Tap the Hard Rock
Copyright© 2026 by Sonarflash2026
Chapter 4
Finally comfortable in the breeze from an air conditioner, refreshed after a tepid shower, Bonnie lounged by the picture window, watching as one pickup after another hauled away crew trailers.
Donell had phoned from town, blustering, then whining and making excuses. When he realized she wouldn’t be moved, he grudgingly agreed that the termination clause in their contract allowed her to pay him off. When the Diesel was operational, his men would be back to finish pulling drill pipe and remove his rig. Then, Brad’s equipment and crews would take over. Despite Brad Garry’s take-charge actions, she felt an unaccountable relief.
As another of the crew trailers and two pickups left, Bonnie sighed, glad to be rid of the annoyance. Sipping a chilled glass of sparkling white wine, she watched as Brad left his Diesel mechanic and the assistant. He crossed to her trailer, vanished for a while, then knocked at the screen door.
“Come!” she called.
Brad Gary stepped inside, saddlebags over his shoulder, rifle and scabbard in hand. He bent and pulled off his riding boots. “Got enough water for me to shower?”
“Help yourself. The tank trailer is full,” she agreed, giving him a big smile.
He paused, admiring a feminine, white lace blouse. He swept an appreciative gaze over her, from clinging white shorts, long, legs and bare feet to pink toenails.
He gave a low whistle. “No wonder those men kept getting ideas!”
“I was kind of hoping the same would happen to you,” she said quietly, giving him a sultry look.
He grinned and shook his head sorrowfully. “We aren’t going there today Bonnie.”
“There’s always tomorrow.” She replied, giving a shrug, sipped wine and asked, “how is Tango?”
“He’s okay for now. He’s in shade under the awning.”
“You certainly cleared out that lot of roughnecks in a hurry.”
He gave a mischievous smile, dropping saddlebags, propping up the rifle before unbuckling his shell belt. He hefted the weapon. “Not surprising how a pistol and deputy sheriff badge can intimidate the hell out of big tough assholes.”
“Deputy? You’re also a deputy sheriff?”
“County deputy.” He gave a shrug. “More of a volunteer position. We still have the occasional case of cattle rustling. Then there are missing tourists, lost children, bar fights and teenagers acting stupid with rifles.”
He opened one of the saddlebags, pulling out jeans, shirt, socks and clean underwear, then headed for the trailer bathroom.
“there’s towels on the rack,” she called out. “Soap, a package of disposable razors and shampoo. Help yourself. Just whistle when you want your back scrubbed.”
He laughed, ducking from sight. Bonnie remained stretched out on the sofa, sipping wine, languidly contemplating her guest, abscently hoping he would whistle for her. Her intense physical reaction to him still left her bewildered. Husbands and lovers had all been as tall or taller than her and much larger. Brad wasn’t. His size didn’t seem to matter. Like the worn clothes, something about him seemed wrong. A potent force of a much larger man or a giant had been locked inside that compact body, just waiting to be unleashed.
“A bit too old, but dark and handsome,” she thought, picturing his wavy black hair and unusual, grey blue eyes. “Some Italian blood? Mexican? He is unquestionably virile.” She sighed, admitting to herself, that however improbable, and no matter how impossible, she wanted to drag him into bed. After hearing that he was celibate, clinging to the memory of his wife, she felt even more determined. That he equated sex with marriage seemed ludicrous. Gradually though, as she considered the ramifications, a smile teased her lips. From what little she knew of him, Brad Garry was old enough to be her father. Somehow, he remained youthful, strong and viril, in spite of running a host of corporations worth tens of billions.
Bonnie looked down at her body, idly taking stock. At thirty-two, she was still fit, her muscles toned. She would never be a gangly sixteen again, never slim, and never a Hollywood beauty, but that too was okay. She was comfortable in her own skin, intelligent, accomplished, wealthy and except for the day’s upsets, reasonably satisfied. Distractedly, she stroked the fine amber down on her forearm. Her complexion was flawless, health excellent, her hips nicely flared, her breasts large, firm and appealing.
