HAYES: The Montana Brothers (Mountain Men of Montana Book 2)

by Alison Ryan

  We reached the barn and found it open and empty. Hayes led the horses into a pen and we walked together back to the doors, where we watched the storm turn violent, wind sending the rain sideways and right in onto us.

  Laughing, we took shelter deeper inside. A peal of thunder shook the entire barn, and I began to have my doubts as to its structural integrity.

  “That’s going to be some headline. Barn collapse kills Sarah Acres and 2 horses. 4-time state champion “SuperHayes” Calloway unharmed,” I said.

  Hayes laughed. “This place has been standing for what…fifty years at least? They don’t make ’em like this anymore. Another storm will just give it more character. I’m gonna go up and see if there’s anything in the loft for the horses to eat.”

  “Be careful. That ladder looks-”

  Before I could even finish my warning, Hayes had scampered up to the loft. Moments later, a bale of hay crashed to the floor near me.

  “You could have warned me!” I shouted up to him.

  “But then I wouldn’t have gotten to watch you jump!” he replied, his wild grin forcing me to forgive him.

  After coming down and taking care of Spearmint Patty and her friend, Hayes peered back outside, where conditions had only deteriorated.

  “Looks like we’re stuck in here a while. Let’s wait it out up in the loft,” he offered.

  “Has that been your plan all along? Strand us out here and get me alone up in a hayloft?” I feigned indignation. “Just what kind of girl do you think I am?”

  “The prettiest one I’ve ever seen,” Hayes replied, looking down at a stone he kicked away and then sheepishly lifting his eyes to meet mine. “And you’re my girl, Sarah. Always.”

  “You think you’re so charming, don’t you?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest defiantly.

  “Nope. But you do,” he answered, strolling past me toward the ladder as I rolled my eyes. His cockiness always flummoxed me.

  “You go first, that way if you fall, I can catch you,” he offered. I marched over to the ladder and gave it a tug, testing it even though it had just supported Hayes and would no doubt hold me.

  As I started up, he gave my rear end a playful swat. “The view ain’t half-bad neither.”

  I paused to stick my tongue out at him, then continued to the top. The dusty loft held a few scattered bales and some farm implements, along with a few curious odds and ends. An empty flask lay next to a canteen that held an awful-smelling liquid. Not even Hayes was brave enough to taste it. One shoe, a yellow pump, sat in the corner. Two old blankets hung across the railing.

  “I get the feeling we aren’t the only couple who’ve taken advantage of Old Man Gehring building that new barn,” Hayes remarked as we took inventory of the darkening loft.

  A missing section of roof over the center let in the rain, but also what feeble sunlight was able to fight its way through the clouds. We were left with what passed for romantic mood lighting, country style.

  Hayes pulled the two blankets down, one rough, scratchy and green; probably Army-issued. The other was softer and had a floral pattern like I’d expect to see on a grandmother’s bed.

  He spread them out and we sat down together. I ran my fingers across the stitching and wondered how in the world they came to be up here. And whose shoe was that?

  A scream shocked both of us, and we spun to look behind us, to the darkest corner of the loft, Hayes scrambling to his feet.

  As promptly as he got to his feet, he came crashing down, narrowly avoiding being hit right in the face.

  By an owl!

  The large bird glided silently through the air, almost crashing into Hayes in its haste to flee. It was clearly perturbed by our presence, and roosted at the opposite corner of the barn, giving us the evil eye.

  Hayes lay there for a moment in shock and then clenched a fist and punched himself in the chest several times.

  “Holy shit, that damn owl just about scared me to death! Come on, heart, start beating again!”

  I swallowed my laughter and crawled the few feet to where he lay. I swung a leg across his hips and straddled him. Pulling his baseball cap off my head, I shook my hair loose and let it fall free. It surrounded his face as I leaned over him.

  “I know how to get your heart started again,” I said, kissing him deeply.

  After thirty seconds of kissing, I broke off and licked my lips.

  “Yeah, that did the trick,” Hayes laughed, between catching his breath. My kiss had caught him off-guard.

  “Can you believe that owl?” I asked, scooting down his body so he could sit up.

  “Hell no! That was insane! That would have been the big news story, Hayes Calloway killed by bird.”

  We both laughed, and sat across from each other in that loft, my hands in his, fingers tracing designs on his palms.

  “I feel like kissing you again, Sarah,” he confessed.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  This time, it was he who took the initiative and the dominant position, easing me onto my back and leaning over me, kissing my cheeks and forehead, then the tip of my nose, before getting to my mouth.

  “You smell so fucking good,” he said, before kissing me powerfully.

  We’d made out regularly, and he’d touched my breasts under my shirt, but we’d gone no further than grinding on each other through our jeans. “Dry humping,” our friends might have called it.

  The subject of going “all the way,” had come up in conversation, and although we both wanted it, neither of us pressured the other and we agreed that we’d just know if and when the moment was right. We were both virgins, after all, and the first time can only happen once.

  As we kissed, and the thunder rolled across Whitmer, I felt connected to Hayes in a way I never had before. Something inexplicable clicked. He made me feel safe. He made me laugh. He gave me butterflies the size of, well, owls.

