The man has no shame. But he has zero reason to. Standing in just black boxer briefs, he looks like hot sex and wicked sin.
And mine.
There’s a hunger deep inside me that’s thrilled this man wants me and wants me to want him.
There’s an even bigger thrill that he doesn’t want casual and throw-away but is being remarkably and unusually clear in his desire for something deeper and more meaningful.
I feel like I won the lottery with him. Not just any old lottery, either, but the Powerball. And against all my usual instincts to share and take care of others, I want to revel in him, keeping him all to myself like a stingy bitch.
He winks at me and takes off, running barefoot through the dirt toward the water. He splashes in up to his thighs then dives under the surface expertly, coming up further out with a whip of his hair that sends water droplets flying. The cows moo their displeasure, but Bobby calls out, “Come on, Willow! Get in with me!”
Oh, I’m in. I’m in deep, way over my head and treading water.
I awkwardly maneuver around in the truck to change out of my shorts and T-shirt and into the bikini Bobby tucked into my camera bag. I own two suits, and of course, he brought the smaller of the two. It’s basically four triangles, one for each boob, one for my front, and one for my butt, all held together with strings that tie on my hips and at the center of my back. I make sure everything’s tucked in appropriately and send a quick prayer of thanks that I had the foresight to shave my bikini area so it doesn’t look like a Sasquatch bush escaping from behind the black fabric. I slip my tennis shoes back on but leave them untied so I can kick them off on the blanket, along with my glasses.
My walk to the water is nowhere near as confident as Bobby’s swaggered one, but he watches me approach all the same. His eyes follow my every move, roaming and tracing my curves as I get closer. I get the sense that he’s memorizing me.
Barefoot, I wade into the water. It’s just this side of cool, a perfect contrast to the hot day, and goosebumps break out along my skin. Bobby swims closer and stands in front of me.
“You are stunning. I want to kiss every inch of your skin, tease at these goosebumps with my fingertips, and feel your body against mine,” he says softly, grit and gravel in his voice.
“Okay,” I say breathlessly.
I want that too. All of that, please.
In my brain, Ilene’s bell goes off. Ding! I’m ready.
“Close your eyes for me again,” he orders, and they slip shut of their own accord.
I feel his arms surround me, scooping me up until my legs are over one ropey forearm and his other is wrapped around my back. I try to wrap my arms around his neck to keep my balance, but before I can, I’m flying through the air.
“Ahh!” I squeal, my eyes flying open right before I bust through the surface, going under. Water goes up my nose, and I swallow some too, coming up sputtering and mad.
“I thought you were going to . . . what the . . .” Words aren’t coming out, so I settle with slapping the water and screeching, “Bobby Tannen!”
He grins hugely, big and wide, like he’s heard that more than a time or two. “Got you out of your head, didn’t I? Now let’s have some fun.”
I blink, still getting water from my eyes because my bangs are hanging low, brushing well past my brows. I shake my head like a dog and push my hair to the side. “What?”
“Race you to the other side,” he says, already swimming before he finishes the words.
I’m dumbstruck for a moment, giving him an even bigger head start, but realization kicks in and I dive after him, working hard to make up the distance.
Feet kicking and arms swinging, I cut through the water. It’s not graceful by any means, but it’s effective, and I reach the cows only a few seconds after he does.
“This is Maverick,” he tells me, petting the cow’s side.
“You can tell them all apart?” I ask, surprised. At dinner the other night, it’d sounded like they have lots of cattle, hundreds of them at least.
He shakes his head. “No, Mark and Brody can, but they go by numbers.” He points to the tag on the cow’s ear that says 178. “I’ve made friends with a few of them, though. There are a few different places I like to sit when I’m working on a song, and some of the cows are curious. They’ll come right up and sit down next to me, mooing for scratches like a dog.”
“The goats did that!” I say, smiling. Slowly, I raise a hand and scratch Maverick too. The cow moos loudly, and I jump, but a second later, I realize it’s the cow version of encouragement and do it again.
