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Britney’s brows knit as she took in the words. Her legs crossed daintily at the ankle, she begged herself not to glance at Damien. She knew the scowl that’d be there on his face at the thought of not sellin’ the place and makin’ some quick cash.
But she had a little bit more excitement in her, a kind of light that flickered into existence.
“Continue how?” she asked in her soft voice.
“Well…” he said, clearing his throat and opening the folder on his desk to peer at the will again. Though it was clear he didn’t need to. “He has it in his will, that if either of you has a child and is willing to settle down on the farm, you get the whole thing. What was most important to him was to see the family farm benefit the family goin’ ahead.”
Britney frowned. She didn’t even have a boyfriend, let alone close to settling down. And she knew for a fact that Damien wasn’t likely to ever settle down. He was the type of man who did what he wanted, when he wanted. He couldn’t even wait to get out of the farmhouse when he came of age.
“Neither of us has a kid, that’s for damn sure,” Damien said gruffly, arms folded over his broad chest. “And I ain’t even got a woman at the moment, so it isn’t likely neither.”
“Well,” the lawyer said, drawing out his words so slowly, “the terms of the will give you each a year to sort it out. After which time the farm will be split between you and divvied up, as you initially expected.”
She glanced at Damien from the corner of her eye. A year wasn’t so long to wait, but it wasn’t so long to plan a family either. She slumped back in her chair, her arms foldin’ around herself defensively.
“What the fuck kind of game was he playing with us?” Damien said, standing up, and from there the lawyer and him hashed it out.
It wasn’t long before they headed on out, Damien looking annoyed, to say the last.
“Can you believe that shit, Brit?” he asked, jerking his thumb back at the place as he strode towards his motorcycle. “Pa sure as hell knew neither of us had a kid.”
“And he knew neither of us had brought anyone home either,” she added with a sigh. She was embarrassed that Damien had caused such a scene, but she understood it. Prolonging it like Mr. Drake did wasn’t fair.
It woulda been easier just to mourn and be done with it.
“C’mon,” he said, handing me the helmet again before he swung his leg up over the motorcycle. “I need to blow off some steam. You in?” he asked, peering back at me over his shoulder as I strapped on the helmet.
She had no idea how he blew off steam, but she knew it wasn’t likely that it’d be the same as her. She preferred to just lose herself in music or in the fresh smell of the country. He tried to escape the latter and his music wasn’t quite about calmin’ down.
Still, she nodded, if only because she didn’t want to be alone right then.
“Sure, Damien.”
* * *
He took her on down country roads and trails she never knew of, until at last they had to abandon the motorcycle altogether.
“C’mon,” he said, beckoning her with an outstretched hand as she took off the helmet.
Her hand in his, able to feel his rough, hard grasp, she followed after him into the woods, over craggy ground. It was one of the few areas where it wasn’t flat land or rolling hills, but eventually she saw the point.
He took her to a secluded spot, where the river that fed the farms nearby instead formed a secluded little pond, away from all else. A place she never even knew about it, despite her years spent living nearby.
“Ain’t been here in years,” he said, stripping off his leather jacket as the sun reached its peak up over them.
She’d been wrong about him. About the types of things he might’ve done, the places he could’ve taken her. More than one bar in town was opened at that hour, and she couldn’t deny that takin’ her there would’ve surprised her far less.
She looked along the glittering water, smelled the fresh air, and it was like all the tension in her shoulders started to slip away.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah it is,” he said simply in his gruff voice, stripping away his tight white shirt.
She was surprised by it, but there he went, stripping away his clothes so that his bare, tattooed body was gleaming in the sun. Then next came his belt on his jeans.
“I used to escape away here after pa would worked me to the bone all day, wash away the sweat and grime before takin’ off and headin’ to town for the night,” he explained casually, tugging his jeans down from his hips, showing his thick, well-muscled thighs.
Her breathing picked up despite her best efforts to remain calm as she looked over his body before sheepishly glancing away. They’d grown up together, and she’d seen him swim before. So why’d it feel so different?
