Hott and Handled (The Hott Brothers Book 3)

by Leah Sharelle

  I wanted it all with Farron. Everything she could give me.

  Chuckling at her obvious shyness and slight discomfort, I moved forward to open her door for her.

  “You know you have to make three trips to get the ovens back to town, right?” I asked her, changing the subject.

  “Yeah, I know, I guess I didn’t think this through properly,” Farron mumbled, accepting my silent invitation to get out of the car. And thank god she did. Getting down from the utility gracefully, Farron stood before me dressed in the tightest black legging looking pants and a casual tee that announced in big letters that underestimating her would be to your own detriment. The sassy saying wouldn’t quite fit her if I had not already seen her in action at her restaurant. Dealing with cashed-up cowboys and farmhands on a Friday and Saturday night, full of good food and too much beer, she didn’t take shit from anyone. If you were only going by her appearance, you would be fooled into believing she would run at the first sign of trouble.

  “Nice t-shirt,” I offered, smirking at the words that were printed perfectly over her ample breasts: round and high, a perfect handful, more than actually even for my big hands.

  “Groovy, isn’t it? I decided to treat myself to a new work wardrobe. I am totally over boring polo tops and daggy tracky dacks, now it is insult tees and jeggings.”

  “What the hell are jeggings?” I asked, distracting my mind from thinking about her perfect tits.

  “Jeans and leggings made into one brilliant article of clothing. You get the look of jeans with the comfort of leggings,” she explained as she did a cute pirouette giving me a decadent view of her round arse tightly encased in the wonderous jeggings.

  “I couldn’t agree more.” My voice broke as I coughed on my own spit.

  Good fucking lord. How was I going to make it another five minutes without coming in my pants? This woman had me in a constant state of arousal, and as pleasing as that was, it was also very fucking painful.

  Groaning out loud, I resisted the urge to double over and give my old fella a good talking to, praying for him to have some semblance of control.

  “Fenixx, are you okay?”

  Standing up, I didn’t even bother to hide my reaction to her innocent spin to show off her new pants. She was obviously happy to have been able to spend some money on clothes, and while she knew she needed tyres, she allowed herself a treat. And I found nothing wrong with that. Although, in the back of my mind was the money I tipped her every time I went in and bought a pizza, which was seven nights a week. Seven hundred bucks a week had to be useful for things like tyres, what was she doing with it?

  Another deeper blush covered her face when she dropped her gaze to my lower body, thinking that because I was bent over, I must have had some kind of pain in my stomach or something. When she connected with my groin area, her blush went from pretty pink to deep red.

  “You’re, um … oh. Oh, my word, you’re aroused….” she gasped, her eyes wide as saucers and still gaping at my hard-on. “You are huge!” she spluttered, then immediately slapped a hand over her mouth, her browns now wide in mortification at her outburst that I was thoroughly enjoying, or because I was indeed and very obviously aroused, was yet to be seen.

  “Darlin’, of course I’m hard, your arse in those pants is absolute perfection,” I answered, smiling smugly when I noticed that she was still gawking at my groin.

  “Oh god, this is so embarrassing. Please forget I ever said that,” Farron pleaded, her face now hidden in her hands. Annoyingly that pissed me off, I wanted her eyes on me, I wanted to see the desire in her eyes and that beautiful blush as she stared at the evidence of my attraction to her.

  Moving closer to her, I gently pried her hands from her face, using two fingers to tilt her chin up so I could look squarely at her.

  “Not a chance in hell darlin’, I saw the heat in your eyes and the pulse in your neck speed up as you ogled my crotch. Ain’t gonna forget that and don’t wanna.”

  I was a straight shooter, no bullshit kind of a fella. I called a spade a shovel and a wanker a dickhead and had done since day dot. Farron was as interested in me as I was in her, but my methods were much different from my brothers. They hunted and claimed, even though it took Hendrixx a lot longer to snatch up Blakey than it did for Lenoxx with Mack, he still made it abundantly clear Blake was off-limits to every male in the district. I was more of a sit back and wait let the woman get comfortable with the knowledge she was going to be mine type of man. Admittedly, Farron’s beauty had made me a little tongue-tied in the past, but she changed all that by staring at my cock with pools of drool practically spilling from the corners of her mouth.

