Chapter 13
Dom
Here I am, at four in the morning, sipping on my coffee, on the porch, listening to the sounds of nature and Riley stepping out through her front door. She doesn’t see me again, at least not yet. She just takes her time stretching and muttering whatever happy song is blasting in her ears.
Apparently, my body got the memo that watching her leave for her morning run is part of our routine now.
I was unable to stay in bed for a minute longer, itching to come outside.
And do what? Watch over her? I have better things to do, but the restless feeling didn’t go away until I stood right here, waiting.
Like clockwork, she’s outside, ready to go.
It’s warmer today, and, following the temperature change, Riley’s wearing fewer clothes.
Fuck.
Not what I needed. This visual of her stretching, her round ass facing me and her strong thighs on display, will be enough to get me going when I need to release some pressure later in the day.
It’s been years since I had a specific person on my mind as I stroked myself to satisfaction.
Suddenly, now there’s someone I can rarely stop thinking about, and I don’t like it.
Not one bit.
She clicks on her watch, chin down and facing me, but it’s not until she looks up that she sees me, jolting backwards and narrowing her eyes. “Are you ever going to stop lurking in the dark instead of, I don’t know, actually saying hello to someone?” she asks.
“Hello, Riley.”
“It’s too late now. You took five years off my life with the scare you just gave me.”
“I apologize.”
“Apology not accepted. Go to sleep, Dom. Or don’t. Just let me play my music again if you’re not going to sleep in.”
“Are you ever going to sleep in?”
She shrugs. “People sleep when they’re dead. Gotta go, though. Toodles!” she shouts, running into the darkness.
The urge to put on running shoes and go after her, mostly so I can make sure she’s fine, is strong.
I don’t even know where she runs. What if she finds a bear or a snake?
I’m sure something might be in her path.
But then again, she grew up here, and I didn’t.
She probably knows what to do, and I just need to stop acting like an overbearing asshole and let her be.
She’s right. What the fuck am I doing, awake at this time?
Watching her leave every morning has become part of my routine.
Since I’m already awake, I might as well get some stuff done before heading to the north side of the ranch.
The kids will be here in no time, and if it’s anything like I remember, the space will be crowded with miniature people from sunrise to sunset.
By the time I’m done with mowing the lawn on my side of the property, Riley’s back, all flushed cheeks and smiles.
Not at me, but at what she just did. There’s something running gives her that I can’t quite name.
It’s the same look on my brother’s face when he plays with his daughter: peace and self-discovery.
She frowns when she sees me, tilting her head to the side and moving her lips, surely sharing something with me that I can’t hear over the loud roar of the lawn mower.
“What?” I shout, turning the mower off.
“Where’s your shit?”
Where’s my what? I eye her in confusion.
“What?” I shout again. We look comical, I’m sure of it.
She jogs closer, hands on her hips, when she finally stops in front of the mower.
She’s sipping on one of those gel packs I saw my brothers using plenty of times during baseball practice.
The sport that’s supposed to be in my blood too, like our dad, but I was never able to play at the caliber needed.
I didn’t love it either, so I stayed as far away from the field as possible, sitting in the stands, supporting them instead.
“What did you say?” I ask again, lower this time. I don’t mean to sound like an asshole, but it comes across as such. I immediately notice the way her body recoils.
“Where’s your shirt?” she asks.
“Mm, what an odd thing to ask.”
“Is it? Because just two days ago, you were shouting at me for not wearing enough clothes in the morning, and here you are, looking like Hercules.”
A small snort escapes me, and she beams brighter than any light.
“What’s so funny?”
“Why Hercules?” She doesn’t need to know it’s my favorite Disney movie, or that I rewatch it often.
“You know, all shirtless and like you were thrown down from Mount Olympus.”
She also doesn’t know that, although I love the movie, I also know mythology. My brothers had sports, I had trouble and books. There are only so many times you can get grounded and sent to your room with only books for you to not fall in love with reading. “Hercules was born in Thebes.”
“Oh, I’m not talking about the Greek myth. I’m talking about Disney, obviously. I’m surprised you don’t know it. Maybe you were already too old to watch it when it came out.”
