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Drew walked Stormy back to the stall in a daze. The horse nuzzled her shoulder, an almost apologetic look in his large, dark eyes. Only now that she was alone could Drew dare to let the tears flow.
“It’s not your fault.” Drew leaned into Stormy’s wet snout, feeling oddly warm. “It’s never your fault.”
“Tough break, kiddo.”
Drew ran her hand across her face to hide the evidence of weakness. When she looked behind her, Cord was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.
“I don’t understand what the hell went wrong.” There was steel in her tone, anger being the only surefire antidote to more tears.
“Nothing and everything.”
“Thanks, oh wise one.” Drew glared at the old cowboy. “You gonna pull a Mr. Miyagi and have me wax your car for you when we get back to Wyoming, too?”
Her whole world was cracking into pieces, all her plans ruined. The last thing she needed was advice. Or pity.
“Look, Drew. Overall, you were wonderful, but it was little things here and there. Teensy tiny mistakes that are hard for you to see while in the process, but the judges don’t miss ’em. Why do you think I keep telling you never ever count on a win until the check is in the bank?” He shifted, supporting his weight with the other shoulder. One too many falls off a horse over the years had made it hard for him to stay comfortable in one position, and Drew knew she was looking at her future. “Just know you did damn well, especially with a young horse you trained yourself. There’ll be more competitions, and you’ll win your fair share.”
“Fair share won’t be enough,” Drew grumbled. “And none of thatall in due timeshit, either. The bank’s not gonna wait for my ship to come in, or whatever other cliché you wanna come up with.”
“Don’t you ever hear the words I tell you?” Cord let out a long breath. “You need to listen.”
“I listen enough to know it’s always bad news.”
“It’s the truth,” Cord replied, not allowing Drew to get away with indulging in self-pity any longer. “You need to stop dreaming and start living in the now.”
Drew’s jaw tightened. “You don’t think I know how to do that?”
“Nope.” Cord scratched his chin. “I know you didn’t come back to the room until morning. I’m willing to bet you practiced all night long. That’s not living.”
“That so?” Despite the sting of disappointment, Drew felt the urge to strut like a peacock. “How much you willing to bet? ’Cause it appears I’m not going home with that prize money, and as for my gambling winnings, I spent ’em all last night, wining and dining a beautiful woman.”
And it had been amazing. It had also been the first time in as long as Drew could remember that she hadn’t felt the pressure of needing to win or the stress of paying off debts that weren’t her own weighing her down.
“Is that right?” A sliver of a smile cracked through his toughened lips. “That’s a start. My advice is to do that again tonight. Forget this competition. Don’t dwell on what could have been. Focus on how to do better next time.” With that, he left the stall, his steps retreating toward the exit.
“He thinks he knows everything, doesn’t he, Storm?” Drew picked up one of the brushes, running it along his shiny white coat as she breathed in his wonderful horse smell. Some people might not care for the smell of horses, but Drew had learned long ago that those weren’therpeople.
The horse snorted in agreement, or out of contentment, because next to eating apples, getting brushed was the one thing that made this horse go all gooey inside.
“I keep replaying it in my head, and I can’t see where I went wrong.” Drew pulled up the replay on her phone, watching it closely, wincing when she spied the first mistake and then the second. It hurt, and Drew was tired of hurting. She wanted more of what she’d had the night before, the carefree feeling of not having the weight of the world on her shoulders. The way she felt when she was with Maisie. “You know what? I think Cord’s right. Put this in the past, and live in the now.”
Drew was about to tuck her phone back into her pocket, but first she sent a text to Maisie.
Still on for tonight?
No way was she going to mention she didn’t win. Not in a text. Hell, maybe not ever. Why couldn’t she enjoy one last night out on the town with the most exciting woman she’d met in a long time without having reality rear its ugly head?
“Not gonna say a word about it, Storm,” Drew said, continuing with the grooming and trying to blunt the truth from her mind. “I’ve got one more night in Las Vegas, and I plan to make it count.”
CHAPTERELEVEN
Sunlight dancedon Maisie’s bare arms as she whirled around a group of people who had stopped at the entrance of the food hall. Usually, this occurrence would have irked her, but she didn’t think anything could dampen her mood today.
Not after last night.
Getting out of bed had been hell, but Drew had promised to meet up again that night, once the competition was over and the expo had come to a close. The promise of another amazing night propelled Maisie forward. She’d been inspired to go for a brisk walk during her break instead of risking any of the suspect free food at the expo. The buzz inside the hall filled her ears and even the smell of burnt butter substitute couldn’t dampen her mood.
It was only when Maisie arrived at her company’s booth and caught a glimpse of Donna’s and Cheryl’s grim expressions that her mood threatened to deflate. Still, it was difficult not to grin or hum a tune, but Maisie did her best to keep it under control since her coworkers looked miserable.
