Chapter 8 Veda
eight
Veda
Jesse throws his head back, wind brushing away his curls, as I watch in fascination.
It occurs to me that this might be one of Grandpa’s tests because I’ve never seen men so gorgeous as the ones at Wilde Ranch.
They are larger than life, not only in personality but also incredibly tall, over six feet, and take up all the space everywhere they go.
Wide chests, big hands, and smirks. It’s hard to think with them around.
The grocery store wasn’t exactly full of gluten-free stuff, but it had enough to buy some basics like bread and noodles.
Jesse insisted on paying and carrying it for me, and I let him without a fight.
I’m feeling tender today. My body aches, the familiar numbness in my chest is not so efficient, and every time I close my eyes, I think about my daughter.
It’s silly, but I grip tight to the generosity of a stranger.
His kindness is like a balm over my scars.
Right away, shame bubbles from the pit of my stomach, and I hate myself for it.
The smile is wiped from my face by Grandpa’s voice inside my head.
It echoes, making my knees weak, as he calls me every name in the book just because I let a man do something for me.
How many times has he told me this is leading them on?
It’s on me if they expect more. I flinch as his words become louder, growing and poisoning every interaction.
It’s hell, and I can’t hold back anymore.
“I can carry it.” I try to pry the bag out of his hand since I can’t just throw money at him to make up for what he bought. Jesse doesn’t even reply. He shakes his head and continues to show me around Willow Ridge.
He doesn’t know how hard my heart hammers, and how dry my mouth feels. His words are soft, smiles still on his lips because only I can hear the disappointment of Grandpa as we walk back to the truck. I nod, trying to be casual, but if this is really a test, I’m failing terribly.
His accent is similar to the other two, though it’s lighter in some places and melodic, and it makes my heart ache.
I try to pay attention to that instead of panic rising in my chest. I trace his features with my eyes as we walk, noticing how much younger than the other two he looks.
I’m not sure how old he is, but Major has gray hair around his temples, and Derrick’s eyes wrinkle at the side when he smiles, while Jesse has a boyish charm about him.
His skin is a rich brown, a shade or two lighter than mine, and it has a golden quality that I like very much. He looks like a god and a magazine model at the same time.
People nod at him as he makes his way through the main street, and he dips his chin. Though no one ever stops to talk, they look their fill.
“Are you guys from Willow Ridge?”
“No, but not far from here. Major’s da— parents gave him the land, so we moved.”
I nod, looking ahead and finding Derrick and Major waiting beside the truck. “And they are brothers, obviously.”
There is no denying the brothers are very alike, but Derrick is a little shorter and wider with black tattoos covering his right arm, while Major has salt-and-pepper hair, and I hate to admit, but a mouthwatering scowl on his face.
What is wrong with me? How can I think a man’s scowl looks good? It looks good on Major, though.
“Yes, at first, only Major and I moved to Wilde Ranch. Derrick was away for a long time. He’s a rodeo star.”
My eyebrows rise in surprise. “A rodeo star?”
“A bronco rider. He was a big deal, but…” Jesse frowns as if he’s unsure what to say next. “Anyway, Wilde Ranch is home now. But we keep to ourselves most of the time.”
He doesn’t add to it, and I feel bad for prying. We arrive at the truck, and the brothers watch me with enough intensity to make me squirm. I want their eyes off me just as much as I need them to keep looking. It’s really bad, honestly.
“Home?” Major asks, eyes on the brown paper bag in Jesse’s hands.
“Do you need anything else, darlin’?” Derrick asks. I jerk and flash him a look.
Why does it feel so good when he calls me that?
Goose bumps rise up my arms, and I’m flushed at once.
Undeniable heat creeps from my butterfly-assaulted belly up to my neck, and I blush, almost falling over my feet.
Knowing that he’s a rodeo star shouldn’t come as a surprise.
He’s drop-dead gorgeous. I feel tingling all over.
My mouth is dry, and I try to shake myself out of the spell.
Never in my life have men had this effect on me.
Why now? Why these three all at once?
“Veda?” Jesse’s voice is the wake-up call. I need to get a grip.
The three of them are watching me—Major’s mouth closed in a firm line, Derrick’s eyes shining with mischief, and Jesse’s lips parted as his tongue peeks out while he tastes my name.
They wait for a reply, but I forgot the damn question. He wants to know if I need anything else? I swallow the lump in my throat and fake a smile. “No, sorry. I don’t need anything else, thank you.”
