by Alta Hensley
I froze, passion turning to fury. “You think I came over to…”
Yes, I lusted after Cal and his brothers in every way, no question about that. But I didn’t want him to think I’d come to his room with the intention of having sex with him. For some reason, I didn’t want him to have the power of knowing how much he and his brothers drove me wild. I didn’t want to give him the upper hand.
Cal tried to hush me as he placed soft kisses along my neck. “Shhh… it’s okay. I wanted this. I wanted you, too.”
I pressed against his chest with the palm of my hand. “Wait, I came over here to see where the spare sheets were stored. You were the one who kissed me.”
Cal stopped kissing and sat up, still straddling me with his muscled thighs. “Only because you came over to seduce me.”
The bold statement had me gasping and shoving him away, wiggling out from underneath his weight. “I most certainly did not!” I scrambled to find my clothes, now mortified that I was naked in front of him. Clutching my yoga pants, T-shirt, and bra, I couldn’t find my panties. A chuckle had me looking at the bed.
Cal had my panties and was dangling them from his finger in front of me. With a smirk, he teased, “Wasn’t that you who said, and I quote, ‘I need you to take me, to claim me, to fuck me… to make me explode’?”
I couldn’t believe he’d remembered that verbatim, would mock me even if it were true. “You’re an arrogant ass,” I snarled, snatching my panties from his hand and storming to the door. Completely nude, I turned around to face him. “Do you like what you see? Well, this is the last time you’ll ever get that pleasure!”
My body radiated with heat, both from passion and embarrassment as I made my hasty escape, slamming his door behind me.
Chapter Fourteen
Monet
The next morning, I stood in the kitchen gazing out the window at the livestock. Slate-gray skies and threatening thunderclouds formed the backdrop for the day to come. Daydreaming about each one of the brothers in a sinful and wicked way, I ran my fingers along my lips, remembering the way Rogan’s kiss had seared its way into my entire being, yet I still hadn’t had the opportunity to feel his cock pressed deep inside of me like I had with Derrick and Cal. And then I thought of Nolan. I still had nothing more with Nolan other than lust-filled fantasies. Thoughts of merging our bodies together and exploring each other in ways I could only imagine had my pussy dampening. God, what were these four men doing to me?
At least my worry about the awkwardness that would be between Derrick, Cal, and me this morning was moot. I’d braced myself when I entered the kitchen, only to find them all gone. I told myself it was relief and not disappointment that had me give a big sigh. I didn’t know how I was going to act, and sure as hell didn’t know how they would treat me from this point on. Would we pretend nothing had happened and move on? Could we look at each other and not wonder what we’d do if we were given the opportunity again? Would the brothers share with each other the details of being with me? Would they be all right sharing me? Could we keep it from reoccurring? I supposed the biggest question was did I want it to happen again? And what about Rogan and Nolan? Did I want to experience more than just a kiss and lurid fantasies with them, too?
My thoughts were broken when Alana walked into the kitchen. “Good morning, Monet.” She looked around. “Where’s everyone?”
I shrugged. “I guess they had work to get to early. I woke up to find them all gone.” When she nodded and grabbed her egg basket, I had a thought. “Hey, be careful. You don’t want to get into trouble for breaking their rules.”
“Rules?”
“Yes, you know—don’t go outside.”
Alana tilted her head and then giggled. “The chickens are outside, silly. The guys just don’t want us to wander too far from the house.”
Suddenly, I felt a bit stupid. Had I just been so ready to fight against their rules that I hadn’t even really listened to what those rules were? “Hmm. Well, then, how about after breakfast before we work on the garden? We need to see what’s already in the ground and plant some more.”
Alana’s smile dominated her entire face. “That sounds like fun!” She clapped her hands in glee. “I hope we can plant tomatoes. I love tomatoes.”
“Tomatoes it is, then.”
“And maybe some flowers?”
I thought about the yellow roses covering the trellis, their fragrance wafting in my open window to follow me into sleep. “I think we can do that. What is your favorite flower?”
