook my head, still laughing.

  “What? It’s a reasonable question.”

  “Because most of these farms are one bad season away from bankruptcy. They don’t have the kind of money to hire workers.”

  She seemed to chew on that as I turned off the main road and onto the long gravel driveway that led to Wyatt’s house. Wyatt was leaning against the pump house. His blue heeler, Boots, barked and turned toward us, but Wyatt silenced him with a command. He wore his Wranglers low on his hips, with his signature wife-beater, a pair of worn cowboy boots, and a cowboy hat that could only be described as swoon-worthy. I say that only because Addison made a quiet little whimper, then whispered, “Wow.”

  “Yeah, it’s a nice ranch, huh?”

  “He sure is.”

  I laughed. “Are you going to be able to keep your hands off him long enough for us to get in a ride?”

  “No guarantees,” she retorted.

  I pulled up in front of Wyatt and he opened Addison’s door, holding his hand out. Addison took it and let him pull her from the car. “Welcome,” he said.

  “Thank you. I love the special treatment. I feel like you should be doing that for Dylan since you two go way back,” Addison said with a smile.

  “She’d kick my ass if I tried,” he said.

  “Damn straight.” I opened my own car door and climbed out. “Now, where’s my boy? Boots, get over here.”

  Wyatt gestured, releasing Boots. The dog was getting old. I dropped to my knees so he wouldn’t try to jump up on me and hurt himself and gave him a good scratching behind the ears before hugging him close. “I think he remembers me.”

  “Of course he remembers you. You paid him more attention than you did to all the boys in town put together.”

  “Oh, don’t be so salty. It’s not Boots’s fault he had better manners than the whole lot of you.” I gave Boots one final scratch before standing up.

  “She’s got me there,” Wyatt said to Addison.

  Addison giggled like a neurotic schoolgirl jacked up on energy drinks, but I was too thankful for her temporary happiness to be bothered by it. “Your place is lovely. Thank you so much for inviting us,” she said.

  Wyatt brought an old picnic basket out from behind his back. “I packed us a lunch. Figured we’d eat on the ride, if that’s all right?”

  We both nodded.

  Wyatt smiled. “Let’s ride, then.”

  Addison

  I WAS SERIOUSLY drawn to this incredibly hot cowboy and I didn’t even balk at it. Wyatt was the epitome of everything I thought I hated in a man, but, lordy, he was a cutie. Although...

  “Can I ask you a personal question?” I asked.

  “Of course,” he said as we walked toward the big red barn that appeared to have been freshly painted.

  “You don’t smoke, do you?”

  “No ma’am.”

  I frowned. “Chew?”

  “No. I don’t use tobacco of any kind,” he said.

  I relaxed. “Sorry. That was kind of a random question.”

  “You can ask me anything, Addison.”

  “That’s good to know.” I grinned. “But you might regret saying that.”

  “I doubt it.”

  This guy was amazing, but when Jake’s face flashed through my mind, I realized I needed to go slow. It also pissed me off. I was about to ride next to one of the hottest men I’d met in a long time (Jake notwithstanding of course), and Jake’s stupid face was in my mind? Not okay!

  We arrived at the barn and I gasped. “Is that an English saddle?”

  “It is,” Wyatt said. “Keep in mind, you’ll need to use western hands on him...wasn’t trained English, but hopefully the saddle’ll be more to your liking.”

  I rushed to the gorgeous paint. His blue eyes were stunning, and he nuzzled my palm as I held my hand out to him. “I’m sorry, buddy, I don’t have any treats for you.”

  “His name’s Firebrand.”

  Wyatt handed me a wad of peppermints and I grinned. “Thank you.” I unwrapped one and l
et Firebrand take it from my palm. “You’re such a pretty boy, aren’t you?”

  “Talk to me about this complicated horse you have available for Roundup,” Dylan said, leaning into a stall to pat a sorrel on the nose.

  Wyatt walked ahead of her, stopping in front of another stall. “His name is Bucky. The folks are a bit picky about letting anyone ride him, on account of his little problem.”

  “Bucky?” she asked, joining Wyatt in front of the stall and peering in. “As in he likes to buck?”

  “He bucks.” Wyatt nodded. “But he don’t much like it.”

  “What does he do?” she asked.

  “It’ll be easier to show you. You sure you’re up for this? You still know how to ride, right?”

  Dylan rolled her eyes. “I think I can manage.”

