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lorna-d-m · 15 days ago

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Chapter Four: Birthday Wishes

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!OC (Cecilia Anderson)

Summary: Meet Miguel O'Hara, a rugged bareback rider who could have had it all, and Cici Anderson, the spirited daughter of a stock contractor trapped in a toxic relationship. When fate brings them together for a dance, they see each other again and again.

Word Count: 5,118

W: cursing, drinking, Miguel's doing some heavy yearning

A/N: Anything that is italicized within the quotation marks is said in Spanish. If you want to be added to the taglist you can comment or fill out the google form here

Previous chapter

Miguel should’ve known he was too deep when Cici convinced him to try one of her fancy face masks. He watched her in the warm lighting of the fancy hotel bathroom, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, as she offered a jar of pink gloop in her outstretched hand. Miguel refused, twice, until she pouted and batted her eyes. How could he say no?

Then, Cici snapped a picture of him with the sticky stuff smeared across his face, and she giggled a little too hard.

“What are you doing?” he asked, afraid to move his lips too much to speak.

She smiled wickedly. “Sending it to Gabri.”

“No!” he protested, but it was too late. “I’ll never live this down.”

“You’ll thank me for it later when your skin is as soft as mine.”

Miguel wondered how soft her skin was. The round apples of her cheeks, the plump skin of her thighs, or her ample breasts. He wanted to run his calloused hands across her, teasing and adoring, pinching and squeezing, but he settled for being near her.

Gabriel: Are you seriously doing a face mask with her?

Gabriel: Dude

Gabriel: Simp behavior

Miguel: Shut up. You’re not helping.

Gabriel: Did you figure out a gift for her birthday yet?

Miguel: Still not helping.

Gabriel: Buy her more of whatever she put on your face. She probably used half the container on your big head.

Miguel: 🖕

Gabriel was right, naturally, not that Miguel would admit it to him. That would give him too much power. But, it didn’t stop Miguel from craning his neck to read the brand name on the small pink container resting on the counter. It was a good idea, he told himself, and he was just mad that Gabriel thought of it before he did.

Besides, Miguel was a simp. In the weeks that passed, Miguel and Cici saw each other several more times. They stopped seeing each other at the dusty rodeo grounds as much, instead having more quiet nights in. More often than not, he let her pick the food and the movie. Miguel didn’t care as long as he was with her.

Cici’s birthday fell during a competition weekend. She deliberated about what to pack, wanting her cutest outfits to celebrate, but also cramming her professional clothes for interviews and press. Taylor and Gwen insisted it would be a crime not to pack one of her tight satin dresses, especially since Josh planned to come down for the weekend.

It was rare for him to see her at work, and she was excited to show him the ropes, metaphorical and real. Josh got confused whenever she tried to explain what she did all day, or how the evenings went, and Cici thought that if he could experience one, everything would finally click together.

Cici also relished the chance to show him off and feel special. It was difficult for her to articulate unless she was at least three drinks in, or awake and unable to fall asleep, but there were times the distance made her feel terribly lonely. She missed the little things, like his hand against her waist, or looking to see if he laughed at the same joke. Just being near him, for a day or two, was enough to make her feel better.

She checked her phone relentlessly on the day of. All her friends and extended family sent messages, made social media posts, and congratulated her. Cici responded to each one, giving them the heartfelt messages they deserved, but she couldn’t keep herself from checking her texts with Josh.

Radio silence. He said he would let her know when he left the city, and by the afternoon, she started getting worried. It was a long drive, and if he didn’t leave soon, he’d miss the celebration dinner.

“Stop checking your phone.” Cici’s head popped up at Miguel’s voice. He blocked the fleursecent light, and it created a halo around his mussy dark hair. Cici smiled wanly. “He’ll be here,” Miguel assured her.

She clicked off her phone. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”

“But…” he baited, one hand on his cocky hip.

Cici chewed her bottom lip in thought. “But I can’t help myself from worrying.” What if he isn’t coming? What if something happened?

“Come on,” he urged.

“Where are we going?” Her eyebrows scrunched together. “You need to be changed and ready soon, you don’t have time-”

“I have time for you,” he said firmly, “and you need to feel better.”

