As we drove by the large patch of land with the dead soil that I had seen from Pines Ledge that morning, I asked Billie to pull over.
“Callum said your family tried to plant sugar canes here?” I asked him as we sat idling side by side.
“That’s right,” he said and then launched into the history of the preserve. It was definitely interesting to hear it from his point of view. There was pride in his voice as well as a bit of awe.
Apparently his great grandfather and his four sons started in the cattle business but then bought this land and turned it into the preserve it had become today. Animals were hunted on this property for several decades in conjunction with county ordinances that got stricter over the years.
“Did you know that boars are not indigenous to Florida?” Billie asked in an excited voice, as if he were delivering a history lesson, and in a way I could see him in a classroom doing just that.
“I didn’t,” I said, looking around the property as if one of them might come charging out at me.
“Nope. They just pass through sometimes because they like a pine woodland best, next to marshes of course,” he said with a chuckle and I wondered if he could sense my fear as I squeezed the handlebars until my fingers were bloodless.
“Are they feral?” I asked in the calmest voice I could muster.
“Nah, they’re mostly just like any other animal making use of the land,” he said and I relaxed. “The feral ones you hear about probably have rabies.”
“Rabies?” I nearly shot off in the ATV to get back to the safety of the house.
“You should see your face.” A hearty laugh burst from Billie’s throat. “You are definitely a city boy. We haven’t seen a wild boar around here in ages.”
I shook my head and snickered along with him. I climbed off the four-wheeler to get a closer look at the soil. I scooped a pile of the brittle dirt in my fingers.
“You guys have a lot of weeds,” I said, noticing the amount of leaves protruding from the flat landscape in the field.
“Yeah,” he said, bending down with me. “Callum said they were probably choking the sugar cane roots.”
“You have to keep up with the growth,” I said, crumbling the dirt in my fingers. “But it can be a demanding job.”
Sugar canes were known to be pretty resilient, so to see this field completely barren was a wonder. I picked up one of the abandoned leaves and noticed a spiky, crooked pattern traveling down to the rib of the plant. Some bits of information from one of my insect entomology classes niggled in the back of my brain.
“What did your family use the sugar canes for?” I asked, also wondering what kind of fertilizer they had used. The best kind for these types of plants was supposed to come from poultry. I’d have to ask Callum or Grammy about it.
“To make syrup,” Billie said wistfully. “It was called Montgomery’s Sweet.”
“Cool. Was it better than the syrup I just ate with my pancakes?” I asked.
Come to think of it, the bottle looked store bought, probably locally, but still delicious.
“That’s what Grammy says,” he said, patting the dirt from his knees, as he stood up. “People would place orders months in advance.”
Bullseye nudged at Billie’s hand and he gently slid his fingers through the hair behind his ears. Their relationship was pretty wondrous to witness, as if so in tune with one another.
“What is it that Bullseye does?” I asked, my eyes fixed on Billie’s fingers as the dog’s mouth drooped open and a lazy tongue lolled out. “To warn you of a seizure? If you don’t mind my asking.”
His eyes sprang up to meet mine and a small smile played across his lips. “He nuzzles my neck to wake me up. And then licks at my mouth. The trainer said it was to make sure I wasn’t choking on saliva.”
“I wonder if Bullseye even realizes how special he is,” I said, my voice pitched in astonishment, as I watched Billie brush his coat for a second more. “But I have a feeling he probably does.”
“Ready to ride some more?” Billie asked, his leg already slung over the seat. I wondered if he ever got this much time to explore on a regular basis with everybody so busy on the preserve. It made me happy that I could spend some time with him.
I climbed on the four-wheeler and we had just gotten back on the trail when shots rang out.
10
Dean
I nearly drove off the side of the road. “What the hell was that?”
“My brothers are with a group of hunters that rented out the property this morning,” he shouted over the din of the motor. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”
“Is it safe?” I asked, the pancakes from earlier sloshing around my belly.
“Of course,” he said and veered down another trail to lead us toward the direction of the noise.
As we drove into the clearing, I spotted a large multileveled wooden structure. There was a group of hunters spread out along each tier, rifles hoisted on their shoulders. I had never seen anything like it. The men shot at something in the distance, their attention focused solely on the targets.
I pulled the ATV to a stop next to Billie and Bullseye. “It’s called a wobble deck and it’s popular in these parts for target practice.”
I watched as something flew into the airspace and as a hunter took aim, the object fell to the ground with a thud. My heart was thumping hard in my chest, bile crawling up the back of my throat. No way I could sit around while animals were being killed right before my eyes. I might be a guest but that didn’t mean I had to partake in anything I didn’t want to.
“What are they shooting at?” I asked, my pulse spiking. In another second I was going to tell him I needed to get the hell out of here.
Billie shrugged. “Clay.”
My head snapped toward the target. “Not quail?”
Billie’s eyes narrowed. “That takes place in the forest, especially since quail nest on the ground, and you have to be wearing your hunter orange.”
