Chapter Twenty-One. Winnie

"I take back every time I've given you shit for nearly puking on Brody's boots last spring," I say.

I can tell Case is trying to hide his smile, but his dimple is, as always, a dead giveaway.

"To be fair, I deserved at least ninety percent of that. However," he says, nudging me with his plaid-covered elbow, "I reserve the right to cash it in and return the favor a hundredfold if you upchuck off this tailgate tonight."

I inhale through my nose, releasing my breath through tense lips. Clasping my clammy hands between my knees, I tuck my chin to my chest and concentrate on not puking. I don't want to give Case ammunition to hold over my head for the next year.

Yes, it's a double standard. What's your point?

He wraps a reassuring arm around my shoulders and speaks in a low tone that's saturated with reason. I've heard him use it on Moses and the more persnickety boarders, and I'm not sure the comparison is very flattering. "It's just a race. You and Mab could complete this clover blindfolded and still blow away the competition by at least a full second."

Case and I are sitting next to each other, denim-clad legs dangling off the back of his dad's tailgate. My very first rodeo. It's a local thing, a county fair. Typical stifling summer night in the panhandle. Whenever the wind shifts from the direction of the livestock tents, it smells like a deep fryer made babies with a doughnut factory perfumed with a whiff of fresh manure.

Usually, I find eau de county fair intoxicating and nostalgic, but this afternoon, it's wreaking havoc on my already-twisty stomach.

I lean into Case's hold and allow my head to drop on his broad shoulder for a moment before mumbling into his sleeve, "I can't believe I let them talk me into this."

"Me neither," he quips back. "I thought for sure you'd renege."

I slug him, but his thick leather protective vest muffles the impact. I groan in exasperation.

"I almost felt it that time," he offers. His tone is teasing, but these last few months of training and working alongside Case Michaels have given me a chance to get to know him better, and I can tell he's tense.

I raise my head to look in his eyes. Just between us, lost in the ruckus of a gathering rodeo crowd, I check, "How're you doing? You ready?"

He doesn't bullshit me. That's something I've learned about Case. His first instinct is to make some self-deprecating, sarcastic remark. Which, hey, sounds like me! But we won't do that with each other anymore. Not when it counts.

No flinching.

He exhales, pulling his arm away from my shoulders and clasping his own hands together in his lap.

"Physically, yes. I'm readier than I've ever been. Mentally, I'm almost there. Emotionally, I'm fucked."

"That good, huh?"

He chuckles low. "I won't puke, if that's what you're asking."

"Brothers who ride together, puke together," I remind him quietly. For a split second, his pained eyes drill into mine, but then he blinks and nods, releasing a long breath.

"Good point. This might be like ripping off a Band-Aid, ya know? Like once I get the first ride over with, I'll be all right."

"That makes sense. Same here."

"He'd be over the moon you're doing this," he says, breaking the tension that's settled around us.

"He probably would, wouldn't he? I don't think I ever told him about my racing ambitions. I never said them out loud to anyone before you. But he would have appreciated the reckless life choice, I think."

"A hundred percent," Case agrees. "Reckless life choices were his specialty. And the wardrobe improvements," he adds with a smirk, looking me up and down in an exaggeratedly lascivious way. "He would have dug that, too. There ain't a pair of flame-painted chaps he didn't love. But," he concedes, "we can work up to the flames. For now, let's just say rodeo suits you, Win."

My face burns, but I let him look his fill because the truth is, I picked this getup with him in mind. The problem is, I friend-zoned myself because I've been completely freaked out about my family, but since then, things have settled down. Jesse's finishing out the school year, strong, and Case, Camilla, and even Maria take turns watching Garrett at the ranch whenever I need to train.

It's not perfect and I'm not ready to tour if I ever got to that point, but no one's died or called CPS yet, so we've got that going for us.

And now I've gone and completely fallen for this cowboy next to me. Turns out spending almost all my free moments with Case Michaels just makes me like him more. Which is both amazing and awful at the same time.

So when Maria told me I needed to shop for something new and colorful to wear tonight, I decided I was going to try to catch the attention of my closest friend while I was at it.

Trybeing the key word. I've never tried to do anything like this in my entire life—never had the time for hooking a crush's attention.

My boot-cut jeans are snug around the hips and flare over my new boots. My button-down is a bright coral that pulls out the color in my eyes. It's slim fitting around my waist and, for once, shows off my figure. More than my oversize barn jacket ever did.

Sure, it's not Prada, but I feel like a shinier version of myself—you'd have thought I was wearing a ball gown with the way Case's eyes bugged out of his head when he picked me up this afternoon.

It was like for the first time, Case might see me as a woman and not the girl he mucks horse manure with.

Lord knows his tucked-in plaid shirt and fitted vest are doing all sorts of tingly things to my insides.

Of course, I've known how good-looking he is all along, and it's impossible not to notice the way his jeans stretch over his muscular thighs and how his shirt spans his wide chest. His attractiveness is not a secret, nor is my reaction to it.

However, the last months of working with each other have made me want to shove him into an empty stable stall and kiss him senseless. It's not only how he looks anymore. It's how he cares.

I'm completely gone for him, and I'm very sure he has no clue.

Idiot.

Attractive, considerate, charming, funny, sweet idiot.