“Lilacs,” she said, her eyes bright. “They are so delicate but so pretty.”
Like you, I wanted to say, but before I could, she clapped her hands again.
“And we need fruit! What about you, Monet? What’s your favorite fruit?”
“I love lemon trees. There’s something really special about having fresh lemons in your kitchen. It reminds me of Granny G. She planted a tree when I was just a little girl, and now…” I paused, hoping the tree had survived the fire. Not wishing to dwell on that thought, I said, “She taught me how to make everything from lemonade to lemon meringue pie.”
Alana’s smile was still in place but wasn’t quite as bright. “You’re lucky. I never met my grandma. It was just my mom, my dad, my brothers, and me. We had distant cousins, but I didn’t really know them well. They worked with my dad and brothers in the family business. After my parents died… well then, it was just my brothers and me.”
“I was raised by my grandparents,” I confessed. “My mother had me when she was a kid and took off before I was a year old. I never knew my dad. Even though we lost Gramps, that’s what I called my grandpa, when I was little, Granny G not only brought me up, but made sure I knew I was loved. You’re lucky you have your brothers.”
“I am. They take really good care of me.” She looked a bit wistful and then smiled. “And now we have each other, too. I’ll get the eggs.”
Taking advantage of her absence, I left the house the proper way—through the front door. I jumped off the porch and raced around the side of the house. It wasn’t hard to find the sheets, the white cloth in vivid contrast against the brown of the earth and the green of the grass. There were several broken twigs and yellow rose petals scattered at the base of the trellis. I leaned back to look up at my window. It looked a lot higher than I’d thought last night. Shaking my head, I hurried back inside. I’d never found fresh sheets, leaving Cal’s room without learning where they were stored and not about to knock on his door again. As I’d thought, the bare mattress hadn’t been as soft without a barrier of cotton, and I was determined to rectify that today.
My fingers worked to undo the knots I’d tied the previous evening. I didn’t want to have to explain to Alana why the sheets I would soon be washing were tied into a rope. Smoothing out the fabric once it was undone, I ran upstairs to get the wicker basket that we’d put into the bathroom to use as a clothes hamper. I pushed the sheets down into the depths, a bit alarmed at how full the basket already was. Four men who worked from dawn to dark generated a lot of dirty clothes.
“Monet?”
“I’m coming,” I called back, taking the basket downstairs with me and into the kitchen. “Just getting the laundry,” I began and then had to pause. “Um, I’m not exactly sure how we’re going to wash clothes by hand.”
Alana smiled as she transferred the eggs from her basket to a bowl on the counter. “According to the books Cal gave me to read, in the old days, people would go down by the river or heat up a huge cauldron of water over a fire and soak them before scrubbing on a washboard using lye soap they’d made out of animal fat.”
I groaned, looking at the heaping pile of clothes. “Um, I’m all for using natural products, but rubbing animal fat on my clothes doesn’t sound very appealing. And it’s going to take a long time and a lot of pots to heat up enough water.” Sighing, I said, “This is going to take us forever!”
Her giggle had me looking back at her. “Well, that was how t
hey used to do it, and though this house is really old, there is a washing machine.”
“There is?” I asked, relief flooding through me as I looked around as if I’d missed the modern day appliance. “Um, where is it?”
“In the basement, of course,” she said as she pulled ingredients for breakfast from the refrigerator.
The basement. I looked toward the door opposite me. I’d avoided the basement from the moment I’d been released and hadn’t had any intention of ever returning to my makeshift prison.
“Hey, are you okay?”
The concern in her voice snapped me from my thoughts. “Oh, um, yes. I-I just don’t like… um, basements.”
“Is that what you were dreaming about last night?” she asked, pouring a glass of milk and then pouring a mug of coffee. While I tried to figure out what she meant, she doctored the coffee with sugar and cream and brought it to me. “I heard you calling out in your sleep. Was your nightmare about basements?”
