I glance over to see if he’s nodding or shaking his head or holding up fingers to tell me how many he wants, but he just sets his glass down on the table and pulls out a chair.
I pull out the plug of the griddle and add the fresh pancakes to the pile on the plate, grabbing the syrup and forks. The front door swings open and the floor creaks with footsteps as Jake and Noah come barreling in. How do they know when breakfast is ready?
I carry the pancakes to the table, setting the plate down in the middle as Noah grabs a glass of milk and Jake washes his hands. Both immediately over to the table.
Steam from blueberry pancakes wafts into the air as the guys sit down, and I twist around to pick up the plates off the island, my anger still rising.
I set a plate down in front of Jake, one down in front of Noah, and the last down in front of me, feeling Kaleb’s eyes on me, because I didn’t give him one.
I don’t cook for you.
Noah and Jake must realize something is happening because they stop moving. I glance up, seeing their eyes move between Kaleb and me, and I know Noah can guess the tension between us, but I don’t know if Jake knows yet. Noah probably didn’t talk about last night for fear of getting his brother in trouble.
Without blinking, though, Kaleb picks up the plate of pancakes in the middle of the table, doles out three to Jake, three to Noah, and then pauses only a moment, holding my eyes, before dropping the plate back onto the table, right in front of himself and taking the rest of the pancakes. Picking up the syrup, he pours it on his stack without leaving any for me.
Prick.
Noah clears his throat, but I can hear the laugh, while Jake sighs, taking his plate and setting it down in front of me. Reaching over to the island, he takes another one and uses his fork to pick a couple of pancakes off Kaleb’s over-loaded plate.
“You both met already, I see,” Jake grumbles.
But no one responds as the boys start eating.
“This looks good, Tiernan,” Jake says, trying to ease the tension. “Blueberry pancakes are the only thing your father and I—”
“I don’t care,” I spit out and push the plate away.
Everyone quiets, and I stand up and grab an apple from the fruit basket. Taking a bite, I walk over to fill up my water bottle from the refrigerator.
I know I’m being rude, and I’m sorry for it.
Maybe I’ll take a hike. Stretch my legs, give them some space.
The kitchen is quiet for a few more moments, but I hear Noah speak up.
“I’m finishing the Lawrence bike today,” he tells his father, I’d assume. “The guys are coming. I’m gonna take it out to Ransom’s Run. Test it out.”
“Don’t take all day,” Jake tells him, his tone a bite now. “We have more work to do.”
His patience from a moment ago is gone, and I know I pissed him off.
I look over and see him turn to Kaleb next as he stabs his plate with his fork. “And don’t you disappear, either,” he orders his oldest.
All the men fall silent, hurrying through their breakfast, and the tension in the room now thicker than mud.
I twist the lid back on and prepare to leave the dishes for them, but when I turn around to go, I catch Kaleb staring at me again. Except his eyes are on my legs.
I wear ripped jean shorts, not too short, and a flannel buttoned up to my neck.
I drift my gaze around the table, noticing I have more clothes on than any of them. Jake and Kaleb aren’t wearing any shirts, and Noah’s tee has the sides cut out, giving glimpses of the smooth, tan chest underneath.
Kaleb’s black hair against his sun-kissed face.
Jake’s toned shoulders and narrow waist.
The veins in Noah’s forearms and…
I straighten, swallow, and turn around, quickly leaving the room.
I need to get out of here.
I hit the gas and pull the truck up the driveway until I reach the top of the incline, feeling the gravel kick up under me. Turning off the engine, I take the work gloves off the passenger-side seat and hop out of the truck, heading for the bed as I pull them on.
“You find your way okay?” Jake approaches, dropping the tailgate for me.
I nod.
“The guys were helpful?”
“Yes.”
We both hop up into the bed to start unloading the hay.
After breakfast, he’d asked me to take the truck to town to pick up some bales of hay, and I happily agreed once I learned I could go on my own. Some air. Some space. It was just as good as a hike, and hey, I got to go to my first Tack & Feed store. Thankfully, it sported no racks with tabloids for sale, so I was able to avoid news from home.
Music and laughter come from the garage, and I look over, seeing a group of motorbikes parked off to the side. Must be the friends Noah was talking about when he said he was taking the bike out today.
A couple of women hang out nearby as others talk in the garage, and I watch them in their jeans and summer tops, laughing and smiling. How much longer will the weather be nice enough to ride? Seems like fun.
Jake and I unload the hay, gripping the wires and hauling each bale over to the stable. One of the girls smiles as I pass.
None of them wear make-up, no fancy manicures, and no stylish clothes, but they don’t need it. They’re pretty, dressed to play, and for a moment, I want to be one of them.
I carry a bale into the barn, walking it down to a stall. Is Kaleb going with them?
How does he get along with friends without speaking? Does he have friends? I mean, if he’s like that as a mute, can you imagine what would come out of his mouth if he spoke?
I shake my head. Curiosity swirls in my mind over what happened to him at the age of four that made him stop talking, but I push the thought away. We’ve all got problems.
“I want to hear you,” someone pants.
I slow as I hit the stall.
“Show me what you want me to do,” she whispers.
I almost drop the hay.
Her voice is barely audible, so soft like she’s hanging on by a thread.
I set the hay down, taking a step back. It could be anyone. There’s lots of people here right now, and I don’t want to be embarrassed. Slowly, I retreat.
