Page 81 of Bucked Hard

It’s fair, I suppose, but who the heck knew turkeys were so aggressive?

I stumble backward as three of them charge me.

Yes, theychargeme. Feathers raised like hackles. Wings flapping like some sort of warrior birds, making warrior turkey sounds.

I’m the enemy in their territory.

One is trying to take me down so the other two can pounce on my soft parts.

It reminds me of that scene fromJurassic Parkwith the three velociraptors.

“Get away!” I yell, tap-dancing backward as fast as I can without falling belly-up in the dirt. “Go! Shoo!”

The usual gobble you think of with a nice cartoon turkey is nothing like the real thing. These are livid, squawking, tyrannical squeals.

I spin my head around, looking for some means of escape. Behind me, there’s a small shed sort of thing, with chickens out around it and a small chicken-sized opening inside some fencing. But there’s a human-sized door as well and I have no other choice, so that’s my plan. Get inside that shed and hope that turkeys have short memories. I’ll wait them out then run like Forrest Gump back to the red barn, forsaking my pride.

I calculate the distance from where I am to the chicken coop door, then when I feel my feet solid under me, I spin and bolt.

I hit the door of the shed with a thud, jiggling the loose handle until it clicks and the door pulls open in my hand, thanking God it’s unlocked.

The next second, I’m behind the door, panting but safe. I jerk and twist the handle until I hear the familiar click as it slides home.

One more twist of the metal, just to be sure… No! No, no, no! This cannot be happening to me. I look down at the door handle, loose in my hand, just as there’s a thunk from the other side of the door as the outside handle hits the ground.

“Are you kidding me?”

I stare at the door for a second. Then at the ceiling for another ten. Then back to the door.

Crouching down, I peer through the quarter-inch hole left by the bolt between the mechanism, and I can see the three veloci-turkeys hovering, waiting for their chance to strike.

Settling on my knees with a deep breath, I press my face to the door, examining the mechanism. The gritty dirt presses painfully into the bare skin of my knees as I try to decipher how to open the door, then I realize the lock is set into a solid metal strike plate on the doorframe.

The thick, barn-wood door is solid too. I give it a pounding with the flats of my hands anyway, more out of frustration than any hope of escape. The scent in here is more rank aviary than summer breeze. And it’s hot. Hot, hot. Too hot. Immediately, sweat beads and courses down the indent of my spine. It breaks out on my forehead where my hair is stuck. It’s dripping into my eyes.

“How did I get here?” I drop back onto my behind, resting my forehead in my hands and wondering why I had to drink that third cup of coffee before we left the house.

Because if this were at least an outhouse, I’d be relieved.

Chapter3

Ranger

Ishould be ashamed, the fucking thoughts that are running through my head. But God forgive me, I’m not.

Images of what’s under that dress…the way her cunt would smell as I bury my tongue inside her plague me like no desire I’ve ever had before.

My dick is as hard as an iron fence post as I stomp down the dirt path where I last saw her, feeling like some kind of hunter after his prey. She’s been gone too long, and fucking hell if I didn’t jump at the chance of chasing her down.

We got the little city-trailer loaded, but no way was it anywhere near big enough for the number of bales her dad ordered. So I convinced him to go ahead and take that load home, told him I’d go find his daughter while he was gone.

Maria.

Shit, I nearly came right there and then when he told me her name. I told him I’d track her down and keep her safe, take her to see a couple of my newest rescue quarter horses. Let her help me pull them in from the big pasture, put them in the barn to get them ready for some work this afternoon.

He seemed to like that idea a lot. Said she’s not been too keen on this new country life of theirs, and he’d love if I would talk to her about what I do here. He even said maybe I could convince her to learn a thing or two about horses and riding, which I’d be more than happy to do. Anything that gets her close to me is a win. Even hinted at maybe me showing her around town. Introducing her to some friends more her age.

Fuck. I’ll show her around town. But hell if I’m introducing what’s mine to anyone else. At least, not until I’ve had my fill of her and—I can’t believe I’m thinking this—until I get my ring on that tiny, beautiful third finger on her left hand.

---