I remain quiet to give Tripp a chance to answer if he wants to, but he doesn’t jump in.
“Through mutual friends,” I explain. “Remember Savannah? She stayed at my cottage while I finished teaching last year. Tripp works at the same ranch that her boyfriend did before he started his own business.”
“Interesting,” Mom replies with a nod. “Cowboy, huh? All the ones I’ve met were shitheads.”
“Mom.”
Tripp chuckles. “I’m told shitheads are acceptable as long as they aren’t assholes.”
“You’re on the right track.” Mom claps twice as she laughs and then turns to me. “I’ll give him a pass. Stay the night next time, okay? We miss you.”
I step toward her for another hug before she goes back for her things in the press box. “My bag will be packed the next time I visit. I’ll call you when we make it home.”
Tripp pulls his phone out of his back pocket and swipes a hand under the brim of his hat. “I'd better take this. Meet at the car?”
I smile. “Sure.”
He answers the call, puts the phone to his ear, and walks toward the parking lot. I try not to watch the way his jeans sit on his hips just right. My head tilts as I think about his assertive words.
I can help with that.
Could he? Maybe. But I’m not sure finding out would be worth the risk. Knowing me, I’d be chasing validation from him a week from now, on my knees and hanging on his every word in hopes that he’d been madly in love with me since the moment we met.
He doesn’t need that, and I want so badly to move on from that annoying habit of mine.
Savannah and Blythe have been in the bathroom for what seems like forever. Before I have a chance to shake my thoughts and go in search of them, I feel a tiny tap on my arm. I look down to see a boy with light blonde hair, a sunburned nose, and two missing front teeth peering up at me.
“Miss? Do you know that guy?” he asks with a finger pointed toward the parking lot.
My gaze turns to Tripp. “Him?”
“Yeah! My friends and I were just wondering—” He looks down for a moment, then stands up straight to look at me again. “Can you ask him to come to another game sometime so he can teach us more stuff?Please?”
“Yes, I can ask him for you.”
“You’re the best!” He beams, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’m going to work on my throw. Can you tell him that, too?”
I smile softly and grip the keys in my hand. “Absolutely.”
11
MESA
“You’ve been avoidingme for two weeks,” Tripp calls me out.
My lips press together, and I shift my hips back and forth in the saddle. It’s an unfamiliar position for me to be in, and I was scared to take him up on the invitation. I still am—and I don’t just mean learning to ride a horse.
He grabs the horn of his saddle, and his long leg swoops over the top of his horse before he settles in a spot that feels right. Unlike mine, his posture is natural and relaxed.
“I just texted you yesterday,” I defend myself with narrowed eyes.
He smiles and adjusts the reins in his hands. “Texting doesn’t count. I’m a needy friend.”
I want to smile so big that my face splits in two. I want to scream that I don’t mind when he’s needy and begs me to hang out with him until I give in.
“I was waiting until you broke in this new bridle,” I lie. He bought one for me when I admitted that I wanted to learn more about riding horses.
“Mhm. Sure.”
