by Jess Bentley
He snorts. “That stallion tossed my ass to the ground, and if my dad hadn’t been close, he’d have stomped my butt, too.”
“How old were you?” I can so envision this man as a little boy, impish grin and zero ability to do what he’s told.
“Five. And up and ready to do it again a week later. But I stayed on the second time.”
“I’ll bet you did.” I pick at the wood fence. “Not exactly a fan of the rules are you?”
“I’m not the only one.”
Surprised, I look up and meet his far-too-knowing gaze. I swallow around the lump in my throat. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’ve got all three of my brothers so wrapped up in you right now that not a one of them can see straight. Even Joshua—and he doesn’t get wrapped up that I’ve ever seen.” He turns and faces away from the fence, then leans back with his arms wide. His fingertips are only a hair’s breadth from touching my arm. “And the damnedest part of it all, is I can see exactly why they are all knocked on their asses.”
“Can you, now?” My voice is so soft, and I can’t look at him. So I look out at a grazing bay horse instead. A beautiful mare, so quiet and serene. I wish I could find some of that serenity now.
“Oh yes.” He turns again, facing me. Far too close. And yet something inside of me wishes he was closer. “You’re like that stallion I just had to ride when I was a kid. Full of spirit. Beautiful. Untamable.”
Tears prick my eyes at his words, and I look up to meet his gaze. “You barely know me.”
He reaches out and slides his thumb down my jawline, never breaking eye contact. “I’m a good judge of character, honey.”
Moving achingly slowly, giving me time to move away, he leans down and presses his lips softly against my own. He doesn’t take my mouth, like I would have expected given his brash attitude and obvious confidence. Just a long, slow, press of his mouth against mine.
And then he pulls back, gives me a long, meaningful look, and starts to walk back toward the house.
I’m shaken. Shaken by how much his kiss makes me want to tell him to never stop. Shaken by yet another Hollister brother who has gotten under my skin in no time flat. Shaken by the fact that I want all four of them. And worse, I have feelings for them all. Ridiculously strong feelings for such a short amount of time.
I follow Tyler back to the house, wishing I could figure a way through this without hurting everyone involved.
I’m finishing my cup of tea when Trey walks into the kitchen. I know I’m not supposed to have much caffeine, but dammit, after last night and my insane walk with Tyler this morning I need a little bit of a boost.
“Good morning.” Trey greets me with a warm smile, and just the look, just seeing him, makes me tingle all over.
I start. Is it still morning? I glance at the microwave clock and confirm that it is indeed—for ten more minutes. So much has already happened this morning that it feels like it should be late afternoon, at least. “Good morning.”
“Hope you slept well.”
I can’t help it. A flash of the fantasy I’d had the night before pops into my brain. In full freaking color. I can feel my face heat and I stare firmly at my ceramic coffee cup. Finally, I manage to croak, “Fine, thanks.”
Trey looks at me knowingly, so I turn and grab a muffin before my expression can reveal too much. Why does it feel like these men can look directly into my soul, and worse, into my dirtiest thoughts?
“Would you like to see the rest of the ranch?” he asks.
I turn back to him, shocked. “There’s more?” How far had we driven around the other day? Miles and miles. At least, it felt that way.
“The ranch is thousands of acres. We saw a chunk of it the other day when I took you around, but there’s plenty more to see. I’d like to take you up to the high pasture. Show you what we’re doing up there.”
Trey’s reasoning is sound, perfectly professional. And I don’t get the feeling he’s lying to me. But...
His eyes are locked on me, and he seems to wait with a great deal of tension in his body. But despite my mixed-up feelings about Clay at the moment, I feel like I can trust Trey. I want to trust all of the Hollister brothers—even the one I’d only met the night before who strikes me as the kind of man who draws outside of the lines.
“I’d love to see it,” I say honestly.
“Good,” he says. Some of the tension seems to melt away from his body. I shove the rest of the muffin in my mouth as we walk to the truck. I let Trey do the talking, since he doesn’t have a mouthful of muffin. I’m afraid chunks of the delicious blueberry concoction may fly out of my mouth if I talk now. Not only would that be mortifying, but it’s freaking delicious and I don’t want to lose a single bite. These must have been made by hand by BethAnn. No way these things aren’t homemade.
Trey doesn’t seem to mind having to hold the conversation. He chats more about the ranch and the weather and probably any other topic coming to his mind. Once again, he opens the door for me, and I hop in the truck. And it suddenly strikes me—he’s nervous about something, the way he’s chattering on. What on earth could make this man nervous?
“So are any other brothers going to show up out of the woodwork?” I can’t help but ask. Because quite frankly I’m not sure what I will do if there are yet more Hollister brothers to try to figure out right now. And if they’re out there, they’d better not be handsome and impossible to resist.
He grimaces, ever so slightly. “There’re just the four of us. And to be quite honest with you, Tyler doesn’t show his face around here very often.”
I suddenly find myself far more fascinated with this conversation. I know that writing about the ranch is my job, and the work is interesting. However, I find the Hollister brothers themselves far more fascinating than the ranch. “Why is that?”