  He was the one. And it was time.

  “Hayes. Look at me.”

  He cocked his head and looked down at me.

  “Is everything okay, baby?”

  I nodded.

  “I think I’m ready,” I whispered.

  His eyes opened wide.

  “Like, ready ready?”

  I nodded again.

  “Just go slow. I’m ready.”

  “I love you, Sarah.” He touched my face and smiled. “I’ll love you forever.”

  He’d said it before, though not often. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard him say it.

  But it just might have been the first time I really heard him say it.

  My eyes glistened and I threw my arms around his neck.

  “I love you, too, Hayes Calloway.”

  We kissed again, and I set about pulling his Warriors football t-shirt off over his head.

  Once he was shirtless, I took the opportunity to run my hands all over his pecs and shoulders. The farms and playing fields of Whitmer had sculpted him into one hell of a man.

  We kissed again, hungrily.

  I sat up far enough to pull my own shirt off, leaving me in jeans and a bra. He pulled my boots off and I did the same for him.

  We sat, face to face, with our legs twisted over and under each other’s, as close as we could get.

  When his hand touched the bare skin over my ribcage, I gasped.

  He kissed my collarbone and across my neck, letting his hands wander down the backs of my shoulders and then up into my hair.

  We resumed our foreplay, and I fumbled through removing the big rodeo buckle that he wore on his belt. He rose onto his knees to wriggle his jeans down, then sat back down and let me help get them off over his feet. He was left in blue boxers, straining to contain his erection.

  I got the feeling that Hayes was too much the gentleman to remove my bra without an invitation, so I whispered, “Take my bra off…” as he kissed me right below my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

  My arms went over my head and he pulled it up and off, adding it
to the pile of clothing we were creating over by the hay bales.

  “Damn, girl,” he said as he stared at my breasts in wonderment. His left thumb dragged itself down my right nipple, and when it sprang back up, I moaned appreciatively.

  I lay back and undid my jeans, letting him assist me with their removal. Once they were gone, only my white panties remained. So wet they were transparent.

  He leaned over me and kissed between my breasts, then all around them both, just near enough my nipples to make them throb, but never touching them.

  As good as it felt, as wonderful as the torment of denial was, I needed it.

  I surprised him by pulling my panties down and leaving myself bare to him. I grasped him through his boxers and he made the sexiest sounds I’d ever heard.

  “Do you want me?” I asked, innocently.

  “I’ve never wanted anything more,” he said, finally taking a nipple into his wonderful mouth.

  “Then have me, Hayes. Please.”

  I gasped the last word as his teeth grazed across my other nipple.

  My hips writhed desperately.

  He pulled his boxers down and off, and we were naked together for the first time.

  His pecs pressed against my breasts, and the contrast of his steel and my silk was electric.

  Fumbling to find the right spot, he handled himself and adjusted his angle until he could enter me.

  When he did, we whimpered in unison. He quickly withdrew, looking embarrassed.

  “Sorry, give me a second.” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “Okay, I’m good.”

  I was terrified I’d done something wrong, that everything was going haywire, that I’d made a terrible mistake.

  He sensed my reticence and reassured me. “You felt so good I almost…I’m ready now. Let’s try this again.”

  I nodded and smiled.

  This time, he entered me with a smooth, fluid motion, and my arms pulled him tightly against me as I adjusted to the pain of being filled for the first time.

  “Breathe, baby. Breathe,” he reminded me, and I tried to relax and let things progress naturally. There was pleasure there, tingling shocks hitting me everywhere at once, but the pain was almost too much. I came close to asking him to stop, but as he withdrew and thrust slowly back inside, I rotated my hips forward just the slightest bit and things began to change.

  A place inside me began to respond to him, and everything became warm. It still hurt, but pleasure began to vanquish pain.

  He was slow, I felt as much to preserve himself as to protect me, and we looked into each other’s eyes from an inch away, our mouths open, but forming no words.

  The rain had slowed to a pitter patter on the roof, and one of our horses whinnied down below. All I cared to hear was Hayes breathing, punctuated by groans each time he slid into me.

  My mind wandered to my best friend Erika telling me and Jenny about her first time, the previous summer in the back of boyfriend Jack Galligan’s car. “Uncomfortable and awful and over before it started,” was how she described it.

  This was anything but.

  I didn’t relish the thought of riding Spearmint Patty home after this; I was sore already and knew the longer we went, it would only get worse, but just being so close to Hayes, having him inside me, was worth paying any price.

  His pace quickened, and we kissed clumsily, but he broke it before it got started. Something was happening to him. His muscles tensed and he looked confused. He tried to pull away and thrust harder all at once. He was coming. I panicked, but my own orgasm wasn’t far off, and my legs wrapped around his waist instinctively to keep him right where he was.

  As he finished, he erupted with the most adorable series of “ohs”.

  “Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!” he repeated, and the last one included a growling sound that triggered my own climax.

  The wave of ecstasy picked me up and carried me, turning my entire body to liquid as I became part of the wave, part of Hayes’ orgasm, and I bit down on his shoulder and squealed as everything clenched and squeezed around him.

