“Don’t be an idiot, Wyatt.” Kyla rolled her eyes. “She’s four months, what do you think?”
I pinched my brow. “The last bit was a sarcastic joke, but—”
“Yes, she can hold her head up, but not for long. We haven’t mastered sitting yet, and if I come home and she’s walking, I will murder you.”
“Harsh.”
“I’m not ready to chase a toddler. And Wyatt.” Kyla spun, her gaze hitting mine like a million swords. “No horses. Not yet.”
I gave her a salute and then began to pull Poppy from her carrier.
A few hours later, Stetson, Poppy, and I stood on the front porch of the main house, watching the two couples roll away, the dirt trailing behind them. Poppy breathed a few sounds, her legs going crazy as I held her back against my chest, her little bum fitting perfectly in my palm, and Stetson stood with his arms folded, his brow furrowed as he watched the car vanish from sight. We stood in silence for a few moments, as if what I was about to say was going to cause them to turn the truck around and never allow me to babysit again, but finally, I looked at Stetson and said:
“Wanna ride a horse?”
Poppy took in her tummy time on the stable floor, her wobbly head following us as Stetson readied his horse for a ride, andI slipped the bridle onto Rusty, the baby carrier slung over my shoulder. Marshmallow bobbed his head, leaning down to Poppy on her blanket, even licking her hair and making it stick up in all angles. Rusty kept giving me looks, no doubt wondering why a horse as trained and perfect as him was going to be walking next to a younger gelding like Marsh. I swear I even saw him roll his eyes.
I looked down at Poppy as I pulled the baby carrier off my shoulder.
“Damn,” I muttered. “Now I have to give her a bath.”
“You’ll have to anyway,” Stetson grunted, hoisting the saddle up and over Marsh, “If you don’t want Aunt Kyla to know she was on a horse. Is she riding with me!?” He perked up, his eyes wide.
“She’s not gonna be on a horse.” I tightened Rusty’s lead. “Your aunt said no walking and no horses, and I don’t want Kyla to hate me. I’ll have her in the carrier while I walk Rusty. She’s a Hartwell, girls gotta get used to horses.” I looked back down at Poppy, holding herself up on her elbows, Marshmallow’s nose sniffing her head. Her little face was trained on the big white beast in front of her, mouth open, eyes wide with fascination. Marsh huffed, Poppy flinched, and I noticed snot on her forehead. “I will be giving her a bath.”
Moments later, Stetson was mounted on Marsh, and I had baby Poppy settled against my chest in her carrier as I guided Rusty around the outdoor arena. Rusty huffed, wanting to move as fast as Marsh was, but he kept by me, his nose finding Poppy and giving her little nudges. Stetson led Marsh in a canter around the arena, passing us a few times while I took Rusty soft and slow, letting Poppy get used to the animal next to her. I hummed the same Shania Twain song that Mom would hum for us, the same one that calmed her the other night, as Rusty’s hooves hit the ground with a thump. Poppy never fussed as wewalked, her eyes wide with wonder, completely enchanted by either my humming or Rusty. My bet was on the latter.
“Pretty damn sure she’s gonna love horses. Look at the way she’s looking at Rusty.” I shouted across the arena to Stetson.
“Just you wait. She was born to ride!” Stetson called, slowing Marsh down to my other side, sandwiching Poppy and me between the two horses.
“What do you think she’ll do? Breakaway roping? Trick riding? Dressage and show jumping at the Olympics?” I tickled her back through the carrier and felt her legs kick.
“Barrel racing, like Quinn!” Stetson replied. “I can teach her! Quinn taught me! I’m an expert.”
I had been doing really well, not thinking about Quinn while she was gone for the weekend. And now, thanks to my nephew, she was officially back on my mind. I lasted almost two days. It was harder not to think about her while she was here, seeing as she was in the stables more than in her own home, and fuck…I hated making that stupid bet.
In the back of my head, I had her. I was good at pool; I’d win and then sweep her off her feet during a drink. Hell, I just wanted to get to talk to her. But then, after, once Sam and I left The Steel, all my mojo left, and the next time I saw Quinn, I couldn’t think of a single thing to say to her. At first, I wasn’t going to hold up my end of the bet. My plan was to approach her, lean against the stall, and ask her out again and again until she finally said yes, but then when I froze…even I was confused.
No girl had ever made me freeze up like she did. No girl had ever caused me to shut down.
I was good with women. I could talk to them, flirt, and tease like it was in my job description. No strings, no commitments—just a good time.
Maybe Quinn wasn’t supposed to be just a good time? Maybe Quinn was supposed to be more?
But I couldn’t get to her. She was impossible to break through.
When I offered to go to rodeos with her, my hope was to spend time with her, to let her see the kind of guy I could be, and it would be a lie to say I was shocked when she said no. I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to hear her laugh. Get to know her. I wanted to help her thrive. But she didn’t see that. All she saw was me chasing the rodeo royalty.
When in reality—I hadn’t wanted to chase anyone since I had set my eyes on her again.
Poppy let out a long, loud coo, bringing my full attention back to her. It didn’t even occur to me that I had stopped walking. I tugged on Rusty’s lead and took a step, inhaling as I looked at my niece.
“Barrel racer, huh?” I gave her bottom a pat. “I can see it. She’s gonna love speed.” I let go of Rusty's lead and let out a ‘hiya’—his signal to gallop—and he took off. Stetson laughed and kicked Marsh into a run, chasing after Rusty. I could see Poppy on the back of a horse, her smile wide as she rounded every single barrel. Just like…
Stetson’s ‘yee-haws’ and shouts pulled me back into the moment, only slightly forgetting that Quinn Compton could teach Poppy how to ride the way she does.
Stetson and I closed up the stables, getting the night check done in record time, even with a baby strapped to my chest, and then made our way to Rhett’s place. After Poppy was bathed and dressed in a pair a footie pajamas that I was jealous of, I gaveher a bottle and we watched a few episodes ofBluey. Those stupid dogs were more entertaining than half the crap I’d seen on television lately, and when it was time to turn it off and get Poppy in bed, I found myself saying, “One more episode.” I rocked Poppy until she was calm, her fingers wrapped around my thumb, and placed her into her crib right before she drifted off, the same moment I heard the front door open.
