Darling's Desire

by T. D. Hassett

  “Sounds good. Let me get my keys.” He stood.

  “Oh, you don’t have to. Carrie is going to pick me up any minute. I’m sure she won’t mind driving you too.”

  “I’ll drive both of you.” He bounded up the stairs to get stuff, and they didn’t have a chance to talk again until Carrie arrived at the house.

  Ross seemed oddly comfortable at the carnival. He didn’t quite blend in with the locals, not with his size and looks. He wore another simple T-shirt that hugged his muscles and jeans that clung to his ass. Darling wanted to tear out the eyes of every woman who looked his way. She was getting a bit cranky over the number that smiled coyly at him or “accidentally” brushed their chests against his biceps. She needed to pull it together.

  The local 4-H had a cattle, swine, and chicken show going on in a large agricultural tent at the other end of the field. Darling wanted to look at the animals, and Ross had been all for it. He was great in the bovine tent. He showed Darling how to milk a cow. It never occurred to her that he would know how to do these sorts of farm things. But there he was, bent over making jokes about how to handle a teat on a cow’s udder. Ross explained that he’d worked on a ranch before Becket took off. He was only disappointed they didn’t have horses at the fair.

  They checked out the piglets in the next tent and managed to get in trouble with one of the agricultural judges. It was Darling’s fault. The baby piglets were just so cute it was like seeing something out of Charlotte’s Web. She wanted to pet one, but they were all the way across the pen cuddled up next to their mother, a giant six-hundred-pound sow. Despite Darling’s cries of protest, Ross hopped over the fence and managed to pluck a little black-and-white piglet away from its mom. The mom pig didn’t appreciate it. She got up and went hauling after him, snarling with her tusks aimed right for his thigh. He managed to vault over the fence again with the piglet safely tucked under his arm like a football. The official at the tent immediately stalked over to take the piglet back and kick them out. Ross just smiled and smoothly offered up a carrot to the man. If the gentleman could just be so kind as to let his lady friend hold the piglet, he’d be happy to offer up some additional prize money to the 4-H contest winners in this year’s fair. His Texas drawl and charm had the official eating out of his hand in no time. The wad of bills he handed over probably didn’t hurt matters, either. Darling cuddled with the softly squealing piglet for a minute, surprised that its fur was so bristly. It had an adorable curly tail with softer bristles at the end.

  They fed the goats and the llamas before getting in line to go on the swings. He tried to hold her hand while they spun around, but she released it, determined to cling onto the chain keeping her chair swinging high in the air. Her feet dangled forty feet up in the air, the wind whipping through her hair, and all she could do was concentrate on not letting herself get too attached to Ross. He needed to stop acting like they were on a high school date. She was a grown woman, and he was thirty-one—he just seemed so much older than she with those extra nine years—they both knew how this was going to go.

  A couple of small teaser fireworks flashed, pulling her attention back. Ugh, her heart did a stupid little flip the way the fireworks flashed, lighting up his whole smiling profile. She was so cooked on this one. All too soon the ride operator brought the ride to an end and released her from the swing. Another boomer rang out, letting the crowd know show time was soon.

  Ross was giving away some extra ride tickets they knew they wouldn’t use to some of the local kids when Darling heard her name called out. “Darling, hey! Over here! It’s me, Logan.” She scanned the grounds. A man called. It took her a minute to zone in on the person that had been shouting toward her, but as soon as she caught sight of his tall frame and gelled hair, she knew. It was her cousin, Aunt Tracy and Uncle Ryan’s son, Logan. Damn. Logan always made her a little uncomfortable. He was a bit rowdy and a lot spoiled. She waved hesitantly to him, knowing she’d have to go and chat for a minute; he was family after all.

  “That’s my cousin, I have to say hello,” she explained. Logan met them part way and handed her a small stuffed dog with long floppy ears.