I felt my chest loosen. So they weren’t offering up random animals for these men to take direct shots at. There were rules and proffered times. Even though Callum had said so, I still needed to see it with my own eyes. I was glad in that moment it was Billie who happened to be answering my questions and not one of the other brothers.
“Do you hunt quail?” I asked Billie as he watched the men whoop and holler over their baffling recreational activity.
“I have,” he said, looking a little uncomfortable. “Daddy has taken me out a couple of times. But I didn’t enjoy it.”
I arched my eyebrow. “How come?”
“Guess I’m too much of a softie,” he said, his lip curling upward. “Daddy says I’d rather make friends with the animals.”
Damn, I liked this kid. He smiled ruefully as if he knew we’d be co-conspirators in that mindset.
“But I love shooting the clay,” he said and then pointed at the machine that helped launch the targets into the air.
Billie’s phone buzzed in his pocked and he fished out his cell. When he looked at the screen, a smile crept across his face. For the first time, I wondered about the social life of a fifteen year old who suffered from epilepsy and used a therapy dog to help stave off seizures.
In the city, it would be easy for him to head out the door to meet friends at a coffee shop or movie theatre. But out here, it might’ve felt isolating. Maybe a whole other online persona played out for a kid who was raised on a preserve in a small town. Or maybe again, I was making too many assumptions.
Now that my breathing was under control, I focused in on Callum and Braden standing behind the wobble deck, having a conversation. Callum gazed over at us several times and there was a hint of something that passed through his gaze.
If I didn’t know any better I would’ve said it was interest. Definitely in what Billie and I were up to, but more than that—something that felt a lot like attraction. But that didn’t fit Callum’s reticence and his snappish frustration with me. I was probably
reading too much into it just because the man was one hulking giant with sex appeal oozing out of his pores. Standing beside his brother who was also tall, Callum still dwarfed him. Maybe it wasn’t his sheer size, but more like his aura. It held me captive every single time.
Except I kept thinking about what Cassie had shared with me. That she’d never seen Callum with a woman and that something had changed his senior year of high school. It all hedged too close to home in the back of my brain.
The hunting group had finished target practice and headed to their vehicles. Braden and Callum were talking to the man who probably organized all it for his buddies and took turns shaking his hand. I wondered if he was a regular customer.
“Want to try it?” Billie’s voice broke through my thoughts.
“What?” I asked, angling my head. “Shooting at clay targets?”
“Yep,” he said. “If you’re interested, Callum will let me do it, too.”
He sounded so young right then and it made me wonder just how strict and overprotective his siblings were with him. Or at least Callum, since Billie appeared to look at him with stars in his eyes.
“I’ve never shot a gun in my life,” I said and Billie’s eyes widened. “But I guess I’d be curious to give it a try.”
Where in the hell had that thought come from? Was I just doing this for Billie’s sake? I had never once given the idea of holding a weapon any consideration. But everything I thought I knew or believed had been flipped on its head the last couple of days.
As we walked toward Billie’s brothers I felt uncomfortable under Callum’s scrutiny. Would he think I was just trying to ass kiss if I asked more questions about their family business? Truth was, I did want to know more about everything.
Braden waved to the trucks pulling away from the field, as Callum’s gaze seemed to burn into mine.
“You want a turn, Billie?” Braden said around a smile, and I got the impression that he was the more lenient brother.
“Yeah,” Billie said in an excited voice. “Dean does too.”
“Is that right?” Callum said and I felt a blush creep across my cheeks.
11
Dean
“Well,” I said, attempting to keep my gaze averted from Callum’s eyes because damn did this man lure me right in. “Billie kind of twisted my arm.”
Callum’s lip curved in a smirk as he watched Billie and Braden head up to the first level tier. Billie wasted no time getting right to the task, maybe because he knew Callum was distracted.
“Can I use the Rugar Red Label?” Billie asked with a sense of awe in his voice.
I drew closer to the steps to watch Billie more closely. If I was going to do this, I needed to figure out what the hell I was getting myself into.
“You guys built this structure?” I asked Callum once I reached the top of the very sturdy staircase.
“I helped my daddy when I was a teen,” he said coming up behind me. “We weatherproof it every year to make sure it lasts.”
I looked closely at the design of the different level decks. “Impressive.”
“How’s that?” he asked as his arm brushed against my shoulder.
“A lot of things around here look hand built and well preserved,” I said, getting a good view of the property from up here, which was a different angle from Pines Ledge on our run this morning.
“In order to run a successful business, you can’t have stuff falling apart,” he said, like it was the simplest philosophy in the world. As we watched Billie place the earmuffs and protective goggles over his eyes, Braden handed a couple more sets to Callum. “You might want to wear these.”
Billie began shooting at the target and from where I was standing seemed to have decent aim. He was smiling ear-to-ear and high fiving Braden after every round of three shots as he moved through the deck levels away from us.
“Billie showed me the sugar cane field,” I said, as I adjusted the gear on my ears to help blot out the sound.
