by K. F. Breene
A WILD RIDE
(Jessica Brodie Diaries: Book 3)
by K.F. Breene
Website: http://kfbreene.com/
Twitter: @KFBreene
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A Wild Ride
Jessica Brodie diaries
Copyright © 2013 by K.F. Breene
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Some adult content.
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OTHER TITLES BY K.F. BREENE
JESSICA BRODIE DIARIES
Back in the Saddle, Book 1
A Wild Ride, Book 3
DANIELS’S MANSION SERIES
Daniels’s Mansion: The New Maid-free
Daniels’s Mansion: The Cook’s Delight
Daniels’s Mansion: The Girls’ Night In
SCHOOL’S OUT COLLECTION
Teaching the Professor-free
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A Wild Ride
Chapter One
I walked into William’s house with my butt bare and my pants draped over my arm. We’d just had a love-making session in the car on the way back from bull riding practice in which I admitted that he was the one.
I was under no illusions that I was mature enough to marry yet, so I gave him a promise. Like I was in grade school. I had the guy of the century, I was so happy my face hurt half the time from smiling , and all I could offer up was a promise.
I should just punch myself in the mouth right now.
At any rate, that’s where matters stood. Plodding along. It was a comfortable pace since I still worried about his social status versus mine. I still worried that he would realize a girl from the other side of the tracks—or so his mom thought—was too much work to fit into his snobby society of wealth and power. And sometimes gaudy taste.
Halfway to the shower, William asked, “What is the deal with the dirt and smell?”
I started laughing. “I assume you mean me?”
He laughed, also. “I meant to ask you earlier but never got a chance.”
“I need Lump’s help on something. Unfortunately, she is going through a pre-adult crisis at the moment, and made me shovel hay with her in return.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. As a heart attack, which I almost had. So I spent the evening helping Adam, and his new ranch hand Lump, bail hay. It was not the most fun I have ever had.”
William laughed and kissed me on the head. “It’s good for you.”
“That reminds me, when are you working on your ranch next?”
“Tomorrow, why?”
“Can you save some stuff until I get off work? I want to watch you.”
“You want to watch me work?”
“Yeah. Without a shirt, preferably.”
He laughed again and shook his head. “Is it worth you being put to work helping?”
“Only if I get a happy ending.”
“Deal.”
William lived up to his promise. The next evening he was shirtless, sweaty, and working in the evening sun. I watched him for a good while, admiring his play of muscles, his powerful strokes, the sun glinting off those powerful shoulders—he saved the most manly task for last, chopping wood.
When he was sufficiently embarrassed, he made me start carrying and stacking the wood into piles. Without my shirt.
That night I was living in a country song, though I decided taking a sexual hay ride was way overrated. It was scratchy and itchy, and I had to thoroughly wash my lady bits to make sure I was hay free. But laying with William, watching the setting sun through the barn door, was dreamlike.
Time started speeding up as we got nearer Christmas. I had talked in length with Adam about an attack plan for William’s bull, which was the item William most wanted and couldn’t have because the guy wouldn’t sell to a Davies. I was convinced I would get that little sucker. If I had to dress like a slut and prance around, I would.
Unfortunately, I would also make Lump do it. It was unfortunate because in order to agree, Lump made me work with her on Adam’s or William’s ranch three days a week. On the days I danced I got a fur-low. Lucky me.
Lump was the big glitch in my happy life. My long-time friend from L.A. was not finding her groove. She was violent, temperamental, and most of all, unsettled. Worse still, she didn’t know what the problem was. She didn’t know how to fix the issue.
So she lost herself in hard work. And since misery loves company, guess who had to sweat way more than she wanted to? Exactly, my ass.
As opposed to me, on the farm she worked hard and quietly, rarely saying two words to anyone. She had her music in her ears and occasionally sang along with a perfectly pitched voice. William or Adam would stop what they were doing to listen. I stopped, too, just for the break. Which embarrassed Lump and cut off the singing.
One evening, when we were at William’s ranch, he had to go deal with some cow problem, leaving Lump and I to finish nailing a new fence to the fence posts. I was getting pretty good at this farm stuff, but I still would’ve rather pushed buttons on a keyboard than do it. Lump was in one of her reflective moods, listening to her music and getting lost in the physical exertion.
At one point she straightened up after hammering in a nail and said, “You know Adam really well.”
Any excuse to stop was a good one. I leaned against the post and said, “Yeah. Why?”
“He always watches to make sure you don’t fall over your own feet and hurt yourself. When we were at his ranch he helped you over the animal paddock but didn’t help me.”
“Uh…” I didn’t know if she was mad, glad, jealous—what? To hedge I said, “I’ve fallen over it before and landed on my face. William got mad at Adam for not helping. No one seems to realize that I’m dense, not incompetent!”
“I was there for that, idiot. Willie wasn’t mad. But anyway, you need help because you are a klutz, albeit a graceful one. When you trip you hurt yourself. I don’t, generally, because I rarely fall on my face. I also don’t like getting help, and you don’t mind it.”