  “Hey, Darling, don’t you look all grown up! My mom said you would be here tonight. She’s over at the dessert booth judging something.” He paused, winking at her like they shared some sort of secret. “Here, I won this for you. I had to shoot out five stars in a row,” Logan bragged before pulling her into an awkward hug. His eyes looked her up and down before handing her the dog. There was just something about the way he embraced her body and let his eyes linger that gave her the creeps. And she could tell Ross didn’t like him right off. His earlier smile and jovial comments had vanished, and his hand was fisted at his side. He glared at Logan.

  Logan broke the silence first, nervously putting out his hand. “I’m Logan Chidsey, Darling’s cousin,” Logan announced as if everyone should know who he was.

  “I’m her boyfriend, Ross Daniels.” Ross said, making no move to put his hand out for a handshake. What was this boyfriend stuff?

  Logan tried to recover his composure as he pulled his outstretched hand back. “Aren’t you that drummer guy from Becket?”

  Ross grunted in response.

  “Yeah, I heard you’re going to be leaving for a tour in a couple of days,” Logan said with a bit of a sneer.

  “That’s right, but I’m sure hoping I can persuade Darling here to come with me. There’s so much I want to show her.” Ross pulled Darling closer to him in a possessive gesture.

  What the heck has gotten into him? Whatever it is, I don’t care as long as it gets Logan to go away.

  Logan narrowed his eyes for a moment before catching himself and nodding enthusiastically. “You know, Darling, you should go. You’ve never really traveled anywhere before—just here and New York. Might be good for you.”

  “Yeah, well, we’ll see,” Darling responded, not wanting to take part in whatever sort of pissing contest the boys had going on.

  “Well, I got to meet back up with some of my friends, so I’ll see you around.” Logan tugged on a loose strand of her hair before turning and walking away. The gesture sent a shiver of revulsion down her back. She leaned in closer to Ross. She’d hated having to see Logan at family holidays. He enjoyed tormenting her when she was little, and as she matured he turned to cornering her, saying things that were open to interpretation. He’d make little innuendos about her body or try and rub up against her. Ick.

  “Don’t worry about him, Logan’s always been a jerk.” Darling took a sip of her draft before adding, “What’s next?”

  “I feel like doing some shooting—you know, just putting a bullet in something,” Ross muttered, tugging Darling behind him as he ventured off toward the target game. “Let’s win you a real prize, baby.” He pulled her suggestively against his pelvis before he dropped a ten-dollar bill on the counter. The game host scooped up the money and dropped it into his apron pocket. He handed Ross a semi-automatic BB gun that looked suspiciously like a combat weapon.

  “You have to shoot out at least five stars in thirty seconds to win a prize,” the carnie explained, flicking a switch that put up paper star targets.

  “What do ya win if you hit all of them?” Ross asked.

  “Well, that would get you the giant panda.” The carnie pointed to the largest stuffed animal Darling had ever seen. It had to be six feet long, black-and-white with big brown glass eyes. She’d never seen a prize like that but knew nobody could shoot all the stars out that fast. Not that she’d ever played a shooting game before.

  “Well, good thing we drove here in an SUV.” Ross slapped the timer button, braced his elbows onto the counter and sighted down the barrel of the weapon before squeezing the trigger. Pop, pop, pop, pop. It went so fast she couldn’t count the number of stars he was hitting. He slammed the rifle down on the counter seconds before the buzzer went off. “Like fish in a barrel.” He slapped his hand down in emphasis.

  “I’ve been r
unning this game a long time and never saw anybody get that many stars that fast. You sure can shoot.” The carnie shook his head and grabbed a pole with a hook to take down the panda bear. “Congratulations there, son. The prize is yours, but I’d sure like to see you do that again.” He handed Ross the giant bear.

  “Yes, sure. Let’s go again.” He winked at her, and butterflies launched in her belly. A small crowd gathered to watch him shoot this time.

  Ross repeated his sharp shooting to the applause of several spectators, and the old carnie slapped his thigh. “Damn, that was fabulous.”

  “Wow, where did you learn to do that?” she asked incredulously.

  “I told you I worked on a ranch, had to shoot a lot of things that might stir up the cattle.” He winked at her and took her hand.

  “What kind of things were you shooting? Like animals?” she asked a little nervously, not wanting to think about little critters getting blown away.

