by Piper Frost
He watches me hop off, then slides off himself and tosses the keys on the bench.
"So, you happy you came out tonight?" He grins at me as we lock up the barn, and then rests his arm across my shoulder as we walk back to our house.
I'm happy for the dark so he can't see the heat of embarrassment in my cheeks. "My favorite part was snipe hunting." I elbow him in the side then jog ahead, needing to get away from those hands, that body, the entire boy before I do something we'll both really, really regret.
Once we make it inside he stops me with his hand on my elbow. "Hey, seriously. We can't tell either of our parents about that back there." He glances down at his hand on my arm then lets it slide to my hand. "They'd fuckin' kill us."
"Yeah, cowboy." I pull my hand away. "That was weird and stupid. No worries here, I'm not saying shit. I really don't want to get evicted. I haven't caught up on sleep yet. Let's just...let's just not let that happen again." I bolt for the kitchen because I want it to happen right now. When I open the cupboard, I frown, forgetting I ate all the peanut butter.
"I told ya you'd have to replenish that," he says from behind me.
"Yeaaaaah." I stare into the cupboard like I'm still looking but I really just want to avoid that stupid, handsome face. "I need to get some money and go into town. And a shower." I look down at my wet, muddy clothes.
"Work here and you'll have all the money you need. I gotta head to town tomorrow. You can come with me."
I turn around to see he's grinning and I really don't know what's going on in that head but I'd like to.
"Work." I stick out my tongue. "Know what's easier than working? Stealing."
"Yeah, but you're past that part of your life." He nudges me and heads to the fridge, grabbing the milk jug. "So work it is." Without a glass, he takes a large gulp. "Alarm goes off soon. You should prolly get some shut eye." After a wink he slides the milk back in the fridge.
"Hmm. Yeah. I'll meet you out there in a couple hours." I try to walk past him and get to my room but he stops me with his hand on my hip.
"Hey, city girl?" he whispers, his eyes on his fingers that have snaked their way under my shirt and have started stroking my skin. I watch him move his gaze up to my eyes then his lips curl up ever so slightly. "I'm not agreeing to never doing that again."
How does a man have such nice, full lips? I don't think I've ever noticed the lips on a guy in my life, but Brandt has amazing lips I can't stop staring at.
"It's quarter to four, Brandt," I whisper, because if I say anything else, I'll be asking him to come to my room. "You get up in an hour." Pulling away from his hand makes my body sad but my mind salute me for being so strong. Fuck my stupid mind… I'd like him to fuck my mind stupid... "Night!" I blurt and bolt before I don't.
I lock the doors to my room, just to stop him from waking me up in a few hours. After a quick shower and a slow fingering all fueled by fantasies of Brandt, I get in my glorious bed and close my eyes. That is until I hear the door handles jiggle at five thirty. I roll back into my pillow because he can't get in. I wonder if I could coax him to stay in my bed...but then Garrison would come looking for him and more than likely he’d use one of his many shot guns to shoot at least one of us, if not both. I close my eyes and fall back asleep when he gives up.
I'm jolted awake by blaring music and a glance to the clock tells me it's not even nine a.m. yet. Then comes the slamming of cabinet doors and something that sounds like fucking Riverdance happening in the kitchen.
Then the wailing starts. Or maybe that's screaming...or singing. I really can't tell.
Hell no! This is not how this is going to work. It's his job to be up at five every morning. Not mine. Which also means I don't need to be up at nine on a Sunday! Hell. No!
Half asleep and a rumpled mess, I whip the doors open, almost bashing one into my face then storm into the living room, turning off this god awful country crap before rushing into the kitchen to glare at him. He turns around, grinning, and his eyes drop to my chest. It's now that I realize my tank top is twisted, somehow with my arm coming out of my neck hole, and I have a full tit on display.
"Shit!" I blurt and cover my tit, quickly turning around to hide, mortified.
"Well morning to you too, sunshine." He chuckles and I hear another cabinet shut.
Rushing back to my room, I push the doors closed with my back and groan, dropping my head to the wood until they push open, shoving me out of the way. As I stumble to my knees, I turn around to glare at him, not sure if I want to fuck him or fight him.
