Their Juicy Woman

“Don’t even think of trying to clean them. I’ll handle them,” he said.

“It doesn’t seem fair. I cooked. I should clean.”

“You did the dishes. Let me and my brothers take care of the pit.”

Casey was already waiting by his truck when they got there. He gave her a hug, feeling her tense up for a second before she finally relaxed. She patted his back, and then she climbed into the truck.

He found Shawn standing at the pit, and together they heaved the grates up and out of the pit.

It was so fucking heavy it made his arm ache. He’d lift a cow easier than those grates.

“Tell me again why we needed this pit?” he asked.

“The food tastes good?” Shawn asked.

“Is that a question or a statement?”

His younger brother burst out laughing.

“It’s a statement. The food is damn good. What were you and Poppy talking about?”

“Oh, you know, nothing.” He and Poppy tended to have long moments of silence when words didn’t seem necessary. “We enjoyed the setting sun. What do you think Casey’s talking about?”

“You’re both terrible at conversation. He’s worse than you. I imagine he’s talking about a cow pat that was on his shoe or something like that.”

Parker grabbed a scrubbing brush as Shawn used the hose. They washed the grate clean, and as it was drying, he scooped the coal debris out of the pit.

Once they were finished, Shawn had two beers waiting for them just as Casey arrived.

They sat outside on the deck chairs staring out at the night sky.

“How was she?” Parker asked.

“Quiet. I think she tired herself out today,” Casey said. “Mom called to let me know she talked with her today. Poppy doesn’t think we want her in that way.”

“Then we’re just going to have to show her how much we do. We never said this was going to be easy,” Parker said.

“We’ve come a long way considering we couldn’t share a pie.” This came from Shawn.

“Poppy said she left a full pie in the fridge for us to eat,” Casey said.

“I love that woman.” Parker leaned back and thought of Poppy. Her sweetness would soon be theirs.

“We all love her. I don’t think it’s going to be easy though,” Casey said. “She’s still hurting from her mother. Right now, I don’t see her wanting anything romantic.”

“Then we wait. We give it a couple of weeks,” Parker said.

Shawn tutted and shook his head.

“Fine, we’ll give it a couple of months. We’ve waited a couple of years, what’s a few months?”

They all loved Poppy, and each of them had bought her a piece of jewelry as a sign of their ownership. The bracelet with the inscription had been purposefully made. She belonged to all of them.

“What do you think of the cut fence?” Shawn asked, changing the subject. Whenever they spent too long talking about Poppy, it always left each one of them yearning for her a little more.

Parker couldn’t wait until she was in their arms, loving them. He knew she had feelings for them. Whenever she didn’t think anyone was looking, he’d catch her staring, and just knew in his heart that she wanted them. Unlike every other woman, she fought that attraction.

They didn’t want her fighting it.

Parker certainly didn’t.

“It could just be what Dad said,” Casey said. “A bunch of stupid teenagers messing around.”

“And if it’s not?” Shawn asked.

“We’ll deal with it. We can handle anything, Shawn. Don’t be so such a worry wart,” Parker said, smirking.

Chapter Three

Four months later

Poppy stood inside the charity shop, putting the clothes she’d already organized onto hangers for people to see easily. Next, she was going to wash the windows.

“You’re making me feel really old,” Mrs. Bunt said. “Your mother was the same. Always finding something to do.”

“My mother hated being called lazy.” Poppy hummed to herself as she grabbed the bucket of warm, soapy water that she’d made up, and headed out onto the street. She had a set of ladders, and began to wipe the dirt from the plastic windows and doors. The white of the frames always appeared filthy, and she didn’t like it.

She was so distracted in her work that she didn’t hear the catcalls or the warning as someone grabbed her ladder. The cloth and bucket spilled from her hands as she grabbed hold of either side of the ladder for support.

Glancing down, she groaned. Beneath her was Ben, the all-round childhood bully that didn’t seem to take a hint. Even though Shawn had beaten the crap out of him, it didn’t seem to stop.

Most of the time she avoided Ben.

“Well, trailer trash, you finally doing some work, huh? Last I heard you were spreading those thighs for the Smith boys.”

She let out a little squeal as he shook the ladder.

“You get off that, you animal,” Mrs. Bunt said, waving her hand at Ben.