After a few minutes, Bobby asks, “Can you float?”
“I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve tried,” I say, trying to think back. Maybe when I was a teenager? Since then, my water activities have been more along the lines of lying beside it than in it.
“Come on,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me through the water.
We go deeper until the water reaches his chest and my chin before he picks me up again.
“No,” I squeal, kicking and grabbing around his neck.
He laughs. “I won’t. I’m gonna hold you so you can float. Trust me.” His face is serious, and I believe him that this isn’t a setup to throw me again. Slowly, I relax, and he guides me back, one hand low on my spine and one at my shoulders, and I float. Nervously, I don’t let my head go too far back, not liking water in my ears, but I like the feel of his hands on me a lot.
“Relax. I’ve got you, Willow. Take a deep breath and look at the sky above you. Blue infinity, white puffs that look as soft as cotton. Listen. Hear the wind and the cows. Feel the water caressing you, cooling your skin. Breathe, be heavy in the water, in my hands. Let me hold you up.”
I listen to his rough voice, almost meditative with calm, quiet, soothing tones, doing as he says . . . the sky, the wind, the water, and finally, him. I am in tune with everything around me, especially Bobby.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, but I can feel stress and worry pouring from me, being washed away by the spring water. I feel reborn, renewed, like I breathe deeply for the first time in a long time.
I’ve been burning the candle at both ends for so long, I think I’ve forgotten that there once was a candle. I just work, work, work, slinging beer or taking pictures. And answering questions from blog readers, finding new subject matter that excites me and them, and doing what I can for everyone else. In this moment, I feel free. I feel like me.
Standing up, I find the soft bottom of the pond and look up to see Bobby watching my every move with focused attention. It warms me even more than the sun on my skin.
“Thank you,” I say simply. It’s not enough, but I don’t know how to thank him for helping me reset, not only from Unc’s anger and injury but from so much more.
“My pleasure, sweetheart.” It sounds like he means it, and as he leads me back to the blanket, lifting me to sit in the sun, I consider that Bobby is a caregiver like I am. He takes care of the farm, his family, and now me. But who takes care of him?
I will.
It’s who I am.
We lie in the sun, letting it dry us. I’m acutely aware of every inch where our skin touches, cradled in Bobby’s arm, his fingertips dancing along my skin in that pattern I saw him playing on the bar before.
“What brought you to Great Falls, Willow?” he asks huskily.
I should give my standard answer—that I needed a change. But Bobby deserves more than that, much more. Some of it’s not my story to tell, but I can share a little and keep promises that have been made.
“Unc.”
He’s silent, waiting for more. I sigh, knowing this will be hard to explain, especially since I don’t understand it all myself. I was just a kid, after all.
“I don’t know how much you know of Hank’s younger days. I’m not really sure how much I know either, to be honest. But apparently, he had a girlfriend once. It was serious, like a proposal kind of serious. H
e enlisted to give them stability, a future, I guess? But when he came home, his brother had moved in on his girl. They fought like brothers do, arguing and punching and insulting one another. But it didn’t matter, the damage had already been done. My grandfather, Harold, married the girl. She was my grandmother, really sweet. I have memories of her making Christmas cookies with me, playing dolls, and coloring on huge sheets of construction paper she’d hang up on the sliding door to let the morning light shine through.”
I get lost in the memories a bit, some from when I was really young and not nearly enough from when I was older. I still saw Grandma and Grandpa as a teenager, but the moments aren’t as vivid because I was too caught up in other things to appreciate my grandparents while they were here.
Bobby lets me take my time, and eventually, I come back to him. “She got sick, breast cancer when I was thirteen. It was quick and brutal. Mom shielded me from most of it, but Grandpa didn’t handle it well at all. He’d always been . . . a hard man. Strict, stoic, but I think he really loved Grandma and I think she loved him too. Or at least they loved each other, as far as I could tell as a stupid kid.” I shrug, not sure but also not willing to revisit the past to analyze with an adult’s heart.
