“Hey Sammy!” I cheered, maybe a little too bright for how early it was.
“Damn, Hartwell.” He chuckled in response. “Honestly thought I was going to get your voicemail.”
“It’s not that early.” I raised my arm, forcing my sleeve down to glance at my watch. Okay, maybe it was still early. I thought it was later. Shit—I was really getting good at the stable hand gig. “Well, I guess it is. Why are youcallingme so early?”
“It’s late, depending on how you look at it.”
I could hear his grin. Cocky bastard.
“Who’d you wake up next to?”
Sam was normally my wingman when we went out after rodeos. We’d find bars or hotels to go to after, doing a quick sweep for any buckle bunnies that had gotten left behind. It was easier that way. They wanted to have a good night, and I’d be more than happy to give it to them.
“Runner-up for Montana.”
I raised a brow. It was once a rumor that I was going for all the rodeo queens. That I had a list and I was checking off each state. Sure, I’d had a fun time with a few…but Sam? Sam was the one checking them off his list. Every year, he tried to get the whole country. Every year, he came close to succeeding.
I pinched my brow, thinking of her name, only to come up short. “The runner-up, huh?”
“Just let her out of my room.”
“And you decided to call me…why?”
“Where the fuck have you been?” He bit out, his tone changing almost instantly. “Last I knew, you were taking some time off, a few weeks tops if I remember correctly, and now here it is, almost two months later, and you’re gone. I miss ya, man. Craig isn’t as fun in the box.”
“Get him drunk and he’s a blast.”
“Come on, man, your sabbatical is up.”
Sam didn’t know specifics. He wasn’t there that night I made the biggest mistake. He was—if I remember correctly—already up with the rodeo queen for the night. That night, it was just me, Hawkins, some stupid cowboys, and the head of the Wyoming Rodeo Committee playing a game of pool. One too many beers in, one too many things said about a certain girl, and I snapped. A broken nose, a snapped cue stick, and a hospital visit later, I was asked to step away for a bit, promised the whole thing would blow over…only to be forgotten about weeks after. Hawkins blamed the alcohol; he said I wouldn’t have done that under normal circumstances, but the truth was, I would have. I had heard them talking before we invited them over to play a game—I knew exactly what I was doing.
Even still, I don’t regret hitting the guy; I don’t regret causing him to miss a few rodeos thanks to his broken nose. I’d hit him again if I heard him say those things about Quinn any time soon.
The only thing I regret is losing my standings.
“This isn’t a sabbatical.” I heaved a sigh, shoving my phone between my shoulder and ear to try to work.
“I haven’t seen your name come up for weeks. People are starting to ask about you.”
“Yeah, well—no one is interested in my name anymore,” I mumbled.
“That’s horse shit.”
I took a step into the stall and slid, looking down to see my boot covered in literal horse shit.Nice timing, Sam.I glared up at the horse in the stall, standing near the back. She wasn’t one of ours, and her shyness told me she was new.
“This is your way of welcoming me, huh?” I whispered to her, dragging my boot against the wood.
“What?”
“I just stepped in horse shit, right as you said horse shit.”
“You stepped in…where are you, Hartwell?”
“My ranch.”
Technically, it wasn’t mine. I owned five percent as of last year, two hundred and fifty acres of land that still needed to be plotted out. I had a request for when we finally did plot it, it had to be far enough away from everyone that I could have my own space, but close enough that I wasn’t mistaken for the brooding, dark cowboy of Hartwell Hills. I still had no desire to do more than I was. Ranching wasn’t what I was made to do. It was just a temporary spot until I could figure out my announcing career.IfI ever figured out my announcing career. I was starting to really miss it.
“Idaho?” He clarified, his voice rising in question, a small squeak with the O.