"The hell you doin’ lyin' against the doors, city girl? That's not my favorite way to find you on your knees but we'll get there." He grins at me and reaches his hand out to help me up. "Come on. I got something awesome to show ya today."
"Do you have no concept of time? Sleeping in? Enjoying a lazy morning?" I bitch, trying to crawl back into bed but he grabs my ankle.
"Noooo ya don't." That country twang drawls when he says, "You can nap when you're dead, Jo. Sunlight waits for no man. Now come on."
I spread my legs and look down at my crotch. "Last I checked, I'm not a man." I try to scurry away.
He lets out a groan and mumbles something about not wearing pants to bed and before I make it to my pillows he snatches my hips and lifts me, spinning me to stand.
"I promise if you help me with this today, I'll let you nap before we head to town."
"Help you with what?" I narrow my eyes.
"Only the cutest thing you'll see this week." He bates me with a shrug. "Trust me, Jo. You don't wanna miss this." He steps backward toward the doors. "I'll give you fifteen to get dressed. And wear something other than sandals this time."
I cock my eyebrow. I don't do cute. "They're flip flops," I grumble, because I never did flip flops either until coming here and realizing how comfortable they are. "You owe me a jar of peanut butter!" I call out as he closes the doors behind him.
I throw on a tank top, not really caring about a bra. If I actually had boobs, I might care, then I pull up a black pair of leggings. I have worn this same outfit, but different clothes, for three days straight, and I'm not mad. I'm comfortable. Pulling on a black pair of Converse, I head into the kitchen and stop dead in my tracks when I see Brandt eating peanut butter.
"Shoes. Good," he says, nodding toward my feet and licking the spoon clean.
I gasp and reach for the jar but he yanks it back. "Share!" I blurt.
"No can do, city girl." He laughs and holds it higher. "This one's mine. You can get your own today."
I narrow my eyes finding it funny he won't share peanut butter with me but he was sucking my tongue last night. Opening my mouth to tell him to fuck off, my eyes drop to his stomach that's exposed because he's lifting his arm and his shirt has pulled up. Muscle. Hipbones. Tan, toned. Vagina reacts, cheeks redden, and I need the fuck out of here.
"Let's get this over with," I snap and head for the door.
I hear him laugh behind me and soon enough he's following me out the door, sliding his baseball hat on as he leads the way to the barn.
"We're headed around back," he says, his proximity getting closer at my side. There’s something he wants to say but his dad comes into view and waves at us.
"We missed you at breakfast, Jo. Again," he mutters the last part.
"I'm not a big breakfast fan," I call back. "Thanks though, Mr. Kenshaw." I internally groan because I was making out with my step dad's son last night. What the hell is wrong with me?
"Garrison, honey." He does a cowboy tip of his hat.
"We're 'bout to take the chicks out to Rural King, dad. May be gone a while, I think we gotta stop by the store after that too."
"Do me a favor and pick up a few gallons of pump oil and acid rinse from there while you're in town," he tells Brandt then turns to look at me. "You lookin' to get a job, Jo?"
Oh fucking boy. Here we go.
"Uh, no." I shrug. What's he gonna do? Kick me out? No sweat off my back.
His brows furrow but he manages a smile. "It's good to keep busy. An active mind keeps you young."
"It's not even been a full month, dad. Give the girl some space." Brandt says to his dad and the look Garrison gives him tells me it wasn't such a good idea. "Ya know what I mean?” he stammers, trying to backtrack but Garrison stops him with a hand in the air.
"No pressure, I just know things can get boring 'round here." That isn't what Garrison wanted to say. Just from the look alone, I can tell Brandt doesn't talk back to his dad...probably ever. This stupid kid is going to get himself kicked out because of me. "Don't forget the wash.” He tips his hat again then walks around us.
"I'm shocked he didn't just whoop my ass." Brandt chuckles as we walk toward the back of the barn.
"Don't get yourself in trouble over me," I scold him. "I can handle my own. And if they want to kick me out." I shrug without a care in the world.
"They ain't kickin' you out, Jo." He slides the back door open. "Here we go. It's chick time! You ever seen this many chicks?" With a set grin, he reaches for a scoop of feed.
