Page 176 of Ride the Sky

My jaw clenches at the dig. Fuck him and his fucking attitude.

“You know the drill,” he says, cutting to the chase. “I’m here on behalf of the Rocky Mountain Rodeo Association. See if you’re up to code, up to snuff. Maybe keep you open next year.” He clicks something on the tablet in his hand. “Show me around, kid, so we can get this over with.”

I do, doing my best to keep my body loose and my mind focused on the present. Thirty minutes later, he’s seen the training grounds, the pens, and the training center.Conversation between us stays clipped and professional. Younger nods, takes his notes, checks off his fucking checklist.

When we step outside, it’s late afternoon. I heave a sigh of relief. Roll out my shoulders. Will this day to be fucking over so I can go home to my girl.

Younger scans the tablet in his hands. “You meet all the training criteria. Have shown consistent scores and improvement in your riders.”

Pride sweeps through me. At least this summer, I made a difference to someone. I helped.

With a smug smirk, Younger says, “I doubted adding you to my team, Montgomery. But I made a good investment. Guess you’re not as much of a fuckup as I remember.”

I freeze. So he does fucking remember me.

I flick my gaze to Younger. “I never was a fuckup. If I remember correctly, that was all you.”

Younger stiffens. “Watch your fucking mouth, kid.” He stalks toward me, but I don’t flinch. In fact, I square up.

“You watch yours. And I’m not a kid. Not anymore.”

As I stand here in front of Younger, I realize I’m not afraid of him. Hell, I’m bigger than him.

Finally, he speaks through gritted teeth, “This will cost you points. Bring down your school rating. Maybe even shut you down.”

I snort. Only thing he has to leverage is the fucking school. Well, he can keep it.

“I know you remember what you did to me,” I say in a lethal tone. I take a step forward, watch as Younger stiffens. “You beat the shit out of a kid who couldn’t defend himself. You hit a horse. You’re a fucking embarrassment to everything a cowboy stands for.”

Younger looks ready to swing, and I lean in.

In a sick way, I want him to hit me. So I can beat his face to a pulp. Fight him, show him who’s fucking boss. But I don’t need to do any of that. Being with Fallon has made the anger, the doubt, the darkness go away.

With her, I know where I belong. What I stand for.

Panic floods Younger’s eyes as I advance. It’s worth it to see the same fear I once felt filter through his expression.

I don’t even want to hit him anymore. I just want him off my fucking ranch.

That’s when I know I won.

“You work for me,” he sputters.

“The fuck I do.” I give him a grin, enjoying the way his fat face turns bright red. “Take your job and shove it. I fuckin’ quit.”

With that, I turn and head toward the ranch. I don’t even spare him a backward glance; he doesn’t deserve another second of my time.

If my brothers have taught me one thing it’s no mercy. Protect your family. Protect yourself. I intend to do just that.

I have a plan, and it involves me and Fallon. She’s what matters. Nothing else.

The sun is low in the sky when I reach the cottage. I’m buzzing. High on the day, on the confrontation with Younger. All I want is my wife home so we can talk about the day. I want a porch swing and steaks and her mouth on mine. All Fallon, all the time.

I groan when I reach the front door. “Goddammit,” I mutter, my good mood suddenly doused by what feels like cold ice water.

Two inches from the tip of my boots lies a single stemmed rose. A piece of paper is tied to the stem.

That burn in my chest lights again—worry, rage.

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