Rough Country (Tannen Boys Book 3)

by Lauren Landish

  Do people actually do that? Sounds like Bobby does.

  He gathers me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me, and I feel him lay a sweet kiss to the top of my head. “It’s all good. Go home and get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  For a second, I think he knows about Shay’s secret plan, but then I realize he’s talking about dinner here tomorrow night. “Yeah, tomorrow,” I agree, keeping the surprise.

  Chapter 11

  Willow

  I get to Unc’s a little before noon, figuring he’ll be out the door to pull the opening shift at the bar. I’m maybe a bit too early, though, because his truck is still sitting in the drive, so I loop around the block, not wanting to get busted.

  As I drive down the side street, I see Unc making his way from the house to his blue Chevy long-bed pickup. He’s limping, but it’s not as bad as yesterday, so maybe the extra day of rest did help a bit. I hope I have him set up well enough that today isn’t too much for him. I cross my fingers and toes that he keeps the pockets of his baggy jeans on a stool all day long and doesn’t run Olivia ragged.

  Once he pulls away, I pull into his driveway spot and climb out. Stretching my arms toward the blue sky, I eye my mission of the day.

  “You’re going down,” I tell the weeds in the flowerbeds. I’d like to think they cower in fear, but it’s more likely the breeze blowing them around.

  I get to work, pulling weeds first then trimming up the small but overgrown bushes. It’s back-breaking work, but I’m glad to tackle it so Unc doesn’t have to, or worse, pay someone to do it. Not that he would. He’d rather let the whole place fall to shambles than admit he couldn’t handle things with his own two bony hands.

  I even manage to pull out the couple of cracked edging pieces and flip them around so the unblemished side of the concrete is facing forward. I’ll sneak back over and replace them at some point, but I wasn’t sure how many I’d need so I couldn’t buy them at the hardware store this morning.

  By the time I’m done, my shirt is soaked through with sweat, my shoulders are a bit pink from the sun, and my heart is full of butterflies. It looks great, maintained and cared for, but not so drastically different that Unc will pull up and immediately notice that something’s changed.

  That had been my worry about adding any flowers or doing anything too major. Unc would probably have a fit, and this way, with it being such a minor update, maybe he won’t even realize it. That’s my hope, anyway—to be able to take care of him without abusing his sense of pride and independence.

  I head back home, those butterflies moving into my belly. I need to shower and get dressed to head out to Bobby’s for Shayanne’s surprise plan. What do you wear to ambush your boyfriend?

  Boyfriend?

  A small laugh bubbles up at the idea of Bobby as a boy-anything. He’s all man, from the top of his dark hair to the tips of his booted feet and everywhere in between. Well, I assume as much from what I’ve felt through his jeans, I think with a smile.

  I’d like to know for real, but the way he’s slowing us down physically while speeding us up emotionally is unexpected and keeping me on edge. Hunger, want, need, lust, and true enjoyment of his attention all bloom like little seeds he planted deep inside me, growing at a pace he sets.

  In the shower, I take the time to shave everywhere because I know that it’s only a matter of time and I want to be ready whenever Bobby is. I am ready, so ready I consider taking matters into my own hands the way Bobby said he’s done. But I wait, knowing that while I’m good, I want this orgasm from him, not a weak imitation where I’m fantasizing about his fingers gracefully playing me like that guitar he loves.

  After applying a bit of aloe to my shoulders and lotion to my legs, I get dressed in cutoff shorts and a fresh T-shirt, knotting it at my waist. I choose my work tennis shoes because if I’m going to be in with the goats, I’ll want something more protective than my Walmart flip-flops.

  I’m about to head out when my phone rings.

  “Hey, Mom,” I answer.

  “Willow Grace Parker, I have not heard from you in two weeks. Unless you’ve taken up a vow of silence, there’s no excuse,” she replies, a smile in her voice. Funny thing is, she’s not kidding. I did vow to stay quiet once, in protest for something I’ve forgotten about now but which had seemed hugely important at the time. The silence had lasted almost a week before I’d given up. If I remember correctly, it was to beg for a candy bar.