“Uh…” I was lost. I returned to hammering nails. It was less confusing.
“Adam knew that.”
“Knew what? That I’m a klutz? Everyone knows that.”
“No, you moron,” Lump said, getting impatient because she wasn’t making her point, “Adam knew I didn’t like help, and he let it be. He helped you, but didn’t reach out for me. He didn’t even watch. He walked on before I got over.”
“Yeah, probably because you’d get mad at him if he fawned all over you, and he didn’t want to deal with it.”
“Exactly.”
“Okay… so why is this noteworthy?”
She shrugged. “He respects me.”
“Of course he does. Why wouldn’t he?”
“I just never really thought he respected women.”
Lump and Adam both had an interesting background with violence. Both of them had fathers that lost their cool and hit. Adam’s dad had been far worse, forcing Adam to grow up protecting his mother and sisters, and finally fighting back, nearly killing his father. It set him up for a life of playing super hero to any damsel in distress. Which meant, he’d been looking after me since the first night we met when I nearly got raped at the rodeo.
The problem was, Adam had a rage in him that occasionally slipped his control. Lump had seen it, which made her untrusting and suspicious of his character, being that her father had had the same rage. She was only now starting to realize he was mostly good. He was exactly t
he man I thought him, which was dependable, sweet and honest. Also, William’s best friend.
“You heard why he has a protection complex,” I said, stopping again. “It doesn’t mean he hates women. I’ve always thought the opposite, in fact. He cares a great deal for his mother and sisters—so much so that he—“
“Yeah, yeah, I know all that. I just—I don’t know. He just says things that sound like he doesn’t think women can fend for themselves.”
“That’s you not listening,” I moderated, nailing in another nail. “He doesn’t think they should have to, not that they can’t. Obviously he knows you can. And me, sometimes. I beat on the guy all the time. He’s said how hard I hit.”
“Yeah, but… I don’t know. I always thought he was just placating you.”
“You probably thought that so you could continue to see him for the bad, and not have to face a guy capable of awful that makes such an effort to be good. Possibly so you can continue hating your father?”
That was a wild stab in the dark.
“Don’t try to Dr. George me, Jessica.”
I shrugged. Dr. George had only been necessary since I got to Texas. Two rape attempts, one with a gun, both with violent endings, and I needed someone to talk to.
Lump was now seeing him, too, to work through her issues.
“He’s really nice to you,” Lump went on. “Always helping you, or helping Willie or one of the other guys. He treats you like family.”
“Yeah, he treats me like his sister. He thinks of William like a brother so he’s brought me into the fold. Did so before William and I were actually together—I think it was the Dusty thing. I don’t think he’s forgiven himself for not being there. Moose or William, either, but William is allowed to baby me and Moose knows I really only need help for the big stuff.”
“They do all fawn over you.”
“Dusty thing. They fawn over Candace, too, but it’s hard to see because she is always hard glued to Ty. Maybe the long-term gals get more attention. Like a pack of dogs. Except for you, because you are more like a dude than a chick.”
“Do you listen to yourself half the time? I think you just talk with no idea what comes out of your mouth.”
“I listen half the time! What, you want me to always know what I’m saying? That is way too much effort!”
Lump huffed and got back to nailing, saying, “Do you think I should apologize for thinking the way I have?”
“Nah. I think you should just stop being a jerk. He’ll probably be glad not to have to wear kid gloves around you.”
“Ass.”
“You asked.”
I was busy shopping for Christmas presents for everyone in the weeks to come. Gladis was being generous and not making me pay rent for November and December so I could buy presents. I protested but got the stern look, so I said thank you meekly.
I got her a weird porcelain figurine for her giant collection. Lady told me which one she wanted. They were pricy little buggers. I didn’t understand the appeal, but they apparently only went up in value the older they got, so I guess they were a good, if unattractive, investment.
Lady got a VISA gift card that was to be used for a night out. I didn’t know what else to get her.
Lump got a punching bag and a gift card to her favorite make-up place. I had to throw something girlie in there, for God sake.
Adam had been complaining that he needed a new pair of cowboy boots, but the ones he had fit like a glove, so he hated to get rid of them. I, therefore, got him a custom made pair from the best leather worker in the state, which happened to be just outside the city. They were more a thank you for the car, but disguised as a Christmas gift they would be harder to reject because of the expense.
Christmas this year would be spent at the Davies ranch, which was apparently a tradition. Gladis and Lady were invited, Lady declining because she would be with family—also, I think, because she felt uncomfortable as a guest. Lump was also invited, and accepted because she didn’t want to go home to her family that year. She said she needed to sort out her head first.
I wanted to be with William, and my family rarely did much anyway because they were jerks, so I would be there. Adam would also be going, as was tradition, but his girlfriend, whom was still very much in the picture despite William’s protests Adam wasn’t that into her, had a huge fight with him because of it. She said the tradition was with her family, and since the Davies weren’t even his family, he should go with her.