  He laughed at her horrified expression. “Actually, my shooting skill comes a lot more from playing shoot-’em-up video games on the tour bus hour after hour. You have no idea how much time four bored guys can spend playing Call of Duty driving from one show to the next. Hell, sometimes we brought the game system into the hotel and had marathons. Don’t let all the stories about how wild Link used to be color your judgment. Being on tour is not all about groupies, parties, and drugs. A lot of it is boredom and business meetings.”

  “Sure, all work and no play. Why do I think there’s more to it than all that?”

  “Well, maybe there are a few parties.” He grinned mischievously.

  She couldn’t stop herself from swatting his arm, and he caught it against his bicep.

  “Hey, I meant it. I want you to come with me.” He pulled her hand to his face, kissing her palm and taking a soft nip. Her friend heading their way saved her from having to respond.

  Please don’t do this to me. How much temptation can one woman take?

  “Here comes Carrie, so it must be about time for fireworks.” Darling struggled to carry the giant panda until Ross slipped it from her arms and tossed the bear over his shoulder.

  “Lead the way.”

  “Darling, I just saw Mr. Whitaker passed out by the port-o-potties. I need to go find Matt and let him know that his dad has been at the bottle again, and I’m guessing David is wandering around alone.” Carrie ran her hand through her auburn curls, frowning.

  “Poor kid, is it that bad with the father?” Darling inquired, feeling a well of sympathy for her young neighbor.

  “It’s bad, but Matt tries to do stuff with David to make up for their dad’s issues.”

  “Why don’t you look for David, and I’ll see if I can find Matt?” Darling offered, not sure what else to do.

  “Thanks. He should be with a bunch of other guys from the department by the water. Meet you in a few by that tree.” Carrie pointed to a tall oak at the corner of the field and set off.

  “I’ll be back soon if you want to just set up the blanket over there.” Darling turned to leave only to have Ross drop his big hand on her shoulder.

  “You stay here; I’ll go and find Matt.” He flipped the blanket out, letting it settle on the grass before dropping the panda down.

  Darling pulled the ends taut and sat, worried.

  Chapter 25

  That girl was out of her tree if she thought he’d send her down to the water’s edge alone to look for Matt. He was likely surrounded by a full contingent of guys who’d have only one thing on their mind once they got a look at Darling in her tight jeans and tank top. He’d wanted to throw a towel over her when she came downstairs this evening. No way was she going out with that much on display—and he told her just that—and she laughed at him. That’s when he knew tonight was going to be part wooing and part defense. The girl had no idea how appealing she looked. Didn’t she notice the way men watched her everywhere she went? Did she think they all offered up assistance because people are inherently giving? Hell, she probably did assume the best from most people. He just didn’t want to be the asshole that told her the way the world really worked. Men don’t offer to pump gas in your car for nothing. What they’re really doing is trying to get into your pants. He stomped past couples and families setting up blankets and folding chairs for the display. Some of them seemed to have an entire picnic dinner set up for the event. Must be the biggest town event of the summer.

  At the edge of the field the land dropped down to the water. He could see a dozen guys moving around setting up the displays. He scanned the group until he found Matt Whitaker.

  “Matt. Matt,” he called out and walked sideways down the steep incline.

  “Oh, hey there. Everything okay? Kind of thought you’d be with Darling and Carrie,” Matt answered, flicking his lighter nervously.

  “They’re fine. Your dad—he isn’t feeling too well, and Carrie wanted me to get you. She’s looking for David.” Ross turned to go back up the hill, but Matt stopped him.

  “Wait. I’ll just let the guys know something came up.”