  “No vow of silence this time, Mom. I’ve been working six days a week, lunch to close.” She knows that already but has probably already forgotten if she’s been head down in her art or someone else’s.

  “Oh, I didn’t catch you at a bad time then, did I? I just wanted to check in and see how things are going.”

  “No, I’m heading out, but I have a few minutes. And things are going really well. I went over this morning and cleaned up Unc’s flower beds, without telling him, of course,” I say, smiling to myself. “He’s actually taken the last couple of days off too and left me to take care of the bar, so that’s good progress.”

  Mom hums agreement.

  “Well, except in return, he gave me today off. Hence, the yardwork,” I muse, seeing her point. “But I left him well set up to sit on his butt all day, and I set Olivia on him. I also filled in Unc’s friends to do a drive-by pre-poker game check too.”

  “You are such a kind-hearted girl, Willow,” she says proudly. “How’s Hank look?”

  I consider that carefully. “Lean, frail, bit pale sometimes. But he’s fighting hard, which is good. Nobody here seems to know what’s going on with him, so I’m keeping my mouth shut too. Seems like that’s how he wants it.”

  “Figures. Stubborn ass is just like Dad. I wish I could come out there, but I think seeing me would just hurt him more. I’m glad you’re there, though, sweetie. He doesn’t know how lucky he is.” She’s getting choked up, and I know that she truly wishes she could be here. Unc was in my life until I was a teenager, but he was Mom’s favorite (and only) uncle for her whole life until Grandpa and him had their row.

  She blows her nose in my ear and rallies. “So, a day of freedom then? Are you off to take photos? I’ve seen your recent work, and I must say, the new subject matter you’re discovering there is compelling. You’re doing a phenomenal job of showcasing a different slice of life in stunning detail.”

  Her compliments go straight to my heart, meaning more than she could ever know. Mom is an amazing artist herself and knows art when she sees it, when she feels it. So for her to appreciate my work is a huge confidence booster.

  I laugh a little, awkwardly telling her, “Yes, of goats, if you can believe that. Bobby’s sister, Shayanne, invited me out to see their goats. And to surprise him, too.”

  I told Mom about Bobby after we first met, about his voice and his punching out the handsy customer, but we haven’t really talked much since then for me to share with her the way things have gotten more serious between Bobby and me.

  “Ooh, Singing Bobby?” she squeals, as if that’s his given name. “The one with the growly, honey voice and the mean right hook?” Mom clarifies, throwing my own words back at me.

  “That’d be him. We’re . . . dating?” I answer.

  “That sounded like a question mark. Are you or aren’t you? You can tell me if it’s nothing more than a casual hook-up situation. I’m hip like that, Willow.”

  The bad thing is . . . she is. She’s hipper than I am, by far. I could probably tell her that I’ve taken up group orgies wearing horse reins and going full-on pony play and she wouldn’t blink if it made me happy and I was following my heart. But, for all the creative free-spiritedness I got from my mother, I’m more of a prude than she is and not usually a casual sex girl. In fact, I only know about pony play because I watched a video that popped up on my feed, and I’d been careful to clear my history after curiosity got to me just in case the algorithm logistics decided I wanted more of that, because I definitely do not.
Not my cup of tea at all.

  “It’s not like that, Mom. It’s more serious, but we’re taking things slow-ish,” I tell her, not sure how to explain the way Bobby looks at me, owning my mind and claiming my body, even if we haven’t had sex yet.

  “It’s not slow, nor fast. It’s just right and will take as long as it takes for as long as it lasts, sweetie. Remember that,” she says sagely, sounding like fortune cookie advice.

  “Thanks, Mom. I’d better go. It’s a bit of a drive out to the farm, and I want to double-check on Unc before I head out. Love you.”

  “Okay, call me if you need anything. Love you, Willow.”

  The click is final, and I hadn’t realized until just now how much I miss her. Time has flown by in the few weeks I’ve been in Great Falls, my new routine becoming as comfortable as yoga pants and oversized T-shirts. But I’m not just lazing about. I’m getting out there, making friends and stretching myself creatively. Like Mom said, away from the city, I’m finding a compelling new view to explore, both around me and within me.

