I squeeze her hand and pull it to my lips, pressing a kiss to the knuckles of the woman I chose—the life I chose.

“Jesus. Who even are you?” Rhett asks, looking a little shocked.

Now it’s Summer’s turn to slap the top of his head. “Stop picking on them. It’s sweet.”

“Why the fuck is everyone hitting me?”

I chuckle as Summer responds with, “Because you deserve it.”

With that sentiment, we pull into the rodeo grounds and the chaos of the Canadian Championship Rodeo swallows us all.

* * *

Competing here is a dream that’s been long forgotten. Long shut away as a missed opportunity, something I was too old for—too busy for.

Until Willa sat in that hot tub and dared me to take a shot. Turns out our runs were good enough to qualify us for the finals.

Which means I’m not going to let the fact that my fingers aren’t completely healed stop me.

Blueberry is taking everything in stride from where I sit on her back. Her prickly personality won’t let her be spooked. Every time another horse walks past, she flattens her ears at them, which makes me smile. She’s not a warm-and-fuzzy type of mare, but she’s good at what she does.

We’re kindred that way.

My dad has Luke out in the stands, and the rest of our group is standing beside me in the staging area.

“Are you nervous?” Willa squeezes my leg and peers up at me. The way she glows makes my throat constrict. Her hair is all curled. Her new boots are fuck-me hot and are going to look so good wrapped around my waist later. She’s not showing much yet, but her jeans are extra tight around her ass, and I keep getting busted checking her out.

“Nah,” I reply, smoothing my hand over her hair.

“I love it when you pet me.” She sighs and closes her eyes with a low chuckle.

“Y’all are fuckin’ weird,” Rhett quips from beside us, arm slung over Summer’s shoulders, with a cocky smirk on his face. “I’d tell you not to worry about the buckle bunnies, Willa, but apparently Cade is so into PDA now that he practically broadcasts how taken he is.”

Willa stares back at my brother blankly. “What are you talking about, Rhett? I am a buckle bunny.” She puts her fingers in the shape of a heart and frames the view through them around my face.

“Cade? Lance? Josh?” The ring steward calls our team’s names, and with a quick wink down at my girl, we’re gone.

Blueberry’s easy strides turn into a prance beneath me, a showy little jog as we enter the ring.

And this ring isn’t just another small-town fair grounds. This is a proper arena, one with full stands and a rowdy crowd here for a show.