Rodeo Christmas at Evergreen Ranch (Gold Valley #13)(21)

“He’s afraid, Cal,” Jake said, his voice suddenly rough, and it caught Callie off guard. “You know, it’s not insane that your dad lost a child and he’s worried about you. Losing people messes you up. I know. It’s not like I took care of my parents or anything like that. It’s not the same. But still, it... It did something to me to lose them. It wasn’t nothing.”

“He told me I could do whatever I wanted. Be whoever I wanted. I feel like it was a lie. All of it.”

“I get it. I’m just saying... Look, I get it. I get why they’re scared. I don’t know how anyone does it. Has kids like that. And... Just has them, knowing how things are.”

“Oh. So... That idea scares you?” The idea of anything scaring him was... So foreign. So strange.

“I don’t know that I’d say scares, because I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to have kids. Like I said, none of that stuff means anything to me. I’m not a family man. Not cut out for it.”

“Me, either. I mean, I don’t want to actually get married. It just doesn’t fit in with my plans.”

They wandered over to the barn, and her heart leapt when she saw the horses out in the field. “I get to ride one of them?”

“Yes. And you have to wear a helmet.”

“I hate that,” she said. “I hate it when the cowboys put on those helmets with face masks.”

“It’s not wimping out to protect your brains,” Jake said, his tone dry.

She still groused.

“You can’t ride forever,” he said. “Even I quit. You have to have a body to use when you’re done.”

“Well, all right. Maybe I’ll think about that other stuff when it comes time. But... It’s not time. Not now. This is what I want. Besides, you know you never wanted it—why can’t I know that?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Good point.”

“Do you have a...a chute and everything?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Look, I was ready to leave the rodeo, but I wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to everything.”

“Well, I’m appreciative of that.”

He got the horse saddled up, and got him in the chute. By then, she could see that he was already agitated, already knowing what was coming next. Callie’s heart was hammering hard. She’d had to heal from her broken arm, and she’d been coming up with her plan to get all this going, so it had actually been a few months since she’d been on the back of a horse like this. It made her uneasy. But excited all at the same time.

And then suddenly all her adrenaline went sharp, focused. She lived for this. For this moment. When it all went quiet. When it went calm. When she felt the most at peace with herself and everything in her and around her. In that moment before the chute opened. In that moment before the bunched muscle beneath her sprung into action and she went live.

And then it happened.

She couldn’t hear, wasn’t aware of anything going on around her at all except for what occurred between herself and the horse. He did his job, bucking and reeling, rolling beneath her, trying to unseat her.

And she did hers.

Hanging on with all the strength she had in her body, her arms, her legs. This was what she understood. This discomfort. This pain. The cost of success, the sacrifice required to complete the ride.

Eight seconds.

Eight seconds, it was all she needed. And then the horse went right when she expected him to keep going left, and she felt herself losing her grip on the saddle.

No.

She was flying through the air, but she had enough time to try and tuck herself in, to try and roll just right, so she didn’t end up with broken bones again. At least, to the best of her ability. Still, the ground was mean, and she heard the horse’s hooves connect the dirt right next to her head. She rolled away, getting herself to safety, then stood, stumbling toward the edge of the arena. And that was when she heard Jake.

He was not happy.

“Move faster next time,” he growled.

“I was moving as fast as I could,” she shot back, reflexively brushing the dust off her body, though more trying to brush away the soreness.

It was then she realized he was in the arena, quieting the horse and guiding him out, back into the field.

“That wasn’t good enough,” he said.

“Yeah?” She spit into the dirt, her mouth grainy. “No shit.”

“I thought you wanted to win,” he said. “Or at the very least not get your pretty ass stomped.”

He was furious.

It wasn’t a compliment.

And the aforementioned body part hurt.

So.

Pausing at that was stupid. Ridiculous.

She breathed past it.

“I have no desire to get anything on me stomped, my ass or otherwise.” He was blazing angry, and it didn’t make any sense.

She wasn’t hurt.

When she’d broken her arm she’d been unconscious for a minute, and when she’d come to she’d heard someone screaming. It had taken a while to realize it was her. Screaming and screaming over and over. In pain. A blank chunk of time between when she’d been on the back of the horse and the moment she’d come back to herself on the ground.

Jake had been holding on to her, holding her arm against her side, and he’d been cupping her face. Saying things, but she couldn’t understand them.