9. 9
9
Colton
I felt my hands tightening around the edge of the bench as I watched the two people outside the kitchen window. Honey was perched on the round yard railings with her hair tied into a ponytail and wearing an old shirt and jeans. Beau was in the centre, following a horse trotting around the outside. My grip tightened every time he would flick a shit-eating grin over at her, one which screamed to the world that he just got to blow his load. Honey’s happy laugh carried through the flyscreen door. These two were only arguing minutes ago. And Honey thought we’d been up and down.
I wasn’t proud of it. Eavesdropping. I’d been going out to ask Beau if the church still did the donation drive every weekend after cleaning up my teenage bedroom when I’d heard their voices. It was obvious they’d been arguing. Honey’s always took on a higher octave when she was upset. Beau’s words had been clipped and I could sense he wanted it to be over and done with. He hated confrontation. I’d hung on every word, pushed against the wall of the barn, throwing the slobbery tennis ball for the dogs as inconspicuously as possible. If the ball wasn’t thrown for them, they barked, and my cover blown. Honey had been upset Beau hadn’t told her I was back. I secretly enjoyed the way I’d rattled her so much. It meant she still carried a torch for me, even if the flame may be flickering. But Beau was thinking the same.
‘I chose you, Beau.’
Things had gone quiet until Beau asked her out for dinner at the pub. Then my stomach had turned when the sounds of heated kisses carried out the barn. Giggling and hurried boot steps had moved up to the loft. I’d scuttled away back into the house when the moans had started up.
My hands hadn’t unlocked themselves from fists since.
Through my life, my body had taken a lot of physical abuse. I’d been getting flung from horses since I could walk and I hadn’t gotten where I was in the Ebr by riding calm and gentle bulls. I had bumps caused by ribs that never healed properly, and my body felt twenty years older than it really was on cold mornings. I’d been in a few punch-ups behind the chutes when testosterone levels could no longer be controlled. I’d been clocked in the jaw and kicked in the guts. But none of that was as painful as imagining Honey with Beau. Doing the things I used to do to her. Knowing the spots on her body which sent her wild. Having her as my own. In that very same loft.
I didn’t know how torturous it would be to watch my brother with Honey McBride until I’d seen her in the flesh again. As a bull rider, I’d learnt to put on a bravado when my nerves could be so strong they ratted my teeth. Thank fuck I’d managed to put my facade of swagger on when I’d walked into The Honey Pot and saw her there behind the counter. I felt like I was a teenager again and I’d just seen my crush in a bikini for the first time. A desk fan had been blowing her golden styled curls around her face and her lips, which had just enough of a sheen on them to draw my attention had nibbled at the end of a pen in concentration. I’d done photoshoot campaigns numerous times, some of them with half-naked female models who’d pose in a seductive manner they’d practiced for, and I managed to keep my boner in check until I was fucking them hours later. Seeing Honey though, after seven years, looking so naturally stunning, had made me get a rod on like no other in record timing.
Then the bell had revealed my arrival, and her big blue eyes snapping up to me had me slip into the cocky cowboy I was known for quick smart. I hoped I didn’t let her see what she did to me, like when her voice, so sweet and familiar, had me suppressing a pleasurable shudder. Or the way my chest swelled with a strange kind of possessiveness when I noticed her left hand was missing an important piece of jewellery. Then, she’d walked around the counter, looking completely edible in a blouse with a neckline that revealed the slight arches of her breasts and the edge of a tattoo. A pair of high-waisted shorts flaunted the narrowness of her waist and the wide curves of her hips. Her legs had looked like they’d gone for miles thanks to the heels she wore. I’d had to rein myself in like a frisky stallion so I didn’t kiss a trail from her toenails, painted a soft pink, all the way up to her delicious mouth.
When she’d tripped into my arms, I didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse. The fabric of her blouse had felt invisible, like it’d melted away between the spot my hands touched and where her skin was warm. The near-animalistic need to press her against one of the bookshelves and have my way with her until books rained all around us was startling. Our breaths had been close to mingling, with her staring up at me in shock and me not wanting to let her the hell go. In that moment, I forgot that she was with my brother. Despite the years that had passed, she’d felt so right in my arms.
I gritted my teeth as I watched Honey now pluck bits of hay from her hair.
‘Were they arguing again?’ Dad ambled up next to me, slurping from a glass of water and following my eyesight.
‘Yep.’
‘About you?’
‘Yep.’
Dad heaved a sigh. ‘When isn’t it?’ Then, realising he’d said too much, gave a ridiculous cough and waved his glass towards the window. ‘You stay away from them two. Don’t cause any trouble.’