Brody and Camilla choose that moment to walk up. Which is for the best. As much as I want to kiss Case, I do have other things to worry about right now. Both of us do.

Less than an hour later, the other barrel racers and I have drawn our racing order. I'm in the waiting pen brushing down Mab, whispering comfort into her ears in the hopes some of it trickles into my own subconscious. The sick feeling in my stomach has been replaced with the itch for the chance to prove my worth. So much is riding on our performance today, and I don't want to let anyone down. I know it's my first race, and no one expects perfection. And yet I feel like they're expecting a miracle.

Jesse and Garrett are here, sitting with Case and his dad. I was reluctant to let Case leave my side. Standing here, surrounded by competitors, is intimidating as all get-out. Everyone seems to already know everyone. They're all huddled in groups while Mab and I are on our own in our stiff new duds. We stand out like a sore thumb, which, for the record, is my least favorite thing. The fact I want to race so badly I could cry is the only reason I'm here, feeling like the most awkward human on the planet while everyone squeals and chatters around us.

But then I considered my sister, hopped up on rodeo crowds and cotton candy, spewing mathematical theorems or—shudder—family secrets to Mr. Michaels. I knew I wouldn't be able to concentrate until I was sure Case was up there running defense.

"Here you are! I shoulda known you'd be hiding away in a corner. I half expected you to ditch me completely." It's Maria. Over my shoulder, I glimpse voluminous dark curls and sequin detailing on the bright pink blouse I helped her pick. She's astride Duchess, a lovely painted mare who, even after several introductions, eyes up Mab as though she's also sizing up the competition.

I stop compulsively grooming Mab.

"I considered it, believe me. Case talked me off the ledge." I swallow and straighten my shoulders. It's okay to be confident. Maria said competing in rodeo is all about swagger. Don't let them see your fear, she told me. "It's just a case of first-race jitters," I admit. "Mab's unbeatable. This ain't new; the location's just changed."

Maria's eyes widen, impressed. "Fighting words. I love it. Don't let Duchess hear you talking smack."

I let Mab's reins drop for a moment and reach over to stroke Duchess's caramel coat. "I'm sorry, Duchess. You know I love you." A little louder, I say, "Second place ain't nothing to be ashamed of."

"Oooh, Santos, looks like you've stumbled on a rookie," another voice singsongs.

I lift the brim of my hat, and recognition passes over Christine Reynolds's face. She smirks, but not in a friendly way. I lower my brim again, though I can still see her fine, unfortunately.

"Winnie Sutton, is that you? My mistake." She looks to Maria. "Does she work for you?"

"Hey, Christine," I say to my former classmate. "I didn't know you rode." Or if I did, I forgot.

Christine is effortlessly pretty and has the cowgirl aesthetic down to a tee. If you typed "girl from a country song" into the search box on Instagram, you'd be flooded with a thousand girls who look like Christine Reynolds.

Not that I've done that. Specifically. But when I was shopping for my new competition wardrobe, I may have researched a little to try to fit in.

Something I doubt Christine has ever had to do in her entire life.

My former classmate flips a long blond ponytail over her shoulder. "I don't ride. I race. And I win. I didn't even know you had a horse," she snips, all pretense gone.

My face burns. I swallow and shift back toward Mab, reaching for her shoulder and finding her steady heartbeat underneath her coat. I take comfort from her calm. "Technically, I don't. But Mab's adopted me, and she has a need for speed, so"—I shrug—"here we are."

"Does that patch on the back of your shirt say CBM Ranch?"

"Yeah," I say, bemused. "I work there."

"And they're sponsoring you? I didn't know the Michaels brothers were so into charity."

Maria gasps above us and dismounts. "Okay, that's enough of that. Christine, don't you have somewhere else to be? Like, anywhere but here? They'll be calling your name soon."

Christine narrows her eyes and turns on her heel, marching back to her horse.

Maria watches her leave with a furrow in her brows. "Reynolds is plenty competitive, but that was something else. What'd you do to her?"

I shake my head. "Nothing. We've never, ever spoken before today. We went to the same high school, but ran in different crowds." As in Christine had a crowd and I didn't.

"Hmm." Maria looks uncomfortable. "I have a theory, but I don't love it."

"Oh yeah?"

"You remember a few months back when Case was doing his whole ‘sad-sap fuckboy thing'?"

"Vaguely." I mean, I'd guessed.

"I heard a rumor Christine and Case… you know."

Now I'm really red. "Oh. Well, what's that got to do with me? I'm guessing they had a bad breakup?"

"Oh, no. Nothing like that. Case didn't do commitment. That part I know for sure. It was his deal. One time and that's it."

"Yikes."

"Yeah, but you know he's not like that anymore, right?"

I think about the last few months we've spent together. "Yeah, I know."

"Whatever Christine's problem is, I have a feeling she doesn't like seeing you with his last name on the back of your shirt."

I ignore the way my heart thumps at the implication and shake off my nerves. "Well, that's too bad. She's gonna have to get used to seeing my back."

Maria's laughter rings out. "Damn straight, Sutton." She slings up onto Duchess's back. "Good luck out there. I look forward to seeing your name right under mine."

It takes a second for her words to register, but before I can respond, Maria and Duchess are already trotting off. I return my attention to Mab, hiding my grin.

"It's on."