LITMIR.BIZ

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father—tightened. “I’ve never done a drill faster than a trot.”

      Andie’s eyebrows went up. “That will not happen often with this crew.”

      “But—”

      “You’ll learn the drills in no time. I did.”

      “You were a barrel racer.”

      She and Andie turned their horses to follow the other riders to the arena gate. Linda called for attention once all twelve riders were there, and then Andie leaned close to say, “You will screw up. Everyone does. If someone yells at you, ignore it.”

      “They’re going to yell at me?” Liv whispered back.

      “Oh, yeah.”

      “I didn’t sign on for—”

      “Ladies!” the woman on the buckskin barked. Liv jumped as if she’d been caught talking during a test.

      Get a grip.

      Yes, she could do this. It was just different than what she and Beckett were used to. She’d joined the sedate drill team in Billings as a way to meet other horsewomen and to get Beckett back into the arena in a way that didn’t stress him out. They’d both loved the easy-paced practices and leaving the Billings drill team behind had been one of Liv’s regrets. Those easy practices were obviously a thing of the past.

      Andie’s eyes were straight ahead, focused on Linda, but she wore that small I’m-not-taking-this-serious smile that made Liv wish she wasn’t, either. Drilling with this bunch would be a great way for her to learn to lighten up. Make some mistakes.

      Linda described the strategy for the practice, and Liv had little to no idea what she was talking about. “We’ll do the first run-through at a trot to bring Livvy up to speed.”

      Liv send up a silent prayer of thanks and nudged Beckett forward. His ears pricked at the gate, as always, and his eyes rolled a little, but he went in quietly. Linda immediately bellowed at Liv to turn to the left and circle the arena at a fast trot behind Susie, who’d entered just before her. Liv urged Beckett into a trot and did as she was told. Linda continued to yell instructions: follow Andie, pair up with Margo, cut to the center, roll back—roll back? really?—reverse and head to the center. Slide to a stop....

      By the time she finished, the back of her shirt was damp and her jaw was tense...but she’d done okay. A couple more times at a trot and she’d be good to go.

      “Okay, ready to do it at a canter?” Linda asked.

      “No!” Liv ignored the fact that it was a rhetorical question as her survival mechanism kicked in. “Not even close.”

      “You’ll do fine,” Susie said.

      “Define fine,” Liv muttered, turning Beckett to join the rest of the women as they left the arena.

      Liv did not do fine on the next run, but she did survive. Her knee hurt from making a wrong turn and finding herself on a near collision course with Becca. They banged knees as they passed, but at least the horses hadn’t crashed together.

      As the practice continued, there was lots of yelling, but none of it, she realized, malicious. Just loud attempts to get her back on course before she creamed someone—again—which wouldn’t have happened if they were trotting.

      “Well done,” Linda said as she rode up next to Beckett.

      “Really?” Liv asked flatly. “I almost killed Becca.”

      Linda waved a dismissive hand as if killing Becca was not a major concern. “But you didn’t. And you catch on fast. You did good for the first time.”

      “You didn’t do that good,” Andie said as Linda rode away, making Liv smile.

      “Thanks for the reality check.” But actually, now that it was over, Liv did feel a sense of accomplishment. She and Beckett could do this and Beckett seemed to enjoy it more than the slow parade drills—probably because he was born to run. Charging after a calf wasn’t all that different than charging after a teammate who was opening up a gap in the pattern.

      “Anytime, my friend. But you know what?”

      “Mmm?”

      “It’s good to see you stepping out of your comfort zone.”

      “You like to watch me suffer?” Andie might be her closest friend, but she had no idea just how much time Liv had spent out of her comfort zone over the past year. Some things Liv just didn’t talk about.

      “If I wanted to watch you suffer,” Andie said as they joined the group riding out of the arena, “I’d come along on the shopping trip tomorrow and watch you try to hold your own against Hurricane Shae.”

      “Hey,” Susie Barnes said, catching up to Liv and Andie. “Isn’t that Matt Montoya’s horse?”

      “My horse,” Liv said automatically.

      Susie’s forehead creased. “But...he used to be Matt’s, right? I recognize that spot on his belly, but it took me a while to remember why I knew him.”

      “Matt once owned him,” Liv admitted.

      Susie smiled. “I knew it. He and Pete rope together sometimes when Matt’s home.” She frowned. “Isn’t this the horse that disappeared?”

      Tread lightly. Liv did not want to alienate a team member with a snarky reply. Thankfully she had years of experience repressing true thoughts.

      “You know, I don’t really know the history,” she said pleasantly. “He was for sale last year and I bought him.”

      “Oh,” Susie said. “I see.” Although she didn’t. “Well, the two of you did great for the first drill.”

      “Thanks,” Liv said. “Can’t wait for the next practice.” She might be a little sore and mentally exhausted, but it was going to be a lot more fun than shopping with Shae.

      * * *

      DINNER AT MATT’S parents’ ranch was canceled on Friday due to an unexpected storm that delayed his mother’s flight home from Las Vegas, where she’d been visiting her best friend from college. Matt was beyond grateful.

      Not only was he avoiding an uncomfortable family dinner, but Craig also wouldn’t have to watch Matt and his father stiffly interact. Craig was an astute kid, and Matt was certain he’d key in on the dynamic between him and his dad—and he’d also ask questions. Questions Matt didn’t feel like hearing or dealing with.

      “So what are we going to eat?” Craig asked upon receiving word that they would be staying home for supper.

      Craig might be a fourteen-year-old cleaning wonder, but he wasn’t much of a cook. Unfortunately, neither was Matt, but one of them had to put food on the table. When he was alone, Matt usually grazed or ate out. When he did cook for himself, he fried up steaks or burgers, dumped some lettuce out of a bag and called it a salad. On special occasions he might bake a potato.

      Right now, though, he was out of steak, burgers and potatoes.

      “I think we should go out for a pizza,” Craig announced. “I’ll buy.”

      Matt didn’t think that was a bad idea—the pizza part, not Craig buying.

      “Let’s go,” he said.

      “We’re going out for pizza?” Craig asked, springing up off the sofa. Matt remembered when he used to be able to move like that. Hell, he’d give just about anything to be able to move like that again. Almost thirty-one years old and he felt like he was sixty-one. Or older.

      But he’d get it back. Soon.

      “We’re going to the grocery store. We’ll stock up on some frozen pizza and whatever else you like to eat.”

      “Mom gave you money, right?”

      Matt

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