“Tyler’s had a rough time of it. He was only sixteen when our parents died, and that’s a hell of an age to lose your security like that.”
“Eighteen is a hardly an easy age to lose your parents, either,” I say gently.
His grip tightens on the steering wheel. “I was lucky. Joshua, Clay and I.” His voice fills with sadness and regret. “We were older, and we had each other. None of us took the initiative like we should’ve to reach out to Tyler. We concerned ourselves far too much with making sure he stayed on the straight and narrow path. All we did was drive him away.”
I reach out and touch his shoulder, an offering of support. “You were all just kids. And you can’t help that you three were born triplets and he was born later on.”
With his left hand he reaches over and places his hand on top of mine for a moment. When he releases me, I release him as well, returning my hand back to my side. “We didn’t realize he’d feel like an outsider. And we were all lost in our own grief for a while. By the time I got my head out of my own ass, Tyler was already getting in trouble with the law. We got him through high school—barely. But since then he’s mostly been off on his own.”
The loneliness Tyler must’ve felt tightens my chest. It’s hard enough losing your parents, but when you’re already the odd man out—the only sibling born apart—it has to make things feel unbearable for a kid that age.
He must have felt so alone.
I have to change the subject, otherwise thinking about that young man—the young man who was brave enough to hop on a horse his father warned him against more than once—is going to make me cry. Freaking pregnancy hormones so aren’t helping me stay tough. “So we’re going to the high pasture?”
“That’s where most of our cattle are at the moment. We’re trying something called holistic herding.”
I pull my little recorder out of my purse and then click it on and point it toward Trey. “Sounds interesting. Can you explain it to me a little bit?”
“It’s basically a more natural way of grazing for the cattle. Instead of one huge area where they can graze, we confine them through a fencing grid to one smaller area pe
r day. We move them every day, which gives the land more time to recover. It’s more labor intensive and definitely takes more fencing, but by the time you get them back to their starting point on the grid, the land has had enough time to recover.”
I nod, fascinated at his explanations of the carbon changes in the soil and how something so simple as rotating the cattle through can help so much. For just a short time, my personal worries aren’t at the forefront of my mind.
Trey pulls off the side of the road into a large field, and I click off my recorder. I scan the horizon, but I don’t see any cattle. I turn back to him to tell him I think he’s in the wrong spot, but he isn’t looking for livestock. His eyes are locked on me.
“No cattle?” I say, feeling inane. But Trey just watches me for a long moment, as if searching for something in my gaze. The tension in the truck is so thick I almost want to hop out, get away. But I have to hear what Trey has to say.
“I misled you when I asked you to come out here with me today.”
Confusion cuts through some of the tension coursing through me. “What you mean?”
“I brought you up here to show you the cattle, which is still a ways up that road.” He nods at the road we’d been driving down until he pulled off. “But I also brought you out here because I wanted to talk to you alone. And that’s tough to do around the house with everyone coming in and out all the time.”
“What did you want to talk to me about, Trey?” I say, my voice soft. I feel like I already know, but I don’t dare guess wrong. Not with something like this.
He unbuckles his seatbelt and moves a little closer to me in the truck. He reaches out his hands for mine, and, unable to resist, I unbuckle my seatbelt as well and take his hands.
“I want you more than any woman since—” He shakes his head and glances down. But a split second later, his intense gaze is locked again on mine. His deep blue eyes carry no guile, just full, honest emotion. “Since my wife died.”
All of the air leaves the truck, and I squeeze Trey’s hands. I can’t find words for a long moment. “Your wife ?”
Trey nods, expression grave. “Claire. Her name was Claire.”
Nausea hits me. Oh, God. Poor Trey. “Was,” I say.
It isn’t a question, but Trey seems to take it as one. “She died, years ago. She was my high school sweetheart.” His jaw tenses. “I wasn’t where I should have been.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault,” I say, words rushing out of me. My heart aches for him, and my chest is so tight that I think I might burst into tears at any moment.
“I was out on the range and I should have been there.” He squeezes my hands and I squeeze his back in support. “The ambulance didn’t get there in time to save her.”
I ache for him. And I want to point out all the arguments he’s no doubt heard before. That if the ambulance couldn’t get there in time, he couldn’t have done any better. That working out on the range is what he does, and I’m certain that Claire wouldn’t have expected anything different. That it wasn’t his fault.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, instead. Because there isn’t anything I can say to help him. I want so badly to ease his pain, but there’s not a damn thing I can do to help.
He gives me a tight smile. “Thank you. I appreciate that. I just...needed you to know where I’m coming from. Why I don’t do casual sex the same way Clay does. Why I’ve acted like a damn monk the last eight years.”
Eight years. How heartbreaking must it have been for him to lose his wife so young—he must have been barely in his mid-twenties. And so soon after his parents... It is difficult to imagine.
My voice is soft when I ask, “Why did you bring me out here, Trey?”
“I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone since...” He shakes his head. “What I need to know is, do you want me, too?”
