Rough Country (Tannen Boys 3)

Welcome to farming, fucker. Same shit, different day.

Actually, it was literally shit today. We had to fertilize the new plot of land Brutal and I tilled up to expand Shay’s planting operation. She’s got some big plan for a bumper crop of lettuce that grows in thirty days and hopes to make jarred summer salads. It sounded like a fine idea until I’d realized it meant prepping for planting again. But we’d gotten it done before the sun went down, which is what mattered.

Right up until I walked in the house and Brody had started fanning his nose and squealing like a pig about how rank I was. I thought he was fucking with me until Allyson ran from Brutal’s hello hug too. She never does that.

So my quick shower had turned into a scrub down because I sure as shit wasn’t going to grab dinner with Willow smelling like actual shit. And now, I’m late.

Not that we have a set time for me to show up. Or that she’s even given me a hint of encouragement to keep coming by to see her.

But she hasn’t told me to stop, either. And that’s an important distinction. So I keep on coming back.

For her.

I’m already an addict to the way she talks, her stories twining this way and that, the pink hue her cheeks take on when she’s excited about something, and the quiet way she can make me feel ten feet tall and bulletproof with just a look. And I need my daily dose of her or I’ll likely go mad with curiosity about what she’s doing, thinking, feeling, and saying. I want it all, like little treasures of her day she doles out for me to gather up.

When the door creaks open, I find her easily. Standing behind the bar, her cheeks flush and her eyes widen when she looks over and sees me.

Is that happiness in those swirling gray mood-ring eyes? Or more?

My feet root to the floor, in awe of her the same way I am every time I see her. She reigns over this bar like a queen, though she might not know that. Hank has taken to sitting his ass on a stool more and more, letting Willow handle customers and do inventory. I never thought I’d see the day, but I’m damn glad. For him, for Willow, and for me.

I feel the tension in the air, and though my instincts are telling me to look for a threat, I can’t take my eyes off her. Something’s different, something has changed, and I absolutely hate not knowing what.

Did someone say something about me to her? I know my reputation’s not the best, but I’ll kill whoever told her some story about my reckless, youthful redneck days. Or has she decided to tell me to fuck off and leave her alone tonight? I’ve been so careful to not come on too strong, even though my heart has been demanding that I scoop her into my arms and get to know her from the inside out. Okay, maybe that part was my dick too.

Willow’s bottom lip disappears behind her teeth for a split second as though she’s nervous or thinking. I see it. She’s mine and she finally knows it, the way I have for five long fucking days that feel like an eternity despite whatever the calendar says.

I nod toward the door, silently asking if she’s ready for that tour, and to my shock and joy, she starts walking my way. She pauses when Hank grabs at her arm, and I swallow down the growl that threatens to escape. He’s not stopping her, just telling her something and then she’s walking to me again.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

My heart beats out a too-fast rhythm, and when her toes are nearly touching my boots, I ask quietly, “You ready for this?”

She looks up at me, sparks dancing in her eyes as her lips lift ever so slightly, like she’s not sure how she got here. “I don’t think so, but . . . yeah.”

Slow as molasses, giving her time to stop me if she needs to, I cup her cheeks in my palms, finally feeling her skin beneath mine again, and bend down, letting my intentions be quite clear to her. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and I know she’s more ready than she thinks she is.

Soft as I can be, I take her lips, tasting and sipping at her breath, wanting to steal it into my lungs so that I have a part of her inside me. My tongue swipes along the seam of her mouth, requesting entry, and when she sighs, I fight my way in, devouring and claiming her right here in the middle of a Hank’s Thursday two-dollar draft night. By the time I come up for breath, the whole town will know that she’s mine and I’m hers. There’s no doubt about that.