Page 120 of Buckin' Around

“Emma! Babe, come back, she?—”

Emma.

My mind flashes back to the handwritten note in Ivy’s basinet. The one I never remembered to show Spencer. The oneI couldn’t bring myself to raise to his attention, just so a woman who gave up her tiny baby could have a second chance.

Gathering Ivy’s diaper bag, I hug her to my hip and move from my seat.

A hand closes around my biceps. “You’re with Spencer Lockwood?”

The words are not curious, and they certainly are not kind.

The pouty look returns to her face.

“I am none of your goddamn business,” I hiss, and Ives and I are putting distance between her and the grandstand before I can even bare to look over my shoulder at Emma’s friend.

It’s time to go home.

I find Spence behind the chute, showing a young guy how to strap the rope over his glove. The young man is mesmerized, his gaze homed in on Spencer’s right hand as his fingers curl and uncurl over the rope. “See, as tight into the depth of your palm as you can. Then, close them over,” Spence says with an encouraging nod.

He’s in his element.

“Yeah, thanks, man. Next time I am definitely gonna make that eight.”

Spence slaps him on the shoulder. “Absolutely, bud. Grip tight, head in the game, round and round you go. Okay?”

“Thanks, Lockwood. See you next weekend.”

Spencer waves him off as I close in on him. When Ives starts babbling, reaching for him, he turns around.

“Hello, my beautiful girl.” He grins around the syllables, his arms stretching to take her. Her grabby little hands go for his hat immediately.

She loves that thing.

“Nice ride, cowboy,” I say softly, adjusting the diaper bag strap on my shoulder.

“Thanks. Not the best I’ve ever done, but enough.”

“Yeah . . . about tha?—”

“Spencer Lockwood,” a voice snaps from behind me.

Spence shifts Ives to his other hip, away from the tone that just bulldozed its way into our conversation.

“Yeah?” he replies. By the fact that his gaze drops to her and doesn’t change, I’m guessing he doesn’t remember her. And he certainly doesn’t know who she is.

Emma stands, arms crossed, expression pure hurt.

“Playing happy little families, I see,” she says with a huff.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Spence says. His tone is neutral, but I can see the way his jaw flexes, the shift in his stance to make himself bigger.

Her friend is walking up behind her, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“You cowboys are un-fucking-believable. Yeah, you know me. I can’t bel?—”

Her friend grabs her by the arm and pulls her away from us. “Babes, stop.”

Emma rips her arm free and stalks back to Spencer. “I lost everything because of you. I had a job and a music contract. Then you knocked me up, and I lost it all. You owe me. Big fucking time.”