Page 5 of Fires Creek
“Do you need some help unpacking?” I asked.
“Ummm, nah. I should be a’right. My wrist feels pretty good today, thanks.”
“Uh, yeah, okay. See you later then,” I said, chewing the inside of my cheek.
I walked back down through the hallway, scuffing my boots along the floorboards. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way his thick eyebrows cocked when he smiled. How his Wranglers fit perfectly on his hips. His shaggy, blond hair. Thatfuckingsmile.
I shook my head, descending the staircase as the intrusive thoughts invaded my head. I found myself thinking about him more than I cared to admit, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking about me too.
Present Day
Jonas always hada stick up his ass; dude needed to get laid. He was interrogating this chick like he was a cop. I don’t understand him sometimes. She was hot as hell and came bearing coffee. Who cares what her name is? She’s got good tits, a pretty smile, and I bet her tattooed fingers would look beautiful wrapped around my cock as I throat fucked her. I shuddered at the thought, my dick twitching against my jeans.
“The name is Theodore James, milady. But I’ll let you call me Teddy, or you can call me tonight,” I said, faking a dramatic bow and gesturing towards my brother. “This piece of shit is Jonas, he doesn’t bite… much.” I gave her a wink, just for some extra flair. “And that dopey bastard,” I said pointing to Alex, who was curled up on his bed. “Is the Almighty Alex! What brings you to Fires Creek? You don’tlooklocal.”
She didn’t reply, just stared at us with those delicious honey-coloured eyes. None of us tried to fill the silence, so I studied her form. Her hair sat just above her waist, which was perfectly squeezed into a black leather skirt that fell mid-way down her thighs. Her flesh was soft and milky, a stark contrast from her flaming hair and the pots of gold that lurked beneath her lashes. I trailed my eyes down her frame, from her tiny button nose to the Doc Marten sandals that displayed her perfectly manicured toes, adorned with several gold rings. A delicate, gold ankletjustpeeking out from the thick, leather ankle strap.
My eyes wandered up her thighs. A deep green corset cinched tightly at her waist was paired with a black turtleneck with a large cut-out across her chest. The apples of her breasts bulged above the ruffles on the corset. How a piece of clothing could cover so much skin but be so damn sexy is beyond me.Gold chains adorned both her neck and the corset that clung to her curves so perfectly. Intricate tendrils of ink snaked their way up her forearms until they met the array of gold rings scattered across her slender fingers.
What was I saying before about those fingers?
I was so fucked…
Jonas chose that exact moment to interrupt my viewing experience. “Ah, you must be the new landlord.”
Ah, shit.
Teddy Carter wasfucking delicious.He’d been eye-fucking me since I got here. I won’t lie, the attention didn’t bother me in the slightest.There was something about him that drew me in. Like I was being involuntarily pulled to him or something.
We let the silence linger for a moment, before Jonas pointed towards the house, gesturing for me to follow. He led the way and held the door open for me; Teddy followed close behind. I could practically feel his eyes lingering on my ass as we made our way into the kitchen.
Huge mosaic tiles lined the splashback, meeting the deep wood-grained benches that occupied the space. There were empty bottles of bourbon and whiskey stacked in one corner, alongside several packets of cigarettes. The kitchen adjoined a large, cosy-looking sitting room that felt like it was pasted straight out of a Country Living catalogue. I was actually surprised at how beautifulthe Manor was considering it was run by two gruff cowboys.
Jonas sighed, pulling a bottle of Maker's Mark from the bar. He pulled out three crystal glasses, stopping to gaze in my direction, before pouring the malt liquor into the glasses before him and sliding them down the bench towards Teddy and me. He filled his own glass, raising it to us in a single nod, before downing the contents in one gulp.
Jonas topped up his glass, and Teddy flashed me a wicked grin before quipping to him, “Well, since she’s the boss around here now, maybe we should teach her how towork.” His voice was gravely and thick with lust as he wiggled his eyebrows.
“Knock it off Teddy, she wanted a job and a home, not a fucking venereal disease,” Jonas growled, pouring us another round.
“I will have you know, dearest Joney, that I am a fucking saint,” came Teddy’s reply. He flopped himself onto the worn, leather armchair in the corner of the room and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his top pocket, along with a gold engraved lighter. He sparked his cigarette and took a long, deep drag. His expression calmed as he inhaled the tendrils of smoke.
“Yeah, and I am Hugh fuckin’ Jackman,” Jonas replied, a deep, warm laugh seeping from his mouth. He shook his head, looking down at his empty glass, and mumbled something incoherent. Then, he turned on the heels of his well-worn boots and made his way to the matching leather armchair in the sitting room, sighing again as he settled into it. “So, what brings you to Fires Creek? And why’d you buy the farm?”
“It’s kind of a long story. My mum died, and I just got out of a really intense relationship. Apparently, I makeinteresting life choices after a bottle of wine,” I replied, sheepishly.
“Well, River,” Teddy purred. “I, for one, am sogladwe have a fresh face in this place. I get sick of looking at Jonas’s ugly mug every day.” He took a long sip of whiskey and another drag of his cigarette. As he ran his fingers through his hair, a devilish grin crept over his mouth, and his eyes never left mine.
We sat there for a while, drinking and talking. The boys told me what I was in for, assuring me they’d ‘show me the ropes’. Jonas recounted a typical day, explaining how the feed cycles worked, which stock belonged in which paddock. He even went as far as to give me a rundown of the neighbours and made sure I knew the ins and outs of small-town politics. According to the boys, our neighbour, Brenda Hartford, was around once a week to check on the cattle she was agisting here and usually came bearing casseroles.
I could listen to Jonas read me a phonebook, honestly. His voice was so soothing, sofamiliar.It didn’t hurt that he was fucking delicious either.What was in the water in this place? Did hot, charming cowboys grow on trees here? Get it together, woman.
“So do you guys come up to the main house often?” I asked, taking another sip of my drink.
“Come up here? Peach, welivehere.” Teddy stated.
“You fucking what?”
“The Manor, we live in it. I have since I was born,” Jonas offered, an oddly sombre expression washed over his face.