I could feel color flooding my face as I put the mug to my lips, buying time by taking several small sips. Finally, I shook my head, not about to share the real reasons for my cries and praying no one else in the house besides Cal had heard them. “I usually don’t remember my dreams,” I said, putting the mug down and moving to lay strips of bacon in the iron skillet.
“Well, don’t worry. I’ll be with you so you won’t be afraid,” she said, evidently accepting my lie. “Oh, and while we do have a washer, it’s not a modern one. We’ll have to feed the clothes through the wringer and there’s no dryer, but there is a clothesline on the side of the house.”
“That’s fine,” I assured her. “It’s a pretty day so we can wash them and hang them to dry before we do our gardening.”
I made my way to the table with the eggs and thick slices of bacon I’d just fried, the last of the soda bread warmed and ready to be buttered. As I sat down, I added another chore to my growing list. The hard wooden chair against my ass instantly reminded me of yet another old-fashioned activity—one that had nothing to do with chopping wood but most definitely involved the woodshed. I decided making a few fat pillows would be a worthy endeavor if Derrick was going to… punish for everything he may not like. It took Alana asking if I was sure I was all right to have me force those memories away.
“I’m fine,” I assured her. “Just thinking how much harder life was in the ‘good old days’. We forget how much better we have it now.”
She smiled and reached over to pat my arm. “True, but sometimes the old ways are the best. Life was harder but… well, easier, too. Things didn’t move so fast, weren’t so overwhelming. We don’t have to do everything alone. We’re a family and help each other.” Sitting back, she buttered her bread and added, “Not only in doing chores, but being there when life gets… sad.”
After we’d eaten a few bites, I refilled my coffee and returned to my chair. “Do you mind me asking what happened to your parents?” Asking the question was risky, but I really did want to get to know her better. To understand more about the brothers as well.
Alana took a bite of the bacon and mumbled, “They drowned. Their boat exploded.” She paused for a moment, and I regretted bringing up a subject obviously too painful to discuss. Her smile was so forlorn it tugged at my heart, and I was about to apologize, when she shook her head.
“I was seventeen. We were at the lake to celebrate my graduation but…” She paused for a long moment, but then, as if flicking a switch, she suddenly smiled. “But they were together and went to Heaven. It’s sad and I… I miss them, but they left my brothers here so we could have each other.”
I had been watching her closely over the rim of my coffee cup. I’d seen how quickly Alana went from sad to happy. Her way of coping was always turning things around to be positive. It was odd, unsettling, and different than what I was used to, but I couldn’t consider it harmful.
Reaching across the table, I took her hand. “I like you, Alana. You truly make me smile every day.”
“I’m glad,” she said, the light coming back into her eyes. “Life is too short to let even a single day go by without smiling.”
We sat in silence and finished our breakfast. Watching the way Alana could paint a bright picture with even the darkest colors was inspiring. With her, there was no self-pity. No negative thoughts. No… regrets. There was a lesson there, if only I could learn it. After we’d finished eating, Alana collected the dishes and took them to the sink. I grabbed a dishtowel and moved to her side, ready to dry the dishes as she passed them to me.
“Monet? Do you like my brothers?”
Alana’s question startled me with how direct it was, and yet I didn’t even think about lying. “Yes, of course. They can be stubborn as goats, but I see that they really care about you. Seeing that sensitive side of them.... The important thing is they seem to really want to give you the best.”
“No,” Alana stated.
“No?”
“No. They want to give us the best. You’re included in this family, too, Monet. I can tell they all really like you.”
While I rather doubted that, I smiled. “I hope so. Since Granny G’s passing, I’ve missed having a family. I really like this house and the land. It’s pretty.”
Alana nodded. “It’s been in the family forever. It’s old but nice. Though I do miss my parents’ house. You would have loved it. We were a really close and happy family.”
“You still are, it seems.”
“Not happy. That died with my parents,” she stated bluntly. Handing me the last dish, she wiped her hands on her apron, and shook her head. “That’s not true, well, not always,” she said. “I feel hope now, with you here… seeing my brothers working to build this farm, to work at something not so… so dark. I believe we are all learning how to be happy again.”