Cici relented, seeing the stubbornness in his eyes. “Fine, but you still didn’t tell me where we’re going.”

“What always cheers you up?” Miguel said it like he already knew the answer; he was just waiting for her to realize it.

“Coffee and a little something sweet?”

“Uh huh,” he rolled his eyes, “there’s a little bakery not that far from here. We can be there and back in enough time for me to get ready.”

***

Cici left her phone alone while she rode in Miguel’s truck, fiddling with the radio stations and the back angle. He didn’t press her to talk about what bothered her, instead, he let her mind wander and distract herself for a bit. Miguel just let her be, no questions asked, no judgment.

On the way back, she ate, doing her best not to get crumbs or spills anywhere. Miguel was right, as usual. Coffee and a concha made her feel much better.

He waited in the right-hand turn lane. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, waiting for the ridiculously lifted truck in front of him to turn. The parking lot filled up now, crowds arriving to claim a seat, grab a bite to eat, and talk with their buddies. Miguel lost a prime parking spot to take her out. He lost time, where he could’ve stretched or taken a nap, and money since he insisted on paying.

Cici chewed her bottom lip again, overthinking the best way to break their comfortable silence. “Are you doing anything tonight?”

Miguel chuckled, circling the parking lot for a spot. “You mean other than riding a fifteen hundred pound bucking horse that wants to get me off its back? No, no other plans.”

“Well I knew that,” Cici playfully hit his shoulder and then pointed to a free space. “Do you want to come to my birthday dinner?”

He was quiet for a moment, and Cici could tell it wasn’t just so he could focus on parking. Miguel threw the truck in reverse, turning over his shoulder to see. His hand rested on the headrest behind her, and she was acutely aware of his fingers lingering by her neck.

Miguel stayed there when he answered, his face inches from hers. “Of course I’ll be there. Text me when and where.”

“Okay,” she smiled. “Good luck tonight, if I don’t see you until you’re on the big screens, that is.”

Miguel was late, but he wasn’t going to tell Cici. She didn’t need the stress or the guilt. Instead, he hurried through his warm-up process. He still needed to stretch and change, and stretch again. Miguel double-laced his boots, wrapping the long edges around and around. He wound the athletic tape from his wrist to near his shoulder, protecting and supporting his muscles, careful around the elbow brace.

Miguel wasn’t as vain as other riders. He utilized all available protective gear, from the vest to the mouthguard, to shield himself from injury. Young and bullish guys would waltz in wearing nothing but a cowboy hat and chaps just to be carried out on a stretcher. Miguel understood early on that if this was to be his career, he needed to safeguard himself.

It was busy back by the dusty chutes, but Miguel still stretched his rigging over the rails and looked it over. Passersby clapped him on the shoulder, wishing him luck, and he nodded his head, focused on catching up. He still needed to find a quiet space to clear his head before they got to the bareback riding.

“Saw you leaving with Anderson. Trying to get a leg up on the competition?”

Miguel’s back stiffened, his hackles raising. Kron always set him on edge. He didn’t even need to speak, just breathe the same air, and Miguel would be bothered. Kron was his rival in more ways than one. Sure, they were competitors in the same event, but it went deeper than that.

They shared the same tainted blood. Kron, the rising star of bareback bronc riding, was the son of the legendary Tyler Stone. Miguel, meanwhile, was also the son of Tyler Stone, but since he was born on the wrong side of the sheets, his heritage was not known. Not that Miguel wanted anyone to know, his opinion of his biological father tanked when he found out the truth about how he pulled his iconic stunts. But it tied them together, and it was another way for Kron to antagonize him.

“Hey,” Kron grabbed Miguel’s shoulder, “I’m talking to you.”

“And I’m not.”

Although Miguel stood taller than Kron and broader, his brother still had him pinned against the fencing. Miguel’s eyes flicked around, from the bustling crowd to the handlers. He didn’t want to cause a scene, but Kron seemed intent on it.

“Walk away, Kron, and leave her name out of your mouth.” The last thing he needed was a cameraman or a journalist spotting them. He pushed past him, deciding to go through him rather than around.

