by J. M. Adele
She twisted her neck to take him in, squinting one eye shut against the bright sun. “I love farm life. I’ve never wanted anythin’ else. I’ve thought about studying agriculture. I’d be more help around the farm if I were up on all the latest technology and research. But Mississippi State is two hours away. Too far to travel on the regular. I’d have to move.”
“I guess we have more in common than we thought.”
“You want to study?”
He dipped his chin. “I’m hoping to start next year. If Papà didn’t need me around here as much, I’d be learnin’ full-time. And now that we’re a ranch hand down… well, I guess I’ll have to wait a bit longer.”
“Maybe if your father gets more help, we could be roomies?”
His chest rose before he huffed a laugh and shook his head.
Right. Bad idea, obviously.
She needed to get away from the Agrioli men altogether.
_____
Antonio
Sharing a confined space with the unattainable object of his desire—that equaled hell in his book. It was bad enough having her this close and pretending he didn’t want to kiss the lovin’ hell out of her. Why would he do it to himself?
In any case, a relationship needed two things to work: chemistry and compatibility. They had the latter—of that he was certain. But when it came to the former, Anton was all on his own. Unrequited love was a collar wrapped around his neck—a constant pressure threatening to cut off his oxygen supply.
“Uh, I gotta check the fences while I’m here. Some of the calves can be overzealous when they’re lookin’ for their mamas.” He turned and walked along the slatted wood fences dividing the paddocks that he’d already checked before bringing the weanlings up.
“Oh, I know. Poor babies. It’s awful separating the pairs. I don’t like those nasty lookin’ spiked nose rings Daddy uses to wean the calves though. It might keep the pairs together, but it hurts the cows when the babies try to suckle. I keep tellin’ him.”
“I guess he has to choose the method that he feels is right.” Anton quickened his pace, praying for the torment to be over.
“True.” She trotted to catch up. “I wanted to ask about the night at the bar. I don’t remember much after my third shot of tequila, but I do remember earlier on. I saw your face when you were walkin’ to the table. You were angry about somethin’. I’m sorry if I dragged you into a situation you didn’t wanna be a part of.”
He stopped and turned to face her. “It wasn’t that.”
“Then what was it?” She raised her brows.
Anton’s jaw clenched. He forced his teeth apart so he could speak. “I didn’t like the way Jake was lookin’ at you.”
“But you didn’t save me when he made a move. Your brother wouldn’t have let him breathe on me; why didn’t you come over?”
Anton’s mouth tightened at the comparison between him and Greyson. “You had it under control. It was good for Jake to see that you could hold your own.”
She looked lost in thought for a second before her spine straightened. “You’re right. And I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was liberating to stand up for myself.”
Spinning away, he scanned the contours of the land to remind himself he had all the space in the world. So why did he feel cornered?
Lory stepped up beside him, folding her arms around her middle. “How could anyone not appreciate this?”
“I got no idea. Maybe you need to ask Grey.” He spoke through gritted teeth, praying for patience. She was working out her grief. Trying to understand where things had gone wrong. He got that. But it took all Anton’s strength not to curse his brother’s name and tell her she’d fallen for the wrong Agrioli.
“You’re not in the mood to talk, are you?”
“I’ll talk about anythin’ but him.”
Her shoulders rose as she gripped each elbow. “I’m sorry. I’ve been insensitive. This is hard for you, too.”
Anton groaned. He was the insensitive one. He’d never seen her look so lost. So vulnerable. Reaching over, he pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on her hair. “You’re gonna be okay. Maybe things didn’t work out how you thought they would, but you got good things comin’. And they’ll be better than you imagined.”
She had to—a person as selfless and strong as her deserved the world.
Her tentative touch brushed his back. “I hope so,” she returned, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Thank you.”
“Anythin’ for you.”
Everything.
Even confined spaces.
Damn it.