  “You sure, Dylan? I can ride him,” I volunteered, a little hesitant to leave the gorgeous paint I was snuggling.

  “Absolutely not,” Wyatt said.

  I tried not to let his statement offend me, but admittedly, it stung a little. Of course, Wyatt had no idea what I could do on the back of a horse, so I had to let it go, but a little part of me wanted to impress him. Weird, but true.

  “You’re only saying that because you haven’t seen Addie ride,” Dylan said.

  I beamed. Good ol’ Dylan. She always had my back.

  “I’m looking forward to that,” Wyatt admitted. “But that has nothing to do with it. You said her brother’s a lawyer, and my parents would never forgive me if we lost the farm because Bucky threw you and messed up your gorgeous face, Addison.”

  Well that was sweet.

  “I know Dylan doesn’t care much about her looks,” he added.

  She swung at him, but he jumped out of her range.

  “Watch him on the turn, Dylan. He can bolt,” Wyatt said, laughing as he headed to another stall.

  “Don’t tell me how to live my life,” she said, grabbing the bridle and heading into the stall.

  After securing my helmet, I did a quick check of the saddle and girth, made sure the bridle was adjusted correctly, then led Firebrand to the mounting block. I turned around and watched as Dylan climbed up the side of the stall and mounted from there. She came out of the stall sitting atop a dark grey and white Appaloosa who didn’t look all that complicated.

  I’m not even sure how Wyatt mounted, but the next thing I knew he was atop a second paint, studying me. “How are those stirrups?” he asked. “I had to guess length.”

  I smiled. “Perfect, actually.”

  “Good deal.”

  “Are we riding out to the pond?” Dylan asked.

  “Yeah. There’s that stretch where we can open up and run if we want to.”

  “Oh, we totally want to,” I said.

  Wyatt chuckled, and we headed out of the barn and away from the house.

  “All right, city girls, let’s see what you can do,” he said, nudging his horse into a gallop.

  Dylan laughed and raced after him, and I clucked Firebrand forward to join them. We came upon a large pond, and Dylan veered to the right. Bucky hopped like a bunny three times, kicking his legs out behind him, and then bolted.

  “Shit,” Wyatt hissed, and spurred his horse forward. There was no way he could catch her, though.

  I coaxed Firebrand into stepping up his pace. By the time I went over the hill and came upon them, Dylan was dismounted, doubled over, and laughing hysterically.

  “Dylan, are you okay?” I asked, slowing Firebrand to a stop.

  “Ohmigod, that was so fun! This boy has hops and speed.” She leaned against Bucky and rubbed his neck. “I think I’m in love.”

  Wyatt shook his head, chuckling. “I told you to watch the turns.”

  “And miss out on that action? Never!”

  “Yeah, well now you see why we don’t rent him out,” Wyatt said. “Most riders aren’t nearly as crazy as you.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Bucky,” Dylan said, pulling the horse’s nose down so she could kiss his forehead. “You’re perfect.”

  I shook my head. Only Dylan would think a horse who hopped like a rabbit before bolting was perfect. And somehow, we had to race him like that?

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked. “You didn’t hit your head, did you?”

  “Yeah. Seriously. He’s going to be perfect for what we need.”

  “I’m trusting you on this, because I don’t even know how it works.”

  Wyatt’s expression changed, and I stiffened. “What do you mean you don’t know how it works?” he asked.

  “Well,” I said carefully, “I have never been to a roundup or rodeo or whatever, and I’ve never ridden western, so this buddy pick-up thing is kind of alien to me. I tend to ride straight, not make tight turns around a barrel or jump onto a horse while it’s moving.”

  “You’ll ride, I’ll jump,” Dylan said.

  “Wait, you’re tellin’ me she’s never done this before?” Wyatt said, looking at Dylan and talking about me like I wasn’t even there. “Has she even run the barrels?”

  “Hello?” I asked, waving. “Me? Are you talking about me?”

  “She rides English,” Dylan said. “They don’t have barrels. They jump. She knows what she’s doing, though. She’ll be fine.”

  “You two do realize I’m right here, right?” I asked.

  “On Bucky? Dyl, you saw what he does. Are you tryin’ to get her killed? I’m shuttin’ this down,” Wyatt said.

  “Shutting what down?” I asked. “I swear I’m going to kick both of you in the shins if you don’t stop talking about me like I’m not here.”

