Chapter 17
Troy
Bloody heat waves… I thought, pushing the old front-end loader forward. The bucket dragged along the ground, scooping up all plant matter, alive or dead, until I was forced to turn away, dumping the collected vegetation down a nearby gully, before going back for more. Bloody fire breaks.
At least I’d stayed on top of the situation, but as I eyed the Argyle land across the fence line, I saw that, as per usual, the horse stud prioritised aesthetics over practicality.
Beautiful horses cropped emerald green grass and not for the first time did I wonder how they kept their pasture so green, when we each had the same water allocation.
Bloody Arygles… I grumbled to myself, pushing the loader onwards, only for my phone’s ringer to break me out of my foul mood. Irritation gave way to fear when I looked at the screen, because I was imagining one of a million possible scenarios in my head, right up until I saw who was calling.
Bloody Dad.
“Troy,” I said, answering the phone as I brought the loader to a stop.
“How’s it going, son?” That jovial tone, it had my teeth grinding together, just like it always did when he rang. “Farm keeping you busy?”
If anyone should know the answer to that question, it was Dad. After Nan and Pa died he took over at the farm, so he knew intimately what it required to keep the place running.
“Always,” I ground out. “There’s a heat wave about to hit. Seven days of over 40 degree—”
“Yeah, well, if I know my son, you’ve got it handled.”
The blithe way he cut me off was all the reminder I needed of what kind of man my father was. He’d been the exact same way when Mum was dying.
“And he’s not going to change anytime soon,” she’d explained, lying in bed looking too small, too frail to the be the same woman who bustled around the kitchen, ruling her brood with an iron fist. “So you’ll just have to accept him as he is.”
Accept? Yes. Like it? Absolutely freaking not.
“So, I’m gonna need you to send me my share of the farm earnings early this quarter.”
For a moment, I just stared at the phone, unable to believe what I was hearing.
“What?”
“Well, Lisa’s been dying to go overseas and son.” Which one was Lisa? I thought his girlfriend’s name was Melinda. “I promised to take her. Young, beautiful girl like her. She’s not gonna settle for an old fart like me, not unless there’s a suitable incentive…”
His words washed over me like waves, each one threatening to push my head under and drown me. I sent him a big chunk of money last quarter. More than I should’ve if I was being honest.
“You said the last lot would be enough to keep you going for six months,” I said. “Dad, you swore—”
“It’s hot there at the moment?” All the good humour was gone from Dad’s voice.
“I remember what it was like.” Here we go, I thought, sitting back against the loader seat.
“Working from sundown to sunup, every day of the week, because there was no time for weekends when you had a farm to run and four kids to provide for.”
Mum was right. Dad would never change, because we had this conversation at least a couple of times a year. My teeth ground together as I let him go on.
“When you have kids, it’ll be your turn,” he assured me. “But right now, it’s mine. I wanted to sell the farm when your mother got sick.”
“Putting her out of the only home she’d known as an adult,” I growled.
“It was my farm, not hers.”
God, I’d heard this argument over and over, but it was the first time that hurt the most. Barely twenty-two and with three siblings still in school, I’d asked him what he expected us to do.
“We made a deal.”
A deal with the devil, I realised afterwards. Work harder, faster, put longer and longer hours in to keep the farm afloat and make sure I could afford my dad’s increasingly insane demands.
“You’ll get your fucking money,” I snapped, my fingers almost cracking my phone case. “But if I don’t get back to clearing the fire breaks, there won’t be a bloody farm for you to bleed dry.”
Ending the call, then blocking his number temporarily, I tossed the device into the centre console of the grader, then started it back up again.
Suddenly tearing every bit of vegetation from the earth felt like a fine thing to be doing.
Better my destructive impulses be directed at the ground than anyone else.
Hours later, I stood outside the main house, staring at the wide verandas, the big front door.
The muffled sounds, the smells of good cooking, threatened to lure me inside, but instead I sank down onto the bench, unlacing my work boots.
I couldn’t walk in there, not in the mood I was in, so I performed the task slowly, focussing on my breath rather than my infuriating day.
Sparky came snuffling around, wondering what the hell I was doing, then started ‘helping’ by grabbing the laces with his teeth and tugging.
