1. Ozzy
Ozzy
Five Years Later
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
I slide my oversized sunglasses down my nose to look around at… nothing. Nothing as far as the eye can see. Land. Sky. More land. More sky. No buildings. No honking cars. No cursing pedestrians. No screaming sirens.
The culture shock is hitting me like a ton of bricks. It’s like I’m stepping into a whole other world. I mean, I guess I am? It’s so quiet out here I can almost feel my sanity slipping away. A deep, slow breath fills my lungs, but it doesn’t calm me. It just makes the silence louder.
Gretchen, my battered, overworked midnight-blue, Volkswagen Jetta, hums beneath my fingertips as I slowly roll down the endless dirt driveway.
I knew the ranch would be big, but this is on another level.
The house ahead is huge; old but well-maintained, with a wraparound porch and barns on either side.
The entire place is overrun with wild fucking animals.
They’re everywhere. Okay… I guess horses grazing in the fields and chickens scurrying around don’t technically constitute as wild , but still.
“Shit!” I scream, slamming on my brakes as a small pig—yes, a pig—runs out in front of me, squealing as if I hit it. Which I did not .
My heart punches my ribs as I throw Gretchen into park and shove the door open. “What the fuck was that?!”
A low laugh filters toward me from the porch.
“Sorry ‘bout tha—Oh my god…” I glance up just as a man steps off the porch. Tall. Broad. Built like he does ranch work in his sleep. He’s got the kind of muscles that aren’t from a gym, but from a life spent wrangling animals and breaking things back into submission.
“Can I…” He coughs to clear his throat while flashing a lazy smile and waggling his brows. “Can I help you, angel?” Ah, this must be the infamous Carter. I was warned about the Rowe men—specifically, Carter and his… reputation.
I tilt my head, deadpan. “Unless ‘helping’ involves you fucking off, no, I think I got it.”
Apparently getting snapped at is his love language, because Carter’s grin only seems to widen.
Before I can tell him exactly where to shove his suggestive grin and those brows, two other men step out from behind him.
One is tall and lean, eyes sharp with quiet amusement.
The other? Built like a damn bear with broad shoulders, shoulder-length brown hair peeking out from beneath a cowboy hat and a ‘least amused of all’ look on his face.
I steel myself; having three large men this close to me is triggering my flight or fight response. “Ozzy Davenport. I believe I’m here to take care of your father.”
“ You’re the nurse?” the unamused one sneers, his blue eyes narrowing as he takes me in.
Ah, there it is. The standard once-over.
Same shit, no matter where I go. Never matters how qualified I am.
All they see are tattoos, piercings and weird hair.
I’m covered from the neck down in artwork, my straight hair parted down the middle and dyed half silver, half black.
Plus, there are my quarter-size black plugs, cheek piercings and nostril ring.
I raise a dark brow at the man. “No, didn’t you order the stripper-gram? Obviously, I’m the nurse, have been for nearly a decade now.” I let the judgment sit between us for a moment before cocking a hip and folding my arms.
His piercing blue eyes roll as he shakes his head. “I’m going to throttle Indy for this,” he mutters to the still-grinning man.
My eyes narrow as I feel a surge of protectiveness for the only friend I’ve had in the last five years.“For what?” I ask sharply. “Finding you a nurse actually willing to help you, since your brother here can’t keep his dick to himself?”
The tallest guy, who has been silent, busts out laughing, and Carter’s smirk widens.
“So,” he purrs, getting close to me. Too close.
“You’ve heard of me.” His hand goes out to touch me, but in an instant, I kick him behind his knee, causing him to fall to the ground into a pile of mud…
or maybe it’s shit. Yep, definitely shit.
“Jesus Christ!” the big one growls, as he and the third man step forward.
I casually press my foot down, the heel of my black stiletto dangerously close to Carter’s crotch, and they all freeze.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” I state slowly, looking at each of them.
“You will talk to me as if I have no sex parts, understand? To you, I am a shapeless robot. I am your great-great-grandma. Whatever you have to tell yourself to keep your piss-ant dick in fucking check. And if you can’t, and we have to have this discussion again…
” I press into my heel, causing Carter to hiss.
