Page 4 of Hard To Fall
Mom steps forward. “Colt, the rodeo is losing sponsors.”
“We’re rebuilding,” I snap.
“Slowly,” Dad says. “And bleeding money while we do it.”
I turn on him. “So your solution is bringing in some city consultant who’s never smelled bull shit in her life to tell us how to run our family rodeo?”
Levi rubs the back of his neck. “She’s actually grown up around ranching.”
“Don’t care.” I cross my arms and answer like a petulant child.
Mom sighs. “We didn’t tell you because we knew you’d react like this.”
“Smart of you,” I growl.
“She’s good,” Levi says firmly. “Like, scary good. She’s turned three failing circuits around in two years. Sponsorships, branding, and press coverage with one big rodeo event. Full turnaround, Colt. We need that.”
“Don’t need it.”
Dad’s voice drops. “Yes, we do.”
Silence stretches between us all. I know I’m making a problem for them, and I know my attitude is probably hurting my parents worse than seeing their livelihood fail around them. But keeping shit from me pisses me the fuck off.
“This is Hearts RoundUp,” I say. “This is our family legacy, not a damn brand project.”
“And that’s why it matters,” Mom says quietly.
I shake my head. “You brought her in without asking me.”
“You would’ve said no,” Levi replies.
He’s not wrong.
“I can fix this. We can pull in broncos, barrel racing. I can add more rides–”
“Is that before or after your knee replacement?” My brother snaps back at me, and I suck in a breath and hold it, counting to five before I respond.
“So instead you think some blonde strategist, walking around my arena, touching my injuries, talking about saving things that don’t need saving, is the answer?”
Levi smirks. “All I heard in that sentence is blonde and touching.”
“That would be all you hear.” I glare at him. “Pick a side.”
“I am,” he says. “The one that keeps the lights on.”
My knee pulses, my ribs sting, and my patience is gone.
“Where is she now?” I ask. Mom hesitates, and it’s all I need. I turn and start walking.
“She’s in the office,” Levi calls after me. “Colt, don’t be an ass.”
I bark a laugh. “Too late for that.”
Every step through the hallway tightens the coil in my chest. I don’t like surprises, and I certainly don’t like people who walk into my world and try to fix things. And I sure as hell don’t like women who look at me like I'm a problem to solve.
The office door is cracked, and I can see her blonde hair and hear her sugary sweet drawl. There’s no doubt she’s from Texas, but she’s still got the kind of voice that belongs to someone who thinks they know better than you.
And I don’t like it.
