Chapter 11
Sawyer
“Sawyer? I was wondering if you could do me a favor?” Char appears in the big bay doors of the equipment barn pushing her double stroller with Paisley trotting along behind them.
Please don’t ask me to change diapers.
“Sure, what’s up?” Wiping some of the grease off my hands into a red shop towel, I tuck it into my back pocket and lean against the stock trailer.
I still don’t know why Dad doesn’t just hire a regular mechanic.
“I have someone coming for the two mares in the front stall but I haven’t had a chance to bring out the farrier. Would you mind just giving them a quick trim?” She squints one eye over her smile, like she’s waiting for me to say “no”.
Shit, it’s better than changing a poopy baby. “Yea, no problem.”
“Thank you!” She throws up her hand in a wave.
Paisley jumps, raising her own arm up. “Bye!” she yells, rushing to catch up with her mom.
I guess kids aren’t that bad once they’re her age. I just don’t get the hype.
Glancing at my phone, I have about three hours before work. That should be enough time to get them both and a quick shower.
The wheel bearing in the trailer can wait until tomorrow. I don’t think Dad expected me to get it all done today anyways.
Except I can’t find the stupid rasp. I swore I left it with the clippers after the last time.
Twenty minutes later, by a freak accident, I find the handles sticking out from a bale of alfalfa next to Misty’s pen.
Fuck, Sophia. Can’t you put anything away? She acts like the whole world revolves around her.
With a sigh, I trudge back to Char’s mares and get them tied up far enough apart that they can’t mess with each other.
The first one goes pretty easy but the second keeps reaching down and biting me every time I start on one of her front hooves.
And it freaking hurts.
I know that there has to be some sort of grain bag or something around here?
Anything to muzzle her.
If I had a helper, I’d already be done.
Crap. I’m running late.
Do I shower? Or just high tail it to the bar?
Val is gonna hate me.
I get everything put back in the right place, then break out in a jog for my truck.
“Sawyer? How’s it going on that wheel?” Dad steps off the porch carrying Jack, who coos at me and waving his chubby fingers.
“Oh, fine. I’ll have it done tomorrow.” I reach the door of my old Tacoma and it wrenches open with a squawk.
Dad’s amber eyes narrow slightly. “Where’re you running off to? Not like you to leave something half done.”
Fuck.
I sure as hell don’t want to lie to him. But I’m also not ready to have a conversation about working off of the ranch.
“I gotta go, Dad. I’ll tell ya later.” I give him a lopsided smile, then slam my truck shut.
His glower as he watches me leave tells me I better not wait too long.
There’s just a part of me that worries he’s gonna be disappointed. Not that I want to be offsite, but that I’m missing something here and that’s why I want to get away.
Yet I am.
Too often I feel like I’m just playing the role of an extra on a movie set. Filling in gaps here, doing busy work there.
I just want to find a place where I’m vital.
Important.
“Sawyer! Perfect timing. Come be my hero!” Val balances on a stepladder, precariously balancing on her tiptoe as she tries to change a blown lightbulb above the bar.
Moving swiftly through the empty room, I grab the wobbly rung next to her leg. “Yea, I can get that.”
Her dark maroon hair sweeps the inside of my arm as she climbs down, then I get a perfect view of her full breasts bouncing under the tight fabric of her tank top.
Why does she always have to wear them so snug?
To torture me. That’s the only answer.
“Thank you! Here’s the new one.” She brandishes it with a wide smile.
It’s only when I get to the top and reach to take out the old one do I get a solid whiff of myself.
Oh damn. I need to clean up.
My fingers slip when I pull out the burnt bulb, making me juggle it before I catch it. Barely.
“You don’t have to hurry on my account. Let me enjoy the view.” Val leans against the bar with a throaty laugh and looks up at me.
Shit. Fire races up my neck to burn across my cheeks and my dick twitches. But I manage to get the replacement in without any more close calls.
When I climb down, I fold up the ladder quickly and hold it between us.
“Sawyer—” Her fingers touch my arm, sending a rush of adrenaline through me that makes my heart pound in my ears.
“—I hope you know I’m just playing around?
You’re almost like a little brother to me, but cuter.
” Teasing mischief turns up the corner of her full red lips and glitters in her emerald eyes.
How do I tell her I definitely don’t think of her as a sister?
I’ve never jacked off over thoughts of Sophia.
Gross.
Bile rises in my throat.
“I know, I don’t mind.” It’s the most pathetic comment I could ever possibly come up with.
But anything else feels dangerous to say.
“I gotta go wash up.” The ladder rungs rub painfully across my stiff crotch as I walk away.
After I stash it behind the door of the office, I cut through the hall to the bathroom so I don’t accidentally pass her with my zipper bulging.
In the men’s room, I rip off my shirt and rub the shit out of my pits, then use the hand soap to lather up my skanky tee.
Better hit those underarms one more time.
Wringing out the suds, I cuss my way through working the soaked top over my chest.
What a pain in the ass.
At least I don’t reek anymore.
She’s in the kitchen when I push through the swinging doors.
“What happened to you? Did you drown?” She breaks out in laughter and moves close enough to flatten her palm on my shoulder. “Why on earth are you all wet?”
“I stank. I didn’t get a chance to take a shower before I left home.” My stomach knots with my admission.
Her mouth purses as she glances at my chest. “I didn’t think you smelled bad.” She backs up, eyes still locked on my pecs. “But if you want to have a wet t-shirt contest by yourself, you won first prize.”
The heat of her gaze sears into my skin before she shakes her head and pushes past me.
“Maybe not?” she mutters so quietly I almost don’t hear her.
What does that mean?