I stare and actually smile at tons of yellow and white puff balls hopping around. This is probably the cutest thing I've ever seen.
"We gotta get 'em in these boxes, then load 'em up in the truck and we can head to town." He grabs a large crate and sets it on the workbench. Taking a scoopful of chicks, like they're not living beings, he plops them into the crate then counts them. "We can get about seventy a box. Figure we'll bring three or four boxes today."
I snatch his arm when he goes for another scoop, realizing what he's doing with these little baby fluff balls. "What are you planning on doing with them?" I'm worried the answer's gonna make me angry.
"These babes are headed to Rural King. From there, they'll be purchased by...well...people," he says, laughing at me. "For their chicken coops or whatnot."
"So they can eventually kill them and eat them." I stare at the babies and picture their grim fate.
I glance up and notice the door behind their pen, then look at Brandt as he starts scooping again. They're all gonna die if I don't save them. I scoot around him, thinking this over. He wants to murder these poor babies. If people don't grow them and eat them, they'll be dyed stupid colors to entertain stupid people for stupid holidays or just for a knee slapping good time. Fuck. I try to fight it, but I reach out and unlock the back door. Brandt's back is turned when I swing it open, but the minute he turns around for another scoop of chicks his eyes go wide.
"What the hell, Jo!" He darts to close the gate but the amount that I just set free makes him panic.
"I'm sorry!" I blurt, but I'm not. I hope they run away and live a happy wild chicken life in the forest.
"Goddammit," he snaps, running around trying to collect them. "Jo, help me get these back! I'm serious, these things are gonna bring the coyotes to the barn and all these animals are fucked. Jesus," he huffs, trying to catch and gather more chicks.
Okay, fuck. I didn't think about that. I'm trying to save some babies, but I'm gonna get the rest of the animals slaughtered. I grab one of the sacks he used to fuck with me last night and I start scrambling to help collect little balls of fluff, really regretting my decision to let them go. But not too many escaped... Most of them were too stupid to run free.
We run in circles, collecting them for twenty minutes and when we don't see anymore, he stands up straight and glares at me. I timidly hold out my bag of chicks for him to take.
"Oops."
"That wasn't an oops. You're full blown city, but that doesn't make you stupid, Jo. You knew what you were doing." He grabs the bag and dumps the chicks back in the pen before taking a deep breath.
I wince while I watch them roll out, bonking each other on the head and he doesn't even care.
I fucking hate farm life.
"You don't care about them and they’re innocent little babies." I realize how stupid I sound. As it played in my head, it wasn't so stupid.
"You think I don't care about my animals, you got another thing comin'." He closes one of the boxes full of chicks and starts filling another. "I care more about these damn things than I should. Chickens aren't pet animals. They're workin' animals. And when they're done workin', we eat 'em. Circle of life, Jo."
I scoff. "You care about work and money, Brandt, not about the animals." I snatch a chick from his hand that has a black feather on its breast. "It's mine," I snarl when he reaches for it and I tuck the chick close to my chest.
He pauses and raises his eyebrows at me. "Obviously you don't really know me if you think money is on the top of what I care about, city girl." He nods at the chick. "I do care, however, that you have no clue what to do with that thing and you're just gonna let it shit all over our house 'cause you think you can house train a chicken."
I look at the chick, then back at him defiantly. "I'll make it a pen. And good fucking thing I live with a fucking cowboy that knows what to do!" I storm out of the barn, done with the whole chick thing and then I look down at the baby in my hands. I don't want this fuckin' thing! But now I have to prove some stupid point.
I watch Brandt carry the boxes of chicks to the bed of the truck. I’m out of my league with this cowboy. The way his tanned muscles bulge under the sleeves of his t-shirt stop me dead in my tracks so I can stare at him. Stare and fantasize over…my step brother.
"Jo, you can't take the chick to town with you." He grins, closing the tailgate and walking to my side of the truck, leaning on it. "Let me take it back into the pen." He reaches his hand out and I pull away.
"It's my chicken," I snap at him, kissing the smelly thing.
