Chapter 12 Targeting
Targeting
Oliver
I wonder if she’s flying or driving?
Is she standing in line right now, waiting to go through security at some airport?
Or maybe I’m passing her on this very road?
The way she has hijacked every single thought for the last few weeks is something I should be worried about.
But oddly, I’m not.
I do think the inevitable will happen, I just wonder what the fallout will be?
When we finally meet, will it be the same? Light, flirty, and most importantly, honest?
She has me baring my truths like I’ve never done before.
It’s weird to be so vulnerable to someone I’ve never met.
Hell, I don’t even know what she looks like, but she can turn me on more than any naked woman on TV.
I haven’t told Brent. My guess is that when I do, he’s going to call me an idiot.
A fool.
That I deserve to get scammed by whoever it is.
It’s just…I hate how damned genuine she seems. If it is all just a hoax, it’s one of the most elaborate ones I’ve ever heard of.
When I stop for gas somewhere in Idaho, I can’t resist pushing for a morsel.
TheBigO: Driving or flying?
I’m walking back to my truck with a bag full of hot mozzarella sticks and a fountain root beer when I hear my phone ding.
RacingQueen: Driving. So many hours.
TheBigO: East or west?
RacingQueen: West.
TheBigO: Well, now I’ve narrowed down you aren’t on the Atlantic coast.
I add a smiley face that matches my own grin in the rearview, then toss my cell into the middle console and pull back out on the highway.
It’s still warm enough that the roads are dry. And now that I’m out of the mountains, I’m not even seeing any snow.
Hell, it’s spring time weather when I climb out of my truck and stretch my back at the fairgrounds of Pendleton. I can almost flirt with the idea of wearing a t-shirt.
I probably will tomorrow after a few warm up rounds.
Brent picks up on the first ring.
“Hey, ya made it? I’m over in field one, second row. They have everyone crammed in here like sardines,” he grumbles.
“I wonder why so many?” I’ve noticed that the numbers of participants climb every year, but as I drive closer, campers and horse trailers are lined up from one end of the lot to the other.
“Sponsors. There’s supposed to be a shit load of them here later in the week.” He lets out a long sigh. “I had to haggle with ol’ Delbert about getting our regular corrals. He was trying to let a couple of young girls take the stalls.”
“The fuck? Let me guess, barrel divas?” I bark sarcastically. “They always think they can get whatever they want.” I spot my dually and horse trailer fairly quickly. “I’m here.”
That beast of a rig is easy to spot from a ways off. It’s handy for hauling most of my construction equipment too.
I grab my backpack and duffel, then swing the camper door open before stuffing them inside.
“Please tell me the horses are fine, though?” I ask Brent as I climb the flimsy steps.
“Yep, but we did get shuffled down a spot or two.” He leans off the small couch and hands me a cold beer. “Figured you needed this. Permits took longer than expected? I was hoping we could head out to the bar if you weren’t too late.” He tilts his own bottle to his lips.
He’s young enough to still have that twinkle in his eye.
Oddly, I’m just itching to jump back into this latest book that RQ recommended.
Shit, does that mean I’m getting old?
“Nah, had a call in for a new job. You know Black Gulch?” I sling my bags past the separation to my bedroom, then slump onto the other end of the seat.
“Yea, one of the biggest outfits in our neck of the woods. That’d be a good one, I heard that the expansion they did last year was huge. You get in good with them, they’d keep you busy.” His dark brows raise as he nods. “What’s the job?”
“Two. There was a fire in the main lodge, and they want a whole other house. Shit, it’s gonna be a brand new build, too.
Mason wants me to be the general contractor on it.
” Pulling off my Stetson, I set it over my knee to lean backwards.
“Hell, between that and that pipe gig, I might even need a few more guys.”
When my phone dings, Brent’s forehead furrows watching me scramble for it.
RacingQueen: I’m west of the Mississippi.
TheBigO: If I find out where you’re at, I can’t guarantee I’ll keep my hands to myself.
“Who in the fuck are you texting?” His jaw hangs slack as his amber eyes flick between me and my cell. “I thought you swore off women after Paige?”
Waving my hand idly, I slide my screen against my thigh to cover it. “I don’t know.”
“What?” His face screws up incredulously. “You didn’t?”
“No, idiot. I don’t know who she is.” I snort over the lip of my beer and swallow the rest.
“And that…makes it better?” He stands and pulls two more drinks out of the fridge.
One thing Brent is good at, being organized and prepared.
It’s why he’s my bookkeeper for the company.
But it also means he likes to follow his own set of very strict rules.
Not knowing who I’m talking to is going to drive him nuts.
I shrug as I take a cold Coors from him. “She’s in that big reading group I joined a few months ago.”
“That sounds boring.” His mouth flattens.
“Well, I’m boring, so it works.” I try not to smile too broadly.
If he only knew some of the things she’s told me she wants to do.
He’d be cracking the spine in a novel before he even finishes his beer.
RacingQueen: Don’t threaten me with a good time.
My heart beats faster thinking of all the things I’d do to her.
“Dude. You better not fall off your horse tomorrow daydreaming so hard about a girl you’ve never met.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth.
Some days I’d swear he’s the older one.
“You should know better,” I grunt, then stand. “I’m heading to bed, are you going with the O’Shea’s?” I don’t feel like trolling the bars tonight.
Weeks ago? Sure.
Now?
All I can think about is the mystery girl.
“Yea, we’re supposed to meet them when you got here. Lemme guess? You’d rather stay here and beat your meat to some random guy living in his mom’s basement pretending to be some hot chick?” His lopsided grin has a tinge of worry at the edges.
“Yea. I’ve always wanted to be catfished. Wasn’t bad enough that Paige fucked half of Montana, now I need the final check mark on my loser list.” I swat at him with my hat as I pass. “Get the hell out and go have fun. I need to get a hold of Denny anyways and give him the run down on the demo.”
“Fine, fine.” Brent holds up his palms in surrender, then tucks his shirt tight behind his broad silver buckle.
I have one that matches. Second place.
This year, it’ll be gold.
The camper rocks as he hops down the steps and pushes the door shut.
My first thought is to pull my phone back up.
TheBigO: So you made it safe to…Missouri?
RacingQueen: I did, but a little farther west than that. Were you worried?
Damn her.
TheBigO: I was.
How would I have even known if anything happened to her along the way?
She would just…disappear.
And I’d be left wondering.
It makes my guts sour to think of it.
But why am I concerned about someone I don’t know? I’ve never met?
Hell, I still don’t even know her name.
Is it getting to the point where we start to share that?
Shit or get off the pot.
TheBigO: So, I’ve been thinking…
RacingQueen: Me too.
TheBigO: Is it time to say who we are?
RacingQueen: Almost. Not yet. A few more days of mystery. I have an idea.
Fuck.
I’m both relieved and curious.
My dick stiffens against my zipper as a million different outcomes run through my head.
TheBigO: Will I like this idea?
RacingQueen: We both will. I promise.