I stood there, absently wiping the cloth across the dishes and wondered about what she’d said. Alana might look at the world differently than the average young woman, but I couldn’t help but think she was one of the most insightful people I’d ever met. Was that what the brothers were doing? They’d said they were in Ireland in hiding. To protect Alana. But was it because they were searching for more? Happiness? And could a simple move truly provide that? Looking out the window, I saw a world they were working on bringing to fruition and yet for the first time, saw that despite the bounty it was capable of, it could also appear barren. The landscape would change as trees budded, the fields would be full of crops, the garden offering vegetables, the animals providing eggs and milk. But while all those things were certainly necessary to sustain life, providing a full belly and a sense of a job well done, none could compete with the feeling of happiness one felt knowing without a doubt there were people who loved them.
“Monet?”
“Hmmm?”
The sound of laughter drew my attention to her. “I think that plate’s dry. Let’s put the clothes in the wash and then you said we can go work in the garden.”
I set the plate in the cabinet and smiled. Draping the towel over the lip of the sink, I turned to Alana. “Sounds like a plan.”
She clapped her hands and after grabbing the basket and taking a deep breath, telling myself it was just a basement, I followed her down the stairs. Despite myself, I couldn’t help but look to where I’d awakened that day, look for the cot I’d laid on. And while I did shiver, my stomach flipped, and my breath caught, I wasn’t consumed with a feeling of dread or fear. Alana, ignorant of what had happened down here, chattered like a magpie as she turned on the faucet that would fill the washer’s tub and measured out detergent while I separated the clothes into two piles. The process required was far more labor intensive than shoving a machine full of clothes and flipping a switch, but it did work. It wasn’t until we’d pulled the second sheet through the wringer that I realized I was no longer thinking about my time spent in the bowels of the house.
“See, nothing to be scared about,” she said cheerfully, wiping her hands on her apron
again.
Smiling, I nodded and gave her a hug before picking up the basket of wet clothes to hang on the line. “You’re right. Nothing at all. Now, how about we get some fresh air?”
Chapter Fifteen
Monet
I was lost in my thoughts as I kneaded the bread dough for this evening’s supper. Since being taken and forced to adapt to my new home, I had cooked, cleaned, chopped, planted, churned, milked, peeled, and washed. Everything an old-fashioned woman would be expected to do, much like their great-grandmother and all the women of past generations had done before me, had become a part of my daily routine. It had been a challenge, but with Alana’s help, the garden was finally in, the plants growing daily.
The men were just as busy. My sleeping patterns had definitely changed. With no television, no city noises or bright lights, exhausted by the work done each day, I was more than ready for bed not long after the sun had slipped behind the hills. I’d awaken with the break of dawn, slipping downstairs to start the coffee and breakfast once Alana brought in the eggs. By the time the men joined us to eat, they’d most likely chopped some wood, fed the livestock, or completed any of a dozen morning chores.
It didn’t take me long to realize that midday, they’d come inside and wolf down their ‘dinner’ as quickly as possible before leaving again. I started making sandwiches, wrapping them in a linen dishcloth, and leaving them as well as a bundle of cookies or slices of cake on a shelf in the refrigerator. Though the food wouldn’t be hot, they’d not have to come in from the fields to eat. They each thanked me that first evening, laying the folded, empty cloths on the counter. And while they did return for supper, I could see the fatigue weighing down their shoulders. Conversation would be focused around the farm, and the progress of the house and other structures in need of repair.
Despite their thanks for the meals prepared or a refill of their plates at the table, it seemed like the brothers steered clear of me, and I’d found myself doing my best to do the same. But that didn’t mean I could avoid them inside my head. I was constantly journeying down memory lane, wondering what would have happened if Rogan and I hadn’t been interrupted that morning. I pondered the looks I’d catch Nolan casting my way, as if he were contemplating some great mystery. Memories of Derrick and Cal, the feel of their cocks filling me, the demands made that my body seemed all too eager to obey, were constant companions.