Kron refused to let him slip away, grabbing him by the wrist. “Or what? What’re you gonna do, Mike?”

Miguel tore his wrist away and took a step back. “Stay out of my face and keep her name out of your mouth or I’ll tell the PRCA about your little pick-me-ups.”

That was enough to send Kron running, but Miguel knew it wouldn’t keep him away for long. Still, he would be able to get in the right headspace and stretch before his time came.

Typically, Cici spent her time before the night’s beginning meeting with other contractors, speaking to the press, and all the networking her job demanded. But that night, she wanted to sit back and enjoy, so she and Taylor made their way to their seats high up in the metal bleachers with plenty of snacks and drinks in tow. Now that Taylor entered her third trimester, she didn’t go far without snacks.

A local up-and-coming country singer sang the National Anthem, a denim jacket draped over her shoulders, the leather of her boots shining and glinting in the light. She was followed by sparkling red and blue fireworks. The announcers geared up to introduce the riders, and Cici shifted to better see the jumbo screen. Miguel lined up with the other bareback riders, a head taller than either man beside him, and broader, too.

Cici grabbed a handful of salty, buttery popcorn. Her phone buzzed in her lap, and she glanced at the screen. Josh <3 is calling. She shifted in her seat, looking for the nearest exit to duck out and answer.

“Ladies and gentleman, hold onto your hats because coming up next is a real force of nature!”

The cameras panned to Miguel on the back of a chestnut brown stallion, stirring up dust around the arena. He smiled and waved, each movement perfectly practiced.

“From the bustling streets of San Antonio, he’s a man who swings into action like no other. Known for his incredible agility and strength, he’s no ordinary cowboy; he’s the one and only Miguel O’Hara, the super hero of the bareback world!”

A young boy with a hat far too large for him leaned over the railings as much as he could, holding out a red, white, and green flag. Miguel slowed down, urging the horse to stop, and reached out for the flag. He tipped his hat to the young cowboy and proudly displayed his colors.

Cici checked her phone again once Miguel disappeared from view.

Josh: Sorry I can’t make it out tonight, baby. I’ll call again in a few hours. Enjoy your night.

Cici typed out several messages, but she wound up deleting them. She wanted to tell him everything, from that he should’ve called earlier, that she would’ve enjoyed her night more if he were there, and he shouldn’t bother calling, but she didn’t.

Cici: Thanks <3

Classically, bareback was the first event of the night. It set spirits high, drew big crowds, and made sure everyone got settled soon after the anthem. Steer wrestling and team roping followed, which was usually when Cici stepped out to speak to the press on how the night was going. She tried to make it back to her seat for the saddle bronc riding, which was similar to bareback, but riders used proper saddles rather than rope rigging.

Cici scrolled through her phone during the intermission, waiting for the final event of the night: bull riding. The PRCA TikTok page already posted clips of Miguel’s ride, being the top scorer of the night, and Cici paused to rewatch. She replayed the video again and again, frame by frame, scrutinizing his ride. If he wanted to take home the title, he’d need to repeat the performance.

“Before we bring on the bulls, let’s wish a happy birthday to one of our own tonight, Miss Cecilia Anderson!”

Cici flipped her phone over in her lap and looked up. She smiled widely for the cameras, knowing they panned to her as soon as they said her name, and she didn’t want to look too caught off guard. 20,000 attendees sang in unison, off pitch but well-meaning, and it warmed her heart.

Taylor appeared totally surprised, as did her mother sitting to her other side, and she wondered who tipped off the announcers. It could’ve been Nick, or her father, they would have the connections to pull it off. As the crowds reached the final strain, she spotted Miguel at the bottom of the metal steps, one hand leaning on the railing and the other tipping his hat to her.

That sneaky motherfucker…

For the first time in his life, Miguel regretted not packing a suit. He riffled through his suitcase, looking for anything presentable enough for dinner. Brushing shoulders with the good old boys wasn’t something he did, but Cici asked him to go to her birthday dinner, and he knew with her princess behaviour, this would not be a casual affair.

Clean jeans, nonscuffed boots, and his least wrinkled button-down shirt would have to do. His hair was still wet from his shower, so he mussed some gel into it. He wished he had brought a jacket or something to compensate, but it would have to do. He felt like hell, he always did after riding, but he looked alright enough.

