Chapter 5 #4
But standing here in the dark barn, feeling their want like a physical thing, I can’t remember why any of that matters.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
“Can’t what?”
“Can’t tell you to stop.”
Jesse makes a sound that’s pure need. “Thank God.”
His lips crash into mine before I can take another breath, hungry and demanding and everything I’ve been trying not to want since that day at the feed store. He tastes like mint and danger, and the kiss is nothing like Wyatt’s controlled intensity. It’s pure fire, consuming everything in its path.
His hands tangle in my hair, and I melt into him, my body responding before my brain can catch up.
Behind me, I feel Boone’s hands settle on my hips, steadying me, his thumbs stroking circles that make me gasp into Jesse’s mouth.
Wyatt’s hand slides around my waist from the other side, his touch possessive and sure.
When Jesse finally breaks the kiss, I’m dizzy and breathless and aching.
“We’re not done yet,” Boone says.
I turn to face him, and he’s right there, his hands framing my face. “You sure about this?” he asks.
“No.”
“Good. I’d be worried if you were.”
Boone’s kiss is different from both of his brothers. Playful and sweet at first, but then his tongue traces my lower lip and it becomes something else entirely. There’s heat there, his fingers sliding into my hair, tilting my head to deepen the connection.
When he pulls back, all three watch me with dark eyes and careful expressions.
“Okay?” Jesse asks, his voice rough.
“I don’t know,” I admit, trembling. “This is... a lot.”
“Too much?” Wyatt’s voice is tight with concern.
“I don’t know that either.”
Boone’s hands are still on my waist, and I can feel the warmth of his palms. Jesse’s standing close enough that I can feel his breath on my neck. Wyatt’s thumb is stroking my cheekbone.
“We don’t have to do anything else,” Jesse says quietly. “We can stop right here.”
“What if I don’t want to stop?” The admission comes out before I can stop it.
“Then we don’t stop.” His voice drops, becomes rougher.
“But what does that mean? What are we doing here?”
“Honestly?” Boone says, his hands tightening on my waist. “I have no idea. But I know I don’t want to pretend I don’t feel.”
“Feel what?”
“This pull. This need to be near you, to touch you, to—” He cuts himself off, but his hands speak for him, sliding up my sides.
“It’s impossible,” I say again, but the word has lost all conviction.
“Yeah,” Wyatt says. “But maybe impossible is just another word for difficult.”
“We could figure it out,” Jesse suggests, his lips brushing my ear.
“Figure what out?”
“How to do this without the world ending.”
“There’s no way to do this. Our families would disown us. The whole town would go insane. Mrs. Delaney would probably have a heart attack from the excitement.”
“So we keep it quiet,” Boone suggests, his thumbs stroking my ribs.
“A secret?”
“Our secret,” Wyatt confirms, his hand sliding down my neck.
“You really think we could keep this, whatever this is, secret?”
“We can try,” Jesse says, and then his mouth is on my neck, kissing the spot Wyatt marked earlier, and all rational thought flies out the barn door.
Jesse’s mouth is still on my neck when we hear it—a loud, indignant bleating from outside.
Rita.
We freeze.
“What was that?” Jesse asks against my skin, his lips still pressed to my pulse point.
“Rita,” I say, my voice shaky. “She must have gotten out of her pen.”
Another bleat, closer this time, more insistent. Then the sound of something heavy hitting the barn door.
“Is she trying to get in?” Boone asks, his hands still on my waist.
THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.
“She’s headbutting the door,” I realize, trying to clear the fog from my brain. “She does that when she’s upset about something.”
“What’s she upset about?” Wyatt asks.
“Probably the fact that I’m not in the house where she expects me to be. She knows my routine, and she definitely knows we’re in here.”
“Your goat knows your routine?” Jesse pulls back slightly, looking amused despite the interruption.
“Yes. She tends to be rigid.”
THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.
The sound is loud enough to wake the dead, let alone my father who’s just inside the house.
“We need to get her to stop,” I say, pulling away from their touches.
“We need to get out of here,” Wyatt corrects, grabbing his toolbox, back in practical mode despite the bulge in his jeans that was pressing against my leg.
“Yeah, let’s get the hell out of here,” Jesse adds, looking around for another exit while adjusting himself.
THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.
“There’s no other way out,” I tell them, straightening my clothes with shaking hands.
“Then we wait for her to stop,” Boone suggests, but his voice is rough, distracted, his eyes still on me.
But Rita doesn’t stop. If anything, she gets louder, adding angry bleating to the percussion section. It sounds like she’s trying to knock the barn down.
“Okay, new plan,” I say, trying to think through the haze of hormones. “You three stay here. I’ll go deal with Rita and get her back in her pen. Once the coast is clear, you can sneak out.”
