Frankie was shaking his head as we got to my truck. It was new and reliable. It had four doors and seat warmers. It was the only time I’d dipped into my trust fund money. Technically, my daddy’s shares in the contracting business went to me. Jack Watson, Branch’s father and Daddy’s business partner, had hired a property manager to govern the place on my behalf.

He’d grieved my father as much as I had. They’d been friends for decades. Most people would have taken the opportunity to buy me out, but not Jack. He loved me like a daughter too, I knew it in my soul. But still, I hadn’t been able to go back to the farm. Hadn’t been able to see my old house, my old room, Daddy’s recliner.

I’d gone straight from the hospital to California, and I’d never been back. I talked to Jack and Judy on the phone every month though. They kept me up to date on things back home.

I was brought back to the present by Frankie’s voice. “I don’t trust that guy, Tessa.”

Yeah, that was a good gut feeling. I wouldn’t like to be cornered by Junior in a dark alley either. But it was what it was, and until he did something super out of line, we all had to suck it up and take precautions. He wasn’t someone I could make random allegations against, especially as one of the only card holding female bull riders in the country. So I’d suck it up.

But I would take a baseball bat to him if he stepped over the line. Daddy hadn’t raised a shrinking violet.

I drove us back to the hotel, just a cheap little place with two single beds and a flea infestation. I might have money, but I tried not to touch it. Except for the truck and my dues every year, I didn’t dip into my trust fund money unless it was an emergency. I wanted to make it in this life on my own.

I let Frankie grab my duffle, something I’d never do if there were other riders around. But when it was me and Frankie, the rules were different. I unlocked the door to the room.

“Dibs on the first shower,” I called, racing for the tiny ensuite to the sound of Frankie’s cursing. It might be molding bathrooms and cheap diner food, but I was living my dream, and that was enough to put a smile on my face.

Parties on the last night of a rodeo were all the same. Girls in short skirts and pristine boots. Banged up cowboys. And more booze than was probably healthy for a person.