“Sparky!” I said in a sharp voice, but those big brown eyes rolled up and stared into mine, right as his whole body dropped low. “Don’t you bloody…” Too late. He was pulling with all his might, thinking this was a fine game of tug of war. “Sparky! Sparks!”
He was in his element, wrestling me for control of the boot laces and letting out a playful growl as I grabbed the laces at their base and started pulling them from his grip.
When I wrestled them free, he leapt back, barking and snapping at me, wanting more fun.
I was trying some breathing technique I’d heard on a podcast when driving a harvester, but in the end, this was what I needed.
Who could be mad when your damn dog was spinning around in circles from excitement?
“Thought that was you.”
The door opened, and Mackenzie stepped out with a beer in hand.
“Just when I thought my day couldn’t get any better,” I said, kicking off my boots, only for Sparky to go running off with one. Stalking forward in my socks, I had her in my arms and was sweeping her over to the bench where I sat us down, her on my lap.
“It’s the beer, right?” she asked with a smile. “You’re dying for a beer.”
“Dying for many things…” Were all American girls like this? Able to turn my frown upside down, make all the worries of the day just melt away? My mouth parted, ready to tell Mackenzie just that.
But we were keeping things casual.
My smile faltered, and she noticed, which had me forcing myself to grin, because I could not bear that look of concern on her face.
“Beer…” I plucked the can from her grip and cracked it, taking a long mouthful that helped wash away some of the day’s shit, then set it down beside me. “A very long shower.” I stared up at her. “You could join me, help scrub my back.”
Her nose wrinkled, then she burst out laughing.
“You are a little… fragrant.”
“This is the thanks a man gets after working all day to keep his family safe.” They were my father’s words, but right now I said them in a completely different tone. Light, fun, because it gave me the excuse to turn her around, so she was straddling my lap. “Clearing the fire breaks.”
“My hero,” she said, clasping her hands to her chest with a smile. That was all it took to distract me. I knew where I wanted my hands and they were right where she had hers. “Let me show you how appreciative I am.”
In that moment, all the blood, sweat and tears of the day faded away. Couldn’t think of my damn father, not when her hips started to swivel. No other woman had me as hot for her as Mackenzie and that smile made clear she knew it.
“Mackenzie…” I groaned, my cock hardening so damn fast it almost hurt. “Love…”
“I like the way you say that.” She leaned in, increasing the pressure, forcing explosions of pleasure to burst inside me. “American men don’t say that to women, but you…”
What the hell was she saying? I couldn’t keep track of it as my hands clamped down on her hips, desperate to keep her right where she was.
“I what, Mackenzie?” I asked, taking control. Holding her where she needed to be, I ground up into her. The moment I hit her clit was clear, because her lips fell open and she started to pant at every pass. “I…”
There was one thing about working on the land in a country that had twenty one of the top twenty five most venomous snakes and that was you needed to keep your wits about you. Hearing Sparky’s growls change, the way his body dropped down low, had me straightening up.
Then I saw a long dark shape slither across the ground.
“Stay right where you are,” I said in a low voice.
“Why?” Mackenzie was still being playful, thinking we were just making out. “Are you feeling a little on edge?”
“No, because there’s a snake over there.”
“What?”
Her sharp inhale of breath, the fear in her voice had me holding her tight as my free hand was shoved into my jeans pocket.
“Sparky!” I roared, using the same voice I would out in the paddock when he wasn’t paying attention. “Sparks, back!”
But the stupid dog dropped down lower, stalking the damn snake like it was a sheep or something.
But these reptiles were no dozy stock animals.
I caught the glitter of its scales as its head turned, staring my dog down, and I knew how this would end.
Snakes had bitten dogs I’d had before Sparks, and it was a terrible way to die.
That’s what had me opening up my grandfather’s knife, then I threw it through the air.
A flash of silver and then thunk! I was up on my feet, putting Mackenzie behind me as I stared down at the reptile.
Somehow the blade buried itself in the head of the animal.
Sparky, the bloody idiot, got there before me, grabbing what remained of the snake and shaking it hard, instinctively trying to break its back.
“Snake…!” Mackenzie’s fingers buried themselves in my shoulders as it felt like she tried to claw her way higher. “An actual real snake. Not like a euphemism for the anaconda in your pants.”
“An anaconda, eh?” I grinned. “Yeah, I like that.”