The Virgin Cowboy Billionaire’s Secret Baby(21)
Then came Beth Coolidge. She had been an absolutely unstoppable barrel racer as a teenager, and that sure hadn’t changed. Her gelding was fast as hell, and they hugged that last barrel dangerously close, tilting so hard they were almost horizontal, but cleared it. Then he ran like hell for the finish like someone had shot him out of a gun.
Before the clock had even stopped, everyone was roaring. And when it did stop, she’d secured a nearly two-second lead. No one else had a chance.
After Beth had collected her ribbon and trophy, it was time for the men’s barrel racing. Matt was sixth in line, and, like his sister, he hadn’t lost his touch. That gray mare moved like greased lightning, and after they’d rounded the last barrel, spraying dirt everywhere, Matt stood in his stirrups and leaned over the horse’s neck as she made her final sprint. Their time wasn’t quite as good as his sister’s, but he’d secured a top spot that would be hard to beat.
Outside the gate, Beth was standing beside her horse. Matt leaned down from his saddle, and they high-fived.
Behind Dara, someone snorted derisively. “Oh, big surprise. The Coolidges win everything.”
Another guy muttered, “Well, when you can buy the best horses…”
Dara rolled her eyes. Matt had always trained his own horses, usually from the ground up. She doubted his money had changed that—his philosophy had been that winning wasn’t nearly as satisfying if you didn’t build the race car yourself. It was the same reason he’d turned down lucrative employment offers after college and started his own business instead. Starting a company with some venture capital and a prayer was a gamble, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way. He could afford any horse he wanted, but that mare he’d just torn up the arena with was probably somebody’s backyard no-name horse they’d sold for a song. Assuming she wasn’t one of Beth’s home-bred stock.
And of course, when the barrel racing was over, he’d won.
While the organizers collected the barrels and set up for the next class, Dara left the stands to meet up with Matt.
Beth was gone, as was Matt’s horse, and he stood by the fence, chaps rolled up above his boots so they wouldn’t drag on the ground.
“Lose something?” she asked.
He turned around, and when he saw her, he smiled. “Hey, glad you made it!”
She smiled back. “Me too. Where’s your horse?”
He nodded toward the barns. “Beth took them back to their stalls.”
“Got her doing your dirty work now?”
“Yeah, that’s it.” He chuckled. “No, she was heading back that way anyway, and I was going to watch the next class.” He stepped away from the fence. “Enjoying yourself?”
“Of course. I can’t believe how long it’s been since the rodeo was my Friday night thing.”
“Yeah, I know that feeling.” He looked around as they started walking away from the arena. “I didn’t know how much I missed it until I came back.”
“Me too. I just wish I could get back in the saddle.”
His smile fell a little. “Well, there’s time. The pole-bending isn’t the same without you.”
“Give me a few months.” She gestured over her shoulder at the arena. “I thought you wanted to watch?”
Matt shrugged. “Nah. I should probably make sure Beth’s got everything under control.”
“Do you really think she won’t?”
“Please. She’s probably got the horses cleaning their own stalls.”
“That’s what I thought.”
But they kept walking anyway, leaving the noise of the arena behind as they wandered up the wide dirt path toward the barns.
“Do you have any plans tonight?” he asked. “After the rodeo, I mean?”
“Not really, no.”
“After we take the horses home, we’re all going to Hanson’s Place for a few beers. You want to come?”
“Hanson’s Place?” She blinked. “That place is still open?”
Matt laughed. “Of course it’s still open.”
“Sure, I’m in.”
“Great. Why don’t you meet us back at the farm, and we can take one vehicle. The parking at Hanson’s Place is still a pain in the ass.”
“Good idea. I’m looking forward to it.”
At the farm, they put the horses away for the evening, and Dara helped them feed. Then Matt drove them over to Hanson’s Place.
Surprise, surprise, this place hadn’t changed at all—Hanson’s Place was a dive bar if there ever was one. Outside, it was a shitty little clapboard building that may have started out life as a house back in Aspen Mill’s early years. In the windows, the neon beer signs all had amber halos thanks to the yellowed glass from the days when smoking was allowed.