  When we both finished, he rolled onto his back next to me and we stared up at the ceiling, gasping for air.

  Our index fingers hooked together and the outside of my right foot rubbed against the same of his left.

  If the barn collapsed now, I wouldn’t have cared a bit. My life was complete and I was, in every way, totally content.

  Hayes pulled my hand to his face and he kissed each of my knuckles and then all around my wrist.

  “Girl, that was…I don’t even know the right words. You are…”

  “Fun is what that was. And I don’t know what I am, but you’re handsome and amazing and beautiful, and I don’t care that you’re a guy, you’re still beautiful.”

  “That was the coolest thing ever,” Hayes gushed.

  We rolled face to face and kissed, hands exploring each other’s bodies as if we were blind and expected to find something in braille on our respective backs. Or hips. Or chests.

  I lost track of the time, but eventually we realized the storm had blown through, and my momma would be wondering what became of us. She was probably driving the backroads of Whitmer at that very moment, or putting out an APB to her gossip network.

  We dressed slowly, and I was disappointed by each piece of clothing that obscured Hayes’ magnificent musculature. Climbing down the ladder was tougher than going up, as my body was stiff and in recovery mode.

  Climbing up onto Spearmint Patty was an ordeal, as was finding a comfortable position in which to ride. We bade farewell to our friend the owl and rode at a trot back toward my house.

  “I meant what I said back there, you know,” Hayes reminded me.

  “I meant it too,” I replied. “Hayes, I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

  The smile on his face lit up the now clearing sky and we rode quickly back home, both of us high on what had happened.

  The best day of your life and the worst can be the same day.

  I know this, because it happened to me.

  Hayes and I galloped home, delirious and high from our love, and also scared to death that my parents were going to kill me for being out so late. The sun was on its way to setting when we finally made it to my field.

  I’ll never forget the sight of the car pulling up our driveway. In Whitmer you can spot a stranger quick… we know everyone after all.

  As soon as I saw the men inside get out, my stomach dropped.

  “Hayes,” I said, clutching his arm. “I gotta go.... I love you, I’ll call you in a bit.”

  Hayes knew. He saw the men and he knew.

  “I’ll come in with you,” he said.

  “No,” I said. “Momma…”

  “I’m coming with you,” he said, steadfast. I was too sick with anxiety to fight him on it.

  We ran up to the house through the backdoor. Momma was letting them in as we approached the living room. Daddy was whittling something at the dining room table. When he saw Hayes with me, he gave me a look.

  “Sarah, you’re late. And we have a visitor.”

  I still can’t believe Daddy didn’t know who the visitor was.

  He was a tall man, in his dress blues. That was the first hint. He was accompanied by clergy, a priest I guessed. We were Baptists so I couldn’t have been sure who he was.

  Momma was pale. She let him in, even though I wanted to scream for her not to do it. The army didn’t send an officer and a priest when it was good news.

  But no one seemed to understand what was happening except for me and Hayes.

  “Hello!” she said as she opened the door. She was smiling and my heart ached for her.

  “Hello, ma’am,” the officer said, nodding. He made brief eye contact with me as he walked in, the priest trailing him, a somber look on his face.

  “Is this about Kevin?” Daddy asked, standing up. “Did he win a medal or something?”

  God. I’ll never forget the hopefulness in his voice.

/>   “No, sir,” the officer said. He looked at Momma. “You are the mother of Kevin T. Acres?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice wobbling now. She knew.

  “The Secretary of the Army regrets to inform you that your son, Corporal Kevin T. James, was killed in the Iraqi province of Kirkuk while defending the lives of his unit after a grenade was thrown into their Humvee…”

  The man said more. He kept talking. None of us heard any of it. All I can remember after that is the wails coming from my mother who had fallen to the floor in her grief, my father by her side with his arms wrapped around her.

  I screamed for him to leave. The priest tried to comfort all of us, but there was nothing he could do. They had come to obliterate our world.

  “Why?” I yelled at the officer. “Why him? Why Kevin?”

  He looked at me, his stoic face showing nothing. But I could see the sadness in his eyes as he said it.

  “In a million years,” he replied. “I’d never be able to answer that question. I wish I could. But I can’t. I am so sorry for your loss.”

  I believed him. I truly did. But it didn’t matter.

  All that mattered was that Kevin was gone. And he was never, not ever, coming back.

  6

  After my emotional reunion with the ghost of Kevin, I went back into the house. Momma was still napping and Daddy was still passed out.

  I sighed. I was now left to my own devices on the wraparound porch, where I took advantage of the downtime to catch up on my email with a glass of Momma’s sweet tea.

  Before long, a cloud of dust signaled a vehicle approaching the house, and as it got closer, I could make out a large, silver, late-model pickup.

  I remained on the rocking chair on the side of the house, waiting to see who would emerge from the truck. I was partially concealed where I was. I liked having the element of surprise on my side, especially since I hadn’t been into town yet and wanted to see certain people only on my terms.

  A tall, muscular man in jeans and a blue t-shirt got out and approached the house. It took me a moment to see his face beneath the baseball cap he wore and the shadows the house cast across the yard, but when I did, my flight or fight response sent a surge of adrenaline through me.