Fair’s Fair
Antonio
October
The whir of the blow-dryer was deafening as Anton dried Betsy off after her first wash of the day. Floating strands of red and white Hereford hair caught on his skin and teased his nostrils. Their steer, Waldo, was already clean. He was waiting for Betsy to be tethered beside him so they could have breakfast. Farther down the barn, similar scenes played out. The buzz before judging was gaining momentum.
Waldo mooed while batting his lashes at Marianne.
“It’s coming, baby. I know you’re hungry.” She measured the oats, corn, and protein into the feeders for the two head of cattle.
He switched the dryer off just as Sophia came in.
“How do I look?” She tugged on her harness with one hand and held her show stick in the other.
She looked the part with her blue button up, jeans with concho belt, and cowgirl boots and hat to match. The younger of his sisters was so much like their Nonna with her dark hair and eyes. She had the temper to match, too. Marianne was more like Mama. Softer spoken, lighter in features. They both worked just as hard as each other, making a good team. Whereas, in contrast, Grey and Anton had sometimes been at odds. Mainly because Grey hated cow shit and hay baling.
“Ready.” He nodded once.
“Number seventeen-seventeen. That’s gotta be lucky, right?” She patted the number on her harness.
“I reckon so.”
His eyes strayed for the fiftieth time to the stalls across from them. Lorelei and Clay were making their way around, saying hello to the other exhibitors. He paid the others no mind, his focus half on his job and half on Lory. She wore a similar getup to Sophia, but without the hat, and her shirt had western-style checks. Her jeans fit her just right.
A tap on his arm dragged his attention back to his sister.
“What?”
Sophia wore a troubled expression, a crease marring her brow. “I said, are ya done with Betsy? They need to eat.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll brush her down after.”
“I’ll brush her down. You go on over and talk to Clay and Lory instead of standing there staring. It’s creeping me out.” She pushed him aside, resting the show stick on the stall wall.
Sophia grabbed the brush and went about taming the Hereford’s hair.
Shoulders bunched; Anton hesitated to turn around. Why did he feel like the ground beneath him was about to give way? He’d always known where he stood with Lory. He was a friend. He was her boyfriend’s brother. But now that Grey was out of the picture it seemed like Anton and Lory’s parallel paths were converging. The roadblocks were gone, but so were the street signs. He didn’t know how to navigate his way to safety. If he spoke to her, spent more time with her, he’d fall deeper in love. And that only meant pain. It was better to avoid her. At all costs. She’d probably think he was an asshole, but better that than a pathetic dick.
He went to grab the other brush, but Sophia sidestepped to block his path. “What are ya doin’?”
“I’m helpin’ you. What’s your problem?”
With a deliberate glance and chin lift towards the opposite stall, she repeated her question. “What. Are. You. Doing?”
His gut sank.
Why the fuck couldn’t he control himself when Lory was near? “Nothin’.”
Sophia raised her eyebrows, exchanging a glance with M
arianne who wore an identical look of disbelief. “It doesn’t look like nothin’. Did somethin’ happen between you and Lory? ‘Cause she’s been sneakin’ glances over here as much as you’ve been reciprocatin’.”
Reciprocating. Yeah, right.
“Don’t go makin’ up stories in your head. You don’t know squat.” Bury the truth in denial and fertilize it with a smile. He’d been doing it for years.
“You’re makin’ it so obvious.”
Shit… fuck… shitfuck.
“I feel bad for her. That’s all.” Half-truth. Half-lie. What did it matter anymore? He’d never have her.
“I’ve lived with you for eighteen years, I know when you’re lying through your teeth. You got it bad. How long? Does Grey know about this?”
Anger seized his tongue. I ain’t tellin’ you shit, sister. He spun away and untied Betsy, leading her next to the steer.
Marianne averted her eyes as she distributed the feeders to the cattle. Waldo heaved himself up so he could chow down on the good stuff, while their heifer did the same.
Sophia crossed her arms and locked Anton in a stare before she marched over to their neighbors.
He almost hooked a finger in the back of her harness to yank her back.
