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’tthatbad.
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.