  He’d wanted to get back to Darling and see the fireworks reflected in her beautiful eyes, but it seemed Matt wanted him to help with his old man. Fuck. Ross was sympathetic—his old man had been a real asshole until the day he ran out—but that didn’t mean he wanted to get involved

  * * * *

  It was after ten by the time they’d dropped Mr. Whitaker and a very frightened David off and pulled into Darling’s driveway. Ross had helped Matt carry his dad to the Land Cruiser and drop his loaded ass off. Carrie had managed to locate David hiding under one of the town’s shiny fire trucks on display. He’d been shaking and counting over and over. Darling had wanted to call the town social services department, but Matt convinced her that putting David in a foster home wouldn’t really help. He’d try and get his dad to do rehab again, and Matt would stay at the cottage with David for a while. Just great. He was certain that Matt living up the driveway meant that there would probably be single young fire heroes regularly hanging around.

  This evening was just getting better all the time. So much for watching fireworks light up in Darling’s eyes tonight. He’d just have to find another way to see her eyes shining in wonder. Perhaps things would pick up.

  Ross walked around the SUV and opened up Darling’s door, helping her down the steep drop to the gravel. He pulled her giant stuffed panda from the back and took her hand in his. It felt perfect. He walked her up the stairs and stopped cold. He smelled the cigarette smoke before he could make out the man pacing on the deck. It didn’t take long, though, to identify their visitor.

  Zack was upping his game. He looked ridiculous wearing a long black coat and combat boots in the late June heat.

  “What are you doing here? How did you even find me?” Darling called out, putting her hand on her hip and glaring at her ex-boyfriend. She could be quite the little spitfire at times.

  “Your roommate gave me the address. I told her I loved you and wanted you back, but I can see what’s really going on.” Zack spat the words out and took a deep drag on his smoke. His henna-dyed black hair hung limply in his face.

  “You should kick rocks and head home, Zack,” Ross said, pulling Darling closer to his side. Yes, he was staking his claim. No scrawny little junkie was going to intimidate him. Darling pulled a bit away from him. He drew back once more, growling a low warning.

  “I’ve told you—we’re done. I was perfectly clear, so please just go home.” Darling looked down at the wood deck rather than at Zack.

  “I see how it is. How long has this been going on? Is it the reason why I can’t get anybody to even take my calls at Canterbury records? Are you the reason my band got dumped off the tour—because you’re fucking their almighty fucking drummer?” Zack yelled, waving his arms out from his long black trench and flicking his cigarette off the deck.

  “Oh, hell no. This is idiotic. Darling, baby, go inside.” Ross handed over the giant panda and prodded her back t
o get her moving toward the door. No sense facing this emo-looking punk holding a stuffed animal. He was going to kick this boy’s ass but good and then take Darling to bed. He had a study plan based on her body’s pleasure centers and wasn’t wasting time listening to a second-rate singer go all broken-hearted wrist slitter and fuck up what little was left of his evening.

  “It’s okay. I’ll handle Zack, really,” she offered even as she moved to unlock the door and shove it open.

  “Acck!” Darling screamed and dropped her bear in the entryway. He grabbed and pulled her into his arms, looking about wildly for any other dangers besides Zack, still pacing in the corner of the porch. Sprawled out on the wood threshold lay an eviscerated rabbit, a screwdriver impaled in what remained of its head. The guts and congealed blood stained the brown fur. Beauty Belle may have gotten to the rabbit, but Zack must be the asshole who had stabbed it with the tool.

  “Shit, man, you are one sick motherfucker. Darling, stay in the house.” Ross growled. He pushed her past the threshold, picked up the body, and whipped it toward Zack’s head. The little prick ducked just in time.

  “Fuck you, man, what the hell? I didn’t do that. I’m a fucking vegan.” Zack practically whined his words out, backing himself farther into the corner of the deck. Ross took advantage of his opponent and swung his fist into Zack’s pale face. His knuckles stung pleasantly on impact. Zack’s face flew back, and he dropped inelegantly to the wood and curled his body up.

  “Don’t hurt me,” he begged.

  “Jesus Christ, you aren’t even worth giving a good ass kicking to. You’re a fucking pussy. Just get the hell out of here.” Ross backed away from him, shaking his head in disgust. He wiped his fist against his jeans. As much as he wanted to beat the crap out of Zack for his behavior toward Darling, he just couldn’t hit someone so weak and pathetic. It’d be like Lenny crushing that mouse—too easy to do and he’d feel bad about it later.