Page 82 of Reckless Skye

For just ten minutes, TJ was at peace.

But the calm made him lax. With his mind on Skye, and not on his posture, he bent over to pick Kai’s hoof. In his distraction, he didn’t go slow, didn’t keep his mind and body focused on every inch of movement to minimize the pain. His back protested at the casual movement. A sharp spasm gripped him by the spine, momentarily rendering him useless as the muscles in his back and chest twitched in protest.

Aware of Skye standing so close, TJ bit down on his tongue, refusing to make a sound.

But, unable to remain upright through the spasms, he lowered down to his knees and made a show of looking closely at Kai’s leg.

Kai, always in tune to TJ’s erratic heartbeat, moved his hindquarters away from where TJ knelt, effectively blowing his cover. The horse swung his big head in TJ’s direction and blew a questioning breath against his face.

TJ reached out one hand and gripped a chunk of Kai’s mane, and when he whispered, ‘Back,’ the horse took three steps back, dragging TJ to his feet.

The moment he was upright, TJ leaned against Kai’s side. He tried to keep his panted breaths quiet, tried to wipe the sweat on his brow before it became noticeable. He fisted his hands and waited for the spasm to pass, but his head pounded with every twitch of his back. Bile clogged his throat.

When he finally looked up, Skye was standing in Smokey’s stall. Through the vertical bars separating their horses, TJ saw the wide-eyed fear and – worse – pity on her face.

And he couldn’t bear it.

He clenched his jaw against fresh movement, slid open the stall door, closed it behind him, and left the barn. And even though it took all the strength he had left, he kept his fucking spine straight as he walked away.

Chapter 25

Even though Skye had told Stevie and Andrea numerous times that she’d be riding in the slack and that there would be zero pomp and circumstance, the girls hadn’t listened. They’d dressed as if they were going to the American Rodeo, both of them in shorts and cowgirl boots despite the chilly weather.

And they’d made a banner.

Skye could see the monstrosity of glitter from where she sat on Smokey, waiting in the holding area with her drag. And although she’d rolled her eyes and told them they were embarrassing her, it made her grin to see her name up in the empty stands.

With the rodeo performance only starting that evening, the people in the thin crowd were mostly other racers and their relatives. The blue arena seats were largely empty, so Skye saw TJ the moment he sat down.

Dressed in dark blue jeans and a black button-down, his black hat obscuring his eyes, he looked like the devil’s own messenger, sent to tempt women away from their straight and narrow paths.

She hadn’t seen him since the day before, when she’d turned around to snap at him – and instead of standing and grooming his horse, he’d been on his knees on the floor of his stall, his eyes closed, his jaw tensed, his arms visibly twitching.

Skye hadn’t known what to do. It shamed her now, to admit that. If she’d been clearheaded, she would have dropped her curry comb and gone to help him. Instead, she’d been too afraid. Afraid of hurting him, of embarrassing him. But more than that – and something she was struggling to forgive herself for – she’d been afraid of touching him. Of being close to him. Of breaking that no contact barrier.

Instead of pondering it, Skye blocked the thought. When the announcer said, ‘Next up, number seventy-four, Georgia Laraby and Who Can Catch Me out of Stephenville, Texas,’ she snapped to attention.

She was next.

Number seventy-five.

She tried to focus as Georgia and Who Can Catch Me pranced down the alley. As the duo broke into a gallop and headed to the right for the first barrel, Skye purposefully shifted her gaze away.

She moved Smokey to the mouth of the holding area, waited seventeen seconds for Georgia and her horse to come racing past them and out the gate at the end of their race, before stepping Smokey into the alley.

And then everything changed. The narrow alley tunnelled her vision to the third and final barrel up ahead. Skye took a deep breath to try and calm her racing pulse. Smokey, perhaps hearing Skye’s screaming heartbeat or simply knowing her job, started pulling on the bit and stomping her hooves.

Skye held the horse back as the announcer’s voice boomed. ‘Number seventy-five: Rookie Skye Marchant and Smoking Barrel from Santa Barbara, California. Let’s go, girls!’

The chorus of ‘How You Like Me Now?’ blared through the speakers.

Skye blocked everything out.

Beneath her, Smokey rocked forward impatiently.

Skye took one last deep breath.

She focused on the feel of her horse beneath her.