Telling Adam that the Davies weren’t his family got her a decline and an un-invitation. Everyone who even barely knew Adam knew that he was loyal to a fault, and the Davies had done so much for him that he thought of them as blood. William, being the same way, treated Adam like a brother, and was sad to hear Adam’s girlfriend was so near-sighted.
William told me that, not Adam.
All that was left was the damn bull. William’s heart’s desire.
The farmer needed to sell the thing, because he needed new equipment. He just didn’t want to sell to William. William really wanted it, and hated not getting what he wanted, so he promised favors to other farmers so the only person that the old man could sell it to was him.
It was just a matter of time. Or so William thought! Ha!
The only problem was that William had a bunch of cash to throw around. He offered the bull owner a ton of money just to secure the dumb thing. I didn’t have a ton of money. I had to buy a new car, I had to pay off debt, and while I made decent money now, I wasn’t made of greenbacks.
Luckily I had boobs. Unluckily I'd have to show them.
The day came to buy the bull. Adam had called and told me it was now or never. He would be available all weekend with a trailer to pick it up if I got it.
“Oh, I’m so going to get it!” I said to myself. A pep talk was key.
It was a chilly Saturday in early December when I dressed like a huge slut, with a disgracefully low-cut, fake silk blouse and a thin bra. Hard nipples would be showing. I was not proud, but I was determined.
I had a short, tight skirt with stockings. It was a lot trashy, but apparently that’s what this guy liked, judging by his two ex-wives. I knew this because Moose was a fountain of information in all things gossip.
Lump had a hideous cotton shirt that was mostly see-through. The shirt was white, her push up bra was black. Hot. She had some crazy tight jeans on. We looked the part, all right.
I had four grand cash in my purse, and checkbook ready if it wasn’t enough. I really, really hoped it would be enough.
We arrived at the shabby, broken down ranch about mid-day. We walked carefully and stupidly in our too-high, ugly plastic heels. Before we got to the door I grabbed the camera from my purse and snapped a couple pictures of Lump. They’d be good blackmail pictures.
Once on the creaking porch I called Adam.
“Jess?”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “We’re about to knock.”
“Okay, keep the phone on, put it in your purse, and if there is any trouble, yell.”
“Kay, but we’ll be fine Adam. Listen in. If I get in a bind, I’ll go to the bathroom and ask advice.”
“No problem. And Jess?”
“Yeah?”
“You are a good woman for doing this for Willie, you know?”
“Thanks Adam, but it isn’t done yet. Talk soon.”
“And Jess…”
“Yes, Adam?”
“Let Betz handle…anything. Okay? Let her…handle it. Until I get there.”
I smiled briefly. “Always do.”
I put the phone in my purse as Lump knocked.
The door was answered by a gruff, white haired man in his 60’s or more. He was wrinkled and weathered, stooping over as he looked through the screen door at us.
“Who is it?” he asked in a scratchy voice badly damaged from years of smoking.
“Mr. Wyatt Pickitt?” Lump asked with a slight country twinge to her voice.
“Yeah? Who’s
askin’?”
“Oh, hell-o Mr. Pickitt. I am here to ask about your little ‘ol bull for sale?”
He leaned closer to the screen door to get a better look at his prospective customers. It was then he noticed what we looked like. Or, more appropriately, what we were wearing.
“Well, ladies. Now. Y’all c’mon in here a minute. Don’t y’all look...purty.”
This was going to be a long afternoon.
He opened the screen door leering like the old creep he was. We sauntered in like prostitutes, getting our first look around.
The place smelt like feet and mold. Paint chipped off the walls, crap was piled everywhere, and there were more dirty coffee cups than I had ever seen in one place in my life, café’s and truck stops included.
He led us into a dilapidated living room where all the furniture was mismatched and, we soon found out, uncomfortable. I was sitting on a hard spring that I swear was leaving a bruise.
“Wud you girls like coffee?” he asked with teeth as mismatched as his furniture.
“Oh, no thank ya,” Lump replied with a cheesy, seductive smile. She was chosen to be the front runner in case this old fart tried anything, or in case he had sons around that we didn’t account for.
It was a little nippy in the room, as I expected, and I could tell my nipples were now making an appearance. It wasn’t long before they became the center attraction of the conversation. I bent over a little to show cleavage and distract him further. I wanted this sell. Pride had to take a back seat on this one. Sorry women’s lib. I’ll make it up another time.
“Which bull y’all interested in?” he asked, staring unceremoniously at my breasts.
“That little ‘ol one you have in the paper? I saw it in the Piggly Wiggly. We need us a bull, and someone told me to get one young, so here we are.”
“Who’s it for?” He looked at Lump closely, probably trying to see if figure out if she was a spy for Davies.
“Why, me and Phyllis, here.” That was my name for the day.
“You gotta ranch?” he asked incredulously.
“It was left to us by an uncle. He was always a bad man to us...” Lump and I exchanged a look that said we would rather not talk about how he was a bad man, but it was dirty.