Broken Hero

“And what are you, middle-aged? You’re thirty-three. Get your head out of your ass.”

“She’s…light.” I frown, not knowing how to explain it the right way. “Anyway, you know I’m shit with women.”

Logan bangs his hand against the table. “And that’s just astounding to me. You literally don’t have to lift a finger and they flock anyway.”

Plenty of my fellow Marines had been big on sleeping around, same as the guys I’d played football with back in college. I’d tried it, and it had been surprisingly unsatisfying. “You know that lifestyle is hollow, man.”

He looks away, and I can see his jaw tense. “I know. Mama raised you right, and all that?”

The door to my office opens and Sarah bursts in. She takes a long-suffering look at Logan and me, her gaze flicking between our beers.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think the two of you don’t have any work to do.”

Logan gives her a crooked grin, one he’s always been able to charm her with. “Just making sure Ollie doesn’t work himself into an early grave.”

Her eyes soften as she glances back at me. I know she worries about me-she has for years-even though I’m the older brother.

It’s another piece of guilt for me to carry around.

“What do you want?”

She puts a thick piece of paper on the table. I recognize the Morris logo, but not the cursive script scrawled across it. “Lucy’s first client left a rave review. I looked her up, and she actually writes for a newspaper in New York.”

“We should ask if we can put the review on the website, for the spa section.”

Sarah nods. “And who knows? Maybe she just happens to write for the travel section…”

“This is great. Good thinking with the review cards.”

“Thanks.” Sarah glances at Logan, and I can tell she wants to say something else, but not in front of him. Rare are the times she will censor herself in her sisterly critique and I groan inwardly. I’m sure I’ll be subjected to another lecture soon enough, and I’d just gotten her to shut up about the blind date thing. There are a few strategies to counter my little sister.

I choose diversion. “Wedding season is coming up. A few couples have been in contact to ask for a tour of the property. Can you do it?”

It works. “Yes, of course! I love wedding season. Are there more bookings this year than last?”

“If bookings keep coming in at the current rate, yeah, there will be.”

Sarah drapes an arm around Logan’s chair. “Weddings are the best, don’t you think?”

He nods.

“There’s a lot of electrical work in hosting weddings. All those string lights.”Text © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

I have to hide a smile as he nods again. “Yeah. I’d be happy to help out.”

She straightens. “Great! We’d love to have you. Well, I’ll talk to you later. Text me with the dates for the wedding guests.”

“I will.”

Logan groans the second the door shuts behind her. “You’ve roped her into this too?”

“Into what?”

“Into your grand scheme of getting me around here as much as possible.”

He doesn’t say Mandy’s name, but he doesn’t have to. It’s clear in every line of his body. “Sarah’s a hopeless romantic. I didn’t have to say a thing.”

It’s late when I head down to the stables. Rare are the times when I have time to ride these days, but I try to check up on the animals whenever I can. This was once a working ranch, my grandfather’s pride and joy, and although we only have a few horses left, I’m proud of that. There’s a bit of Texas still, amongst these pruned and plucked guests from out-of-state.

I’m halfway across the gravel path when I hear shrieks and laughter. The sound is unmistakably feminine, though I hear male voices too. My steps quicken.

I turn the corner and my heart stops.

John and Tim are spraying Lucy with the garden hose, the one used to cool down the horses. Her sundress clings to her body, soaked to the skin, and her laughter rings clear. Every shape and curve is visible through the fabric. Strong thighs, flared hips. The cotton clings to a smooth stomach and even from this distance, I can see that her nipples are hard from the cold.

John swings the hose around, hitting Tim, who lets out a massive shriek.

“But I’m not muddy!”

Lucy looks up. Our gazes lock, and I see her eyes widen with surprise. I step forward and turn the knob on the faucet, cutting off the water supply. The spray putters and dies in John’s hand.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Tim looks shell shocked. “Sorry, boss.”

“We were just having a bit of fun,” John says. “It’s warm out.”

Lucy clears her throat. “I slipped in some mud by the east paddock. Tim offered to help me clean off, and, well…” She crosses her arms across her chest and looks away, her cheeks flushing a violent shade of red.

This won’t do.

It won’t do at all.

“So you three decided to have a wet t-shirt contest on my property?”

The silence is terrible, and some of my anger fades. Idiots. “Tim, go change into dry clothes. If you don’t have any, you’re relieved for the rest of your shift. John, I want you to mow some grass. Find some far, far away from the main building.”

They both nod. “Yes, sir.”

They’re gone within a heartbeat and I’m left looking at Lucy, who’s shivering and blushing and still practically naked. I shrug out of my flannel and hand it to her.

“Here.” Her hair is half-wet, a tendril curling down her neck. I look away as she shrugs into my button-up, pulling it tight around her body and hiding the outline of her full breasts from view.

She looks down at the ground and I have no idea what to say. I’m angry and annoyed and aroused and protective and jealous of my fucking farmhands.

“Are you alright?”

Lucy nods. “Yes. I’m sorry. I really did slip in the mud, and I didn’t mean for it to escalate like that…”