He spotted her car in the parking lot and chuckled. It was always easy to find her. Miguel parked toward the back, feeling inadequate with his old truck. He lifted his hat and ran a nervous hand through his hair as he spoke to the hostess, informing her he was part of the Anderson party. She led him through to a private room in the back, and his uneasiness grew.

“Miguel, good to see you. Heck of a ride today.” Nick clapped him on the shoulder, and Miguel did his best not to look like a spooked horse. He muttered his thanks.

“Miggy!” Cici squealed and stood, a half-finished drink in her hand. Based on the way she wobbled, Miguel guessed that wasn’t her first drink. “I saved you a seat!”

He recognized her family members, but he still politely introduced himself. Cici sat at the head of the table with Miguel on one side and her sister-in-law on the other. Her brother, parents, and cousin rounded out the table. It was a small, intimate meal, but oddly comforting. He counted himself half lucky and half honored to be there.

Cici leaned in but still spoke loudly. “Josh was supposed to be here tonight, but he said something came up.” She took another sip of her drink, slurping on ice. “He said he was going to call me in a few hours, but that was hours ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I guess his loss is my gain.” Miguel realized how that sounded, and he tried to course correct. “For the food, I mean, everything looks so good.” And out of his price range… It was never a good sign when the menu didn’t have prices. He had a feeling Mr. Anderson would be footing the bill, but he didn’t want to be an expensive guest.

But he did mean it. If Josh couldn’t be bothered to see her or even call her on her birthday, it was another reason Miguel wished she would break up with him. She deserved to be with someone who would make her happy, not disappoint her at every opportunity.

She giggled. “It’s my gain too.” He quirked an eyebrow, and she explained. “He would cut me off after two drinks, even though it’s my birthday, and insist I should get the salad to ‘avoid the carbs’. Oh, and only one bite of dessert. I still want to look good in my birthday suit, don’t I?”

Fuck that guy. It’s her damn birthday, she should eat whatever she pleases.

The waitstaff brought several appetizers for the table, and Miguel asked for a Jack and Coke. They talked about the day’s competitors and the livestock while sharing plates and reaching around each other. The Andersons would be staying in town longer than Miguel, who was headed out the following morning. There were other events for the Anderson stock, and they would stick around until the rodeo ended in a few days. Then, they would pack everything up, head home for a few days, and move to the next one.

After his Jack and Coke, he switched to water. He munched on the appetizers, appreciative of the spread, and mindful about not appearing too greedy or hungry. Every time he saw the Andersons, he wanted to make a good impression.

Miguel thought Cici looked sexy in her tight little dresses, or even her comfy lounge clothes, but he was surprised to feel his dick twitch when he watched her devour a porterhouse steak. He wanted to blame it on the pleased moan she took every other bite, or the way her eyes rolled back, and she would curse, but he knew it was something more primal than that. That girl could eat, and he wanted her to be well fed, and not only that, he wanted to be the one to feed her.

Damn, he needed to stop thinking like that… especially around her family. She had a boyfriend, and no matter how much Miguel couldn’t stand him, he respected her.

Cici could drink, too. With each one, she started to laugh a little harder, smile a little wider, but there was a certain glimmer in her eyes that dimmed. She avoided talking about Josh entirely, and she rolled her eyes and sighed in disgust every time she checked her phone.

Miguel stayed mostly quiet, only speaking when spoken to. Everyone else knew each other so well he felt like an outsider, but Cici did her best to make connections and draw them together. He felt awkward but grateful, always a little self-conscious.

The back of the house stuck candles in a heaping slice of chocolate cake. Cici blew out the candles after pausing to make a wish, and Miguel wondered what the princess wished for. Selfishly, he wondered if he could give it to her.

At the end of the night, they said their goodbyes and prepared to leave. Her mom and sister gave him a goodbye hug, and he got a firm handshake from her dad and brother. He offered to drive Cici back to her hotel, and her family was grateful they didn’t need to deal with a drunk Cici, chuckling that he had no clue what he signed himself up for. But he didn’t mind. At least it was time with her.

