Erica and Todd are deep in conversation. I try to judge if it’s personal. Hell, I don’t know, maybe she dated him too? Or he’s Reed’s little brother? I don’t know, but I’m standing here like a chump with her drink, feeling a little too much like Reed, I reckon.
But when Erica points Todd to the driver seat and dips under the hood, I can see there’s something more professional going on. Or at least I hope there is. She leans over the engine and he revs it loudly. Erica doesn’t even flinch, listening closely.
She’s like the Engine Whisperer, I think proudly. I have no reason to be proud of that. It’s definitely not my doing, but I like that she’s someone other people seek out for her brain. That she’s got this whole thing going on that she’s in control of.
I had that once with the farm. Ran it and myself to the ground, but she’s thriving with it. That much is obvious from today.
Todd gets out from behind the wheel, feet spread wide and hands crossed over his chest, a stance I know well. He’s pissed. He frowns as he says something I can’t hear, and Erica shakes her head. Todd kicks the tire of his fancy car, saying something again. Erica shrugs and shakes her head. I can see the no on her lips as I approach with her Coke.
“Here you go, Erica.”
Todd’s brows jump together. “Who’s Erica?”
She elbows me in the gut, not hard, but I wince anyway. “Me. You don’t get to call me that,” she tells the kid.
“Whatever, Rix. You sure you can’t do it? Just a little more.” He’s needling her, though I haven’t the foggiest idea what about.
“Nah, I’ll do a little research to confirm. But I think you’re maxed.” She takes my hand this time, pulling me away. “’Bye, Todd.”
The kid looks even more pissed as we walk away.
“What’s that about?” I ask, curious and not the least bit jealous. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. And really, the kid wasn’t even looking at Erica that way. Dumbass doesn’t see what’s right in front of him, but I do.
“Nothing. Just car shit.” I hear the ‘drop it.’ “I think I’m good. You ready to head to the other side of the mountain?”
I nod. “Yeah, take me home, Lil Bit. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll feed you dinner too. Fair warning, though. All I can make are pancakes, so I hope you want them again.” She laughs, shoving at my chest.
I think she’s feeling me up again, so I flex a little for her. She grabs my nipple again, twisting and laughing. “Come on, Cowboy.”
At the same time, she’s nearly brought me to my knees. “Shit . . . stop. You want me to do that to you? And I don’t mean in sexy way.” The threat holds no heat since I’m rubbing my chest soothingly.
“Go ahead,” she dares, pushing her tits up at me. I know she doesn’t have a bra on because I watched her get dressed earlier. But when she does that, I don’t want to give her a purple nurple. I want to cup and suck those nipples until she begs me to give her more.
And with that evil thought, I promise her, “Later.”
Chapter 11
Erica
The drive out to the ranch is never-ending, but scenic, at least. I’ll admit to staying in my little corner most of the time, rarely even venturing to the mountain, much less the other side. But we drive through Great Falls and Brody points out things of interest . . . the corner where he had his first fight—he was nine, he says, and of course it was about a girl. The feed store, ‘Buy supplies for the critters there, other than hay, of course,’ like I would know that, and his favorite restaurant, a honkytonk named Hank’s that has meatloaf to kill for.
“Meatloaf? Worth a life? I doubt that,” I say skeptically. “Meatloaf is pretty much the fuck-it-all of dinners. Oops, not enough meat? Throw some breadcrumbs in it. Taste like shit? Cover it in ketchup. I’m not buying it.”
“You’ll see. It’ll change your life,” he says with a smile. An actual one, with light in his dark eyes and his white teeth showing between those full, kissable lips.
Not too long ago, I’d thought he simply never smiled. There’d always been something behind it, a little bit of mischief or challenge, something at least. But now, he looks happy. Pretty sure I did that with my pussy. Okay, maybe my personality a tiny bit too. The thought is exciting. Somehow, so is eating dinner at some future date with him, even if it’s meatloaf.
We leave the small town that honestly looks quite picturesque with its rural, comfy vibe. I can imagine tourists who come to the resort taking a quaint getaway day trip to Great Falls when they need a break from skiing. But for the locals, it’s home, with a cute downtown Brody says is where they have festivals, playgrounds teeming with kids, and an old-style movie theater with only two screens. It’s different from Morristown on the other side of the mountain for sure, which is mostly commercial in contrast. We have a downtown and locals, and it’s home to me, but it feels more businesslike all the time. Not the same welcoming warmth Great Falls has.
I should’ve come over here more often. Not just the occasional farmer’s market trips with Emily.
Maybe I will come over more often with Brody here, I think. I meant it when I said I don’t have time for anything serious, but a little part of me isn’t ready to drop him off and drive away. Not today, at least, when the garage is closed and the day is mine to do with as I please.
The road becomes more deserted, only an occasional truck passing us, and Brody directs me well beyond the outskirts of town. “There’ll be a break in the fence on the right.” I see it and turn in carefully, feeling the bumps of metal beneath the truck. “Cattle guard,” he explains. “Keeps them from just waltzing out the front gate.”
“You leave it open?” I ask. I don’t know why, but that worries me. Like I know shit about taking care of cows, but that doesn’t sound safe. Is cattle theft still a thing? If so, a thief would just need to back up to the front door and rob ’em blind. Okay, maybe that’s an overreach, but I’m a total city slicker and proud of it.
Brody shakes his head. “No, I texted that I’m incoming so someone rode out to open it because I don’t have an opener with me. I’ll close it after you leave so we’re secure for the night.”
Relief washes through me. That the cattle are safe or that he is? As if he needs protection. I internally roll my eyes at my protective streak. It’s just habit. Protect Emily, the garage, Mom and Dad, the whole damn country.
We pull up to a two-story country house, white with black trim that matches the barn set off to the right. There are several trucks parked outside, and I can’t help but mentally take their measure. Mechanic’s habit.
“Shit.” Brody’s murmur is under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” I look around, looking for . . . something?
Two men appear in the doorway of the barn. I can see the grin on one from here, it’s that bright. The other guy looks thunderous, murderous.
“Who’s that?” I ask, on edge as I switch out my feet to put my left on the brake and right hovering over the gas. Old habits die hard, and if we need to move quickly, I’m fucking ready.