Turn and Burn (Blacktop Cowboys 5)

Berlin leaned forward. “Your honesty is appreciated. So you deserve ours also. We’ve had half a dozen riders on Madera in the last two months and she’s never performed the way she did with you. Which is why we still think you’re a perfect match and could win another national championship on our horse.”

“I sense a but.”

“But we’re sensing some ambivalence on your part on whether you’re still interested in competing in the sport at the level you used to.”

“Maybe you’re sensing my fear that I won’t ever get to that level again, regardless of what horse I’m on.”

“Tanna, we watched you today. Quite frankly, we don’t give a shit about plying you with false flattery. We’re all about the performance. And that’s one thing you can do: perform. Just imagine the difference even two months of training on Madera will make.” Chuck’s eyes twinkled. “You might shave your time down to twelve seconds at next year’s CRA.”

Tanna snorted. “That’d be the day. Although, during a practice run in Galveston one year, the electronic eye timed me and Jezebel at eleven point nine eight. I assumed the machine hosed up.”

They laughed.

“So, here’s what we’re proposing.” Chuck laid it all out and Tanna was stunned by their generosity. For the first time, in a very long time, and since she’d ridden Madera, she felt like she wasn’t washed-up. These people believed in her, which went a long way to her believing in herself. Sutton had been right about this too—riding a horse like Madera gave her a glimpse of the champion she used to be. The champion she could be again.

“Can you be there next week?” Berlin asked. “We’d really like to do a test run at a small rodeo in Lodestone in three weeks.”

Lodestone might be a small rodeo, but it was an important one—with a big purse and lots of points to be won, since Labor Day weekend signaled the beginning of the end for cowboys and cowgirls to qualify for the world finals. The best of the best in rodeo attended Lodestone. It’d be the perfect time to start the buzz that Tanna Barker would be back in action the first of the year with a new horse.

Then her hopes sunk a little. She’d assured Harper and the Split Rock crew that she’d be around the entire summer and three weeks remained. Lainie and Celia had both stuck their necks out to secure her the job. Quitting would be a shitty way to repay them.

“Tanna?”

She looked up. “Sorry. Look. This is a lot to process. Obviously I’m very interested. But I’d like a day or two to think it over, see if I come up with any other questions or concerns.”

Chuck nodded. “Fair enough.”

Talk turned to mutual acquaintances, rodeo gossip and always—who was riding the top of the leader boards in rodeo events. They ended up closing the place down.

After parting ways, Tanna opted not to drive back to Muddy Gap. She scored the last room at the motel across from the bar. By some weird coincidence or fate—or maybe the universe was testing her—she ended up in the same room she’d shared with Fletch on her first night in Wyoming.

That seemed like a long time ago. She never would’ve guessed he was the one.

As she stretched out in the middle of the king bed, images from that night kept flashing through her mind. Yeah, the sex had been rockin’, but there was so much more between them now. Though neither of them had bucked up and said the “L” word yet, there was love there. The type of forever love that didn’t just vanish after one stupid fight.

Once they both cooled down, they could discuss where they went from here.

Because she might be leaving the Split Rock, but she wasn’t leaving him.

Early Sunday morning, after it’d sunk in how much of a dick he’d been to Tanna Saturday afternoon, Fletch drove up to the Split Rock. Her truck wasn’t parked in front of her trailer.

A feeling of panic set in. Had she already left? He beat on the door harder than necessary. Hearing no response, he walked in, calling out, “Tanna?”

No answer.

Her bed hadn’t been slept in. Her coffeepot was unused. Her laptop sat on the coffee table. He slumped against the wall, relieved that she hadn’t just snuck out in the middle of the night, without saying good-bye, which was no less than he deserved after the way he’d acted in the last week.

Fletch had made up excuses not to see her after she’d told him about the horse owners being so anxious to meet with her that they were driving to Wyoming as soon as possible. Was it a petty, assholish way to react? Yep. He’d justified his actions—if he spent time with Tanna he’d most likely come off as pissy, not supportive, and she deserved support at this crucial junction in her career. No matter how much he wanted her to succeed, he feared her doing so would mean the end of them.

Fletch didn’t want them to end. Ever. He should’ve just told her how he felt rather than being such a chickenshit. He had lied to her; he’d never been in love before he met her. He’d never told a woman he loved her and he had no idea how to do it. Blurting it out during sex seemed . . . disingenuous somehow.

And not telling her that you love her was somehow . . . better?

At least his entire day hadn’t been a wash, fraught with frustration. Last night Fletch had spent a long time talking to Tasha. She suffered burnout from running a solo practice too. She swore she’d take less money—if that were possible—if it’d give her more time with her husband and the baby she carried.