Aidan: Loyal Cowboy

“Twenty-seven, five.”

Every head in the stands turned toward the sound of a new voice. It belonged to Ace.

“Dammit,” Flynn’s father groused beneath his breath and raised his hand again. “Twenty-eight.”

“Twenty-nine.” This from the other man.

With Ace’s participation, the price was quickly driven up to thirty-five thousand dollars, her father making the last bid.

Flynn went from worrying to panicking. Surely he couldn’t raise that much money. He was letting the excitement of the bidding cloud his judgment.

“Dad, don’t be foolish.”

“I want that horse.”

“We’ll buy another horse.” A less expensive one.

“None of them are like Midnight.”

Evidently Ace felt the same, for he shouted, “Thirty-six thousand dollars.”

The other man promptly resigned with a discouraged head shake. “Too rich for my blood.”

That left Ace and Flynn’s father.

How was this possible? The two men she cared most for in the whole world were fighting over a stupid horse.

Wait a minute, she didn’t care about Ace.

Right.

If someone ever invented a cure for unrequited love, she’d be the first in line to try it.

“Thirty-seven thousand,” her father shouted.

The crowd clapped and cheered. Easy for them, Flynn thought, it wasn’t their life’s savings on the line.

“This is insane,” she hissed. “You don’t have thirty-seven thousand dollars.”

“There’s my line of credit with the bank.”

“That’s for running the business!”

“Buying a bucking horse is business.”

“No, this is an absurd rivalry and refusing to let the Harts get one up on you. What’s the matter with you? You don’t act like this.”

For a moment, time froze. Then his face fell, and he groaned miserably. “Oh, God. What’s wrong with me?”

She reached for his hand and squeezed it between hers, relief leaving her weak.

“I don’t know what came over me. It’s just…” He groaned again.

“I have thirty-seven thousand dollars,” the auctioneer boomed. “Do I have thirty-eight?”

Ace and his mother bent their heads together and conferred behind the shield of their hands.

“Going once.”

Flynn went rigid. Why wasn’t Ace bidding?

“Going twice.”

Oh, no! What if the Harts dropped out?

Easy. Her father would have purchased a horse he really didn’t need for a sum of money he couldn’t possibly afford.

This couldn’t be happening!

“Thirty-eight thousand,” Ace shouted.

Flynn’s heart started beating again.

When the auctioneer finally called, “Sold to number fifty-seven,” a minute later, she let herself breathe.

The auction was over, and her father had spent no more than the price of gas for a round-trip.

Why, then, did he appear glum?

“Dad, you okay?” All around them the bleachers had started to empty, yet her father didn’t rise.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Is your indigestion bothering you again?”

“I’m fine.” He promptly pushed to his feet and extended a hand to her. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Flynn couldn’t be more ready and happily dropped the subject of his health and listlessness. Maybe she’d phone her sister, Nora, tonight. See if she could convince their dad to open up about what was bothering him lately. Perhaps he was having a midlife crisis or had grown tired of being single all these years.

Grabbing two cups of coffee at the concession stand for the drive, she and her father strode across the area between the barn and the field that served as a parking lot. A line of people had formed in front of the converted motor home that was being used as a consignment office. The door to the motor home opened, and Ace and Sarah emerged. Ace went first, turning to assist his mother. They both wore happy smiles, Ace’s devastatingly handsome.

Flynn ignored the quickening of her pulse. That smile had been her undoing once too often.

“Hold on a second.” To her surprise, her father started toward the Harts.

“What is it?” She hurried after him.

Her question was answered when they met up with Ace and Sarah.