I laugh this time, unable to contain it, and there she is again, smiling as bright as the sun. Damn, it’s addicting, the way her body relaxes and how her eyes dance with mischief at something as simple as making me laugh. I bet she comes alive with the simplest of praise too.
Fuck that thought, though.
“Were you alive when the Disney movie came out?”
“Yup!” she perks up.
“Barely,” I mutter, and she shrugs silently, staring, waiting for something.
I’m not sure what, but I hope it’s more conversation.
I could go hours without interacting with another human being just fine, but talking to Riley, seeing the way she reacts to the simplest answers, seeing her smile, is addictive.
“It’s hot. That’s why I don’t have a shirt on.” It’s been a chillier May than we were expecting, but as it gets closer to June, the mornings are not as nippy anymore, warming up quickly as the sun rises.
“It’s not that hot.” Says the girl wearing a micro bra and leggings stuck to her strong legs in the best way. There’s no way she’s cold, and if she is, then last week would’ve been worse.
“It is when you’re working.”
“Are you?”
I raise an eyebrow in question.
“Working?”
I open my arms, showing her the beast I’m sitting on and the clear pasture behind me.
“Looks like showing off to me.” She leaves me reeling and smiling like a dumbass. So bratty.
“I’m going to breakfast in thirty if you wanna come!” she shouts somewhere behind me, but I don’t dare to turn around. I turn on the key, and a loud vroom reverberates through me as I continue my task.
Every inch of my body came to life at her invitation to join her for breakfast, but I can’t and I won’t. Spending more time with her is the opposite of what I need.
It’s ten p.m., and I can’t go to sleep, not even after working my ass off all day. The day, as predicted, was humid as fuck and had me sweating before I got my boots on.
May is no joke—it's high green season, and the work is relentless, blending late spring calving with the race to prepare for summer. Add the summer camp readiness, I said I was willing to lend a hand, and the work is never-ending.
I spent the morning doing my favorite part of this gig, with the calves and mamas.
Then, some weed eating, and I finally finished the fence.
By late afternoon, I was practically wrestling calves for vaccinations we were supposed to finish yesterday.
It was past six when my boots came off, and I’ve been able to breathe again.
Tomorrow, I need to check on Arnie and see how he’s doing, as well as the rest of the crew, to see if any urgent matters need addressing.
It’s hard, hot, and muddy work, but it’s fulfilling.
Dinner was simple enough—Asopao de Pollo I made weeks ago and froze for hard, long days like today. I called my parents to check on them, then a book and my bed, and I’ve been ready to sleep now for hours.
Except Riley’s doing something over there with the lights on, music blasting through the thin walls and windows. I don’t know how she hasn’t had any damage in her inner ear with how loud her music plays, or how she has energy to do anything at all. It’s exhausting to watch.
I was waiting to see if she would crash at some point too, but no, the music’s still going, and the bright light burning through her windows straight into mine is still there.
I’ve always been sensitive to light, but the soft white light from the moon through my blinds has become almost soothing, reminding me of being a little boy and having the kitchen stove light always on.
It peeked through the bottom of my wooden door, caressing my cheeks as if it was my mom reminding me I was never alone.
But this is not it; this is glaring, annoying and unacceptable, and she needs to stop.
I throw on some clothes and march to her cabin to ask nicely if she can please turn the music down, the lights off, and go to sleep.
The knock on the door is soft at first, trying not to disturb nature more than she has so far.
No reply. Of course not; she can’t hear anything with how loud the song is. An upbeat song, at that.
I knock again, louder this time, and when a minute goes by again without an answer, I bang on the door. Once. Twice. Three times in rapid succession.
Then, the music stops.
Thank fuck.
Footsteps rush behind the door, and when it swings open, Riley is on the other side, looking ridiculous. Ridiculously hot, but ridiculous, nonetheless.
She stares at me with surprise behind her sky blue eyes, mouth dropping, and a paintbrush in hand, which explains the amount of paint she has on her body.
There’s more paint than clothes on her, with the joke of an outfit she’s wearing.
A tiny cropped shirt that lands below her breasts, right where the pink-stained tip of her messy braid rests.
Shorts that wouldn’t be considered adult-sized if I were to see them at a store, with perfect bare feet covered in paint splashes of different colors.
I grunt involuntarily at the sight as she crosses a leg over the other, blocking the view. Fucking great.