But then I hear a grunt, a shuffle of hay, and a small cry. I halt.
“I’m gonna make you moan,” she tells him. “You’re gonna like it that much.”
I don’t know why, but I take a soft step forward. Following the sounds to the far stall at the end of the stable, I get to the door with the top half partially open and listen closely again.
“Come on…” she moans.
I hold my breath and peer through the crack in the door. Skin and hands fill my view as he threads his fingers through her long black hair, and she kneels between his legs and sucks his…
I look away for a second, heat rising to my cheeks.
But her soft little whimpers draw my attention again.
Her head moves up and down on him, her hands running up his jean-clad thighs and gripping his belt, pulling his pants down more, so that I see his hips and the curve of his ass.
I can’t see her face, and I can’t see what she’s doing to him, but I know.
I slide my eyes up—taking in his muscles, skin, shiny with sweat again, and before I get to his face, I know who it is.
Kaleb has his head tilted back, his eyes closed, and breathes hard as he grips her hair, forcing her up and down on his cock. The muscles in his forearms flex, and his hair damn near hangs in his eyes, but I watch his face, the woman forgotten. Sweat dampens the ends of his hair, sticking to his skin, and his lips tighten periodically, because he…
He likes it. I hear her moan, even with him in her mouth, and he pulls her down on him again and again as his eyebrows pinch together.
And then his eyes open.
His head tilts forward again, and his gaze pins me through the crack like he knew I was here the whole time.
Shit.
I stop breathing again. My body tenses, and shame burns my skin, but he starts moving faster, pumping himself into her mouth now as his eyes burn a hole right through me.
My mouth opens, because it’s the only thing that will move. I don’t even see her anymore as he leans forward into her, one hand still in her hair and one hand holding a sideboard as he fucks her mouth. His hips pump faster and faster, his eyes suddenly piercing like they did last night when he pushed me into the wall and… smelled me.
A drop of sweat falls down my stomach under my flannel, and I almost find myself starting to move with him, entranced.
I lean into the door, soaking up the only few centimeters closer I can get.
She groans, he and I stare at each other, and all I see is how he would’ve moved with me last night.
If I hadn’t stopped him.
But then a moan escapes, and I don’t realize it came from me until I see the corner of his mouth curl into a smile. I suck in a breath, finally realizing what the hell I’m doing.
Fuck. I turn away, putting my hand over my mouth and squeezing my eyes shut.
Shit.
Behind me, I hear him grunt under his breath, and then hiss, fast, heavy breathing pouring in and out of his lungs as I lean against the stall, listening to him come.
I shudder, she whimpers, and I run, out of the stable and into the late morning air.
Why did I do that? What the hell was I doing?
A light layer of sweat covers my back, and I wish I had a tank top on under this so I could pull off the long-sleeved shirt.
He’s vile. Jake was right. He and Noah are nothing compared to that.
And I’ll bet he enjoys himself, too, reaping all the benefits of playing the mysterious, tortured soul who doesn’t speak, but it’s just so alluring and sweet, because women want to save him.
I don’t care what happened to him when he was four.
And I did nothing wrong. I heard a cry. I went to look. Shock prevented me from moving once I saw what it was. That’s it.
I pull Noah’s baseball cap off and turn it around, the bill shielding me from the sun as I head back to the truck where Jake is sweeping out the bed.
“Hey, Tiernan!” I hear Noah call.
I tense, wondering if he saw me watching his brother. Turning around, I see everyone loading onto their bikes, the two girls I saw earlier climbing onto their own, and Noah smiling from his.
I raise my eyebrows.
“You want to come with us?” he asks.
I look behind him, recognizing the guy from town yesterday.
Terrance. The one he apparently doesn’t like, but I guess they travel in the same circles, and it’s a small town, so… He pulls on his helmet, a smile in his eyes as he watches me.
I glance at Jake for a way out.
He jumps down from the bed, jerking his chin at me. “I have to make a run to town anyway. Go ahead,” he tells me. “Have fun, but stay with Noah.”
My stomach sinks. I don’t like being around people I don’t know. I don’t like being around people.
When I turn back around, though, I see Kaleb strolling out of the stables, pulling his shirt on, and the girl he had in the stall following him.
The girl from the store yesterday. The one who tried to get in my face.
I stare at her—tight jeans, loose green tank top, long black hair—and a brick sits in my stomach.
“Come on.” Noah holds a helmet out to me. “Ride with me.”
And for some reason, I kind of want to now. My feet move without thinking.
I walk over to Noah, meeting Terrance Holcomb’s eyes for a moment as I pass.
But as soon as I stop at Noah’s bike, turn my cap around, and reach for the helmet, another hand shoots out and pulls it away before I can get to it.
I look up, seeing Kaleb. He only hesitates a moment, glaring down at me, before tossing the helmet to the ground and away from me. Taking my arm, he pulls me away from the bikes, and I stumble and straighten just in time as he walks into me, forcing me backward.
My heart hammers in my chest as he stares down at me, and then he jerks his chin toward the house. He doesn’t have to say a word for me to know he’s ordering me inside.
Away from them. Away from him.
“Kaleb,” I hear Noah chide.
But snickers and snorts break out around the group, and despite the twinge of anger I feel, my eyes start to burn.
Away. He looks down at me, jerking his chin again. Away.
You’re not going.