With all that, she enjoyed sex. Early on, she had schooled herself to overlook any body image issues. If not traditionally pretty or Hollywood gorgeous, The face which looked back in a mirror was strong and attractive, capable of displaying a wide range of emotions to advantage.
When she heard the shower cut off and the electric water pump fall silent, Bonnie eased off the couch. Crossing to the kitchen, she opened the fridge, checking over what she had in the way of snacks, appetizers and real food. Taking out the bottle, she poured a stemware glass full of white wine, refilled her own and carried them back to the small coffee table.
Brad emerged a short time later, cleanly shaved, his hair combed. Though in clean clothes, his jeans were surprisingly faded, the shirt obviously worn, his appearance almost scruffy. He Paused, stuffing dusty riding shirt and jeans into the saddlebag.
“Why do you try to look like a saddle bum” she asked”
“Invisibility,” he replied, meetting her eyes.
“You didn’t call for a back scrub,” she complained with a deliberate pout.
“You have a back-brush,” he replied,
“Oh damn! I forgot to hide it,” she said with mock petulance.
He chuckled. She gestured to the other wine glass. He picked it up, sniffed in the bouquet, then After a slow, appreciative examination of Bonnie’s lounging figure, he held out his glass.
“To friendship, and good neighbours,” he said.
She moved slowly, swinging her legs off the couch, sitting up before clinking his glass with hers.
“Friendship, and more hot necking.”
He raised eyebrows, chuckled, then took a sip. “You don’t easily let go of a notion.”
“There’s something about you that brings that to the surface.” She patted the couch. “Come. snuggle and tell me about yourself.”
He briefly considered the sofa chair as an option, once again found himself lost in her sapphire eyes, caught the sincere longing and surrendered. He settled next to her on the couch. Lithe as a cat, she curled against his side. Brad inhaled the fragrance of herbal shampoo and a slightly musky, evocative perfume. Though she was a fair bit taller, their shoulders were at the same height. At a glance, he realized her waist was short-coupled, her legs much longer than his. This time, he stared, taking in every detail of her profile, the sweep of thick, unplucked amber-blond eyebrows, her long lashes, and finally, the deep, sapphire tint of her eyes. “Beautiful,” he thought, searching them.
Without trying to hide his fascination, he also lingered on the swell of her breasts. They were demonstrably obvious, even covered by a lacy blouse which was doing little to conceal a sexy, white bra. The material covered but also revealed subtle details. That sight, her soft closeness and the scent of her were like water in the desert.
Brad experienced an immediate arousal, taken back decades-to that day he first encountered Jeanette. Images and memories flashed through his mind. When she arrived, the new assistant vet didn’t know who he was. Brad’s smiled unconsciously. The small, homely woman acosted him in one of the birthing stalls. She hadn’t known who he was, let alone that he was the ranch owner, and extremely wealthy, let alone a man on his way to becoming a billionaire, his business interests skyrocketting. Jeanette took charge, shouldering him aside, heedless of his being covered with horse shit and blood. The foal was breech, but together, they saved mother and daughter. Afterwards, without introductions, they collapsed on bales of hay, staring into each other’s eyes. He couldn’t recall who moved first, but the kiss was electrifying, and not without passionate consequences, right there in the barn.
That memory, and Bonnie’s hand cupping his groin were enough to snap him back to the present.
“That was quick,” she murmured, glancing down, lips curling into a slow smile. She took a sip of wine and said quietly, “apparently you really, really like my girls.”
“I’m not blind, and they are rather spectacular,” he admitted. “About forty D cup?”
“Double D.”
He snorted. “Same as my ranch brand.”
“You named it because of the twins?”she asked curiously.
“Denise and Dianne,” he said easily. “Used to be the Garry Ranch, then the Rocking J.”
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