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But I didn’t want to be his girlfriend. I wanted to be his wife.
Don’t dream too big, Phee, I told myself. Be realistic. Not everyone wants the white picket fence.
But I did. For the first time in my life I had dreams of wedded bliss. Picking out dishes. Making a baby or two. As long as it was with Clint.
"Jackson Delancey. This is Daniel."
"Clint McRae. I've seen you two around."
I stared in horror as they gripped each other's hands… and did not let go. It looked like they were trying to squeeze each others hands off! I put my hands on top and tugged to no avail. Finally, I slapped my hands down on them.
"Alright, that's enough, boys."
They both grinned and squeezed harder.
"Come on Jacks, he needs those hands to set up my horse!"
Jackson narrowed his eyes and nodded. Clint nodded. And they finally let go.
I exhaled loudly, relieved beyond measure. That hadn’t been good, but it might have been much, much worse. I couldn't imagine how bad it would be if Jackson had actually known which way the wind blew.
Right up my skirt, in fact.
All hell would have broken loose.
I tried to picture what would happen if Clint introduced himself as my boyfriend. Daniel would be the peacekeeper, giving Clint a chance. He wouldn't like it, but he would listen.
Well, maybe he'd throw a punch or two first. After that, he would listen over a beer and a bourbon.
But Jackson? He would go to war. I grimaced, realizing we were lucky that Jake wasn't here. He was even worse.
Or at least, he was a whole lot crazier.
Jake was the kind of guy who got into a fight he knew he couldn't win. He considered bar brawls to be a competitive sport. I'd seen the aftermath of him taking on a whole bar full of bikers. For fun.
He'd sit there grinning while I held a bag of peas to his face.
I smiled as my cousins wished me luck and wandered off to get something to eat. It meant a lot to me that they were here. Sure, they were famous horse breeders, so it made sense for them to go to shows, but this one was a long drive across multiple states.
They weren’t here for the family business.
They were here for me.
"You warm enough?"
I nodded, bouncing in place. It was almost time. Clint rubbed my shoulders as I closed my eyes and mentally ran my routine like he'd taught me to do, trick by trick.
Seeing it in my mind's eye clearly made me calm and reminded my body of what to do.
"It's time to show them what you got, darlin'."
I smiled at him and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. I resisted kissing his delicious lips, just in case they were watching. I mounted Apollo and looked down at Clint. My man.
I hoped he was anyway.
He winked at me, his blue eyes shining with pride.
"Go get em' wildcat."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Clint
Come on, girl. That’s it. Up and over, nice and easy. There you go…
I stood on the sidelines, staring at Phoenyx in the ring. I was mentally going through every move with her, shouting my encouragement, although nobody could hear me. She was performing her routine flawlessly. My heart sang with pride as she swung around the saddle like an acrobat.
She was perfect. She was poetry in motion. Young, but an expert sportswoman. And she was mine.
There were twenty competitors here today. Many of them were seasoned vets. But Phee had a level of showmanship and precision that set her miles above them.
Never mind how damn beautiful she looked out there!
I knew she was going to win hands down. Getting to Nationals was going to be easier than I thought. Hell, we might even be going to the World Championship.
Watching Phee stomp the competition was the best damn thing I'd seen in my life. And I'd helped her do it. She'd let me polish up her technique to the point where it was textbook. Oh she'd grumbled at first when I made her get down to basics.
But look at her now.
The secret smile she flashed me at the end sent a shot of pure love right to my heart. Love… that was what it was, no doubt about it. Well, dang. I had been afraid to say it out loud but there was no denying it now.
I loved the little filly.
And she was going to learn to love me back, dammit. Come hell or high water, I was hearing those three little words from her.
And soon.
Even if I had to trick her into saying them.
She waved at the adoring audience as the judges tallied their scores. I held my breath, waiting for it. I had a good feeling. I hoped that maybe, just maybe, she'd get a perfect ten.
And she did.
Would you look at that.
