Page 7 of Reckless and Rooted
4
jax
Colorful curses flyout of my mouth when the fencing pliers slip, and my hand goes busting into the post I was fixing the wire to. Ripping my hand away, I pull my glove off and see blood pool on my knuckle. I suck on it, trying to stop the blood. I toss my glove by the pliers on the ground, pissed off that I was hurt now after doing my least favorite thing in the world, fixing a fence.
I take a minute and walk away from it, trying to breathe through what I now know.
Felicity is home. City Girl is just twenty minutes away from me at all times, and I am about to lose my mind.
Last night, I had done my absolute best to leave her alone. To not go after her, but I couldn’t help myself. I had followed her out the door, trailing her about twenty feet behind like a damn stalker and watching her walk, head down as she made her way to her mom’s car and drove away.
I had to physically restrain myself from following her even more.
Why is she here? I don’t understand it. The woman is a huge star in Hollywood, probably makes more in a day than I do in a month, has tours and shows, has been on TV and in a couple of movies. She is a freaking superstar.
So, that begs the question: Why is she back here in our tiny no one knows we exist town?
And how long is she staying?
I shake my head at my internal tirade. I don’t need—nor want—to know how long she’s here or why or anything else to do with Felicity Vogel. She left me years ago, and nothing she could do would change that fact.
The sound of an ATV coming up has me turning my head, my hand still up against my mouth. I eye my little brother, Stetson, and lean against my own ride, wondering how I’ve fallen so far. I have no fucking idea what I’m doing anymore.
“Hey,” he calls, swinging his leg over and hopping on the ground. I’m surprised that Bonnie isn’t with him. It seems they’ve been attached at the hip lately, not that I blame them after what they’ve been through.
“Hey,” I call, pulling away my hand and wiping my knuckle on my jeans.
“What happened?” He gestures to the now clean knuckle, a little bit of red seeping through.
“Nothing.” I stand, making my way over to the pliers and gloves. I pick them up, find my line again, and continue to work on the fence. Last night there was a storm, and it seems something broke down this line. Could have been debris or animals. It’s hard to say.
“I would have come with you,” Stetson says, reaching into his back pocket for his own gloves, grabbing the fence from my hands, and holding it tight against the post so I can reattach it.
“You were busy,” I say with a grunt, clipping off the wire that held it down and moving on to the next post.
He follows me, his brows furrowed as he watches. “I could have stopped. We’re working with that mare all the time. We can take breaks.”
“It’s not just the mare that needs you,” I reply, knowing good and well that his girl is needing some reassurance from him right now.
“Yeah,” he agrees, nodding his head and taking a deep breath before grabbing the line and holding it for me again. “It’s been a crazy few days.”
I nod but don’t say anything. My little brother is the optimist of the four of us boys. Stetson is the baby of the family and the one who always sees the silver lining in life. It is annoying at times, but it also has its place.
Logan is the realist, the one who tries to have control over everything. Well, maybe he’s calmed a bit since he married his wife, but it is still true.
Then there is Mitch. He is the quiet but friendly one. Or at least, he used to be. He would be the first to help someone in a bind but the last to ever admit he did it.
I look to my baby brother, concern on his features, and ask, “You really care about her, huh?”
Stetson eyes me with something like anger in his gaze, and I raise a hand in surrender. “Yes. I care about her. I love her.”
“All right, all right.” I swipe a hand over my head, wiping the sweat on my jeans. “I guess I don’t blame you. She is gorgeous.”
Stetson stands up straighter, his mouth pursed as he looks at me. “She is gorgeous and smart and funny andmine.”
I gape at my baby brother, my hands falling down to my sides. “Stets, you don’t seriously think I would do anything.”
“I don’t know. You’ve built quite the reputation, and frankly, I don’t know you very well anymore.” He crosses his arms, his unwavering gaze still trained on me. Fuck. When did my babybrother grow up? “I don’t really have a fucking clue what you would do.”