“We’re not leaving you to handle this alone,” Wyatt says firmly.
“It’s my goat and my problem.”
“It’s our problem now,” Jesse says, and there’s something possessive in his tone that makes my stomach flip.
“Since when?”
“Since about five minutes ago when you let all three of us kiss you.”
The reminder of what just happened makes heat flood my face. “That was—”
THUNK. THUNK. THUNK. An especially angry bleat.
“Rita’s persistent,” I say, grateful for the distraction from thinking about how I just kissed three brothers. How I want to do it again.
“Like her owner,” Wyatt mutters.
“I heard that.”
THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.
Then, the worst happens: the front porch light coming on.
“My dad,” I breathe, my blood turning to ice.
We look at each other in the dim light, and I can see the same thought on all their faces: We are so screwed.
“Out the door, now,” Wyatt commands, taking charge. “We’ll deal with the goat.”
“But Dad—”
“Would you rather explain why you’re in the barn at midnight looking thoroughly kissed, or why your goat is having a tantrum?”
He has a point. My lips are swollen, my clothes are disheveled, and I probably look exactly like what I am, a girl who’s been making out with three guys in a barn.
Jesse cracks the door open, and Rita immediately tries to push her way in, bleating indignantly.
“Hey, girl,” I say, grabbing her collar. “Thanks for throwing me under the bus.”
She looks at me with those knowing eyes, then at the three McCoy brothers emerging from the barn, and lets out a bleat that sounds suspiciously like judgment.
“Don’t you start,” I tell her.
“Callie?” Dad’s voice carries across the yard. “What’s going on out there?”
“Rita got out!” I call back, trying to sound normal and not like I’ve just had the most intense make-out session of my life. “I’m getting her back in her pen!”
“Need help?”
“No! I’ve got it!”
Jesse, Wyatt, and Boone are already melting into the shadows, heading for the tree line that separates our properties. But Jesse turns back for a second, catches my eye, and mouths, “Tomorrow.”
It’s a promise and a threat and everything in between.
The porch light stays on, and I hear Dad’s footsteps on the gravel. He’s coming to check.
“Come on, Rita,” I mutter, pulling her toward her pen. “You’ve caused enough trouble for one night.”
She bleats again, and I swear she’s laughing at me.
By the time Dad reaches me, I’ve got Rita halfway to her pen, and the McCoy brothers have vanished into the darkness.
“Everything okay?” Dad asks, looking around suspiciously.
“Fine. Rita’s just being Rita.”
He looks at me more closely, and I pray the darkness hides my flushed face and swollen lips. “You sure? You look... flustered.”
“Wrestling a goat at midnight will leave a girl flustered,” I say, which isn’t technically a lie.
“Hmm.” He doesn’t look entirely convinced. “Who fixed the fence?”
The question catches me off guard. “What?”
“The fence rail. It’s been repaired. Professional job, too. When did you learn to use a circular saw?”
“I... YouTube,” I lie. “You can learn anything on YouTube.”
“Where’d you get the materials?”
“Had some spare wood in the barn.” Another lie. The lies are piling up fast.
Dad walks over to examine the fence more closely, running his hand along the repair. “This is McCoy-quality work.”
My heart stops. “What makes you say that?”
“See the way the screws are countersunk? The precision of the cut? McCoys always overengineer everything. It’s like a signature.”
I force a laugh. “Maybe I’m just a naturally good student.”
Dad turns to look at me, and there’s something knowing in his expression. “Callie, if there’s something you need to tell me—”
“There’s nothing to tell, Dad.” Except that I just kissed three McCoy brothers and liked it. Loved it. Want to do it again.
“Okay.” But he doesn’t sound convinced. “Get that goat secured and get to bed. We’ve got practice tomorrow for the fundraiser.”
Right. The fundraiser. Where I’ll have to see Jesse, Wyatt, and Boone again and pretend nothing happened. Pretend I don’t know how they taste, how they kiss, how their hands feel on my skin.
“Night, Dad.”
“Night, sweetheart. And, Callie?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful. Whatever you’re doing, whoever you’re doing it with... be careful.”
The warning in his voice makes it clear he suspects something, even if he doesn’t know what.
I get Rita into her pen, double-checking the latch, then stand there for a moment in the darkness, my fingers touching my just-kissed lips.
What have I gotten myself into?
Three McCoy brothers. Three kisses. Three different types of fire, all burning through me at once.
This is definitely going to end badly.
But as I head inside, all I can think about is Jesse’s whispered “tomorrow” and the promise in it.
Tomorrow can’t come fast enough.
And that’s a problem.