She wouldn’t dare say anything. Would she?
He started to clean up the wash station, with one eye watching his sister’s arms flail as her gums flapped some undoubtedly useless information to the Carters.
What the hell are you telling them?
Sophia spun back to him with a big grin. “I’ll see you in the arena, Lory,” she called over her shoulder. Bypassing Anton, she gave Marianne’s arm a squeeze. “I’m off the find Mama and Papà.” And then she was gone, leaving him with a lump of sick in the back of his throat.
Twisting around, he caught Lory’s eyes just before they darted back to her brother.
The hell?
He desperately swallowed, almost choking. Fuck. Sophia was a master meddler.
Whatever she’d done, it couldn’t be good.
Marianne dusted off her hands before propping them on her hips. “I’m going to get ready. You okay to help Soph finish up the beauty routine?”
“Yeah, go do whatcha gotta do.”
She took off, and he found his mind straying where it shouldn’t go once more. His eyes followed, but Lory was gone.
It was for the best. He was acting like a lovesick fool. If there was an antidote to his obsession, he needed it bad. Whatever it took to make his daydreams shrivel up and die. He wanted out of this mental prison.
What else could he do?
“You okay there, champ?” Clay called out, pausing his conversation with Sophia’s competition.
Fuck, no. “Yup, all good.”
“Catch up tonight?”
“Sure thing.”
Maybe getting drunk with her brother was an excellent idea.
Or maybe he’d confess his love in his alcoholic stupor. Then just about everybody would know his feelings except the object of his affection.
Yeah, probably not a good plan.
_____
Holding his hat to his chest, Antonio moved through the crowds in the judging arena. The stands surrounding the ring were mostly filled with excited family members and friends. He’d been to enough of these things to recognize many faces. He said his hellos and managed to keep moving without getting pulled into small-talk hell. On the far side, he caught sight of his papà talking to members of the Cattlemen’s Association. Scanning the bleachers, he found his mama wearing her Agrioli Farms shirt. He too was flying the flag with his green tee sporting a red bull, and their name emblazoned in white writing. Another two minutes of ‘Excuse me’s’ and ‘Hey, how are ya’s?’ and he’d finally reached her.
“Hey. Thanks for saving me a seat.” Anton took his place beside her as the heifers were led into the ring. Sophia was the last to enter.
“That’s okay, honey. You missed the steer show.”
“I know. Sorry. I was . . .” Getting my head in gear “. . . cleaning.”
“Did you see Lory and Clay? They’re over the other side with their daddy.” She pointed across the ring.
I see her. Her face haunted his dreams and his every waking thought. Just like a declaration of love carved into a hundred-year-old tree, there was no erasing it. Her mark grew with him, becoming callus with time.
“Lorelei seems to be doing okay. Have you spoken to her much?”
In the flesh? Not nearly enough. “Nah. She’s been quiet.”
“I don’t blame her.” Something in his mother’s voice had him turning his head towards her.
She stared at the spectacle rather than him as she spoke, “How are you holdin’ up?”
“I’m doin’ fine.” He tracked Betsy’s path around the ring, figuring his mother had the right idea. If he looked at her, she’d see too much. She was perceptive like that. Try as he might to keep his focus on the heifers, he didn’t last long. Guided by some magnetic force, his eyes drifted across the arena to find Lory leaning across Clay to shake someone’s hand.
Goddamn it. Get out of my head.
“I know this has been tough on you too. It hurt your papà when Matteo left so abruptly. Brothers have a special bond.”
“It doesn’t bother me none.” Another half-truth. He did miss his brother. Anton shrugged, glancing at his mom and almost doing a double take at finding her teared up. Great. Now he felt like a schmuck. Tucking her under his arm, he murmured, “Hey, I’m sure he’s okay. Uncle Matteo will look after him.”
She chewed her cheek, jerking her chin in a shaky nod. “I need to see him.”
“Greyson? How are you gonna explain that one to Papà?”