  His gaze finally found me. “Sorry, Addie, but I can’t in good conscience let you ride in a dangerous competition when you don’t know what you’re doing. You could get hurt.”

  I frowned in Dylan’s direction and she crossed her arms and glared at Wyatt. What the hell was up with all these men who felt the need to protect me? It was starting to piss me off.

  “You don’t really have a say in it,” I snapped.

  “My horse, my decision,” he said.

  I took a deep breath. “You’re right. I apologize. I think we should go, Dylan.” I turned Firebrand back toward the house and saw a low fence separating the hill from the pasture. It was a similar height to what I used as a beginning rider when I was about five, and I knew that even if Firebrand had never jumped before, he’d be able to do it. Wyatt needed to see what I could do, but I also wasn’t stupid enough to make a western horse jump something he wouldn’t naturally do in the wild or out in the field...either or both of us could get hurt. This little fence would be no sweat for him. I dug my heels in.

  Wyatt bellowed a few curses behind me.

  This amazing, gorgeous, fabulous animal cleared the fence with quite a bit to spare and I heard Dylan’s excited hoot behind me. I grinned and pulled Firebrand to a walk, cooling him down as we waited for Dylan to mount. Then she and Wyatt caught up to us.

  “What the hell was that?” Wyatt snapped. “You could have been hurt. You could have harmed my horse.”

  Okay, I really hadn’t expected the rage he exhibited, but I was determined to plead my case. “I would never do anything to harm a horse, Wyatt. Ever. That fence we jumped was just above ground poles, so I knew Firebrand would have no problem clearing it. He’s probably jumped things higher out in the pasture to get to better grass.”

  Wyatt scowled.

  “Am I wrong?” I challenged.

  “She knows what she’s doing Wy,” Dylan piped in. “She’s trained several of her own horses over the years.”

  Wyatt muttered under his breath.

  Dylan chuckled. “If I’d done that, would you have freaked?”

  “I...” He trailed off and she laughed.

  “Exactly. Calm down, buddy. Addie’s kinda awesome. She can handle pretty much any horse. Even this beautifully complicated beast.” She scratched behind Bucky’s ears. “She’s my best friend, and I wouldn’t put her in danger. I
’ll admit that challenging Brandy wasn’t the smartest thing Addie’s ever done, but she can back up the challenge. We just need practice. We need your help. Come on, Wy. Let’s set up a barrel and make a few trial runs. If they don’t go well, we’ll drop out.”

  “Like hell we will,” I said, leaning back. “That Brandy douche-hag is going down.”

  Wyatt looked from me to Dylan, and then back to me, shaking his head. I thought he was going to say no, but he held up his hand. “Fine. A couple of practice runs, and if it doesn’t go well...you’ll drop out.”

  I started to object to the dropping out part, but Dylan gestured zipping her mouth shut. “Thanks, Wy,” she gushed. “You’re the best.”

  “Yeah, yeah, blondie here just better not die on my watch or my folks will kill me.”

  “No dying!” Dylan said, pointing at me.

  That I could promise. “All right, no dying.”

  “On one condition,” Wyatt said, holding up the picnic basket. “We eat first. I’m starving.”

  Dylan

  AFTER A FEW hours of training Bucky to do the Barrel Buddy Pick-up, we brushed down the horses, thanked Wyatt, and headed back into town to bribe Sergio. Daylight was waning and I wanted to soak in Epsom salts to work out the damage Bucky had done to my body when I wasn’t secured before he bolted. Wyatt had been all sweet concern about Addison getting hurt, but the bastard laughed himself silly when I hit the dirt. I made a mental note to tell his grandma on him when we hit the nursing home. That’d teach him.

  “We have to stop by Dad’s butcher shop first,” I said, heading in that direction. “You want to come in, or you want to sit in the car?”

  “How gross is this butcher shop?” Addison asked.

  “The store front is like the meat counter of a grocery store. All the gory stuff happens in the back.”

  “I can handle that,” she said.

  We went in and found Bill behind the counter. Bill was my father’s only employee. They’d grown up together and Bill was balding, beer-bellied, and divorced, with no life whatsoever. He manned the counter and assisted Dad in the back Monday through Friday, and they closed up on the weekends.

  “Dylan.” He gave me a wide smile and came around the counter to hug me. “I heard you were in town and was hopin’ you’d stop by. Your dad’s not in right now, but I could call him...”