She could feel the matching one on herself. Good thing this last reporter didn’t have video since she must look like a total loon.
“Hey, you nailed it.” Hank stared at her a moment, momentarily flummoxed, then continued, “Final round. Did you feel any real pressure? All you had to do was keep him up.”
She laughed, despite the rain that’d now kicked in, steady wet mist.
“I don’t know about that. You know, I—uh—never even thought about it.”
Jared cleared his throat quietly, a scoffing sound, skeptical. True friends like Jared called you out and didn’t let you get away with anything...even trying to schmooze a reporter when you just wanted to kick off your boots and eat a pepperoni Hot Pocket.
“It was just kind of the same thing that goes through my head every night. Go fast, be tight, get around the barrels and try to win some money. That was my goal.” That earned her two thumbs-up from Jared. Little did he know her other worries—and he wouldn’t ever know them since it’d all turn out to be nothing.
She let go of a breath she didn’t know she held.
“I don’t really have any sort of thought process before I go in other than that.” The rain picked up now. Heavy drops pelted them. “I just knew that I needed to focus all day and think about what I needed to do in there. And that’s what I did. I focused.”
Jared made a circling motion with his index finger. Wrap it up. She gave him a slight head shake. She’d worked hard for this all year and she’d bask in the moment, even if she felt faint, the world growing dimmer. Was it getting even darker out? When she swayed slightly on her feet, she caught Jared’s quick, concerned frown and snapped her spine straight.
She couldn’t stand being fussed over.
“I didn’t hardly talk to anyone today. My mom and my friend were about the only two people I actually spoke to...”
It touched her that Jared had flown out to spend the week with her and help her prepare. They always gave each other pep talks before big games or competitions, sometimes tough, sometimes inspirational, sometimes just to make each other laugh and calm down.
Today, Jared had been full-on comedian, making her giggle whenever her anxieties about the race—and her eyesight—started winding her up. Several times she’d caught herself on the brink of confessing her concerns. Would he think less of her if he learned of her weakness? He didn’t know the girl who’d once been called four eyes and been teased so hard she’d spent her lunches hiding in her grade school bathroom.
And he would never know her.
That girl disappeared long ago. Amberley had spent her lonely childhood with her horses until she’d worked her way up into competitive barrel racing and become the winner whom Jared respected. Liked. And winners didn’t complain.
They got the job done.
“It just was one of those days when I needed to take it to myself and focus on what I needed to do.” Her look clicked against Jared’s for a minute. “And it scared me on the first barrel today. I knew that it was going to be tight, and I was thrilled we got around it.”
The rain fell heavier, in weighty splats, not that Hank seemed to notice. She shivered in her soggy shirt as he forged ahead with his next question. Would this interview end before she caught pneumonia? If not, her next interview could be from an ICU bed.
“And another world championship for Colorado today. What do they say about you up there in the Rocky Mountains?”
Jared mouthed something obnoxious—it had to be, given the wicked twinkle in his eyes—and she fought back a giggle. He was the worst.
“I don’t know what they’re going to say.” She earned an eye roll for that. “I hope I made them proud. I know I’m proud to be a Rocky Mountain rider. And I have to thank all of my fans today. They’ve been awesome. I love that they came down and cheered me on. It meant a lot.”
That, spoken directly to Jared, wiped the grin off his face and did something funny to his large, wide-spaced eyes, darkened them somehow. For a moment, she glimpsed the heartthrob her girlfriends gushed about, and it unsettled her. Sure, she recognized his attributes. Every female with a pulse appreciated his lean, square-jawed, gorgeous face, his towering height, slim hips, muscular torso and endless legs that turned a pair of worn jeans into a work of art. He had the kind of red-blooded American male good looks that made a gal want to salute and thank God for everyday miracles.
She wasn’t blind, despite her recent vision hiccup.
But she wasn’t stupid either. Fruit flies lived longer than Jared’s romantic relationships, if you could call them that. Conquests was more accurate a term. Their friendship worked because she inoculated herself against his lady-killer charms. The only woman to see the frog and not the prince. In fact, she preferred the goofy frog to the prince. Their friendship meant too much and she’d never want him in any other role, especially after losing the only other important man in her life, her dad, to cancer two years ago.
Nope. No way would she ever jeopardize their friendship.
She tore her eyes from Jared and peered at Hank through the steady curtain of water dripping off her hat brim.
“A 13.95 average through ten rounds.” Hank whistled. “Pretty neat day. Brings you that average title. How important was that to you?”
“You know, it was real important to me. Every contestant that comes here dreams of winning and that, of course, is one of my goals, and so to achieve it is huge. Though it’s surprising, I’ve worked really hard for this and I just have to thank everyone who’s helped me get here.”
The rain had turned Jared’s long lashes into dark wet spikes around his golden-brown eyes. He didn’t blink, just stared right back at her for a long moment with an unreadable expression she should be able to decipher. She usually knew almost every thought inside his pretty head. “They all helped me get through this week and all through the year. I just can’t thank them enough.”
Jared mouthed something and pointed to the parking lot where his pickup waited. She didn’t have to read his lips to guess he’d said something like, “Let’s go.”
“Final numbers were one hundred and thirty-five thousand dollars on the week, and that leads you to another world title,” pressed Hank.
How many followers did his blog have? Millions? As much as she wanted to please her fans, she needed out of this weather. She felt a sneeze coming on, held it in, then jerked as it exploded in her sinus cavities.
“How does this one stack up?” Hank asked, undeterred.
She took a deep breath and launched into what she hoped would be a good enough answer for him to quote and move on. Please...
“Well. You know. The first one is always special and so unreal and indescribable. But this one feels so much more hard-earned. And that’s what it felt like all this year. Harley got injured right before the season started, so that was a challenge. I didn’t think I had a chance to even be thinking of a world title.”
Especially with her eyes failing.
A tremor lanced through her.
Jared
