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fix myself before starting up the truck again and heading down the rest of the drive. When I get to the end, I just sit there, unwilling to leave. I grip the steering wheel so hard my hands start to ache.
With all the self-control I can muster, I make myself pull from her driveway, heading back towards the farm instead of the hotel I’d planned on staying at. It’s closer to my little lamb and my control is splintering.
She’s too young for you, I tell myself over and over. It doesn’t matter how much she wants you. This is better for her. I should let her go, but even thinking that is like a sucker punch to my gut.
Her final words don’t help, either. That she’d always want me, but she wouldn't wait. If I know one thing about Dolly, she means what she says. I think it would kill me to see her on some other man’s arm. But isn't that what I wanted? For her to move on from me? Forget this schoolgirl crush and find a man more suited to her?
When I finally pull up to my house, I get out of my truck and look at the building. It looks nothing like a real home. Not like Dolly’s, where flowers wrap around the whole house. Where chairs sit on the front porch and cute little ornaments welcome you in. It’s clear that someone loves it.
Mine has nothing. It doesn’t look anything close to lived-in. It’s just a simple log cabin. Maybe it’s because I never really knew what a home looked like, so I didn’t put much into it. I went from a rundown home I lived in with my father, to a bunkhouse with a bunch of other men. Then finally to this place.
I’d never thought much about it before tonight. Until I stood on Dolly’s porch and saw her things. It was a place made for a family. One she’d probably raise hers in.
“Fuck!” I bellow, before I drive my fist into my front door. Pain shoots through my hand, and it’s a nice distraction from thinking about my little lamb having a family with another man. Growing his baby in her belly.
I have to stop thinking about her with someone else, because that’s not something I can bear to see. Maybe it’s time to move on. Get the hell out of this town and as far away as possible from all this pain that’s creeping up on me.
4
Dolly
It’s been a couple of days, and I’m finally done sulking. I don’t want to chase after Brandon, and I won’t, but it sure stings not having him return my feelings. Or at least not admitting to them. He wants me just as bad as I want him, that’s for damn sure. He just doesn’t think he’s good enough for me. And the saddest part is, as long as he thinks that, he’s right.
I can’t go chasing him down. I might normally fight for things I want, but I’ve been waiting for him for years, and I won’t chase him. He’s known how I’ve felt forever. It’s not like I’ve been hiding it. It doesn’t take much for people to see when I want something, because I let it be known.
I don’t want my baby-daddy thinking he’s not good enough for me. I want Brandon to treat me like a queen, fuck me like he owns me, and love me like a goddess. Is that so much to ask? Maybe it is. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe Brandon doesn’t want me as much as I thought he did. I know I’m not bad on the eyes, but my mouth and attitude are a whole other rodeo.
I always say what I’m thinking. It just comes right out of my mouth. Growing up with three brothers and more ranch hands than I could count, my language isn’t the best, and I can be just as crude as the next cowboy, even if my virtue is still intact. Not that I want it to be. I kept thinking Brandon would come and take it. I’ve thought of a thousand different ways that might happen. Some of them rough and hard, coming out of nowhere, and others a slow, sweet seduction. I like both options, because either way, I getting him, which is all I ever wanted.
I decide to start my week off with a new attitude and get ready for work. I could let myself think about this all day if I don’t stop myself. I pull on some old jeans and throw on a wife-beater before gathering my hair into a ponytail and putting on my boots. I hop into my Gator and head to the barns to check on my girls.
My dairy farm is nothing but Jersey heifers. Ever since my older brother Ty got me a dairy cow for my sixth birthday, I’ve been obsessed with the beautiful tan cows with big bright eyes. Doesn’t hurt that I fucking love cheese.
My mom and dad started this dairy farm before they passed away. They had everything in place, and my brothers kept it running until I was eighteen and wanted to take it over full time on my own. Even though they were still pushing me to go to college and I was taking a few online classes just to keep them off my ass, I knew that was where I wanted to be.
Why did everyone seem to think they knew what was best for me and that I didn’t have a mind of my own? No one got all pissy when my brothers didn’t go to college. I’m sure as shit no girl they ever tried to date said they couldn’t for any kind of reason.
