UNTAMED

1. Rosie

None of the men around here are dumb enough to fuck with the Redford brothers.

But I’m not a man, and I have no sense of self-preservation.

I let out an exasperated sigh as I stomp toward the barn, searching for Dolly, the only girl in the Redford family and my best friend since first grade.

Duke, Dolly’s brother, is about to be stripped of his title as my boyfriend if he doesn’t stop pissing me off. He’s been an ass all day, and I just got done telling him to leave me the hell alone before I go around spreading a rumor that his dick is the size of a baby carrot.

My daddy already hates his entire family with a burning passion. It wouldn’t be too hard to get the rest of the town on the anti-Redford brothers train that the mayor is happily joyriding.

“Dolly? Where the hell are you?”

It’s midnight on a moonless Saturday night. I can’t see shit. My boot catches on something in the dark, pitching me forward and nearly landing me face-first in the dirt. I steady myself, resisting the urge to scream at the top of my lungs in frustration.

My mama says the short temper I have came straight from my grandmother on my father’s side, the only other redhead in the family.

“Some best friend you are, Doll, abandoning me during a squabble with your stupid brother,” I mutter into the night.

I finally reach the big red barn, searching around for the cold metal handle in the pitch-black February night. My fingers finally make contact with the steel. I shove the massive door open, and a dim light from inside spills out to illuminate the scattered hay on the floor of the barn.

“Dolly?” I’m whispering now, trying to avoid waking up any of the horses who might be sleeping. Duke’s been training one for a while now that’s meaner than a rattlesnake mama with brand-new babies.

My boots don’t make a sound as I inch farther inside, peering around in the shadows in search of an ebony head of hair. The Redford matriarch was a full-blooded Tigua Native American, and all her kids have the thick, dark hair from their mother. Dolly was only eight when she died, and we were already best friends. I grieved the deep loss with her, and we grew as close as sisters.

My skin starts to crawl as I step farther in. The barn is lined with high stacks of hay bales, which can be crawling with snakes and rats. They’re nocturnal creatures, so this is their ideal playtime.

I was raised in the country, but that doesn’t mean I like things that slither. I reach into the back pocket of my jeans for my phone.

I could try calling her again.

A rustling sound comes from the hay to my left, causing me to jolt in fear and take a step back. I remain frozen in place, listening for more signs of life that would indicate a human’s presence instead of an animal.

A soft moan, followed by more rustling, reaches my ears. My taut muscles relax. I wonder who would possibly be in the barn at this time of night, doing … things. Curiosity gets the best of my virginal mind, causing me to step forward again.

I search the stacks of hay bales for where the sound is coming from, curious to see if it’s Dolly and one of the ranch hands. Last I heard, none of them were even cute enough to flirt with, much less fool around in the hay with. Dolly wouldn’t do anything like that without telling me first.

I take another step forward, holding my breath so I don’t get spotted by whoever it could be.

Finally, I see a head of hair that nearly blends in with the hay. It’s blond, so I immediately know it’s not my best friend. The head is moving ever so slightly, which ignites even more curiosity in me to see what the hell they’re doing and who it’s with.

I take another step closer, eliminating the last bale obscuring my vision before screeching to a halt.

The blond head facing away from me is bobbing up and down in front of a rippling set of tanned and toned abs. My eyes travel over his muscular frame and up to the ebony head of hair that’s attached to the face of a man I instantly recognize.

Holden.

Holden James Redford, the oldest of the Redford brothers.

His pink lips are parted, chiseled jawline as sharp as ever in the dim light from the lantern hanging on the wall a few feet away from him. I notice the shotgun he usually carries on his horse is leaned up against the wall underneath the lantern.

His eyes are closed, and his face is bathed in ecstasy. He reaches his veiny hand forward, gripping the roots of the blonde’s hair as he guides her head down over his dick.

I swallow over the lump in my throat, unable to command my limbs to move back before he sees me.

Holden is known for hooking up with girls in the barn. I’ve heard the stories. Ever since the girls in my class were old enough to care, they’ve been counting down the days until their eighteenth birthday, all hoping for a chance to spend an evening rolling around in the hay with the oldest Redford brother, like it’s some kind of badge of honor. He only hooks up with girls closer to his age, but that doesn’t mean the ones in my and Dolly’s class haven’t tried.

He flexes his ab muscles, thrusting into her mouth with his eyes still closed. She moans around him, clearly enjoying herself just as much as he is.

My mouth dries up as I continue to gawk at the scene. My internal voice is screaming at the top of its lungs, but I can’t convince myself to move.

“That’s right, just like that,” his deep voice encourages her, the erotic sound jolting me back to reality.