“I only know this next part from later. I didn’t know it at all back then, but Grandpa knew she was getting close to the end. She got confused a lot, and the meds made her lose time, I guess. But she called him Hank sometimes. I know that had to hurt. They’d had this whole life and family together, but he didn’t tell Unc. They’d been distant but civil all those years. Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, and he’d come by and see Mom and me. I just thought he was my cool uncle, you know?”
I swallow, still not able to believe what my Grandpa had done in his own selfish need. “At the end, in confusion, she cried for Hank. She thought it was a long time ago, thought he was coming home to her and they were going to get married. She didn’t know who Mom was or who I was, had no idea about her whole life, any of it. And Grandpa . . . he didn’t tell Unc. Didn’t even call to tell him that Grandma was sick, much less that she wanted to see him. No, he let her cry every day, thinking Hank had deserted her. Grandpa stayed by her bedside to the end. He didn’t give up, but he didn’t give her what she needed to be at peace either, if that makes sense?”
Tears flow down my cheeks again, pooling on Bobby’s chest, but he doesn’t react, just lets me feel it all, even though it’s not my story. “Unc found out about Grandma dying about a year too late and was understandably furious. Mom thought Grandpa had told him and he hadn’t wanted to come, and it was this whole mess. I remember getting sent to my room and Grandpa and Unc yelling. They fought, two grown men punching each other over a woman who was already dead and buried, and Mom screaming at them to stop. My mom . . . she looks like Grandma, the spitting image of her, and I guess in the moment, with tensions high, they both kinda turned on her, yelling back. I don’t know what they said, but in the end, we didn’t see Unc anymore, Grandpa said awful things about him until he died a year later, and Mom just never mentioned either of them again.”
“And now?” Bobby asks gently.
“Now, I’m not losing another day to the past, to things that have nothing to do with me. I want my cool uncle back before it’s too late and will do whatever it takes to get him.” I’m dancing around it, praying Bobby doesn’t poke and prod too much. Though both intensely personal, sharing Unc’s past is one thing and sharing his present is another.
“Are you going to stay in Great Falls for him?”
I can feel the heavy weight attached to the question and know what he’s really asking, so that’s the question I answer.
“He’s not the only reason I’m staying, Bobby Tannen.”
My words are full of interwoven layers and impact us both. I came to Great Falls for one thing, and I found it. At least I did if today didn’t blow it all to pieces. But I also found something I wasn’t anticipating. And like Mom always taught me, sometimes, the unexpected is what you were really meant to experience, a spontaneous growth spurt of my heart through Bobby’s dark, beautiful, powerful love.
I want to believe, to experience, to enjoy him. Us.
Bobby shifts so he can search my eyes, the same gray eyes like my Grandma’s that must hurt Unc to look at every day. But I’ve only known them when I look in the mirror and have always taken pride in looking like my beautiful grandma and mom.
Bobby seems to find something in their depths that he understands because he tilts my jaw up and kisses me tenderly, slowly sipping at me, moaning as he gives in to me and I melt for him. Not from the sun, but from his intense heat.
Somehow, in sharing someone else’s past, I feel like I’ve created a future for myself. Here in Great Falls. With Bobby, and if Unc forgives me for a little sprucing up of his house and bar, with him too.
Chapter 14
Bobby
I kiss Willow’s cheek, tasting the salt of her tears. My girl, with this big, giant heart that feels for everyone and everything so acutely, is a rare specimen. Most people are out for number-one, even if they’ve found some shred of generosity in their soul and can balance it out so it seems like they’re better than the rest of us monsters. At the end of the day, it’s a kill or be killed, me or the other guy mentality that is ultimately the strongest inside most hearts.
But not for Willow.
I delicately lick her other cheek with the barest tip of my tongue, cleaning up the tears and wanting only happiness for her. She deserves it, and more.
Taste of your salt on my lips breaks my soul in two. Sweetheart, if there’s anything I can do?