When I make it over to the barn, Mark, my foreman, waves hello. He gives me the rundown for the day, and I look over the production, making sure everything is in line like it should be. The Dairy Queen operates mostly without me now, because I have good people in place. We have a routine, and it works. It took a little money and a lot of hard work to get it here, but now everything has a nice flow. But the farmer in me is always up before the sun to check on things. I’ve had it drilled into me since I was a baby, and there’s no use changing it now.
I walk up and down the stalls, saying hello to the ladies being milked and giving them treats. The rest of the herd is out in the pasture eating breakfast. Just before I leave, Mark gives me some bad news. His mom is sick and he’s got to move back to Arkansas to help care for her. I hate to see him go, but I completely understand. He’s been working here since my parents started the place, and I’ll be sad to see him leave, but family always comes first. I don’t think I could ever move away from mine. I’m not sure how he’s done it all these years. I can barely go a day or two without checking in on my brothers, making sure they don’t need anything. Especially Blake and Trace. Ty has MJ now and doesn’t need me as much, but Blake can’t cook to save his life and would starve to death without me, and Trace would probably forget how to talk if someone didn’t pull conversation out of him like I do.
Louis, the backup foreman, can handle it for a short time without him, but it’s not a position that can be left empty long-term. Louis is older, and he’s said on numerous occasions that he isn’t interested in more responsibilities here. He wants to be home by five, enjoying the dinner his wife puts on the table for him. He’s happy being second-in-command. Mark was the go-to on day-to-day operations, and he kept up with the staff here, working long hours when needed. I don’t have the desire to step into his shoes, so I’ve got to find someone to fill it. I like checking on my girls and making sure everything is in order, but I’m a caretaker by nature. Just like I am with my brothers, I can’t stop myself from making sure everyone is okay. As much as I love my farm, I know my strengths and weakness, and micromanaging operations isn’t my style. I’m more suited to the creative department.
Mark and I talk for a while, and when we’ve worked things out about when he needs to leave, I head over to the office. I’ve got a small building near the entrance of my land where my secretary, Cathy, runs the office stuff I hate dealing with.
“Hey, pretty lady!” Cathy says as I walk in and grab a cup of coffee, topping it off with some cream.
“Hey. Mark told me the bad news. He’s giving a week’s notice.”
Cathy nods, not at all shocked by this. She’s always five steps ahead, and that’s why I love her. “Want me to put some feelers out and see who’s available?”
“Yeah, we’ve got to get on this. I don’t want it sitting open too long.”
“I heard Brandon Knight was calling it quits out at the Johnson place. Maybe he’s available,” Cathy says, making me nearly choke on my coffee.
“What did you say?” I cough, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. He quit? He’s been working with Cash for as long as I can remember.
“Seems he told Cash he’s taken the farm as far as h
e can and turned in his notice.”
My stomach drops as I plop down in the closest chair. Brandon is leaving? I knew he wasn’t happy there lately. I could see it written on his face. Hell, the whole damn town did. But I never expected him to quit. Does that mean he is leaving town? I never thought he’d pussy out on making me his.
The disappointment turns to anger, and I feel like punching him in his beautiful mouth.
“From what I’ve heard,” Cathy says, casually typing away on the computer, not looking at me, “he’s staying out in one of Ty’s bunk houses for the time being.”
I’m out of my seat and out the door before Cathy finishes her sentence. As I barrel from the office, I hear Cathy call out from behind me, “Take care, Dolly. Tell Mary-Jane I said hello.”
I take the Gator back to my house, run inside, and grab the phone. It rings a couple of times, and I stomp my foot while I wait. Finally, Mary-Jane picks up, and I start with the questions.
“Is it true he’s out at your place?” I pause for half a second, not nearly enough time for her to answer, before I ask another. “When were you planning on telling me he was there? MJ, I thought we were sisters.” MJ is the only female friend I really have, and we’ve become close since she married my brother Ty and started popping out his babies. Most of the girls I’d grown up with were off in college or already married and living a life I wanted.
“Slow down, Dolly,” she says into the phone, but her voice is whisper-quiet. “I called you three times this morning, but you didn’t answer.” I hear a door shut, and her voice picks up. “He showed up here yesterday talking to Ty. I couldn’t tell what they were saying, but something’s going on. I tried to get it out of Ty last night, but none of my tricks worked.”
“Ew. Gross. Skip that part,” I say, eager for her to bypass the fact that she has sex with my brother.