Callum’s eyebrows rose but he didn’t say anything, probably wondering why the hell I was curious about the dead zone in the first place.
“You’ve got to keep up with weeding and maybe try chicken manure next time,” I said, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. I waited for the fallout from Callum, who was sure to have some sort of flippant remark.
I knew by now he would think I was trying to outwit or lecture him, but I was only in pursuit of an intelligent conversation. At least that was what I told myself. Yeah, he pushed my buttons, but on some level I must’ve enjoyed our discussions as well as our contact or I wouldn’t continually try to seek him out.
“Is that what you learn in them fancy biology labs?” he asked, as he placed the shielding glasses over his eyes.
“Amongst other things,” I said, refusing to be uncomfortable or to back down. “I also want to go back to the field and take a closer look. I think you might have a problem with Schistocerca Americana, otherwise known as the American grasshopper.”
“Say what?” Callum said, his mouth dropping open.
“Believe it or not they can cause damage to sugar cane crops. It looked like they had chewed the leaves down to the root,” I said. “That probably helped the plant lose most of its photosynthetic tissue and die.”
“Holy Christ,” Callum said with something like awe in his eyes. I’d admit, I liked seeing it there. “I have a degree in agriculture and even I didn’t know that.”
“You have a degree?” I asked, and as soon as I said the words I knew it had come out all wrong. Mouth, insert foot. “What I mean is—”
“Let me guess,” he said, gritting his teeth. “You assumed I was an uneducated redneck?”
“No, Callum,” I said, shaking my head fervently. “I don’t think that of you at all. You…well…you’re probably one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.”
I held in my gasp wondering why in the hell I had blurted that out. A line of crimson spread across his neck as we stared each other down, both of us breathing heavily from the exchange.
“Come on then,” he said, his voice tempering. “I’ll show you how to shoot using the twenty eight gauge.”
He reached for the shotgun that had been leaning against the railing and demonstrated a hold for me. Then he stood behind me, as he positioned the rifle on my shoulder.
“You just aim and shoot,” he said, and I felt his breath against my hairline. “Though you might be better off at the target range for your first time out, because the gear is more stable and built for beginner’s practice.”
He leaned over to help me adjust my fingers on the trigger. I could smell him. Pine and earth and musk. He wore his black baseball cap today and the brim slid across my ear.
A shiver raced through me as his hand rested heavily on my shoulder. It was large and warm and it made me want to know what it would feel like to be wrapped up in his embrace.
He motioned to Braden on the ground below and he pushed some button to begin the practice round.
“Pull the lever as soon as you see the object,” he said, his voice thick. “And watch for the recoil.”
He stepped back and as the clay shot up in the air, I jerked the trigger, and nearly flew back against his chest. “Holy shit, that’s powerful.”
I totally missed the target, but firing that weapon was heady regardless. I could actually understand why it might prove addicting. I mean, if I can shoot at enemy targets in Call of Duty on the X-Box, in person was way more exhilarating.
Except that animals were not the enemy, unless they were a threat of some sort. Neither were humans. But these clay targets could be.
“On your next pull,” Callum said, positioning my fingers again. His front was against my back and hell if I didn’t plump up a bit behind my zipper. “Hold it more firmly right here. Or your shoulder is going to be killing you.”
And holy fuck, there it was. No way could I mistake it. Callum had a boner.
It felt like his heartbeat was playing chase
with my own as the blood rushed my eardrums. I wanted him to take me right there. For his lips to press into my neck, his fingertips to leave indentations on my skin.
A hum burst from my throat before I could even stop myself.
“Shit,” I heard him swear under his breath as he pulled back.
I had no idea how to even respond to my seductive noise or his thickening length, so I chose to ignore it. Maybe it was….hell I didn’t know. Maybe shooting got him excited. I was feeling pretty high myself in that moment.
I shot a couple more rounds as Callum stood further back, allowing me plenty of room. With him a distance away, I felt like I could breathe again. I didn’t dare look at him. Who knew what in the fuck was going on in his head?
I missed the second round of targets but on the next try, I got a corner of one of them.
“There you go,” Callum said but kept his eyes averted from me.
As I caught my breath and stretched out my shoulder, I heard the sound of a truck pulling up. It was the same kind as last night, but this time a younger man jumped out.
“Who’s that?” I asked over my shoulder.
“That’s the infamous Jerry,” Callum said in a gruff voice.
“I can see the appeal,” I said, admiring his lean physique and handsome face. What was it with country boys? I could feel Callum staring at me for that remark. Damn. “I mean…”
“Callum, what’s up?” Jerry shouted from down below. He watched as Billie shot again. “Nice one, Billie.”
Callum nodded, looking down at his neighbor. “Jerry.”
“Just stopped by to see if you need help with the wedding prep,” he said and then made eye contact with me. “Who have we got here?”
Well this should be interesting. I looked at Callum who seemed to be formulating his response.
The Deepest Blue (Roadmap to Your Heart #2) Page 6