Well, she wasn’t a little girl anymore. And she was sick to death of the double standard.
“Too dangerous?” She narrowed her eyes at Sawyer. “Well, if it’s so dangerous, maybe you better sit out your ride too. But that’s not going to happen, is it? Because what you meant was it’s too dangerous for a woman. And where do you get off butting your nose in where it doesn’t belong? Do you honestly think just because we slept together, you’re now in charge of me? We’re not living in the stone age. Women aren’t possessions. I’m tired of people who think that females can’t make their own decisions and take care of themselves.”
She knew she was embarrassing herself in front of Cord Evans and his wife, but once she started, she couldn’t seem to shut up. All the pent up frustration she’d held in over the years, came gushing out like Old Faithful. She started to mimic all the opposition she’d come up against in her life.
“’You don’t want that dirt bike for your birthday, honey. It’s just too dangerous. Let me buy you a pretty doll. You don’t want to play football, darlin’. It’s just too dangerous. You need to try out for softball or track. Bronc ridin’? It’s just too dangerous. You’ll break your pretty little neck.’”
She poked Sawyer in the chest with her finger. “Well, let me tell you something, Sawyer Dawson. It’s my pretty little neck to break. I’ve worked my butt off to get where I am and I’m not going to let anyone ruin it for me. So stop being an arrogant, pompous jackass and go get ready for your ride. Which is exactly what I intended to do before you showed up acting all bossy and in charge. The only person in charge of me . . . ” She thumped her chest. “. . . is me!”
Sawyer stared at her for a long moment before he turned and stomped off. When he was gone, she glanced at Cord and Christie. Cord looked thoroughly uncomfortable while Christie looked like she wanted to laugh. Maisy’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“I apologize for my outburst. I’ve always had trouble controlling my temper.”
Christie bit back a smile. “There’s no need to apologize. Sometimes men need to be put in their place.” She looked at her husband. “She’s exactly the kind of woman I want representing my new boot line, Cord.” Maisy’s jaw dropped as Christie turned back to her. “I’ve been looking for a strong, determined, no-nonsense woman like you to be the face of Christie Evans boots and I think I’ve just found her. That’s if you’re interested.”
“I’m interested,” Maisy croaked.
Christie smiled. “Great. Now we better let you get ready for your ride. There will be plenty of time to talk later.” She gave her a hug. “Good luck.”
After they left, Maisy felt like she was dreaming. Had she just been offered a sponsorship? All her hard work was finally paying off. She couldn’t even be mad at Sawyer anymore. If not for him, she wouldn’t have lost her temper and Christie might not have chosen her to represent her boots.
She went to look for him so she could straighten everything out, but she didn’t end up finding him until it was his turn to ride. She climbed the railing and sat with the other cowboys to watch.
Or maybe to drool.
No one straddled a horse like Sawyer.
There was something so sexy about the way he wiggled his fine butt into the leather of the saddle. The way he measured out just the right amount of rein and carefully wrapped it around his hand. The way he leaned down to the horse as if it was a beautiful woman beneath him and whispered sweet nothings into its ear.
“There’s nothing to be scared of. I got you, baby. Just enjoy the ride.”
Maisy’s breath caught at just the thought of those words being spoken to her. At just the thought of Sawyer’s hand tangled in her hair and his muscled thighs straddling her. Which was exactly what she’d hoped for when she’d gone back to his hotel room. But men like Sawyer never fell for women like Maisy. They fell for beautiful women who built up their egos and didn’t compete with them. Maisy would never be that type of woman. While Sawyer’s eight-second ride made her weak-kneed and breathless, it also left a burning fire in her gut to best his score and prove she was better.
Unfortunately, she drew a horse named Maytag—a name that brought up images of kids playing tag in a field of may flowers. She couldn’t help but wonder if the draw had been fixed and she’d been given the tamest horse because she was a woman and they were worried about her getting hurt. It certainly seemed that way when one of the chute workers tried to convince her to wear a helmet, vest, and neck roll. She usually wore a vest and helmet, but with all the other cowboys watching intently, her ego made the decision not to.
Sawyer wasn’t among the cowboys. After her little temper tantrum, she figured he’d decided to stay completely away from her.
She figured wrong.
When she climbed into the chute, he was there waiting. She tried to stay focused, but it was hard when he leaned in closer.
“The reason he’s called Maytag is because after you get off him, you’ll feel like you’ve been put through a washing machine.” The image wasn’t quite as soothing as her previous one about kids and flowers. “He bucks rapidly. The key is to keep your spurs high and your chin down. He bucks with his head low so give yourself some added rein.”
“I got this!” she snapped. But when she settled down on Maytag’s back, she measured out a little more rein.
Sawyer proved to be right. The horse bucked faster than any horse she’d ever been on and made her feel like she was being agitated in a washer. His hooves barely touched the ground before he was high-kicking again. She usually could catch the rhythm of a horse within a few bucks, but it took her twice as long with Maytag. And even then, she knew her form wasn’t as good as it should’ve been. Still, she hung on. She hung on until the buzzer sounded. Unfortunately, before the pickup men could get to her, the horse gave a high buck and sent Maisy flying.
She landed on her shoulder and the searing pain that knifed through her made her suck in a mouthful of arena dirt. Knowing her injuries would be even worse if she got caught under the horse’s hooves, she started to roll out of the way. Before she could, something landed on top of her. A grunt close to her ear made her realize it was a person. The scent of spicy soap, leather, and horse identified who the person was.
“Get off me, Sawyer Dawson.” She forced the words out between her gritted teeth. She had wanted him on top of her, but not like this. A few seconds later, Sawyer complied. Except when she sat up, she realized he’d had to have help getting off her. He was laid out on the ground next to her unconscious as two rodeo cowboys leaned over him.
“Get the ambulance!” One of the cowboys called.
While she was trying to process what had happened, another cowboy knelt next to her. “You okay?”
She shook her head. “I think I broke my collarbone.”
He glanced back at Sawyer who still wasn’t moving. “You would’ve broken more than that if Saw hadn’t protected you from Maytag’s hooves with his body. He saved your life, Little Girl.”
Chapter Three
Once again, Sawyer woke with a headache and memory loss. But this headache was twice as bad as the last. He knew this pain. He’d woken up with it before. It was the all-consuming pain that came along with a concussion. He felt around his scalp and found a large lump on the back of his head. He tried to remember how he’d gotten it, but his brain couldn’t pull anything up.