Chapter 21 Sophia the Brat
Sophia the Brat
Sophia
TheBigO: Drive safe. I want my pussy in one piece when I devour it tonight.
Heat flushes through me as I grab my last bag and toss it over my shoulder.
Would he really do that?
I’ve only ever dreamed of what that would be like.
RacingQueen: Promises, promises.
TheBigO: Chisel it in stone, princess.
My pulse races, not from the cold air or worry about the road conditions.
But over if I’m ready to give my heart to him.
He’s said more than once that when it happens, I’m coming to stay with him.
As exciting as that sounds, I’m not sure if I’m quite there.
Maybe I don’t really want to leave the ranch? I told Dad I’d help.
Well, I guess a lot of the bookwork and stuff can be done remotely now. I’d still be able to keep Sawyer taken care of.
It’s just scary to think of moving away, even if I feel it’s inevitable.
Hell, I picked a stupid plain paint for my room to make it easier when I really wanted the green.
What the heck will I tell Dad?
The exhaust from my truck leaves a billowing fog around the trailer, matching the one gathering around Oliver’s dually just down the driveway.
With the frost on the ground, I’m kinda glad Dad asked if he’d follow me. Since he’s been here working the last while, he’s not all bad.
Kinda cute even, in an asshole way.
“All set, Soph?” Dad steps off the porch from the main house while Oliver follows him a few feet behind.
“Yea, I’ll be fine.” I already loaded Misty, and Sawyer got all of the feed in yesterday.
Yet Dad takes a moment to circle my truck and trailer, checking the connection wires, then kicking the tires.
“I know, I know.” He holds up his palms, stopping me before I protest. “It’s for my own peace of mind.”
He holds the door open for me to crawl behind the wheel. “Keep me posted?”
“I will.” My gaze flicks over his shoulder to Oliver, then back to my father.
“Humor me,” Dad grumbles. “It’s still winter.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know. I wish Sawyer could come along. I can’t believe he had the audacity to say he wanted to spend time with his wife for Valentine’s Day,” I laugh sarcastically and roll my eyes.
Dad chuckles, shuts my door gently, then backs away.
Except the truth is, if my brother did ride along, there’s no way I’d be able to have Biggie visit me.
And as horny as I’ve been thinking about him, I’d shove Sawyer out in the first snowbank I passed.
Oliver gives me a thumb’s up when I roll past.
I’m tempted to flip him off in return.
No, I guess he isn’t that bad.
I just nod instead and grab my phone to set up my audiobook before I hit the main road.
TheBigO: The countdown is on.
RacingQueen: I can’t wait. Leaving now.
My little smiley face will have to be enough to last him for the next few hours as I hit play on my novel.
Okay, Oliver did better than I thought.
I half expected when I stopped to fuel up the truck that he’d pull right up next to me and try to talk.
But he stayed to the other side of the gas station and did his own thing.
It looks like a lot of people are already at the fairgrounds and unloaded. Campers are parked in long rows, similar to Pendleton.
Yet there isn’t anyone in the loading zone, so I pull up close so I can get Misty settled.
Oliver backs into the next as I hop out.
Oh, that’s nice. It’s so much more comfortable here.
This might be my favorite part about doing the rodeo circuit, getting to travel to warmer areas in the winter. The cold is hard on the steel pins in my femur and makes it ache.
Would moving to Oregon with Biggie would be easier on my leg?
My stomach sinks at the thought of being so far away from my family though.
Jack and Ben are growing every day. Lori has another baby cooking.
I hope it’s a sister.
The first thing I need to do is check the stall assignments.
“Well, looky there.” Oliver points over my shoulder. “We’re neighbors again.”
Wrinkling my nose, I turn abruptly towards him. “How did that happen? Everyone else is alphabetical.”
He snorts. “Maybe they know your true name.”
I’m not sure if I should even ask. “Which is?”
His broad brim ducks to hide his eyes, but doesn’t cover his grin. “Sophia the Brat.”
“Funny. Fuck off.” Except I can’t fight the smile.
Jerk. I hate that he’s clever.
After leading Misty to her pen, I wrestle with my folding hay cart so I can get these bales unloaded.
And then there’s Oliver, a heavy ass square of three string alfalfa hanging from each hand, sauntering back and forth to his trailer like they’re made out of feathers.
Geez, he pisses me off.
All muscly and shit.
I wonder if Biggie is as strong as him?
The slamming of his rear ramp makes me glance over.
“I would offer to help, but you got cranky last time I touched your grass.” Oliver’s palms slap together, then he brushes them over his tight jeans.
“Just because my dad asked you to follow me, doesn’t make us buddies.” I glower at him as I tip a bale onto my cart, then watch in pain when it continues rolling off the other side.
He crosses his arms with a smirk and leans against the front bumper of his truck. “It ain’t like you exactly have a line of friends here begging to chip in.”
Leaning forward, he makes a dramatic show of looking left and right. “Yup. Just you.” He pushes away from the grill with a sigh. “You know, if you didn’t push people away, more would be inclined to lend a hand.”
“I have a boyfriend,” I mutter, wrestling the heavy bale back onto my cart.
Oliver pauses, one hand grasping the handle, his other fingers curl against his thigh. “No one said anything about me wanting to fuck you, Sophia.”
Before I can reply, he climbs behind the wheel and shuts his door.
As he drives away, I glare at the huge stack I still have to move.
“Me and my damn mouth,” I grumble.
One of these days I’ll learn how to just accept help at face value.