Chapter 11 Promises, Promises
Promises, promises
Sophia
“One more, girl,” I whisper, then prod Misty with my heels.
I want her tired and relaxed before I load her on the trailer for the long drive to Oregon.
The first rounds are supposed to start in the morning there, so I know I’m already pushing my window to make it before nightfall.
I don’t want to be penning her in the dark, but I’m also dreading the drive by myself.
Mountain passes in winter are no joke, especially hauling a horse.
But I’m supposed to meet Rachel there, she’s one of the best retired barrel racers in all of Washington state.
It’s an opportunity I’d be stupid to pass up on.
Char has a wealth of knowledge herself, she built the foundation that Misty is thriving on.
Yet I want more.
I was so close last year after breaking my leg the previous summer.
There’s no doubt in my mind I’m making it to the championships this fall.
Misty powers through the second turn and races towards the last barrel. The crisp cold January air burns against my cheeks as she leans into her final arc.
A flash catches my eye, a reflection from a windshield driving down the lane.
But my mare is too fast for me to see who it is as she digs in to gallop back to the starting line.
Only after I ease her down and start trotting her into a cooldown loop do I get a glimpse of the logo on the white panel door as the truck pulls in front of the main house.
Brookes Construction.
Damn. Dad’s going with that guy.
I wonder if the sheriff ever arrested him for screaming in the parking lot that day?
Misty’s hooves break through the thin crust of snow along the edges of the paddock, but her heaving sides slow to a more even rate.
Time to brush her down and load her up.
Carrying the saddle is the hardest part. This bastard is heavy, and the cold seeps into the titanium rod in my leg making it ache with every step.
It’s not as bad as the first winter though. Most days I barely have a limp.
Lori said it’s hardly noticeable now.
If only I had someone to keep me warm at night.
I’m not sure what drove me to completely dump all of my personal details to Biggie last night.
There’s just something about him that makes me want more.
After thinking about it, I know I’m being ridiculously, hopelessly, romantic.
Real life doesn’t happen like that.
Working my way slowly down the slick steel ramp, I step off into the gravel when I hear Dad’s voice in low conversation.
Stealing a glance around the side of my trailer, I can just make out his dark cowboy hat next to the lighter colored one near the small rise by the house.
Dad’s arm raises, pointing towards the clearing.
Oh, he must be talking about Sawyer’s place.
Great. Not only will he be around to fix the fire damage, he’s building the new one?
When I raise the door, it slams shut loud enough they both look over.
Crap.
I was hoping to stay under the radar.
And now they’re both walking this way?
Oliver Brookes watches me with his eyes nearly hidden under the wide brim of his hat, but stops near his truck and turns to my dad.
“I’ll have my guys over on Monday to start the demo. I should be back before they’re finished and we can go over a material list.” His jaw clenches as his gaze flicks in my direction one last time.
Fuck him.
I scowl back.
“Sounds good,” Dad grunts, still moving closer.
The growl of the heavy diesel pulling away drowns out Dad’s footsteps on the crunchy ground as I slide the locks in place.
“Got everything loaded?” His brows furrow with his question.
I don’t miss the fact that he leans just far enough to double check.
“Yea. I’m fine, Dad. I’ve done this tons of times.” I follow him as he pauses at the hitch to inspect it next.
“I know, honey. It doesn’t mean I don’t worry. I think this is the first time you’re going alone?” His boot lashes out to kick against the rear tire, rocking the chassis. “Hmm. Let me put a little air in that one.”
“Sawyer said he couldn’t make it this time.” I don’t blame him. “And I’m not taking one of the ranch hands.”
His head shakes. “Nope, I get that. Lori has a cooler packed for you.” His shoulders straighten and he turns to me, then extends his arm.
I move in, letting him wrap me close. “I’ll be fine, Dad. I promise.”
His chest expands, then contracts in a long exhale. “It’s just with…everything. Don’t mind me if I’m extra cautious. I wish I could make you stay.”
His rueful chuckle afterwards tells me he knows there’s zero chance of that working.
“I have the pistol. Rachel will be staying with me. Besides, I know practically everyone there.” I give him a small squeeze before I pull away.
“I just need to grab my bag. Oh, and the food.” I secretly love being away from the ranch sometimes.
It gives me a chance to eat out.
Rodeo food is like fair food. Greasy and delicious as a treat.
I always love it until late summer. By then I’m sick of it.
After a teary hug from Lori, I kiss my little brothers goodbye while Dad carries out all of the prepared meals.
“Be careful.” His words are hoarse, punctuated by the heavy thump of the passenger door.
“I will, I promise.” I have a full tank of fuel and a new audio book to listen to.
I’m actually looking forward to the time alone.
RacingQueen: Finally! Leaving for my vacation! Wouldn’t it be wild if we crossed paths and didn’t even know it?
It’s a few minutes until the ding of Biggie’s reply blares through the speakers of the truck and the text pops up on the screen.
TheBigO: One in a million. I might even believe in your fated mates theory if that ever happened.
RacingQueen: Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction. Would you do what you promised if it did?
TheBigO: What did I promise?
I really shouldn’t be typing when there’s snow hugging the edges of the pavement and I’m hauling my most precious cargo.
RacingQueen: That you’d break a table with me on it.
TheBigO: Just tell me when and where.
Hmm. I need to weigh that one.
Tossing my phone aside, I settle into my seat to watch the trees flicker by.
Will I get to the point?
As much as we chat, and as much as we’ve shared, I think it’s inevitable that we’ll at least meet.
But am I ready for that?
Maybe being hundreds of miles from home isn’t exactly the right place.
Yet I don’t want him knowing where I live if it doesn’t work out.
That’d be my luck. Draw a psycho to the ranch on top of everything else.
There’s no way I’d put my family in danger.
If I’m going to take a risk, I’m not going to do it near them.
This drive, this longing, it’s starting to turn into an obsession. Everything I learn about him makes me want to know more.
I have to find out if it’s worth continuing.
Or if I need to walk away.