SOPHIE BROOKS:
Party, hook-up, hangover, repeat.
I don't do rules, responsibility, or monogamy.
So when the chance to sleep with the hottest Olympian swimmer in the country presents itself, you can be damn sure I take it.
And sneak out before he wa...
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The crisp winter air stings a bit in my lungs as I breathe in deep. It's getting colder, and we've had a few days of snow, though it hasn't stuck yet.
I love snow. I didn't experience it a lot growing up in the south, so every winter since getting to Michigan, I've been reveling in the soft, white powder.
But now that it's that time again, it will mean that my trips with Max will become less frequent. No matter how much I enjoy looking at snow, I have no intention of getting caught in a snowstorm on horseback.
Call it southern paranoia, but I have this irrational fear of Max and me buried knee-deep in snow in the middle of nowhere and just freezing to death.
But we should be good today. There's a sheer layer of clouds, so any snowfall should be light. I've bundled up in a few extra layers to make up for the change in temperatures.
After saddling Max, I tow him out of the stable, intending to take the route that begins at the paddock. There's a stump from a cut-down tree that I usually use to mount. Max is trotting along behind me, his breath coming out in white puffs, when we round the corner and I notice the figure sitting on the stump I was heading for.
For a second, I get annoyed, thinking it's one of the other owners or a ranch hand - I'm so used to being alone on Saturday mornings that the idea of interaction with someone, even just for small talk, exhausts me.
But when I get a few steps closer, I freeze, Max bumping into me from behind because of my abrupt stop.
The figure is easy to recognize.
He hasn't changed in the week since I saw him last.
He's in a warm jacket, his legs bouncing a bit, probably to keep up circulation, and when his eyes connect to mine, a nervous smile spreads over his face.
He looks like a model shooting for a winter catalog.
It's kind of heartbreaking.
I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised that he would show up here. He's been calling and texting non-stop for the last week, and I'd listened from the top of the stairs as he'd talked to Jen that day. But I couldn't make myself go down and speak to him. My legs wouldn't move, locked in the fear that it would be a rejection.
I'm not sure I can handle that.
Now it seems I won't get a choice.
I think part of me had expected him to respect the sanctum of this place. After everything, I expected him to know that this is my safe place and that having my heart broken here will infiltrate the peace, taint it with pain and hurt.
He might just make me hate my favorite place on the planet.
Finally, I force my muscles to cooperate and close the distance between us.
