his mind threw one more curveball before he could shut himself down. What if he actually took the top title? The little bit of funnel cake he’d eaten wadded up into a thick lump and sank deep in his gut, settling like a ship’s anchor. If he won, the recognition would take him places he’d dreamed of going all his life.
Ty studied his horse with a critical eye. Known as a grullo, Gizmo was a rare dun color—deep blue-gray body; black mane, tail and leg markings; a black dorsal stripe; and a pale face mask. Gizmo often sired colts with dun coloring thanks to a rare genetic marker, and as his predictability in colt color went up, so did the stud fees Ty could charge. Grullos were rare. Every dime of that money helped fund Ty’s breeding program as well as his ability to travel the rodeo circuit and pay the exorbitant entry fees, not to mention helping cover the costs of hiring extra cowboys to cover him at his family’s dude ranch. But what mattered most was Gizmo. Ty had loved the lunk since the colt had taken to following him around only a few days after birth.
“Doesn’t seem to matter where we are. I always find you making moon eyes at that damn horse,” said a highly familiar, decidedly feminine voice, coming from a dozen or so feet to his left.
Ty’s lips twitched as his body came to life, fueled by raw awareness. “Not true.”
“How do you figure?”
He ran his fingers into Gizmo’s forelock and scratched. The horse’s eyes drifted half closed. Ty glanced toward his stable neighbor, lifting a single brow as he offered a lazy smile. “Sometimes he makes moon eyes at me.”
Mackenzie Malone, heiress to the Malone Quarter horse breeding empire and the most challenging competitor in the arena, considered him openly. Then she slipped into her horse’s stall, disappearing from view. “Disturbingly true,” she called, her voice muffled by the thick wooden wall that separated them. “True enough, in fact, that I’m not exactly sure how to reply.”
“I would say that depends on whether or not you’re still seeing that suit. What was his name? It was a city... Kincaid? Watson? Portland? Nashville?”
“His name was Dallas.” Thick walls or not, her amused response came through loud and clear.
“Still seeing him?” he pressed. It took a few minutes for her to stick her head around the corner and answer with a grin. Every second he waited deepened his vague but persistent unease.
“Nope. Turns out he had a very weird penchant for... Never mind. The answer is no. I’m not dating the city boy anymore.” One eye narrowed. “Why?”
Desire for the fiery redhead quickened his pulse, prompting Ty to move away from Gizmo and peer into Mackenzie’s—Kenzie’s—stall as she moved back inside. “Just want to make sure you know there’s no need to be jealous of Gizmo, darlin’. Since you’re city-free, I’ll let you make moon eyes at me anytime.”
‘“Let me,’ huh?” Her laugh was rich yet delicate, the sound enticingly deceptive. She might look like a fragile waif and sound like an angel, but she was a powerful threat in the arena and hell’s own temptress between the sheets. “Keep dreaming, Covington. I don’t make moon eyes for anyone, but particularly for bed partners who park their boots by the door instead of under the bed with the intent to stay awhile.”
He hadn’t heard her complain before. Their long-standing history in the arena had always been fun. Before a rodeo, they’d establish the ground rules, the winner gaining something he, or she, wanted to experience together, though it had always been in bed. These postcompetition hookups allowed him to blow off a little steam and manage any residual adrenaline and ramped-up aggression after the long days on the rodeo circuit. He and Kenzie had skipped a few opportunities to knock boots in the past, but only when one or the other was temporarily involved with someone else. And it was always temporary. Neither of them was programmed for long-term relationships, and that was what he adored about her. No expectations, no threat to either’s independence and no hard feelings when he and Gizmo took home the top prize instead of her and her mare, Search for Independence, or Indie, which they did more often than not.
Still...here they were, chasing each other for spots in the finals, knowing they’d likely end up in a face-off at some point in the competition.
Ty absently pulled a piece of a gum out of his shirt pocket, his mind shifting to the first elimination early tomorrow morning.
Gizmo tossed his head and bugled, knocking one front hoof against the stall door, his eyes never leaving the sweet treat Ty held between two fingers.
“Fine. Take it. Your breath is horrible anyway.” He handed the horse a piece of bubble gum and fought not to laugh as Gizmo seemed to grin, delicately plucking the treat from Ty’s fingertips.
“Sometimes I wonder if Gizmo realizes you’re more than a walking, talking soda jerk of sugary goodness.”
Gizmo shoved him hard with his nose. Ty stepped away, just out of reach of the horse’s flapping lips. “Enough,” he mumbled, gently pushing Gizmo’s face from his shirt pocket. “You’re embarrassing me.”
The horse tossed his head and continued to chew his gum with exaggerated enthusiasm.
Unfurling the in-stall water hose, Kenzie filled Indie’s water buckets, watching to ensure the mare didn’t step on the hose as she moved around, inspecting the new space.
“So,” Kenzie called out to Ty, “how’s the dude ranch endeavor going?”
Ty leaned against Indie’s stall door. “It’s been far more successful than we thought it would be, actually.” They’d have to have another two years before they were in the black regularly. No way was he revealing that to a Malone, though. Wouldn’t surprise him if her family lit winter fires with random dollar bills they had lying around their ranch. Kenzie had never known the hand-to-mouth existence he’d lived for a large part of his life. She couldn’t understand.
Shaking off the discomfort of the chasm of differences in their socioeconomic positions, Ty continued, “Cade’s fiancée has been amazing at getting us prime advertising and exposure. Thanks to her efforts, we were rated a five-star resort. She’s pretty great.”
“I heard Cade had popped the question.” She twisted the spigot off before coiling the hose. “You like her?”
“I do. Quite a bit, actually. She’s just what he needed.” From any other woman, Ty would have weighed the comment for its jealousy component. Not with Kenzie. She was far too practical, and for that he was grateful. But it wasn’t gratitude that resulted in the small twinge of emotion that pricked his heart. Truth? He had no idea what it was. And he had no intention of putting it under his internal microscope for evaluations. Some things were better off left alone, and this was one of those things. Besides, there was a bigger elephant standing between them.
He intended to take the title at this rodeo, and probably from this very woman.
* * *
KENZIE MALONE MOVED through Indie’s stall with the ease born of thousands of hours doing the same repetitive tasks for a variety of horses, some of them hers but most her father’s. Indie was all hers, though, and the mare was special. She was one of the first fillies out of a line Kenzie had started the moment she’d received the first half of her trust six years ago. She’d been eighteen.
The animal was an anomaly at five years old. Indie possessed more intuition, more instinctive responses