I say the first dumb thing that pops in my head. “Clay—”
“This isn’t about Clay,” he says, emphatically. “I’ve told Clay how I feel about you. And call me crazy, but I don’t give a shit about your history together. I care about you, and me, and this feeling between us. I think it’s real, but I need to make sure it’s real for you, too.” He rubs his thumbs over my hands. “Maybe this isn’t a happily ever after kind of thing. But whatever this is, however temporary, it isn’t something that happens to me every day. And I don’t want to let this go without exploring it.”
I’m speechless. I’m stunned at his forwardness—so freaking sexy when a man is willing to put himself out there for something that he wants. I’m stunned my history with Clay doesn’t bother him. But most of all I’m stunned at how much I want this. “There are reasons... Reasons that this is a bad idea.” I look down at my hands and watch his thumbs rhythmically glide over my skin.
“The reasons you have—those are just the details. What I need to know—all I need to know—is do you want me as much as I want you?”
I look up and meet his intense gaze. Did I want Trey? Hell yes, I did. The problem is, I want all of them. It is greedy of me, selfish. But it is what it is. Plus... I’m pregnant with Clay’s child. It doesn’t get more complicated than that.
But in this moment, with Trey’s eyes on me, I agree with him. It’s all just details.
“I want you,” I admit. “I want you so much it scares me.”
That’s all Trey needs before pulling me into his arms.
His kiss is different from Clay’s, which honestly, is kind of a relief. I noticed it when we fooled around on the pool table, but I’m elated to find it true in the light of day. The passion is there, that’s for sure. But it’s more controlled. He takes command, sweeping his tongue between my lips in a way that brooks no argument, that allows no recourse.
When he pulls back, we’re both breathless.
“Come with me,” he says. And before I can argue, before I can tell him I don’t want to go anywhere until he fulfills the promise of that kiss, he’s out of the truck.
I turn and open my door.
“Watch your step!” he calls from behind the truck.
I grimace. I’ll never live down falling into that stupid hole. Taking great care, I step out of the truck. Not a hole in sight.
“This way,” he murmurs, suddenly very close behind me. Close enough that I can feel the heat of his body against my back.
He’s carrying a blanket over one arm that he must’ve gotten from his toolbox when I was still the truck. With his free hand, he takes my hand and leads me away from the truck.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“It’s close,” he replies.
Hand in hand, we silently walk the rest of the way. He leads me to a small clearing that is only a couple of minutes walk away from where we parked the truck. My mouth drops open at the site. Gorgeous doesn’t cover it. It’s grassy with wildflowers dotting the landscape. Brush and trees block this little slice of heaven from sight. A person would have to stumble right on top of it in order to see anything going on inside.
It’s perfect.
“I always liked this spot. And it’s more private than the road.” He gives me a meaningful look, expression serious. “I’m not expecting anything, but I wanted to spend a little time with you alone. And this place just felt right.”
“It’s just lovely, Trey,” I say, squeezing his hand with mine. He leads me a little further into the clearing, before releasing my hand and spreading the blanket. It’s large enough for both of us to fit on it comfortably, and I shiver at the sight of it. Of what it could mean.
“If you’re not sure—” he starts, seeing my shiver. “Like I said, we can just talk.” His smile is almost boyish. “I’d be happy to spend an afternoon just talking to you.”
“No. I mean, yes. I’m sure.” And I am. My feelings for each of the Hollister brothers are complex. But why psychoanalyze it? In this moment, there is just me and Trey. And a passion between us that needs to be quenched.
“Good.” And then he kisses me.
Surrendering isn’t in my nature, but I want to surrender to him. His hands slide up and down my body, caressing, massaging, exploring.
I slide my hands up his muscular chest, exploring myself. His body is as hard as a rock, and I can feel his erection, even harder, pressing against my stomach.
Trey breaks our kiss again and steps back. His eyes locked on me, he and takes my T-shirt and pulls it off over my head. Then, with clever fingers, he undoes my bra and releases my breasts.
The breeze touches my skin, caressing. Above us, the sun shines down and warms me, keeping the breeze from being too cold. And under Trey’s gaze, my nipples tighten and harden. For a long moment he does nothing but look. And then he holds my face with both hands and kisses me softly.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs against my lips. “Even more stunning than I could have imagined.”
And in that moment, I feel as beautiful as I’ve ever felt. And it makes me wild for him.
Ignoring his protests about wanting to go slow, I yank his shirt off and toss it in the general direction of the blanket, not even caring if it makes there. His pants are next, and I kneel down to undo the button fly of his jeans and tug the zipper down. Then, careful not to catch his hardness, I tug down his pants and boxers.
His cock springs free, fucking majestic in the sunlight. He’s long and thick and as perfect as any man ever made.
I have to taste him.
Trey gasps above me when I take the tip of his cock into my mouth. But he doesn’t try to stop me. Instead, his hand moves to the back of my head. Not trying to control what I’m doing but touching me, encouraging me all the same.
His musky scent touches my nose as I lick his shaft and then take him further into my mouth. He tastes masculine and raw, with just a touch of saltiness. He’s rock hard yet so soft to the touch.