Rough Country (Tannen Boys 3)

He drives into me in waves, slow and rolling. I lift my leg around his hip, making more room for him, begging him to go deeper. I want him everywhere—inside my entire body the way he’s in my entire heart.

We come quickly, having missed each other in the few days apart. As he comes, his eyes stay wide open, locked on me as he grunts my name over and over. “Willow . . . Willow . . . Willow.”

We fall into his bed, naked and still damp. I run my fingers through the hair on his chest, petting him to sleep and enjoying the way his fingertips dance along my back in a different pattern. I wonder if it’s the new song he wrote and can’t wait to hear it. And though our arms and legs are tangled up in each other, our hearts are even more entangled as we fall asleep. Click.

Long after Bobby’s breathing slows into sleep, I stay awake. I feel like I’ve run an emotional marathon tonight, from self-pity to sadness to joyful hope to sorrow. But we can be okay, I vow. Somehow, I’ll make this okay for him, not getting the deal and staying here with me and his family. I’ll love him through the disappointment and bring smiles to every single day I get with him. He deserves that. He deserves everything.

Chapter 20

Bobby

“Goddamn it, pay attention or you’re gonna take out a whole fucking tree!” Brutal bellows, his voice echoing through the row. The row I’m not remotely close to hitting with the Gator.

I spin around, doing a doughnut before aiming the vehicle toward the far side of the plot we’re checking. So far, it’s looked great. No bugs, good growth, and better than average production.

All of which should put me in a good mood. But I’ve been feeling strangled by my own skin these last few days.

I’ve worked, same as always. I’ve gone into town to have dinner with Willow, same as always. I’ve slept at her house, same as always. We’ve made love, same as always. And I’ve left early to get home to start my day all over again, same as always.

It’s exactly what I want, so I should be as happy as a pig in slop.

But there’s something gnawing at me, making me prickly and even more of an asshole than usual. Brutal can feel it, and I know Willow can feel it.

She’s been so sweet, comforting me through the ‘loss’ of my dream by telling me how amazing I am, that Jeremy will regret not signing me, and that another opportunity will come along. I feel like shit taking her kindness when it’s based on a lie, but I can’t tell her the truth.

The sour-tongued truth is, I’d do anything for you.

“Shit! Pull over,” Brutal orders. He’s pointing at a particular tree with one hand and hanging on to the dash with the other as I squeal to a stop. Well, the Gator would’ve squealed if I wasn’t on moist grass. But the irrigation keeps everything watered, so it’s more of a power slide that sends us forward in our seats before popping us back.

Brutal’s huff is one of annoyance, a sound that might as well be the soundtrack to my life given how many times I’ve heard it. He hops out and plucks a pear from the tree he indicated.

“I forgot Mama Louise asked for one of these. Run it up to her, will ya? I’ll check this row and the next till you get back.” He puts the green pear in the cup holder on the dash, knowing full well it won’t stay there with the way I normally drive this thing.

“Sure thing. Back in a few,” I say, spinning out again to head toward the house.

I swear I hear Brutal yell out, “Take your time, asshole.”

The Gator races across the land, bumping and catching a tiny amount of air as I fly over the acres. The wind blows away my swirling thoughts for a brief moment of respite, the speed making me feel like I’m racing toward something and away from it all at once.

At the main Bennett house, I park out front and bound up the porch, pear in hand. I don’t knock, we’ve been told not to bother, and barge right on in to find Mama Louise.

“Mama Louise?” I yell.

Her head pops around the doorway to the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”

I can see why she’d think that. We’re busy, working sunup to sundown, and she doesn’t see much of us mid-day. She’s busy too with her own list of chores that keep this place running smoothly. Honestly, her job is probably harder than any of ours. I don’t know how she does it.

“Nothing. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya. Brutal said you asked for a pear sample from the back acre. You thinking of doing something with ’em?”