  Firm in my resolve, I moved my mind to more practical matters.

  “Let me call my second in charge, we have a flatbed truck that will hold all three ovens and trailers. We’ll load them up and get them back to Cattle Ridge in one trip,” I suggested pulling out my phone.

  “Oh, okay,” Farron apologised, a switch in her mannerisms. Gone was the happy outlook and replaced with guarded wariness.

  “I know having them here must be a pain for you. I guessed it was going to take me at least two hours to hitch up and make three trips back and forth,” Farron mumbled, making a move to get back in her car.

  What the fuck! She couldn’t possibly believe I wanted her out, and off the Triple H, did she? Didn’t my boner give her some clue that the last thing I wanted was her out of my sights?

  Acting fast, I blocked her against the side of the ute and the open door. Her body was not close enough to be touching mine but still close that I could see the flecks of gold in her eyes.

  “Darlin’, the last thing you are is a pain unless you consider the ache in my dick pain. All I am saying is we get these babies loaded and transported so we can maybe go out for tea. Sit down, have a quiet beer, and get to know each other.” I kept my voice low and calm, but inside my inner voice was demanding I close the slight gap between us, growl my intentions to make her mine and finally taste those sweet pouty lips.

  A flash of hope passed over Farron’s face, then it slipped, and she gave me a sassy grin.

  “As opposed to sitting in the back of my restaurant every night of the week eating pizza and staring but trying to look like you aren’t staring?”

  Oh yeah, Farron was my kind of woman. Sassy, fast wit and all sweetness.

  Making a show of pretending to ponder her question, I hoped that I wasn’t blushing like a teen boy.

  “Yes, exactly other than that,” I agreed, laughing at being called out on my stalking.

  FARRON

  Bizarre.

  It was the only word I could think of to describe Fenixx’s behaviour. Sitting on a hay bale off to the side of where my ute was parked, where Fenixx had manhandled me to, I sat and watched him, and a man called Eddy and Lenoxx load the three expensive portable wood-fire ovens on the back of a very long flatbed truck. Trailers included.

  Even with the confusion of Fenixx’s sudden turnabout in his attitude towards me, I couldn’t help but be impressed with the precision to which he ordered Eddy and his brother in securing the trailers with strapping and chains so he could lift them with some kind of weird tractor and load them expertly on the back of the truck.

  Fenixx Hott. A man I was yet to figure out. He came into the restaurant for a year or more, sat in the back, ordered a different pizza every night, ate it, and drank one beer then left. He never said a word to me or my staff other than to order his meal and drink, paid, then went on his way. He repeated the process each night of the week, even Saturday and Sundays, he never missed a day.

  Secretly, I admitted he was a very good looking man, the best I had ever encountered, to be honest. Even as a part of triplets, two other identical beings with the same good looks, Fenixx was the only one that held my attention. There was something about him, something compassionate that made him stand apart from his brothers. Not that I knew them all that well to make such an assumption. Hendrixx and
Blake came to me a month ago to organise me to cater their intimate wedding reception. I knew Blake and the Hott brothers obviously, Cattle Ridge wasn’t a huge town. You bumped into or served everyone once or twice a week; Blake liked our pizza as did Hendrixx and Lenoxx, not as much as Fenixx obviously, but still, the family weren’t complete strangers to me.

  All three shared the same blond hair, same toned body, and the prettiest blue eyes imaginable, but for some strange reason, it was Fenixx that stood out, demanded I pay attention each and every time he walked into my restaurant.

  It was only Fenixx that made my body hum when I caught him staring at me.

  And now, here, the silent staring man was gone only for a talkative, growling, flirty version of Fenixx to appear. There was something about the way he wore his flannel shirts with the sleeves ripped off, showing the female population his well-defined muscular arms that made drool pool in my mouth. His dusty, worn, denim jeans hugged his powerful thighs like a second skin, moulding to his magnificent tush so beautifully I had to force myself to stop from dropping to my knees and worshipping him.