I stumble back in a panic, making a scraping noise with my boots against the floor. My eyes dart up, wide and terrified as I make direct eye contact with Holden.

His black-brown eyes bore into mine from about fifteen feet away. His thick eyebrows lower with disapproval as his gaze rakes over me, as if I were the one in a compromising position with my pants around my knees and not him.

His hard stare freezes me in place again, like a damn laser beam holding me captive. My mouth forms an O. I keep expecting him to say something, to tell me to fuck off, or to make her stop and push her off of him, but he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he keeps his eyes locked on to mine for what feels like forever, but is probably only a few seconds.

The girl’s head starts moving faster, but his eyes never leave mine. He grips her hair tightly, fisting it so hard that the veins in his forearm pop.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl.” His hand is still on her, but his eyes are on me.

My breathing grows more shallow while my skin grows hotter, a flush crawling up my neck. I’ve never seen anything like this. Duke and I haven’t done anything sexual at all. We’ve only made out in his pickup truck and gotten a little handsy. I’m eighteen now, so we probably will cross that line soon since I’m legally an adult and planning to move out soon.

My father already said he’d have Duke cuffed before he could get his pants all the way down if he tried. Duke is only eleven months older than me, but my father has never approved of us dating. Even though the age of consent is seventeen in Texas, he would find something to pin on Duke to get him in trouble or forbid me from seeing him. Mayor Dixon has the county sheriff in his back pocket.

Truthfully, I’m not sure I’m completely ready to take that step with my boyfriend.

Holden, on the other hand, is twenty-six. A full eight years older than me. He’s very experienced, and he’s probably gotten hundreds of blow jobs in the hay, exactly like he is now.

My upper lip is starting to sweat under his steady, carnal gaze.

You will count to three, and then you will turn around and march out of here!

My thundering heart rate is almost as loud as the sloppy sound of the girl’s wet mouth around Holden’s member, which I really can’t see from here. Like a complete and total pervert, I feel the urge to step closer to get a better view.

Holy shit, turn around and leave. You’re dating his brOTHER!

My memory and overall common sense finally snap me back to the present.

What the hell am I doing?

With one last stolen glance into his dark, bottomless eyes, I spin around and flee the scene. My lungs are screaming for air as I try not to make a sound, waiting until I’m outside the barn before gulping in oxygen. My body feels like it’s on fire, hot coals pressing into my chest and cheeks. The cold air helps minimally. I wish I could jump into an ice bath to shock my system back to reality, hopefully erasing every hint of what just happened from my memory.

What did I just witness?

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to wipe away the erotic picture of Holden’s gaze, his sensual parted lips, the contraction of his muscles as he was being … pleasured by some nameless, faceless girl.

Who was that?

I didn’t get a single glance at her face, probably because I was too distracted by him. His hands, his eyes.

Holy shit, his voice …

The deep, lustful tone of his voice is going to haunt me.

I continue stomping up toward the house, forgetting what I was even doing out there in the barn to begin with as I replay the scene over and over, unable to stop myself. My skin feels like it’s sunburned.

“Dolly!” a voice calls from the back porch ahead of me.

My eyes jump to see Duke standing there with Sterling, the brother right above him in age. A new wave of embarrassment and shame washes over me at the sight of my boyfriend after what I saw in the barn.

Duke and I have barely fooled around, but I’ve never even gotten half this aroused and overheated with him.

What on earth is wrong with me? Am I broken?

I keep walking, shifting my eyes to the dirt in front of me.

“Hey, Rosie. Is Dolly with you?” Sterling asks.

I shake my head. “Nope. Couldn’t find her.”

My boots finally reach the porch of the stone house. I steal a glance up at Duke’s downcast face, quickly shifting my eyes over to Sterling.

“I don’t know where she is. I’m getting worried,” I say.

Sterling nods, looking down at his phone. Cash walks out on the porch to join us. Of all the brothers, he’s the patient, calm one.

“I’m calling Holden,” Sterling says.

My throat feels tight, but I cross my arms over my stomach in an attempt to feign indifference at the mention of his name. He’s always the brother they call, the one who fixes things and makes it better, usually through violence. Sterling raises his phone up to his ear, a scowl on his face.

“Whose truck is that?” Duke asks.

I turn to see what he’s referring to, still avoiding eye contact with him. The truck in question is a single-cab red Dodge, and the sight immediately makes my tongue feel dry.

“That’s my uncle Cain’s truck …” My voice trails off.

Duke and Sterling both step off the porch, walking directly toward the vehicle. Cash and I trail behind them. My stomach is in knots.

What is my uncle doing here?

“Holden,” I hear Sterling say into the phone, “Dolly is missing.”