Page 23 of Wild & Worthy

Chapter eight

Chace

Addie's asleep when we roll into the Sheridan Fairgrounds.

She's been out for the last hour, head against the window, one hand loose in her lap, and I've been driving extra carefully so I don't wake her up.

She was pretty annoyed yesterday about the route change. Admittedly, I had been pushing her buttons all day, but it’s just too easy. After we left Eli and Hazel, I’d decided to lay off her.

By the time we reached a spot to pull off and make camp, it was late. She showered and went straight to bed. It had been an uneventful evening, and we hardly spoke five words all day. Then she was up before dawn, banging on my truck, telling me to get the hell up and get a move on. I’m normally an early riser, mornings being my favorite time of day. It’s the quiet peace of the early morning hour that just makes me feel like I’m starting the day off right.

However, last night I was up late reviewing Addie’s stats. She placed well in Billings, but she’s still 40th overall. I spent a good hour watching the runs of the girls ahead of her, trying to figure out how she can beat them going forward. Sheridan’s pot is a big one. It’s an important weekend. I understand her wanting to arrive early to prepare.

I then spent the next hour trying to find smaller local jackpots we might hit along the way to build her pot and increase her overall earnings toward rank. By the time I fell asleep, it was almost one A.M.

The Sheridan fairgrounds are already alive with activity when I pull through the competitor entrance. Fancy trailers in rows, awnings out. That electric hum of a circuit stop starts to feel like a little community as the week progresses. I’ve missed this life so much. I also miss my rig, but technically it wasn't mine; my sponsor owned it. That surely would have come in handy now.

I reach over and gently shake Addie’s shoulder. "We're here."

She sits up, blinking at the windshield as she drags a hand over her face. The braid she'd put her hair in this morning is starting to come loose, dark strands escaping around her face. There's a crease from the seatbelt across her cheek, and for one stupid second I consider smoothing it out with my thumb.

“How long have I been out?” She stretches.

"A while." I clear my throat, returning my eyes to the road. "Long enough to start drooling on my truck."

Her eyes widen. "I did not."

"Mm." I fight a grin. "Might need to get the truck detailed now."

She rolls her eyes before picking up her camera and snapping a few shots of the fairgrounds while I continue slowly driving around the gravel lot, looking for a good spot to set up.

Eventually, we find a decent spot in the back, with a good amount of shade. It’s a bit of a walk to the training ring and onsite stables, but it's shaded, and likely quiet. I’ve learned sometimes it’s best to set up away from the rivalry that takes place all week with the cowboy camps. If she disagrees with my choice of location, she doesn't voice it.

It's Tuesday, so we'll be here until Sunday, long enough that it's worth pulling the camper off the truck.

Addie heads toward the stables with Dusty, so I decide to start setting camp. I lower the camper onto its jacks, making small adjustments until it's level, then ease the truck out from underneath. I’m glad we'll have the truck free if we need a feed run or end up making a late-night trip into town.

By the time Addie strolls back up the dirt path toward camp, I've got the tent staked out, and I'm feeding the first pole through its sleeve.

She slows, taking in the setup. "I hadn’t planned on removing the camper. Planning your escape route already, Walker?"

"Just like having the option."

"Mm-hmm. In case sharing a campsite with me gets to be too much?"

I grin without looking up. "Exactly."

"Smart man." She glances around the campsite, tucking her hands into the back pockets of her shorts. "Let me help you with the tent, at least."

She grabs the opposite sleeve while I hold the frame steady, and together we slide the pole into place. Once the tent's up, Addie walks over to the cooler, digs around for a second, then comes back with two bottles of water. She twists the cap off hers before handing the other to me.

She tips the bottle back, her braid long gone, dark hair spilling over one shoulder. She turns slowly, taking in the rodeo grounds with a look I've started recognizing. Equal parts determination and disbelief, like she's still waiting for someone to tell her she doesn't belong here.

I stare a second longer than I should before forcing my attention back to the tent. I bend down to inspect one of the pegs, like it might be loose or something. When I stand back up, brushing the dirt from my hands, I catch her looking at me. "What?"

A hint of pink creeps into her cheeks before she shakes her head. "Nothing." She looks away. "Thanks. For setting up the camper."

By the time we're finished setting up everything else, camp actually looks like it'll be home for the next five days. The folding table and camp stove sit beneath the easy-up. Chairs are scattered around the fire pit, while the cooler and gear are tucked neatly beneath the canopy.