  If I had to pick my favourite thing about Fenixx, other than his piercing blue eyes, sexy smirk and phenomenal body—it was the fact that he wore a peaked cap and not a cowboy hat like his brothers and half the male population of Cattle Ridge and the surrounding districts.

  Not being a born and bred local myself, I did not have a wardrobe of checked shirts, denim jeans and cowboy boots. I moved to Cattle Ridge four years ago after my marriage ended to start fresh with my son.

  And there laid the reason why my drooling and body humming over Fenixx Hott would remain a well kept personal secret just for me. Having a broken marriage, a fourteen-year-old son and a busy and yet to be financially rewarding business was more than enough for me right now.

  Of course, the age difference between us was another sticking point with me and the main reason I stayed behind the counter when Fenixx came in for his dinner and not be the one to make the first move and do something silly like sit down and start a conversation with the hot man. I knew that Fenixx was thirty; I knew this because the triplets asked me to cater their very low key, no fuss birthday dinner a couple of months ago. One would assume that people as rich as the Hott family would insist on showing off their wealth and throw a party to end all parties. Well, one would be wrong.

  Fifteen wood-fired pizzas, enough to feed their growing families and the workers on the dual farms, was all that was needed to celebrate their big 3-0. I shamefully didn’t expect that from them and I would never make the assumption that all wealthy people liked to throw around their money.

  My thirty-four didn’t seem like a huge difference on paper, but in reality, it was.

  My life definitely changed when Alec came home one night and announced he wanted me to move out, that he didn’t love me, never would and was sick of being stuck in limbo. He proclaimed he did enough penance for his sin of picking me to have sex with, his words not mine. Getting married because of an unplanned pregnancy at twenty wasn’t a declaration of love, or not to him, anyway.

  Of course, I had something to say about that and the nine years we spent married, raising our son, paying a mortgage and car loans, you know something called life!

  To say that my world fell out from underneath me that day didn’t even come close to describing the pain and heartache of hearing the hateful things Alec said to me. Lecturing me on the type of person he thought I was and the kind I actually was. That I didn’t measure up to being anywhere close to the wife he wanted, and it seemed I was a very lacklustre sexual partner hence why he cheated on me at any chance he got.

  Stupidly, I’d closed my eyes to Alec’s infidelity for the sake of our son. Dillion deserved to have both of his parents in his life, even if one was basically absent ninety-nine percent of the time. I did everything in my power to see that Dillion didn’t feel his father’s absence; he never went without affection, never saw the darker side of his dad. I protected him from all the fighting and the arguing. He didn’t see his mum being put down and made to feel inadequate didn’t hear the filth that was aimed at me when Alec got on the grog. Whenever he went on a bender, I sent Dillion to my mum’s for sleepovers overnight or longer, depending on the severity of the sessions. Sometimes, I had to keep our son away for the whole weekend, which was a blessing considering.

  My hands started to sweat at the memories and the last thing I wanted to do was go back in time now when the Fenixx Hott show was playing out in front of me.

  And what a show it was.

  Nixx—suddenly deciding I liked the shortened version of his name, was standing on top of the flatbed, dressed in his red sleeveless flannel, tying strapping to one of the ovens with deft skill. My position was perfect for watching his strong arms and large hands snap the length of strapping around the trailer’s hitch then perform the most intricate knots to secure it safely. My breath sped up, my pulse echoed in my ears, and by god, my core throbbed at the dirty visions going through my mind.

  Visions that included Nixx and me in a bed—and rope.

  Dear God, where did that come from? Other than watching scenes in a movie, being tied up never excited me during my marriage. Plain old missionary sex never really interested me much if I was being honest, I think. Alec wasn’t the most generous man, whether it be providing for his family or as a lover. Nope, he was more of a ‘suck my dick for an hour, and then maybe I might be able to come’ kind of a man. Sadly, I was an expert at oral sex, I was yet to experience it myself, but that time was well and truly gone for me.

