It’s a completely different feeling knowing she’s carrying our baby as she rounds the first turn.
Our kid has rodeo in its veins, pumping the adrenaline of every stride of the mare.
“Come on, Soph,” I murmur to the fence rail, my hands clutching it so tightly I hear the wood creak. She’s the last one tonight. This is her chance.
Barrel number two gives the slightest wobble, brushed by the toe of her boot in the stirrup.
Whew. Cutting it close.
But as she finishes her trip around the third, and spurs her mare to a full gallop, the surge of the crowd makes me glance at the giant digital timer above the stadium floor.
It clicks to a stop when she hits the line.
Three tenths of a second faster than the flashing red number beside it.
She did it!
There’s yelling through the stand over the loudspeakers that makes me sprint to where she’s climbing down.
“Soph! You did it! It’s a new record!” I yell, grabbing her up in my arms to spin her in a circle.
“What?” She looks around, dazed, as Misty side-steps away from us.
“You fucking shattered the arena’s best time.” I let her down slowly, not wanting to let her go. “I’m so damn proud of you.”
“It’s because you folded me like a taco before I came out,” she giggles, squeezing me excitedly. “Made my leg more limber.”
“Always happy to help.” I press my lips to her forehead as I hear her name come over the loudspeaker again.
“They’re calling you out for a victory lap, my racing queen.” My cheeks ache from smiling and my chest feels as if it’s going to explode.
“I guess I better go.” She takes a deep breath and climbs back into her saddle.
As she prances Misty into the cheering crowd, I give a nod to the coordinator and jog after her.
By the time she’s at the far end of the pen, I’m in position.
“Sophia?” I hold the microphone up to my lips.
It’s strange hearing my own voice echoing through the speakers as I step out into the ring.
“I can’t think of a better time to ask everyone here to be sure to join us in three weeks when Sophia and I share our wedding vows.” I kneel in the center of the field, holding up the small black box into the air.
She trots her horse closer and reins to a stop just a few feet from me.
“I know you wanted big.” I grin up to her. “I can’t think of anything more extravagant than four thousand people watching.”
Silence hovers thick in the air.
“Sophia McCullough, will you marry me?”
My words reverberate through the crowd, making them take a collective gasp.
She practically jumps out of her saddle.
“Yes,” she squeaks, then tackles me in a magnificent kiss as the ground rumbles from the cheering and stomping crowd.
A new shit storm
