Page 91 of Ride the Sky

So it makes perfect sense that I hate him. Even if he has my stomach doing all kinds of warm, tumbly flips on the daily.

Slowly, I dismount Lawless. “I memorized the routine, so I’ll go first.”

“I go first,” Wyatt snaps, yanking the cigarette from my mouth and chucking it onto the ground. “Your dad’s payin’ me to train you, and damn if that ain’t what I’m gonna do.” He kicks his boot on the fence post. Mutters to himself. “Damn, kid. Think she knows best…”

I snort as he grabs Lawless’s reins. Watch as he runs through the riding plan he created for me. A series of warm-ups and exercises to improve my riding accuracy.

When it’s my turn, I mimic him, riding the layout he demonstrated.

As he heads to the fence, I follow. “Well?”

He shrugs. “You can ride.”

Despite the curtness of his statement, I thrill inside. His words mean everything. A top rodeo cowboy telling me I can ride. It’s like sunlight settling in my veins.

I jut my chin out, prop my hand on my hip. “One day I’ll ride better than you.”

He looks amused. “Sure, if you say so.”

“I know so.”

A crooked grin pulls at his mouth. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

The sound of truck engines has us turning. Wyatt perks up, and I’m instantly forgotten.

“Here. Go make yourself useful,” Wyatt says, handing me a bucket. He’s already striding toward the group of cowboys barreling out of the pickup trucks. I recognize them from the circuit. Famous friends of Wyatt’s.

“I want to stay,” I pout. An icky, angry feeling turns over in my stomach.

“Well, you can’t,” he snaps, casting a glance at me over his broad shoulder. “Your daddy’s payin’ me to train you, not babysit you.”

“Fuck you,” I snarl. Then I turn on my boot heel and storm for the barn.

I spend the next hour glowering and calling Wyatt Montgomery every curse word I can think of.

Finally, around four o’clock, I sneak out of the barn and dart behind the dilapidated lodge. It’s eaves are barely hanging on. I can hear the wind whipping through the rotted wood. But I also hear Wyatt and his band of cowboys. Boyish, brash laughter.

“Never believe it if I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes,” a voice hoots. “You’re trainin’ a girl, Montgomery.”

A chorus of cackles and hollers fills the air.

I bite down on my lip so I don’t scream.

Wyatt scoffs. “Not out of the kindness of my heart. Her old man’s paying me.”

I burn inside. Cocky asshole.

“Yeah, well, hope it’s enough.” A deeper-voiced cowboy sounds doubtful. “She’s probably more work than she’s worth.”

“She is.” A snort from Wyatt. “This girl’s just some cowbarbie who won’t last a summer on the rodeo circuit, let alone have a career.”

More laughter. I ball my fists.

Cowbarbie?Cowbarbie? It would have hurt less if he called me a buckle bunny.

Wyatt’s voice again. “I tell you one thing, she ain’t good enough. Bet you her old man wishes he had a son in that ring instead of her.”

The cowboys join in laughing and whooping it up.

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