9. Carter
Carter
M orning light slips through the curtains, and Catalina’s half sprawled on top of me, her hair a mess, the bow long gone, and her lips swollen from the way I kissed her awake not ten minutes ago.
I should let her sleep. I should get up and start the day.
But fuck no.
I’ve got my wife naked in my arms, sighing against my mouth, grinding those hips against me like she’s trying to kill me slowly.
“Darlin’,” I rasp, my hand sliding down to squeeze her ass, “you’re gonna be the death of me.”
She smirks against my lips. “What a way to go.”
I flip her under me before she can get another word out, kissing her hard, swallowing her little squeak. She wraps her legs around me, pulling me closer, and I’m just about to slide inside her when?—
Our bedroom door slams open.
“Rise and shine, fuckers!”
“Maverick,” I snarl, jerking my head toward the door. Catalina shrieks, yanking the blanket up to her chest.
He’s leaning against the doorframe, his blonde hair a mess, grinning ear to ear. “Don’t stop on my account.”
Catalina throws a pillow at him. “Get OUT!”
Maverick ducks, laughing so hard he nearly doubles over. “Jesus Christ, you two. It’s barely nine in the morning.”
“You’re about to be barely alive,” I growl, ready to climb out of bed and wring his damn neck.
He holds up his hands, still grinning. “Relax, big brother. Just came to see if you wanted breakfast at the diner. But clearly…” His eyes flick between us, smug as hell. “…you’ve already got your hands full.”
Catalina groans, burying her face in my chest. “I hate him.”
“Not as much as I do,” I mutter, glaring at Maverick until he finally takes the hint and backs out, still laughing on his way down the hall.
When the door clicks shut, I settle back over her, kissing her temple. “Sorry, baby. Should’ve locked it.”
She peeks up at me, eyes glinting. “Next time, I’m installing a deadbolt.”
I huff a laugh, nuzzling her neck, already hard again despite the interruption. “Next time, I’m killin’ him.”
From the sound of her laughter, I don’t think she’d stop me.
We finally drag ourselves out of the bedroom, Maverick’s kicked back on my couch, feet on the coffee table, flipping through channels.
I stop in the doorway, arms crossed. “You live here now?”
He grins, not looking up. “Place has better coffee than mine.”
Catalina rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t get stuck. “That’s because I bought it.”
“Exactly,” Maverick says, pointing at her like she just proved his point.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Both of you, out to the barn. Stalls need muckin’.”
Catalina gasps. “Excuse me? On a Saturday morning?!”
“Yes, darlin’,” I deadpan, grabbing my boots.
Maverick groans as he drops the remote. “I’m a guest.”
“You barged into my bedroom,” I remind him, shooting him a look. “You forfeit guest privileges.”
All three of us make our way into the barn, Catalina drags her feet mumbling to herself, and Maverick stalks behind her, twirling a dandelion between his fingers.
We step into the barn, and Catalina presses her face into the crook of her elbow. “Oh my God,” she groans, voice muffled. “Why does it smell like that?”
I hide my smile, handing her a pitchfork. “That’s what stalls smell like, darlin’. Still not used to it, baby?”
She shoots me a wounded look, bow already slipping sideways from her fussing. “No, I’m not used to this shit smell. Is this really my lifeeeeee.”
I reach out, tucking her bow back into place. “This is your life, baby. And you’re doin’ it with me.”
She sighs, but she plants her boots in the straw and gets to work. She gags a little, but her hands don’t stop moving. That right there makes my chest ache with pride.
Maverick, on the other hand, is useless.
He stands two stalls down, holding a shovel, gagging louder than Catalina ever did. “Jesus Christ, Carter! This is inhumane!”
Catalina glares at him, face pale but determined. “You’re such a baby.”
“You gagged first!” he accuses, flapping a hand in front of his nose. “I’m empathetically gagging. It’s a condition.”
I lean against the stall door, biting back a laugh as they go at it. Catalina’s dramatic, sure, but she’s working steadily, as her pitchfork scrapes straw into a pile.
Maverick, meanwhile, looks like he’s about to write his will.
“You’re both doin’ great,” I say, keeping my tone soft, amused. My eyes linger on Catalina—hair messy, cheeks flushed, still gagging every so often but pushing through it. “Especially you, darlin’. Didn’t think I’d ever see you muckin’ stalls for me.”
She huffs, but there’s a little smile tucked in the corner of her mouth. “You owe me. Forever.”
