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She let out a sigh and took a step toward me, wrapping me in her arms with a begrudging embrace.
Returning her hug, I took a moment to breathe in the familiar scent of hay and horses clinging to her. “I just love you so damn much,” I breathed. “You’ve always been brave and stubborn, but you’re also kind and strong.”
When we finally broke apart, she spoke. “I love you too. Next time, you don’t have to chase me down at the rodeo. I can handle myself.”
I resisted the urge to argue with her again. She couldn’t handle herself. She could barely remember to fill her gas tank up let alone deal with the risks of a criminal underground rodeo. She was naïve and reckless, but fighting about it got us nowhere.
I avoided answering her and instead looked around our modest home. It was small but ours, the only thing Dad left us when he died. We owned three acres, and our property backed up to some trails. The floors and walls were scuffed, our kitchen needed an overhaul, and the bathroom sink had a persistent leak.
But it was ours.
Avery had put up rodeo posters and pictures of her favorite riders. It wasn’t my style, but it made her happy, and that was all that mattered to me.
Feeling worn out, I excused myself. “I’m gonna shower,” I mumbled, heading for the bathroom.
“Hold up,” Avery said, a hint of mischief in her voice before she started digging through her purse. “I got you something from the rodeo.” She handed me a tiny stuffed bull, a red flag held in its mouth. “An apology gift.”
My eyes rolled in response, but my lips betrayed a smile. “Thanks, I’ll add it to my pile of unwanted rodeo keepsakes.”
I retreated into the sanctuary of the bathroom, turning on the shower as hot as it would go. I tried to calm my anger. Avery was impulsive and reactive. Fighting with her wouldn’t fix things.
When I came out, Avery was already in bed, the toy bull clutched in her sleep-loose grip. My heart warmed at the sight.
Closing the door to her room, I made a quiet vow. No matter what, I’d protect my sister, even if it meant stepping into the rodeo arena myself.
* * *
As dawn painted the world in a wash of eerie crimson, the crisp morning air stirred an ache in me. Life as a trail guide promised the allure of adventure and an escape from reality, leading wide-eyed tourists through the treacherous, intoxicating landscape.
In worn leather attire, I headed to the stables. My horses, an extension of my own anxious energy, snorted their greetings.
“Morning, Ginny,” I cooed, offering the eldest mare a blood-red apple. She crunched into it appreciatively, and the familiar, comforting sound soothed some of my restlessness.
Strapping on my worn boots, I pressed my back against the cool metal of Ginny’s stall. It was still early; dawn was just a blush on the horizon, making the stables a realm of half-shadow and murmurings of horses. I did some of my chores, then saddled Ginny.
With her reins firm in my grip, we left for an easy morning ride. A sense of serenity washed over me. Out here, I could pretend that the pile of bills and my sister’s reckless antics weren’t waiting for me back home.
Here, I could pretend I was doing okay.
I rounded a bend on the trail and spotted the ominous shape of an RV parked haphazardly. It was rare that people were out here, and my brow furrowed in confusion as I approached.
My heart pounded as a familiar figure stepped out.
Declan.
His eyes were sparkling with mischief and something darker.
“Well now, look what the wind blew in,” he drawled, leaning against the RV, projecting a casual ease.
“Didn’t expect to see you out here,” I replied, nudging Ginny forward.
His sapphire gaze glinted in the rising sun. “Just looking for some peace, Wildflower.”
I gave him a skeptical look at the evasive response and the tenderness of his nickname for me. “The Dust Devils too much for you?”
His laugh was low and silky, a sound that curled around me, pulling me in. “Oh, they have their moments.”
The tension between us sparked and sizzled, a connection I should have resisted but couldn’t. Our banter continued, a verbal sparring match as wicked as it was compelling.