‘ You’re the one who sent me to get a book and didn’t tell me The Honey Pot was the only bookstore in town and owned by her!’ I threw my hands in the air and moved to the fridge, bending over to look for a snack. Not that I was very hungry. I just had to do something other than look out that damn window.
‘Really, Colton? You didn’t think that The Honey Pot could be owned by Honey , who was a massive bookworm when you were going together?’
I popped open a jar of pickles. ‘Fuck up, old man.’
I crunched into a pickle and moved into the lounge room to escape his laughter. He joined me in front of the television, wheezing and grunting as he lowered himself into the armchair that had been designated as his all my life.
‘So, what did you think of it?’
‘The book?’ He jutted out his bottom lip in thought and nodded. ‘Yeah, that Fleur sheila knows what she’s doing.’
‘Well don’t send me in for another.’ I shoved another pickle in my mouth.
Dad gave a grunt. ‘When the dust around your return settles, you and Honey need to sit down and talk. Get rid of all the crap. It’s no good for Beau. You can’t let it fester like a flyblown sheep for another seven years.’
‘Great comparison, Dad.’ I closed the lid on the pickles, no longer hungry.
***
I rubbed at my eyes, my shoulders bumping along the walls of the hallway as I padded from my bedroom. Sleep had evaded me again, the stress of how I was going to make the finals keeping me wide awake into the midnight hours. Glenn called me every day to ask when my flight back was booked. He wasn’t pleased when I told him I still hadn’t purchased a ticket. My position had dropped two places. Fans were blowing up my Instagram, wondering where I'd gone. Tabloids had already started rumours that I was quitting the sport.
I had to admit, for the first time since starting bull riding, I was apprehensive about returning. I’d forgotten what it was like to live life at a steady pace, one that Gumtree Valley knew all too well, and to be surrounded by familiar faces. Although our family issues were still thawing. My bedroom was just that—a bedroom—not a trailer hitched behind my truck with a kitchenette and bathroom also crammed in. It was refreshing not having to kick a girl out of my trailer, one who always believed they could woo the bull rider to a white picket fence life. In fact, I hadn’t been called a fucking bull riding jackass for quite some time.
It was nice.
A blue light cascaded into the hallway from the office’s open door. Beau didn’t even notice my shadow move past; his bloodshot eyes too focused on the screen while his fingers clacked on the keyboard. The open fridge cast a glow around the kitchen as I poured myself a glass of cold water, closing it with a chink of beer bottles before making my way to the front verandah. Although I only wore a pair of old footy shorts, not a single goosebump rose on my body as I sat on the bench amongst the night air. It was ridiculously humid. The US was currently blanketed in snow. The dogs, who’d been curled up and sleeping further down, quickly moved closer to sleep around my feet. A horse whinnied. Some galloped. Others snorted from the barn.
Yeah, this was nice.
I jumped when a shadow lurked next to me. ‘Jesus fuck, you scared the shit outta me!’
Beau’s tall frame sat next to me. ‘That was the point.’
I shook my head, annoyance beginning to bubble up inside of me when I imagined his hands disrupting the ghosts of trails I’d left on Honey’s skin. ‘If you hate me so much, why did you ask me to come back?’
‘Dad wanted you home.’
My eyebrows shot up and I gave a confused chuckle. ‘Dad? As in the same dad who was so butt hurt about me choosing a life away from Double Q Ranch he practically threw me down the driveway? The grumpy old bastard who we now have to watch around the clock?’
‘Yep.’ Beau side-eyed me. ‘Said he wants us to be a family again. It cut him pretty deep when you missed Mum’s anniversary.’
I swallowed roughly. I’d been riding in Vegas that day, although technically it was a different day over there. I’d selfishly been grateful for the noise and lights distracting me from the pain of her being gone so long.
‘I can’t believe she’s been gone twenty years. You know, when I came back, for some reason, I thought I’d find her bent over the garden, wearing those stupid pads on her knees she always wore.’
Beau smiled, nodding. ‘Sometimes I think I see her, working a horse in the round yard or moving around the house.’
I felt my heart clenching, threatening to squeeze tears up and out of my eyes, so I cleared my throat and shuffled on the bench seat. ‘I’ve got a life over there, Beau. I don’t wanna be back any more than you want me back. As soon as Dad’s on the mend, I’m outta here.’
My brother’s jaw clenched, his large frame unfolding as he stood. ‘Good. In the meantime, you stay the hell away from her.’
The flyscreen door slammed after him.