  A quick text to Olivia lets me relax that Unc is doing fine at the bar, and remarkably, he is sitting on his butt, for the most part. As expected, he grumbled about my liquor rearranging, but Olivia sent me a picture of Unc tilting the stool back on two legs to reach the bottles instead of getting up now. The balancing act makes me nervous too, but I guess it’s better than laps behind the bar.

  Mind and heart at ease, I feel free to focus on this surprise visit.

  Following the GPS’s directions, I find myself stopped in front of a large gate that says Tannen. I’m so excited to see where Bobby lives because it feels like who he is, but there’s a tiny bit of nerves still swirling because he didn’t do the inviting.

  Not leaving me any chance at backing out, I see a horse galloping toward me, a plume of dust billowing up behind it and a banner of light brown hair blowing on the rider.

  “You came!” Shayanne screams before she even gets close enough for me to hear, but I can read her lips clearly.

  “I did,” I say softly, since there’s no chance she’ll hear me through the closed window. But I nod and smile, feeling slightly surer about this.

  She climbs off, letting the horse nibble on grass as she opens the gate, then spastically waves a hand to guide me through. Once I’m on the other side, she closes it and hops back on the horse. I follow her down the long dirt driveway, parking in front of a two-story house.

  This is Bobby’s house, I think excitedly.

  I want to explore every nook and cranny, study each room to see what makes him tick and what created this man who has stolen my heart. But Shayanne doesn’t lead me to the house, instead flagging me over to her.

  I approach the horse slowly, having never been around them before.

  “C’mere, girl. He won’t bite ya. Promise,” she reassures me as though she’s not sitting astride a one-thousand-pound animal with a mind and will of its own.

  I get a bit closer, step by step, holding out my hand like you do with an unfamiliar dog to let the horse sniff me. He snorts, scaring me, and I jump a bit. “Ah!”

  Shayanne laughs, patting the horse’s neck. “You really are a city girl, ain’t ya?”

  I glare back and her grin widens. Getting a little more comfortable since the horse hasn’t bitten my hand, I work up to gently rubbing his nose. Snout? Muzzle? I don’t know the proper terminology, but it’s soft as velvet under my fingertips.

  “Can I take his picture?” I whisper, not wanting to spook the animal.

  With no such worries, Shayanne says, “Hell, yeah. He’d love to be your model.”

  I grab my camera bag from the passenger seat of the car, throwing it easily over one shoulder and letting it hang on the opposite hip to take my baby out. Holding it up to my eye, I find the horse through the lens, framing the shot that I want.

  Click.

  Adjust and do it again. And then again.

  As though he heard Shayanne’s prediction, he holds still and lets me snap away as many shots as I want. I even switch to my phone for a few so that I can do a quick post online of the shadowed contrast leading to his beautiful eyes which stare me down.

  “All right, let’s get this show on the road. I can’t wait to see Bobby’s reaction, not George’s,” Shay says with another pat of the horse’s neck. “Actually, I’m guessing if you’ve never seen a horse, you might not be ready to ride yet. Let me put him in the barn and we’ll take the Gator.”

  I have no idea why she’d have an alligator here or how that’s supposed to be better than a horse, but she’s gone toward the barn before I can ask. She reappears a moment later on a big golf cart on steroids, pulling up to wave me inside. I climb in, and she takes off like a bullet, seeming to know exactly where she’s going.

  The rolling land gives way to a horizon of crops and trees. Getting closer, I can see two large silhouettes breaking the even spacing of the tree trunks. Bobby and Brutal.

  Shayanne stops the Gator, and I get out. As soon as I’m clear of the vehicle, one of the silhouettes starts moving my way. Shayanne was excited to see me here, but Bobby is literally running toward me.

  “Willow?” he shouts. “You’re here!” He scoops me up in his arms, spinning me around in a circle and squeezing a laugh out of me.

  Putting my feet back on the ground, he asks, “What are you doing here?”

  I have that moment of doubt, but the light in his dark eyes burns it away in a flash. “Shay said it would be a good surprise and promised me pictures of the goats.”

