Page 27

You deserve someone who's going to worship you.

Lying here in the predawn light, I can't stop thinking about it, and it pisses me off. What the hell did he even mean by that? I keep telling myself he was just taking the big brother stance, filling in for Eli because he can't be here. But then my traitorous brain remembers the way he crowded my space. The warmth of his breath against my skin. The scent of him wrapping around me. The completely involuntary way my body reacted to having him that close.

I shove the thought away before it becomes dangerous.

The past two nights, Chace has left our campsite around eight and not come back until well after two in the morning. Not that I'm paying attention. After all, I'm just a light sleeper. He's probably off at some bar, no doubt. Catching up with old rodeo buddies. Working his way through whatever social calendar a man like Chace keeps while on the circuit. That was the first thing he did after we set up camp Tuesday. Disappeared to see who he knew. Apparently, this whole summer is just one big reunion tour for him.

Whatever. I knew it would be like this. I refuse to be his babysitter, and I couldn't care less what he does. What I need today is to keep my head quiet.

When I mapped out our summer training schedule, I built Thursdays and Fridays into Dusty's recovery days, aside from some light work Friday mornings to keep him loose before our Saturday runs. I reserved practice arena time so I could stick to our routine. Other than the occasional jackpot, if I need it, we won't compete again until the weekend.

I know myself well enough to know that if I let myself spiral into the what-ifs—the standings, the points, the pressure of what this run could mean—I'll be useless in the gate. So today is about staying present. Keeping my mind off the math and just breathing.

That's why I brought my camera. Photography has always been a fun little hobby of mine, but somewhere along the way it became something more. There's something peaceful about capturing life's candid moments. Like, if I can document them, they become history worth remembering.

I lie in my bunk a few minutes longer than necessary, listening to the fairgrounds come alive around me. Someone three sites down is already moving a horse. A generator kicks on somewhere in the row behind us. Distant voices, the clank of metal on metal, and the sounds of a few hundred people starting their morning in a temporary city made of trailers and ambition.

I love this. All of it. Even the hard parts. The money stress. The uncertainty. The instant coffee.

Actually...

The coffee.

I definitely need coffee.

I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bunk, hopping down onto the camper floor. That's when it hits me—the smell of actual, freshly brewed coffee drifting through the camper door, and my brain short-circuits completely.

All week, I've been trudging over to the fairground’s office for hot water and whatever sad coffee situation they've got set out for the early haulers. It gets the job done. Barely. I've been surviving on it and a lot of resentment.

My mind is one hundred percent on the coffee when I step outside. Chace is sitting in the camp chair with a mug halfway to his mouth. The second I clear the door, his eyes find mine and travel — slowly, completely without shame — from my face down the full length of my body before he lowers the mug and clears his throat.

That's when I realize I've made a huge mistake.

I look down at the thigh-length T-shirt I’m wearing. I am completely naked underneath it, and the morning air is cold enough that my nipples are making that very clear to anyone looking. Which right now is Chace, who wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at me over the rim of his mug.

"Ah, fuck! You're a pig!" I scramble back through the camper door, grab the first pair of shorts off the floor, and yank them up while he laughs outside. Prick!

"If I knew fresh coffee was all it took to get you half naked, Sunshine, I'd have done it a long time ago," he hollers from outside.

"Fuck you, Chace." I peel the T-shirt off, snap my sports bra on, pull a fresh shirt over my head, and stand in the middle of the camper for three seconds. The embarrassment is real. So is the smell of that coffee drifting through the door.

The coffee wins. I step back outside, resolved to pretend none of that just happened. But this man simply can never let an opportunity to get under my skin pass him by.

"I have eyes, Addie." He winks. "Try to keep your clothes on this summer, will you? I can't have you trying to seduce me this whole trip."

Asshole.

I close the distance between us, take the mug directly out of his hand, and take a huge gulp.

I spit it back out immediately.

"What is this?" I shove it back at him. "That tastes like liquid candy."

"That's my coffee." He pulls it back from my hand. "It's vanilla cream, and I happen to enjoy it. There's a full pot for you over there."

"Wow." I look at him over my shoulder as I head for the folding table where the coffee pot is sitting. "Chace Walker takes his coffee like a thirteen-year-old girl. Fascinating. Very cowboy of you."

"How do you take yours, then, Miss Rough and Tough Cowgirl?"