Miguel came back from the restroom and started to get the picture of drunk Cici. She fooled around in his hat, pretending to be a wild west gunslinger with the brim pulled down low. Her family rolled their eyes and clapped him on the back, bidding him goodnight and good luck. Miguel wasn’t superstitious; he didn’t believe in the cowboy hat rule, but he felt his heart skip a beat all the same.

All it took for her to go from white girl wasted to tired and whiny was walking through the restaurant and to the parking lot. Miguel let her lean on him when needed, her soft stomach and chest pressing into his back and arms as she grew sluggish, but he didn’t mind. Warmth radiated from her, and he wanted to keep that feeling.

“I’m hot,” she protested as soon as they got in the truck. “I’m sweating, Miguel, fix it,” she mewled.

Miguel bit back a laugh, knowing he was on thin ice right now and if he laughed he’d piss her off. He blasted the AC and moved all the vents to blow toward her, knowing in about two minutes time she would complain about being cold.

She didn’t ask him, she just reached forward and turned all the vents and fiddled with the controls. Then, she played with all the buttons for the radio and the CD player. She twisted and turned, but she never spotted the gifts Miguel got her in the backseat, hidden amongst all her other presents.

“I know it’s not as fancy as you’re used to, but…” he trailed off, “...it’ll get the job done.

“I know.” She sounded tired, and not just physically. “I’m not always a princess, you know? I don’t need all the fancy things…”

Cici found an old country station and let it play quietly. Miguel snuck looks at her through the mirror, her face lit up by the moon and passing streetlights. She hummed along to the music, her eyes closed and her head tilted back. Cici looked pretty at peace, not performing for anyone else but herself. He may have taken the longer route back to her hotel, a few wrong turns here and there, but she didn’t notice.

Her phone buzzed in her purse, and she pawed around to find it. Miguel didn’t know who would be calling her at that time of night, but he had a pretty good guess. It was confirmed when she cursed as soon as she saw it.

“I’m gonna put it on speaker, so pretend like you’re not here,” she warned.

Great. Miguel rolled his eyes. Maybe he wasn’t giving the guy a fair chance, but nothing he had seen or heard set him up for a great first impression.

“Babe, I’m sorry. I could not get away from work today. It was meeting after meeting, totally slammed, and we’ve got the deadline next week, so we’ve been re-working everything.”

The silence hung heavy. Miguel gripped the steering wheel, grateful the night hid his white knuckles. He parked in her hotel parking lot, but neither one of them moved.

“I get that you were busy, but you couldn’t have called or texted?” Cici sounded tired, and she worked to keep her voice level. She didn’t want to sound too drunk. “Or said something to let me know you weren’t going to make it, but you were still thinking of me?”

“Babe, I’m always thinking of you. But I couldn’t even get to my phone today. I was so busy.”

It was a lame excuse, and Miguel resisted the urge to gag and roll his eyes. Cici stayed quiet again, clearly trying to think through the tequila fog. Miguel put a reassuring hand on her knee and squeezed it, telling her to say what she was thinking.

Cici sniffled and pinched her nose, “You didn’t even wish me a happy birthday.”

“Look, I’m sorry I forgot. Let me make it up to you,” he sounded too defensive for Miguel’s taste, but that was not his place to say. “Whatever you want, just send it to Tiffany and she’ll make sure you get it. Jewelry, makeup, lingerie, whatever you want babe, spoil yourself.”

“I don’t want gifts, Josh, I just wanted to see you.” Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, and Miguel looked for a napkin or anything he could use to help her.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, babe. You know I’m super busy here, like I can’t get away right now. Just get whatever you want, and I’ll let you know when it’s a good time for me.”

Cici wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. Her lower lip trembled, and she blinked away more tears. Miguel wished he could do more for her, but she needed to realize how shitty he was herself.

“Okay,” she sighed, trying to get a handle on her voice, “let me know when it’s a good time for you. I could come into the city rather than you coming out to the ranch.”

“Sounds perfect, baby. Can’t wait to see you in something sexy.”

“Yeah,” she laughed, but it didn’t sound genuine, “Can’t wait to see you.”

