But he wasn’t used to Dara Marley sitting up there in the stands anymore. Back when they were kids, she’d be cheering for him alongside everyone else, but it was different now. He tried to tell himself it was that new mercury vapor lighting they’d installed last year, that everyone looked different underneath that cool white glow, but that explanation wasn’t working. No amount of changes to the lighting would do a damned thing to make this better or worse now that he’d seen her the way he had the other night. He’d barely been able to find his footing since she’d come back into his life in the first place—now he was a wreck.
This isn’t getting weird, is it? Is this what she meant by getting weird?
From just outside the in-gate, he glanced up at the stands and watched her watching the current competitor. He swallowed. No, this wasn’t weird. It was something else, and he didn’t have the first clue what.
Brandy fidgeted beneath him, bringing his attention back to what he was supposed to be doing. He walked the mare in circles to keep her occupied until it was their turn. Every time the announcer called a number, Brandy grew even more restless—she knew how this worked, and she was quite literally chomping at the bit to get in there and run.
Well, at least one of them was focused tonight.
It was finally their turn, so he patted her neck and steered her toward the gate, and now he was as restless as she was. The barrels were up ahead of them like three bull’s-eyes, and he zeroed in on each of them. He curled and uncurled his toes inside his boots, but he carefully kept from nudging Brandy in the process. When she was ready to run, she was on a hair trigger; one tap of his heel, and she’d be off and running.
The second the gate opened, he touched her side, and Brandy took off, and the world was reduced to barrels, dirt and speed. They tore around the first barrel. The second. The third. Then Matt leaned forward so Brandy could run like hell, and they were out the gate again.
They’d barely stopped before the announcer’s voice echoed off the roof: “Number forty-eight takes the lead by a margin of point seven seconds.”
Matt pumped his fist and patted Brandy’s shoulder, especially since they’d just beaten Beth’s time for the night by a fraction of a second. That didn’t happen often.
“Nice!” Beth called out. She leaned over from her saddle and high-fived him. “You giving that mare Red Bull or something?”
He laughed, his heart pounding from adrenaline. “Of course. That’s it.” He was about to make a snarky comment about finally beating her, but then he glanced at the stands.
And there she was.
And his pulse was all over the place again.
He shook himself and tore his gaze away. What the hell was wrong with him? So they’d had sex. She was still Dara, they were still friends, and it didn’t have to change anything.
Now if his cardiovascular system would just get that memo, he’d be in good shape.
Matt ultimately came away with second place in the men’s barrel racing. Ironically, on this rare occasion that he outran his sister, one of her students came out of nowhere and beat him. He was happy for the kid, though—he hadn’t seen someone that ecstatic over a blue ribbon in a long time, and especially after a run like that, it was well-deserved.
“Congrats,” he said as the winner rode out of the arena. “Keep riding like that, you’re gonna run out of room for those.” He gestured at the ribbon.
The kid grinned. “Thanks.”
Beth beamed as she rode beside Matt. “This one’s going to World if I have to threaten his parents.”
“Damn right he is,” Matt said.
The kid headed back toward the barn with his parents walking beside him, and judging by their smiles, it wouldn’t take much arm-twisting to convince them to let Beth take him and his horse to the world championships.
“You should see him on his jumper too,” Beth said. “That boy’s gonna be on the US Equestrian Team someday, I swear.”
“If he’s this good at, what, sixteen? Yeah, he will.”
“He’s fourteen, believe it or not.”
Matt whistled. “Wow.”
They headed toward the barn to give their horses a rest and some water. As they rode, Matt’s mind drifted back to the stands. That had been his default lately—whenever he didn’t have something to hold his focus, he went straight back to wherever he’d last seen Dara. He’d been a fucking wreck the day after they’d slept together. Nothing short of an alien invasion could’ve shifted his mind’s eye away from the image of her, naked and breathless, sitting over him on the couch and riding his cock.