“All right then, tell me what needs the most attention first?” He grows serious.

“The arena. There are a few pins down there I don’t trust and some spots in the dirt that need to be filled. Not only is an animal going to get hurt but a rider too.”

“All right. Then what?” He checks that right off my list like it will be done in a few hours.

“I’d really like a structural engineer out here.” I swallow, hating to admit this part, but if I’m truly in charge and want this done right, I need to lay some things out there. “Somehow the last never even came out here, but my father got him to write up a report saying we’re all clear. Most stuff is surface, but it would make me feel better if the structure itself was inspected.”

I’ve barely even finished my words and Bronco is pulling out his phone to make a call. I watch in awe as he issues orders, but it doesn’t come out condescending. It’s clear Bronco doesn’t only have a way with animals, but people too.

“Ms. Savino will be out here in a few hours with a couple of her people to have a poke around. What’s next?” I don’t know why his question irritates me so much, but it does.

“What’s next is you tell me where my damn trailer is!” I shout. I should be happy because he’s doing the things I ask, but I can’t help but push a little.

“I had your father’s office cleaned out already. You can work there.”

“That’s not the point.” I stomp my foot.

Bronco glances down to stare at my boot. Now I'm acting like a brat, and I know it. I’m not used to all the things going somewhat right, and it’s overwhelming. This ball of something I don’t understand forms inside of me, and it needs to get out.

“Are you fixin’ to throw a fit?”

“Maybe,” I huff.

“By all means, sweet thing. Let loose.” He smiles, folding his arms over his chest, ready for whatever show he thinks I’m about to put on.

Chapter Ten

Bronco

Her eyes narrow, and her little fists clench at her sides. I can almost see the anger rise in her, and I wonder if she’s ever let it out before. Tracy looks like she’s not used to feeling this way, and maybe she’s not. I can’t see anyone in her life giving her the space to actually throw a fit, let alone anyone that actually cares to fix the problem.

“You can’t just come in here and take things that don’t belong to you, and for that matter I’m not some Pokémon that can be traded around like a Shiny Galarian Ponyta. I’m a person that has feelings and things, and just because my trailer was old and crappy, and fine, it had a few leaks and probably some mold, doesn’t mean you can come in here like a wrecking ball and send it to the junkyard. My things might be broken and cheap, but damn it, they’re mine!”