"Apparently." Laughing, he shakes his head. "Look, you gotta run in the store for my peanut butter anyway. So how about we just take the chick back in the barn, and when we're out we’ll pick out a kickass cage for it?"
"You'll let me keep it in the house?" I ask, not trusting him to not sell my chick.
He tries shaking his head yes but it warps into a 'no' shake and he laughs. "I can't do the smell of chicken shit in my house. But I can promise you it'll be safe in the barn. I won't sell your chicken, Jo."
"Don't lie to me." I’m really hoping he wouldn't lie to me. Liars and thieves are all I'm used to and I don't want to deal with that anymore.
He leans in so close it sends a whiff of his earthy scent to my nose. Is that cologne? What cowboy wears cologne? Maybe it’s because he’s a nineteen year old cowboy. Maybe it’s just his body wash. Maybe I want to strip the clothes and drag my nose across every inch of his hard body.
Maybe I’m a creep.
"I promise you, city girl, I won't touch your furry little chick," he whispers, slowly taking it out of my hands.
He delicately takes my chick back to the barn, then I start to worry I won't be able to find her again. But she's unique with that black feather. I'll find her.
I begrudgingly help Brandt carry the boxes into hick-mart, but the sight of him carrying a box of chicks makes me grin. That is until Suzy Homemaker squeals and attacks him, then the chicks. Jealousy is an ugly bitch and I'm her right now. I have nothing to be fucking jealous about! He's my step brother. Swoon Susie Q, swoon away, because I don't give a shit. I only like his muscles, and good looks, and enticing smell, and nice tongue. Which is why I did what I did last night. Not much else to like about him. God, that's a fucking lie and I know it when jealousy makes me grit my teeth as she hangs on him and gets so close, I think they might actually kiss. Reasons they should kiss: they're not step siblings. Reasons I shouldn't want to kiss him, or feel any sort of anything for him: because we're step siblings. He's a redneck cowboy. And I won't be here long enough for us to even become friends.
I sigh out loud because we're already friends. And after last night, we're a tad more.
When I set the box of chicks next to his, he smiles down at me, like Goldilocks isn't yapping at his side.
"I'll be right back." I don't know if he heard me but I wander out of the st
ore and look up then down the street. This is hell. This town is so lame.
Deciding to find some trouble, I start walking. People are staring at me like the circus is in town and it makes me chuckle. It is a little disappointing people can't just mind their own business and get over the fact I wasn't stamped with their fucking cookie cutter. One woman moves her daughter to her other side to get away from me and I let out a quiet hiss, rolling my eyes when she starts to briskly walk to her car. Why would you taunt someone if you didn't expect a negative reaction? In New York, people are more worried about themselves to notice you, but even there, if you aren't what they deem acceptable, you're shunned. I'm not wandering around looking for acceptance. Fuck that. I'm fine on my own. But fuck these people, and you know what? Fuck New York too. Even my so-called friends are guilty of what I'm bitching about. If, let's say for the sake of argument, I told one of my friends that I liked Brandt, they'd make fun of me for liking a farm boy. They'd make fun of his accent, his cowboy hat, and cowboy boots. And even if he pulled on a baseball hat and work boots, they could still smell the cowboy a mile away and they'd ridicule me for it.
I head into a country store that has a variety of candy, coffee, and a bunch of knick knacks. Sticking my hand into a candy jar, I pull out a couple pieces and start eating Boston Baked Beans as I wander.
"Stupid." I snort at a porcelain dog bobble head. Flicking it, I go to move on but someone grabs my wrist.
"I've been waiting to see you again."
Jerking, I try to yank my hand away but his grip is too tight and I look up at scar face. Cash. Brandt's brother.
"Well isn't it your lucky day?" I finally yank free and leisurely start walking toward the back exit.
"Let me take you for a ride through town on my bike, Jo." His fingers slide through the back of my hair and I dip away from him.
"Don't fuckin' touch me." I make it to the rickety wooden door and when I push it open, he's pushed against my back, walking with me.
I try to dart away but he grabs my hips and holds me against him, walking us toward a barn that's just across this dirt lot. When I try to move again, I feel his knife press against my side.