“I will pop those useless nuts like grape tomatoes. Am I making myself clear?” Raising my brow, I wait for him to give his answer.
Carter nods furiously, and I give him a bright smile.
“Perfect! See? Now we can be friends.” I beam while removing my foot and stepping back.
The two standing men help Carter up, who is cupping his crotch like a protective mother would her baby.
“Jensen,” the long-haired man says to the tallest one. “Take Carter inside and get him some ice.”
Snorting, I roll my eyes while Carter limps away. “I barely touched him,” I mutter before turning and walking to get my luggage out of Gretchen.
“We have to ride horses,” the man grunts. “Any soreness or tenderness can make riding impossible.”
I clutch my hands to my chest and push out my bottom lip. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry.” I lay the mock sympathy on extra thick. “Maybe your brother will think twice before touching someone without their consent next time.”
“Get over yourself.” He snorts before snatching my bags from me. “He goes to touch your arm, and you knock him back and nearly impale his nuts? You won’t get along around here if that’s the attitude you’re giving out.”
“Well, fortunately, I’m not here to get along. I’m here to take care of your father.”
He huffs out a laugh as we walk towards the front of the house. “Right,” he sneers, opening the door and looking me over once more. “And how do you plan to do anything with those?” He gestures to my long, stiletto-shaped black and red nails.
“Lucky for you,” I state while trying to control the annoyance rapidly bubbling to the surface, “my nails and my job are none of your concern.”
He smirks, though the hard edge to his voice shows he’s as annoyed with me as I am with him.
“This is my house.” He glares down at me, and his jaw tenses behind his short beard.
“I’m the one signing your paychecks. So, your job performance, your attitude, your ability to perform your basic tasks with those stupid ass talons are my concern.
Now, if you’re done running that mouth…” His eyes linger over my black painted lips before meeting my gaze again. “I’ll show you to your room.”
I glare but say nothing. The truth is, I uprooted my life to come here.
If I leave now, I’ll have no job and no place to stay besides Gretchen.
While it wouldn’t be the first time and it’s far from the worst place I’ve fallen asleep, I want to make a fresh start.
I want to save up and find a place of my own after I’m done here.
A place that’s mine; something no one can take from me.
Copping an attitude with my new employer and running out is going to set me even further back.
I try to take in the house while following the man through the spacious, open living space.
Everything is so bright and airy, and there are massive windows everywhere, allowing the bright sun to light up the home.
My eyes catch the view, and it stops me in my tracks.
“Wow,” I breathe. This is unlike anything my city girl ass has ever seen before.
It’s like one of those landscape paintings, it’s so pretty it doesn’t look real.
The land seems to go on forever, there’s so much of it.
As we continue around toward the staircase, I can’t help the small smile when I see horses running and cows grazing in the pasture.
I’m living in a place that has real cows and horses, and it’s not even a big deal.
“You coming?” he asks, tearing me away from the picturesque view. I blink at him and cock my head to one side.
“Is all of that yours?” I gesture to the land outside.
His gaze follows my hand and a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“Now don’t come in here thinking you’re gonna get yourself a rich rancher.
That ain’t how this works.” My scowl deepens as I gesture for the snickering man to continue leading me up the stairs.
There are quite a few and it makes me wonder how on Earth my friend Indy handled them with her multiple sclerosis while she was out here.
We walk up the final steps and make a right at the top. He leads me down a hall with walls covered in family photos of kids at various stages of life, along with ribbons and medals. We stop at a dark wooden door, and he turns to me while twisting the handle.
“This will be your area,” he states, walking in while I follow behind him.
The room is nice, spacious, and full of light like the rest of the house.
The first area is like a small living space: an oversized loveseat, television, and bookcase with more knick-knacks than actual books.
I walk further and have to steady myself against the wall.
The bed is facing a wall-to-wall window looking out at the wood line and…
“That’s it, Brumby! Run, run, run!”
My knees buckle as memories of Patrick’s cruel, twisted laugh turn my blood to ice, and my hearing becomes muffled. Where are the curtains? Can I be seen from up here? Who could be out there? Out there watching… waiting.
“Guess you ain’t used to the view.”
“Fuck!” I scream, this stranger’s voice startling me so severely it causes me to fall backward against the wall as I to force back a cry.