Page 24 of Country Contract

I let out a whistle. “Have you told her?”

“Hell no, it’s the woman’s first morning here. She doesn’t need my wife kicking her door down to talk books.”

“You never know, she might want the company.” I finish my water and crumple the bottle. Hunter looks at me, and I hand the plastic over to him. We don’t use single-use plastics on the farm much at all.

“People don’t often come all the way out here for company. I know Cass will stick to that woman like glue while she’s here. I’m letting her settle.” Hunter looks over to me as I get back to work on the baler. We need this up andrunning before it gets too cold so we can finish clearing the fields.

“You think she’ll be up and running by tomorrow?” he asks.

“Harlow?” I guess he’s really trying to map out when to introduce her to Cassidy.

“No, dipshit, the baler.” I shoot my head up and look over to him. He’s seriously asking about the baler.

“Yeah. You can tell me if she’s running better, just a little maintenance. Nothing major.”

“Perfect. You didn’t come by last night.” This is unusual for me, especially after I ask Hunter for a favor. I went home, took a shower, and shamefully thought about the witchy woman. It’s not uncommon for me to think of a beautiful woman when I indulge myself. Only she’s usually a sweet blonde girl next door.

That wasn’t the case yesterday. I thought about a dark sinister girl. Fighting me for the upper hand. Wrestling me—literally wrestling me—for power in the bedroom. The sick part was that I let her win and I liked it. She wasn’t nasty, just dominant and taking what she wanted from me.

I’ve preferred docile women who let me take control my whole life. They never had fantasies or liked to adventure much in the bedroom. I don’t know anything about the mystery woman from yesterday, but she was unforgettable. The way her black eyes bore into me. It was intense and had my imagination running wild.

I stood under the spray of my shower, imagining her riding me with abandon, raking her nails down my chest, leaving an angry trail of red behind them. I imagined myself trying to reach for her and her smacking my hands away only to put her own hand between her legs and bring herself more pleasure as she bounced on my hard length.The rasp of her voice was exotic, and I came thinking about how she would sound moaning my name. I feel myself begin to fall back into the fantasies and catch myself quickly.

“I ran into this witch of a woman at the bar and just wanted to go home and be done for the day. Didn’t want to bring my sour mood to you guys. Did y’all wait up?” I ask. Hunter looks at me with a curious expression.

“A witch of a woman? That’s not something you hear every day. Like she’s an old bat?” He uncrosses his arms and gives the bottle I put in his hand an extra twist, busying himself.

“Not unless she’s a shapeshifter, too. She was surprisingly hot, just . . . I don’t know, dark and curt. A little rude, but not really. Nothing worth writing home about, which is why I just went to the trailer, had a beer and a shower, and called it a night.” It’s not a lie. I’m technically telling the entire truth, just leaving out the parts where I sexualized this woman and made her a secret dark fantasy. Hunter gets an amused look on his face.

“Did this witch happen to be close to six feet tall with long black hair, onyx eyes, an all-black getup, with a ridiculous pair of fashionable military boots?” I stop what I’m doing, stand straight, and look over to him. That’s exactly what she looks like. He didn’t mention that she was drop-dead gorgeous, but he only thinks that of Cassidy now. The outlandish idea that the little witch was my bunkhouse guest isn’t so outlandish anymore.

“That sounds like her,” I bite out. I’m not sure if the irritation is because she’s staying here or if it’s the fact that Hunter already knows more about her than I do. My brother senses my discomfort, but I’m sure he’s assuming it’s because she got on my nerves yesterday.

He starts to laugh at my misfortune as he’s grown accustomed to over the years. It’s not malicious, it’s brotherly. “Only you, brother.” He walks over and pats my shoulder.

“Like I said, she seems nice enough. I could see her riding out here; she’s tougher than she looks.” Hunter leans against the baler and looks at me with an amused smile.

I could also see her riding out here, except I thought about her riding my dick, not a horse.

“Did you bring her your welcome basket yet?” I know he thinks it’s stupid, but I’m still new to the hosting game. I think giving a small “locals” basket is nice. I put some fresh fruit, raw honey, fresh-baked goods, and local ground coffee in it along with a welcome letter.

“No, I haven’t. I’ll let Cassidy bring it on by.” My brother’s head whips around and he narrows his eyes at me.

“You always bring the basket. This girl really got under your skin?”

“Nah, I?—”

“I give it a week.” He interrupts me.

“What?” I stare him down.

“Until you guys are going at it,” he laughs.

“First of all, she’s a guest on our property. Second, I’m looking for something serious. Lastly, she’s anything but my type.”

“First of all, I meant like at each other’s throats. Second, you don’t even know your type. You always date the same girls because you think that’s your type. Not once has one of those girls really held your interest or had you hooked. Maybe this witch of yours is exactly what you need.” I can’t believe what he’s saying. He has to be joking. This alternative, goth-like woman can’t be what I need for more than just the reasons I name to Hunter.

She doesn’t look like the type to settle down on a farmand wrangle children with me. She looks like the whirlwind-romance-and-have-you-by-the-balls type. That’s the last thing I need. I couldn’t do a whirlwind fling if I wanted to. Separating emotion from sex isn’t my strong suit.

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