The call ended abruptly, and immediately she started sobbing. Miguel didn’t know what else to do for her other than be there for her. He leaned over, and she nestled herself against him, crying into his shoulder. Miguel held her because it was all he could do.

“Why doesn’t he love me? I feel like I’m trying so hard to make this relationship work, and I’m getting nothing in return.”

“Let it all out, princess,” he soothed, rubbing her back. The sound of her voice cracking threatened to break him.

“It wasn’t always like this, you know?” She sniffled again and pulled back, looking into Miguel’s eyes. “Maybe it’s the distance, or our busy schedules, but I don’t know what else to do.” She searched for something in his eyes that he couldn’t tell her, not yet.

He shrugged, “Relationships change.” Relationships should end, but he wasn’t stupid enough to tell her that. Knowing her, it would only make her more determined to work things out.

“I know,” she sighed, “I know they do. But I’m not sure it’s been changing for the better. And I don’t know if I can make it better all by myself.”

“Well, you’re not going to solve anything out here. C’mon princess, I think it’s time for you to sleep all these big feelings off.”

“I think you mean sleep the tequila off,” she half giggled.

“That too,” he acknowledged with a wry smile. “Now lemme help you take all this inside.”

Miguel helped bring all her gifts upstairs, the sparkly bags and delicately wrapped boxes carefully opened so she could peek inside, and the only thing he let her carry was a bouquet from her parents. He liked her little smile every time she sniffed the bouquet. Something as simple as fresh flowers brought her so mucy joy, so why couldn’t that asshole do the bare minimum for her?

“I’m leaving everything here for you except-”

“Can you help me with this zipper?” Cici cut him off. She stood with her back to him and her hair swept out of the way.

Miguel took a deep breath, and it was all her warm, floral perfume. His hand dwarfed the dainty zipper as he followed the track, and his other hand rested on the small of her waist. He wanted to give her a squeeze, pull her close, and kiss her neck, but that wasn’t his place.

“Thanks! What were you saying before?”

He thought she would go to the bathroom or the side to change, but she stayed right there, in front of him. Greedily, he watched as she shrugged out of the dress, exposing her pink lacy bralette and panties, and slipped on an oversized t-shirt.

Happy fucking birthday.

“Miggy, what were you saying?” She looked at him like he was an idiot. He realized, a little too late, that it was her second time repeating herself.

“Oh, I left everything there except my gifts for you.”

“Aww, you didn’t have to get me anything!”

He did, if he wanted to be better than her boyfriend. “It’s not much, and I don’t even know if you’ll like it…” he deflected.

She sat crisscrossed on the bed, plush white blankets around her, and her hair pulled back in a messy bun. He longed to curl up next to her, but he stayed standing. “Let me see…” Cici said as she poked into the bag.

Cici pulled out the stuffed longhorn cow, wearing the stupid little blue plaid pajamas Miguel had to fight to get him into, the face masks she likes to use thanks to Gabriel’s advice, a coffee gift card, and a pile of candies with a note saying she could choose their next movie night.

“Awww! I love him! And he smells so good! And all my favorite goodies? You know me so well.” She looked on the brink of tears again, but he knew these were happy tears.

He flushed with guilt and embarrassment. The cow smelled good because he spritzed it with his cologne before putting him in the bag. Miguel shrugged, “It’s easy to know you. All I have to do is listen and pay attention.”

She set the goodies on the nightstand and sank into the pillows and blankets with the cow clutched to her chest. Miguel could see himself curled up next to her, his arm resting across her stomach, and his fingers grazing the cow. Cici looked like she was about to fall asleep any second, but her hazy eyes stayed focused on him.

“And yet, it’s more than some people do. You’re a good man, Miguel. You might not want to admit it, but you’ve got a softie at heart.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, don’t go spreading that around. Can’t have people knowing that.”

“The big, bad, Miguel O’Hara. Not so bad after all.” She teased him, and her hair spread out on the pillows.

“Goodnight, princess.” He tugged on the comforter until it came up to her chest. “Happy Birthday.”

“Goodnight, Miggy. Thank you.”

He caught her sniffing the top of her cow again, and a small smile tugged on his lips.

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