My words don’t ignite any action. All I need is for us to move from the side of the road to the trucks, and then I can go to my room and feel embarrassed by this interaction for the next eight hours. Only repeated mortification can erase the girlish softness in me that yearns for the cowboys.
My eyes find Jesse, but all the playfulness is gone.
I shiver when I recognize the hunger in his gaze, and when I try to escape it, I find it again and again on Derrick’s and Major’s.
The world stops, and I feel tight and hot all over.
They close in on me, moving like predators, and I’m left in the middle, uncertain what to do.
Their eyes feel like a caress over my heated skin, soft and wanting. I’m flushed and breathless, desire so thick, I shift on my feet to release the tension between my legs.
“Veda,” Derrick groans.
No one has ever groaned my name like that.
It tightens my insides, and I stand there not knowing what to do with something so intense.
Derrick’s hands close in the air as if he’s holding himself not to touch me.
Jesse looks like there’s nothing but me here, as if the whole of Willow Ridge had ceased to exist. Major looks like he’s about to pounce on me, and I don’t know if that’s good or bad.
I preen under their eyes, and I really shouldn’t.
A part of me loves the attention and wants more, but I have to shut this down.
Grandpa warned me about this. If letting Jesse pay kick-started a guilt trip, this should make me feel much worse.
I literally turned good men into something full of hunger.
I’m not sure how I did it, but the proof is right in front of me.
It’s a stab in my heart, splitting my chest in two.
“Can we go?”
The plea in my tone is not left unnoticed, and it’s enough to shake them out of this weird spell. Major is the first one to step away as he curses. He removes his hat to run his fingers through his hair.
“I need to go.” His voice is hoarse, and I’m shocked as he stumbles away and gets into the truck.
This man physically dragged me to his car, and now he can’t get away faster.
That acid feeling I call shame grows and infests my chest, and I have to suck in a breath not to cry.
I don’t want to be everything my grandfather hammered in me that I was, but their reaction doesn’t leave room for arguments.
A siren luring good men.
“Come on, Veda. Let’s go.”
Derrick doesn’t yank my arm like his brother, and for some reason, that hurts even more. Jesse follows us. I feel his hand hovering at the small of my back, but he never makes contact. Their softness tastes bitter like fear, as if I’m suddenly carrying the scarlet letter tattooed on my chest.
Eyes cast down, I follow Derrick to his truck without a word. Quiet and alone in the back seat, I have a chance to curl into myself.
Goddammit!
Tears I don’t want to shed run down my cheeks, and I curse the world and my grandfather most of all. I have so many reasons to cry. This should be at the bottom of my list, yet I can’t stop feeling dirty—not only for the way they looked at me but also at how much I wanted them to keep looking.
How can something so good be wrong? I was loving Jesse’s care, and I melted under Derrick’s eyes. Even Major, with his grumpiness, makes my belly flutter. I have to hold back from taking his cowboy hat and putting it on my head as a challenge.
The pain ups a notch, and I wince, uncomfortable. When I think things couldn’t get worse, the front of my dress becomes damp. My horrified gaze follows the movement of my rising chest, panic and confusion arrive at once, and I curse loudly.
“Are you okay?” Derrick eyes me through the mirror.
“I’m okay,” I gulp.
My arm crosses in front of my breasts to hide from them, and grief strikes me when I realize there’s indeed nothing wrong.
I’m just lactating, five days after giving birth.
It took so long for my milk to drop that I actually forgot it was going to happen.
My body doesn’t care that my baby was taken from me.
It’s doing its thing and ruining my mental health in the process.
Piercing pain slashes me like a knife, and a raw scream creates a lump in my throat, yet I don’t let anything out. I raise my eyes to Derrick with the fakest smile on my lips, and my arms crossed in front of my chest.
“Everything is okay.”
His eyes narrow, and he sniffs the air, but of course he’s not smelling the milk. He’s not a hound dog, for god’s sake, yet the action makes me feel weird, and I press my arms even closer to my chest, my eyes averting to the window by my side.
I’m stupid, so damn stupid.
My breasts were like balloons, sore and sensitive, but I’m feeling so poorly overall that I didn’t pay enough attention.
My vision blurs as I hold back the tears, and the minute we’re back at the ranch, I run to my room, locking my door once again.
I make a beeline for the bathroom, tossing the damp dress aside as I go.
I only let the tears fall when I’m under the hot, steamy shower.
The hot water only makes me leak even more, and I sob harder. If I had my baby, this would be such a special moment.
But she’s not here, and she’s not mine.
It’s just a reminder of what I’ll never have.