Fall With Me (Sugarland Creek, #3) (21)

I pull back, scowling. “Whose side are you on?”

“The one where you get a life outside of racin’.”

Rolling my eyes, I stand between them and cross my arms. “Fine. Is he cute?”

I’m only asking to appease them because they constantly give me a hard time for being so focused on work.

“I’d say he’s of the attractive sort. He’s a little shorter than me, has that shaggy blond hair thing goin’ on where he shakes it out of his eyes every three seconds, and is on the lean side, but he’s strong. Gotta be to lift the hundred-pound bags of feed. Oh, and he’s an Aries. Whatever that means.”

“Great, so he’s a teenage version of Justin Bieber whose Zodiac weakness is insecurity and he needs a haircut.”

Aunt Phoebe belly laughs at the image I painted. “Could be your future husband?”

“Hard pass,” I tell them and then walk back to the kitchen.

As Mom takes the biscuits out of the oven, I grab the sweet tea from the fridge and then fill my glass.

“You know, Gage is a nice young boy. You should give him a chance.”

My brows furrow. “Who’s Gage?”

She waves a hand toward my dad. “The astrology-lover pop star lookalike.”

“Ugh. Not you too.” I take a long gulp of my drink. “When do I have time to date anyway?”

Almost every part of my day is scheduled. That’s how I learned to process everything when my life flipped upside down and staying consistent is how I hit my goals, so it’s a win-win. Working hard, staying focused, winning races. That’s my focus.

Men are a distraction. And from my experience with Landen each day, annoying too.

“You could make time, Ellie. You’re gorgeous, talented, smart, and you’d have a lot to offer in a relationship if you put in some effort to find someone.”

“You act like I’m forty-five not twenty-three. I still have time for all that.”

“Forty-five ain’t that far away.”

“Mom!”

She laughs. “I’m just sayin’. You’ve been barrel racin’ for a long time. It’s okay to add in other hobbies and make friends. Otherwise, you’re gonna end up old and alone.”

“I have friends.” I snag one of the biscuits and take a harsh bite, nearly burning my tongue. “And I can’t have other hobbies if I wanna win first at nationals. I can’t afford to slow down when I’ve been so close.”

“You will, sweetie. But it wouldn’t hurt for you to have a life outside of racin’.” Mom pats my shoulder with a sincere smile. “And I’d like to meet these friends of yours.”

“You’ve met Noah.”

“Someone we ain’t payin’.” She gives me a challenging look.

Holding up my hand, I count on my fingers. “Magnolia. Mallory. Fisher. Wilder. Waylon. Ayden. Tripp. Ruby.”

Over the past four years, I’ve become friendly with most of the people who live and work on the ranch. Magnolia owns a mobile coffee business and whenever she’s parked at the retreat, I always swing by for a latte and chat.

Fisher helped treat Ranger when a nail got stuck in his hoof a few years ago, but I still see him around, too.

Ayden and Ruby work in the stables, so I see them almost every day. Ayden’s married with two kids. Ruby’s been with her boyfriend for years but constantly reminds us they’re not engaged. Trey moved to Georgia with his high school sweetheart over a year ago, but when he was here, I’d wave and say hello.

Mallory’s fifteen and loves to talk my ear off about Taylor Swift and the latest boy she’s crushing on. Usually ones with a J name, and I warn her to run far away from them.

And the other Hollis siblings, excluding Landen, I’m nice to them anytime I see them.

So if that’s not having friends, then I don’t know what is. We may not hang out and talk about pop culture or who’s sleeping with who, but being social doesn’t come easy to me. Small talk makes me uncomfortable, but I still attempt it so people don’t think I’m being rude or ignoring them.

Mom tilts her head. “All from the ranch. And talkin’ to ’em in passing doesn’t count. You need to have actual conversations outside of work. Go to a bar like a normal twenty-something woman. Have some drinks and dance. Not every aspect of your life has to be structured.”

Sighing, I drop my arm and blow out a frustrated breath. This isn’t the first time she’s lectured me about not having a social life, and I’m willing to bet it won’t be the last, so I give in so she’ll drop it.

“Fine. I’ll make plans if it means you’ll leave me alone about becoming an old horsewoman.”

She laughs softly, and I take that as confirmation of a deal.

“Seinfeld’s over. Dinnertime.” Aunt Phoebe comes in and sits in her spot across from mine. Before I take my seat, I help Mom bring the food to the table and then we all hold hands and say grace. It’s Wednesday, which means it’s breakfast for dinner—biscuits and gravy with a side of scrambled eggs.

We eat until five-thirty, Mom serves homemade Apple Pie à la Mode for dessert, and then by six, I’m loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters. Tonight’s laundry night, so I can pack tomorrow for this weekend’s race, and then like clockwork, I’ll shower, get ready for bed, and read for an hour before I fall asleep by ten.