I bend down, brushing a kiss across her temple despite the smell. “Already do.”
Maverick makes gagging noises louder than before. “Okay, this is worse than the stalls. PDA in a barn should be illegal.”
Catalina jabs her pitchfork in his direction. “You’re just mad because I’m better at this than you.”
He sputters. “I’m a professional athlete! I wasn’t built for—” He pauses to gag again, bending over dramatically. “—manual labor.”
I can’t help it. I laugh, watching my wife and my brother bicker like they were born to annoy each other.
Catalina’s still gagging every few minutes, but she hasn’t quit once, as the pitchfork scrapes steadily as she works the straw into neat piles.
Maverick, meanwhile, has abandoned his shovel completely. He’s leaning against the stall door, pouting.
“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “I should file a complaint.”
“With who?” Catalina fires back, breathless from working. “The barn police?”
I snort into my sleeve.
Maverick, being Maverick, pushes off the door and wanders over to Toffee’s stall. “At least you get me,” he says, sticking his hand through the slats to stroke her nose. “You’re sweet, unlike these two monsters.”
Toffee’s ears flick back.
Catalina glances up just as Maverick leans in closer. “Yeah, girl. You wouldn’t let me suffer like this, would you?—”
SNAP.
“Toffee!” Catalina squeals as Maverick jerks back, clutching his hand. “She bit me! The demon horse bit me!”
“She warned you,” I deadpan, not even trying to hide my grin now. “Ears pinned back means stay the hell away.”
Catalina drops her pitchfork and doubles over laughing, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Oh my God, Maverick, you got bullied by a horse!”
“It wasn’t bullying, it was assault!” he protests, holding up his hand. “She tried to take my fingers off!”
Toffee flicks her tail, completely unbothered.
Catalina’s wheezing so hard she can barely breathe, leaning against the stall door for support.
I shake my head, still chuckling, and clap a hand on Maverick’s shoulder. “That’s what you get for runnin’ your mouth in my barn. Even the horses are sick of your shit.”
He glares at me, indignant, then glares at Catalina when she keeps laughing. “You’re both terrible people.”
Catalina hiccups through her laughter, wiping her eyes. “And yet you keep coming back.”
Maverick points at Toffee. “This isn’t over. She drew first blood.”
Hours pass, and Maverick hasn’t shut up since he got here.
He’s pacing the barn aisle, gesturing with his hands, ranting about “unprovoked horse violence” and how he’s going to need stitches, a tetanus shot, maybe even counseling.
Catalina’s still half-crying with laughter, bent over her pitchfork. “You’re so dramatic!” she wheezes.
“I’m dramatic?” Maverick claps a hand to his chest. “I was viciously attacked, Catalina. If this were the NFL, Toffee would be ejected for unsportsmanlike conduct.”
“Toffee’s a horse,” she fires back, snorting.
He ignores her, launching into another tirade about animal rights, barn safety codes, and how he’s going to “contact someone” about this injustice.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, sighing. “Mav.”
“What?” He whirls on me, eyes wide, grinning like he knows he’s gotten under my skin. “I’m just saying. I’m an asset to this family. The franchise quarterback, the golden child, the?—”
That’s it.
Without a word, I slide the stall latch. Toffee steps out, ears flicking, tail swishing, and locks onto Maverick.
His grin falters. “Uh… what are you doing?”
“Evenin’ the score,” I mutter, leaning against the post.
Toffee tosses her head once, then charges.
“SHIT!” Maverick yelps, bolting down the barn aisle with his arms flailing. “CARTER! CALL HER OFF! SHE’S GOT MURDER IN HER EYES!”
Catalina shrieks with laughter, dropping her pitchfork and clutching the stall rail for support. “Run, quarterback, run!”
Maverick darts left, Toffee right on his heels, nipping at the back of his jeans as he screams. “I’M TOO PRETTY TO DIE!”
I cross my arms, grinning as I watch him sprint past the hay bales. “She’s just playin’.”
“PLAYIN’?! She’s trying to kill me!” he yells, ducking around the tack trunk, Toffee hot on his trail.
Catalina can’t even breathe, doubled over with tears streaming down her face. “This is the best day of my life!”
Toffee finally slows, satisfied, flicking her tail as Maverick collapses onto a hay bale, wheezing.
I walk over, patting her neck. “Good girl.”
Maverick glares at me through sweat-drenched hair, chest pounding. “You’re sick. Both of you. I’m filing for emancipation from this family.”