“How do I look?” She tugged on her harness with one hand and held her show stick in the other.
She looked the part with her blue button up, jeans with concho belt, and cowgirl boots and hat to match. The younger of his sisters was so much like their Nonna with her dark hair and eyes. She had the temper to match, too. Marianne was more like Mama. Softer spoken, lighter in features. They both worked just as hard as each other, making a good team. Whereas, in contrast, Grey and Anton had sometimes been at odds. Mainly because Grey hated cow shit and hay baling.
“Ready.” He nodded once.
“Number seventeen-seventeen. That’s gotta be lucky, right?” She patted the number on her harness.
“I reckon so.”
His eyes strayed for the fiftieth time to the stalls across from them. Lorelei and Clay were making their way around, saying hello to the other exhibitors. He paid the others no mind, his focus half on his job and half on Lory. She wore a similar getup to Sophia, but without the hat, and her shirt had western-style checks. Her jeans fit her just right.
A tap on his arm dragged his attention back to his sister.
“What?”
Sophia wore a troubled expression, a crease marring her brow. “I said, are ya done with Betsy? They need to eat.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll brush her down after.”
“I’ll brush her down. You go on over and talk to Clay and Lory instead of standing there staring. It’s creeping me out.” She pushed him aside, resting the show stick on the stall wall.
Sophia grabbed the brush and went about taming the Hereford’s hair.
Shoulders bunched; Anton hesitated to turn around. Why did he feel like the ground beneath him was about to give way? He’d always known where he stood with Lory. He was a friend. He was her boyfriend’s brother. But now that Grey was out of the picture it seemed like Anton and Lory’s parallel paths were converging. The roadblocks were gone, but so were the street signs. He didn’t know how to navigate his way to safety. If he spoke to her, spent more time with her, he’d fall deeper in love. And that only meant pain. It was better to avoid her. At all costs. She’d probably think he was an asshole, but better that than a pathetic dick.
He went to grab the other brush, but Sophia sidestepped to block his path. “What are ya doin’?”
“I’m helpin’ you. What’s your problem?”
With a deliberate glance and chin lift towards the opposite stall, she repeated her question. “What. Are. You. Doing?”
His gut sank.
Why the fuck couldn’t he control himself when Lory was near? “Nothin’.”
Sophia raised her eyebrows, exchanging a glance with Marianne who wore an identical look of disbelief. “It doesn’t look like nothin’. Did somethin’ happen between you and Lory? ‘Cause she’s been sneakin’ glances over here as much as you’ve been reciprocatin’.”
Reciprocating. Yeah, right.
“Don’t go makin’ up stories in your head. You don’t know squat.” Bury the truth in denial and fertilize it with a smile. He’d been doing it for years.
“You’re makin’ it so obvious.”
Shit… fuck… shitfuck.
“I feel bad for her. That’s all.” Half-truth. Half-lie. What did it matter anymore? He’d never have her.
“I’ve lived with you for eighteen years, I know when you’re lying through your teeth. You got it bad. How long? Does Grey know about this?”
Anger seized his tongue. I ain’t tellin’ you shit, sister. He spun away and untied Betsy, leading her next to the steer.
Marianne averted her eyes as she distributed the feeders to the cattle. Waldo heaved himself up so he could chow down on the good stuff, while their heifer did the same.
Sophia crossed her arms and locked Anton in a stare before she marched over to their neighbors.
He almost hooked a finger in the back of her harness to yank her back.
She wouldn’t dare say anything. Would she?
He started to clean up the wash station, with one eye watching his sister’s arms flail as her gums flapped some undoubtedly useless information to the Carters.
What the hell are you telling them?
Sophia spun back to him with a big grin. “I’ll see you in the arena, Lory,” she called over her shoulder. Bypassing Anton, she gave Marianne’s arm a squeeze. “I’m off the find Mama and Papà.” And then she was gone, leaving him with a lump of sick in the back of his throat.
Twisting around, he caught Lory’s eyes just before they darted back to her brother.
The hell?
He desperately swallowed, almost choking. Fuck. Sophia was a master meddler.
Whatever she’d done, it couldn’t be good.
Marianne dusted off her hands before propping them on her hips. “I’m going to get ready. You okay to help Soph finish up the beauty routine?”
“Yeah, go do whatcha gotta do.”
She took off, and he found his mind straying where it shouldn’t go once more. His eyes followed, but Lory was gone.
It was for the best. He was acting like a lovesick fool. If there was an antidote to his obsession, he needed it bad. Whatever it took to make his daydreams shrivel up and die. He wanted out of this mental prison.
What else could he do?
“You okay there, champ?” Clay called out, pausing his conversation with Sophia’s competition.
Fuck, no. “Yup, all good.”
“Catch up tonight?”
“Sure thing.”
Maybe getting drunk with her brother was an excellent idea.
Or maybe he’d confess his love in his alcoholic stupor. Then just about everybody would know his feelings except the object of his affection.
Yeah, probably not a good plan.
_____
Holding his hat to his chest, Antonio moved through the crowds in the judging arena. The stands surrounding the ring were mostly filled with excited family
