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“Can’t an old friend say hello?”
“We’re not friends,” LeAnn said.
“Well, that hurts.” Mick held a hand over his heart and tried to look charming.
It might have worked except she knew how full of shit he really was. “I need to get Garth, so I can’t talk.”
“I hear that you’ve been asking questions about Dylan Porter,” Mick said.
Well, she had been. But only to the other women riders and mostly about why he didn’t have a girlfriend. Mick was a little late with that type of information.
“I don’t think you’ll want him to coach you when you hear what I have to tell you.”
He thought it was about coaching. LeAnn smirked. “I’ve already hired him to train me for the rest of the season.”
Mick stepped in front of her, and she had to stop in her tracks or run right into him. “I was afraid of that. You’ve got to hear me out.”
“Fine,” she sighed out, annoyed. Anything to get him to go away.
“Do you remember Johnny Montana?”
“Yeah,” LeAnn said. “He died last season after he wrecked. The bull stomped on him before the bullfighters got him clear.” She hadn’t watched the event, but Dolly had told her about it. “Sad. I feel for his family.”
“Well, you should talk to his parents.”
“I don’t want to talk to anyone’s parents. Least of all grieving ones.” Then her conscience twinged at her. “Unless you think I could help somehow.”
“They would tell you that Dylan Porter was their son’s bull-riding coach.”
“That’s awful,” she cried. Dylan must have been devastated.
“He’s a bad teacher,” Mick said, placing a hand on her arm. She shook it off. “I just don’t want you to get shitty advice or worse and wind up getting hurt because of his negligence.”
LeAnn didn’t know what angle Mick was going for, but she wasn’t going to let him put a wedge between her and Dylan. “I know what I’m doing. And I trust Dylan.”
“Do you?” Mick asked. “Or are you looking for a father figure now that your dad’s gone home, and you see one in Dylan?”
“Ew,” she said. “Dylan is only a few years older than us.”
“Really?” Mick said, cocking his head in puzzlement. “Because he acts like an old fart. I just assumed he was getting too old to bull ride and was looking to stay relevant by coaching.”
“That’s not the case.” LeAnn sidestepped him and continued toward the barn.
Mick kept pace with her. “I would be glad to help you get better at riding bulls.”
Go to hell. “No thanks,” she said instead.
“LeAnn, I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be,” she called over her shoulder. At least he had stopped following her. His words bothered her, though, but more because she knew Dylan would be mourning his friend. Dolly wouldn’t have recommended Dylan if she hadn’t thought he was a good trainer. And Dolly would have known that he had been training Johnny Montana. She wouldn’t have suggested Dylan if she thought he’d put her in danger. LeAnn would talk to him about it tonight and make sure he knew that she believed in him.
She was surprised to see Merry and Dolly chatting by the barrel-racing section.
“Got time for a beer tonight?” LeAnn asked Merry when she came up to them.
“Always,” Merry said. “Dolly and I were talking about the sponsors you were looking to get.”
“Yeah,” LeAnn said. “Lila Rogers with Cowboy Couture.”
