When We Touch (The Heartbreak Brothers 5)
“Okay, let’s run,” Logan shouted, and Daniel took off, running straight toward the oncoming pigs, his lungs protesting at the sudden burst of energy. As he got closer, he could see their beady eyes and their twitching snouts. A few of them stopped running and looked up at him expectantly.
But there were more behind them, their pink bodies still hurtling across the field. One of them was heading straight for him, and Daniel had to dodge to the left, his shoes sliding against the muddy field, making him slip and fall to the ground in a puddle of mud.
That’s when he heard the laughter. Five deep chuckles coming from a few yards behind him. Groaning, Daniel rolled to his knees, wincing as he looked down at his mud-coated jeans. When he lifted his head, he saw Becca’s brothers and Michael standing in a group, as Logan gently turned the pigs around and directed them back to the end of the field.
Gray wiped his eyes and walked over to Daniel, offering his hand to pull him up. “You really ran at them, man. I’m impressed.”
Daniel stood, dusting himself off, though it was a futile gesture. He was caked with mud. “Thanks. Just trying to help.”
Cam walked over, and shook his hand. “You’re okay,” he mumbled. “I like you.”
Tanner was still laughing loudly. “Jesus, Becca’s going to kill us all.”
In the distance, Daniel could see one of the farm hands ushering the pink horde through a gate. So it was a set up.
“No hard feelings?” Logan asked, slapping Daniel on the shoulder. “We just wanted to see what you were made of.”
“I’d say he’s made of steel, with a little kick ass thrown in,” Michael said, grinning. “I like him.”
“I like him, too.” Tanner nodded. Then they were all slapping Daniel on the back, and he felt like he’d completed some Labor of Hercules. Proved himself worthy for the princess, gotten the respect of his fellow warriors, and ended up caked in mud and pigshit.
Great.
“Uh oh.” Gray looked over Daniel’s shoulder. “Busted.”
Da
niel turned to see Becca storming up the field, followed by her sisters-in-law, carrying their children. Aunt Gina and Becca’s father must still be in the restaurant.
“This time, I really recommend running,” Logan murmured. “When Becca’s pissed, it’s a scary sight.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“My brothers are assholes. All of them. I’m so sorry.” Becca winced at the memory of Daniel running at the pigs while the four of them watched, laughing their ugly heads off. “I can’t believe they planned that all out. I’m going to kill them all very slowly. And record it with my camera so I can relive the excitement over and again.”
Daniel rubbed his damp hair with a towel. “It’s fine. It was kind of funny if you think about it. And I suffered worse at prep school. Not to mention college.”
“Yeah, but you were a kid then. They’re all grown men now. Or they were. I don’t know what they’ll be once I chop their balls off.”
“You’re kind of hot when you’re angry, you know that?” He brushed his lips against hers. “Now relax. I’m clean, I’m fine, it’s all good, apart from a bruised ego. And that’ll heal fast.”
“Maybe I could massage it better.” She gave him a tentative smile. They’d driven straight to his place from the farm, as he needed fresh clothes and a shower. She’d fumed all the way, imagining painful ways to exact her revenge on all four of them. She’d let Michael off this time – she knew Cam had led his step-son astray.
“I’m all for some therapeutic relief.” Daniel winked.
She exhaled softly. “I think you deserve it after what I put you through.” She wasn’t sure she’d actually get over it. “It’s mortifying.”
“Come here,” Daniel said softly, tipping her chin until her gaze met his. She tried to look away, but he leaned forward, until all she could see was him. The warm smell of soap and shampoo wafted from him, his t-shirt and sweatpants soft as his body touched hers. “I’m not angry. I’m not fed up. You’re worth a hundred stampedes from the pigs. If I had to do it again to be with you, I would.”
The intensity of his stare made her chest ache. He was overwhelming. Not just in how he looked or smelled or felt, but because of who he was. She’d won him over, somehow or other.
And now he was trying to win her back.
“Your family or mine?” she murmured. “Which one is worse?”
“There’s no contest.” His lip curled. “Definitely mine.”
“Yours didn’t make me play football then arrange for an animal stampede.”