Willow’s answer to my question is what I’ve needed to hear all along. This isn’t some summer vacation fling to her when it’s so much more to me. I didn’t think she was being casual about us, but now, I truly know.
And with that echoing in my ears, I can’t hold myself back from her any longer. Fuck, I should be getting a damned medal for waiting this long when I’ve been imagining all sorts of filthy things to do to her and with her.
“Willow, I need you. Fuck, sweetheart, I want . . .” I growl, peppering her skin with kisses, hearing the scratch of my stubble along her softness.
“Can we go to your place?” she asks, head thrown back and tits pressed up into my hands.
I swallow, willing myself to wait.
You can wait ten fucking minutes to take her in a bed like a lady, not on a rock in the dirt like an animal.
I’m not entirely sure that’s true, but I’ll try. For her.
I pull back in an instant, rising to my feet and offering her a hand. “Let’s go,” I order. I should be softer, gentler, but maintaining control over my cock is taking all the willpower I have. Luckily, she takes my hand and stands too, not at all put out at the gruff tone.
Actually, with a small laugh, she grabs her shoes and makes a barefoot run for the truck. Every instinct inside me calls out . . . chase her down. Don’t let her get away!
I wad up the blanket and my clothes, not bothering to pull on a single stitch when I’m about to strip again anyway. I run after her, tossing everything in the truck bed and climbing in the cab. “Hang on,” I tell her, knowing that I’m going to break the land speed record for crossing from the ranch to our farmhouse.
I push a button on the radio and the truck calls Brody.
“What?” he grunts when he answers.
“Don’t come home tonight. Stay at Rix’s or one of the other houses. Sleep outside. I don’t give a fuck, but don’t come home till morning.”
Willow blushes in the seat next to me, sinking down, but I see the hint of a smile at the corners of her lips.
“What?” He pauses, clueing in to what I’m telling him. “Oh. Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll go to town. There’re condoms in the hall bathroom. Uh, congrats?”
Click.
Maybe it’s weird for him to remind me about the condoms, but that’s just Brody. Grumpy asshole takes care of us in his own wa
y. Plus, I don’t bring women home. Ever. So it’s entirely possible that he thinks I never noticed the stash of condoms.
I glance to the woman in my passenger seat, a sharp pain of disbelief slicing through my gut at her beauty, both inside and out. How is someone like her sitting here with someone like me? I’m not sure, but I want to enjoy every single second with Willow.
“So the whole town’s gonna know now?” Willow asks. Normally, I think she’d be shy about that, but she seems to be holding back giggles at Brody’s offer of congrats and condoms.
“Nah, Brody doesn’t talk much. He’ll tell Rix, though, and she’ll tell the girls, so the family’ll know. But they already know about us.”
Isn’t that the God’s honest truth? They all know that Willow is special to me. Hell, Brutal’s been asking questions like he’s got a written list, but that’s his way, so I’ve answered what I want to and told him to quit being a nosy bitch on things I didn’t want to share.
At the house, I pull up in the drive and put the truck in park.
“We don’t have to go inside, Willow.” I’m offering her a brake, whether it’s a full stop or a slowdown, because there’s no way I can do it myself. “If we go in there, I’m going to make you come until you think your body can’t anymore, and I won’t stop. I’m going to fill you up with my tongue, my fingers, and my cock, get to know your body from the inside. I’ll pound you until I’ve left my mark everywhere you’ll let me. I want you to know that there’s no going back after this. You’ll be mine. So, you decide . . . are we going back to town or are we going inside?”
My heart is racing, my breath erratic as I paint pictures in my own mind of what I want with her.
Willow’s eyes get incrementally larger with my words until they look like saucers behind her glasses. She licks her lips and swallows thickly. “That, I want . . . that.”
Still not one hundred percent, because she’s leaving a slight margin for error, I ask for clarity. “You want what, sweetheart? Tell me, say the words.” I’m on the edge, praying for my sweet-mouthed girl to say something dirty just for me.
Rough Country (Tannen Boys Book 3) Page 19