Wyatt and I trained together for six months. Evenings and weekends by his side. We bickered, argued, but it was still one of the best times in my life. And then he said what he said. Tears on my pillow. Dakota stroked my back and murmured soothing motherly things to me. I vowed he’d never know how hard I cried. I hated him. This stupid cowboy. After overhearing what I did, I considered Wyatt Montgomery my rival. As good as dead to me. I plotted. To be a better rider than him. To make him eat his words. As we trained together over the years, I endured that smart mouth and irritating smirk to
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