  All I had now were my fantasies.

  “Cute, isn’t he?”

  Jumping off the bale of hay, I let out a squeak at the older feminine voice that scared the shit out of me. Whipping my head around to see Mrs Hott herself standing there with a happy smile on her face.

  “Sorry sweetie, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. Actually, I stomped rather loudly, but you were lost in my son’s muscles,” Mrs Hott drawled, her comment bringing a blush to my cheeks so hot I could feel it all over my face, no mirror needed to confirm that!

  “Oh, Mrs Hott, you scared me!” Embarrassed for being caught ogling her son, and for her calling me out on it, I sat back down this time looking down at the grass and not at Fenixx.

  “Please don’t mind me Farron, I am only teasing you. Plus, my boys are very handsome men, not that I am biased or anything,” Mrs Hott laughed as she took a seat next to me on the large square bale. I saw her not half an hour ago up at the house where she had been wearing a pleated skirt and blouse. Now she had on crisp blue jeans and a checked shirt tucked into her jeans. A decorative belt that had HHH embossed into the metal adorned her waist and around her neck was a striking strand of pink pearls. The woman was a walking talking advertisement for a country magazine; she could also be a detective.

  I really didn’t have anything to say to that comment. I had already been caught staring and most likely drooling, denying the fact wouldn’t do me any good, not really.

  Nodding my head, I turned my head to look over my shoulder at the view of the valley behind us; even in my embarrassment, I could appreciate the spectacular scenery.

  “How lucky you are to live with this beauty right in your backyard Mrs Hott,” I offered instead of sitting there in uncomfortable silence.

  “I never take it for granted, that is for sure. My husband worked his fingers to the bone to add more and more acreage to the Triple H, giving our sons a place to be proud of and work was very important to Will and myself.”

  “I understand that you worry that you have enough to give your kids, so they don’t have to struggle so much when they get older,” I replied absently, transfixed by the blue sky and the massive expanse of land.

  “Oh? You have kids, Farron?”

  The question caught me off guard, and I realised what I had said to her.

  Laughing off my mind wondering, I turned back and faced Nixx’s mum giving her my full attention.
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  Smiling at her, I nodded. “I do, I have a son. Dillion is fourteen, right now he is at a mate’s place riding dirt bikes, or so he told me when I rang him earlier.” A tingle of pride spread through me, thinking and talking about my boy. He was the joy of my life, a gentle boy but a boy through and through. He never missed an opportunity to get in a paddock and ride a dirt bike. As we lived behind the restaurant in a three bedroom house, he relished getting together with his mates to let loose. This house was different to the one Alec bought us, that had been huge where this one was small and a hodgepodge of walls and areas that made no sense, but it was mine and Dillion’s. I added my own taste with some clever decorating, but more importantly my son had a say in his room. The walls were covered with posters of football teams and motorbikes, a real teenagers room. Something his father would never have allowed.

  “Fourteen! My god girl, how old were you when you had him?”

  “Um, I was twenty. Why?” I asked, confused by her question and her tone of incredulity.

  “Because my dear, you look nowhere near old enough to have a fourteen-year-old. Your skin is sublime, not a wrinkle or crow’s feet to be seen,” Mrs Hott complimented, giving me another round of red flushes.

  “Oh … thanks?”

  “Fenixx didn’t tell me you had a son, I wonder why?” she mused, confusing me more.

  “Um, why would Nixx know? I barely know him.”

  Mrs Hott tilted her head, and for the first time, I noted that the triplets got their blues from their mum.

  “My dear, he goes into your restaurant every night for dinner, has done for the last year that I know of at least.”

  “Yeah, he does, but he never talks to me,” I responded quickly, “just eats, leaves a ridiculous tip, then leaves.”

  When my waitress told me that someone left a hundred dollar tip in the jar on the counter, I worried that someone drank too much and confused the hundred dollar note for a smaller one. Taking it, I tucked it away in the office safe and decided to try and find out who did it so I could give it back, convinced it had been a mistake.