  He rumbles, promising, “You can take pictures of any damn thing you want to.”

  He hasn’t let go of me, his arms still wrapped around my waist tightly as if he’s checking to make sure I’m real. I can feel his heart pounding with excitement beneath my palms as he presses his forehead to mine, breathing me in like I’m his oxygen.

  Shayanne jumps in, breaking our sexy stare down to threaten, “I might have to hold you to that. But she’s mine first because I had the balls to invite her out, unlike some people.” Her fingers grip around my arm and pull me to her side like I’m a toy they’re fighting over.

  Bobby growls at Shayanne, “Fuck that.”

  I can’t help but laugh at his reaction, teasing dryly, “Yeah, I’m totally just here for the goats. That’s the only reason.” I give him a head to toe check, taking in the sweaty hair sticking out of his ballcap, the dirty shirt and jeans that are molded to him like a second skin, and that white smile amid the scruff I want to rub against like a cat with a scratching post.

  “Yeah, she likes your ugly face too, for some reason,” Shay taunts with an eye roll. “But goats first, asshole brothers second.” She holds up one finger for the goats, but instead of a second for Bobby, she just points at him.

  “Fine, the goats are cute, I guess. But don’t leave, okay?” He seems genuinely concerned that I might disappear into thin air, and I realize that my being here means something to him the same way it does to me. We’ve gotten so close, intimate, really, but it’s mostly been within the confines of Hank’s—never at my place, and never at his. How can that be for someone I’m this in tune with? I feel like I would be able to pinpoint him in a crowd, my heart drawn to him like a magnet.

  “You might have to call Chief Gibson to get me out of here now that I’m past the gate,” I threaten with a smile.

  He shakes his head, pinning me in place with a heated look. “Never.”

  Shay pulls my arm again. “Okay, loverboy. Enough for now. We’re going up to see the goats.”

  “Not Baarbara,” he warns, and Shay rolls her eyes in a solid ‘duh’ response.

  She nearly shoves me back into the Gator and pulls away, spinning the tires in the grass. “I figure we have about thirty minutes before he comes sniffing around again, so we’ll have to cut short the tour of Tannen Farm and stick with just the goats.” Talking to herself more than me, she adds, “He’d probably kill me if I went anywhere else, anyway.” But
there’s an evil little glint in her eye that makes it seem like she’d like to see Bobby try.

  In the pen, we’re instantly surrounded by baaing goats of every color and size. They go for Shay, and she scratches behind their ears, so I follow her lead. “Keep your camera up high or they’ll take it right out of your hands.”

  I do as she suggests but ultimately go a step further and set my bag outside the gate in favor of focusing on the adorable animals. The goats aren’t nearly as scary as George was, mostly because of their smaller size.

  Before long, I’m sitting in the dirt with a small, brown-spotted goat in my lap, petting its wiry hair and smiling wide. “Look, Shay. It’s licking me,” I whisper, delighted.

  I look up to find her snapping a picture of me with her phone. I’m not used to that, never the subject of my own photography beyond a hand here or a leg there. Once or twice, I’ve shown a snippet of my face, basically a close-up of my eye so that I stay anonymous. But Shayanne is taking a full-frame shot of me and little Trollie. I look down shyly, but Trollie chooses that moment to lick my face.

  “Ah!” I shout, laughing as I look up so that his tongue swipes along my chin rather than French kissing me.

  “Got it!” she exclaims. “That’s gonna be a good one, I bet. Well, not that I bet. No gambling allowed.” She’s mimicking a lower voice, presumably one of her brothers. At my lifted brow, she asks, “You haven’t heard about our dad? Hell, girl, what rock have you been living under?”

  I confess, “All I know is Unc said your dad put you through the wringer, but you all seem okay to me.”

  She laughs, plopping ungracefully to the dirt next to me. “We do seem okay, but most folks do on the outside. It’s the inside that’s all twisted up like a ball of baling wire.”

  That’s actually really insightful, especially for something delivered so off-handedly and casually. I eye Shayanne with new appreciation. “So you’re not okay?” I ask gently, not sure if I’m getting too close to dangerous territory.