“He cannot stop me from seeing our son. Your father may have disowned him, but I haven’t. I need to see Matteo. I need to make this right.”
Matteo? Wait, what? “Make what right? It was Grey’s choice to leave.”
“You don’t understand.”
“What is there to figure out?”
“Now isn’t the time.” She clamped her mouth shut before wiping her eyes on her sleeves.
What the hell is going on?
A quarter of a century of secrets was a heavy thing. And Grey’s revolt had made them heavier. Whatever they were.
“I know the bulk of the work has fallen on your shoulders. Things will quieten down slightly over winter. We just have to get through the next month or so.”
“I know.” Anton shrugged.
“You’ve been so tense lately. I thought it was weighing on you, that’s all.”
She seemed to be the only one who didn’t know about his infatuation with Grey’s fiancée. Ex fiancée. At least he now knew that Papà and his sisters hadn’t blabbed. “You know I don’t like comin’ to the fair. I’d rather be home.” Screw it. I’m stickin’ with the denial angle.
“Oh, honey, I’m the same. But we have to do our bit.” She shuffled back in her seat. “Lory seems to like it.”
He almost groaned. Why’d you have to mention her name? “She’s good at puttin’ on a brave face.”
“You think?”
Oh, yeah. He nodded, watching the woman in question as she chatted with Clay.
“That’s something us southern girls learn how to do at an early age.” Mama’s lips quivered, not quite reaching smile status. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to have a little lie down in the RV. The excitement is getting to me, I think. I’ll see you after.”
“Okay.” He frowned at her back as she jostled through the crowd.
Family secrets never stayed hidden forever. There was always something or someone that dragged them into the light. But maybe that was what she was planning to do.
He turned back, finding Lory’s eyes on him as she bit her lip.
And this time, she didn’t look away.
He exhaled in a rush.
A whisper of something crossed her face. Her lip popped free as she parted her lips as if to s
et free some secrets of her own. It was a double punch—one to the heart and one to his gut.
Sweet, sweet agony.
Giant Stuffed Unicorns
Antonio
After helping his father tuck the animals in for the night, Anton had a shower and made his way to the RV. Thankfully, Clay had bailed after finding a brunette from Jackson to pass the time with. Anton’s dream of kicking back with his feet up and enjoying some alone time might have been out of reach, but he was gonna damn well try. Pulling aside the canvas, he entered the annex and dumped his dirty clothes near his swag. “It’s me.” He knocked on the door.
His mama opened the way. “Come on in.”
The interior was spacious enough, with his parents’ bedroom down one end, a small wash closet in the middle, and the kitchen/ living area near the entrance. On the front wall, a fold-down bunk provided a sleeping space for Marianne. The table could be lowered, and with the addition of some cushions from the seats, transformed into another bunk for Sophia. He had the annex all to himself. Thank you, Grey.
A TV sat on the kitchen bench, broadcasting the local news. Mama reached behind her to shut the dining room curtains, only partially blocking the lights from the fairgrounds. “Y’all did some real hard work these last few days. Thank you.”
“We did awesome! Betsy and Waldo are stars.” Marianne held a novel as she lounged on her bunk, gaze fixed on the TV.
Anton smirked. “Good book?”
“Huh?” She twisted her head, blinking at her copy of Pride and Prejudice, almost surprised to find the thing in her hand.
“I knew Betsy would take the prize… but poor Waldo.” Sophia’s bottom lip pouted as she snuggled into their mother’s side on the bench.
“Fourth is a respectable placing,” Mama quipped.
I guarantee Waldo doesn’t give a shit about ribbons. Anton grabbed a Coke from the RV’s fridge. Taking a sip, he narrowed his eyes at his mama and sisters. It was Saturday night. They were at the fair. All three of them were in their pajamas, ready for bed at six. He couldn’t recall that ever happening in all the years they’d been coming. Huh. Weird.
“Is Papà still with the animals?”
