Page 6 of Tied to You
The goat wriggles losing its latch on the bottle. I look down, readjusting my hold, all too aware there are five more of these little blighters left to feed.
“Mollie. You’re Mick’s nephew?”
“He told you about me?”
I smirk at him sounding pleased about that. “Only that you’re lazy and that I’m to keep you in check.” I look up at him.
He laughs, throwing his head back. “You’d be the first to do that, Baby Doll.”
He’s a bad boy? Not like the boys I’m used to? Interesting. Shame he’s kind of a twat.
As if reading my mind, he grabs a leather jacket I hadn’t seen before,off a hook. He swings it over his shoulders in one swift move, leaving me unexpectedly salivating. I swallow, look at the goat, then I look back up, my stomach somersaulting.
The leather is black, the writing on it, fierce. ‘Rippers MC’ is sewn on the front.
He adjusts his hood as he speaks. “Well.” He holds out his hands, palms up. “Seeing as you’ve got everything under control, I’ll leave you to it.” He turns and strides towards the open barn door.
Dick. “That’s fine. You must have worked up quite a sweat feeding Billy here for all of five minutes. Go. I can handle the rest.”
He stops. Slipping his hands in his pockets he turns to face me. “Billy?” he questions.
My curious eyes meet his. His have darkened, his pulse twitching on the side of his head. He’s pissed off? Does he not get the reference? “Yeah, like Billy Goat’s Gruff?” I say hesitantly. No reaction. “From the book?”
“What does feeding a goat have to do with a fucking book?”
I roll my eyes. “It’s a kid’s story.”
“My parents never read to me,” he retorts.
“Explains a lot.”
He bites his tongue before he finally gives in and leaves without looking back at me. I must have struck a nerve.
Definitely a twat. Mick said he was lazy. Well, with him out of the way my nipples can relax, and I can get back to my work. I put my headphones back in place, doing just that.
Chapter Three
TRAVIS
Watching her attempt to fix this fence is comical. I had no intention of sitting here like a fucking stalker once I got back from lunch, but the distant wails of expletives had my feet stepping closer to where she was attempting to mend the fence I’d already fixed. Call me curious, but a pretty little thing like her doesn’t look like she belongs around here. And she certainly doesn’t look like she should have such a filthy mouth.
Curiosity may have killed the motherfucking cat, but making sure this one stays will only serve to soften the blow of my exit. I know that’s why Mick put the ad out before Dean gets home. He can tell my departure is looming.
Mollie bends grabbing the hammer I watched her toss aside moments ago.
I see the faint outline of a tattoo on her lower back as her top rises. I can’t make it out from my spot sitting on a hay bale by the barn, but my dick twitches at the sight of her glossy skin. One leg raised, my elbow resting on my knee, I take a long drag from my smoke before flicking it to the ground.
“You shouldn’t be doing that so close to the hay,” Mollie shouts from the fence.
“You shouldn’t hold a hammer like that.” I jump down and step closer to her.
Whack.
Told you.
“Urgh! Piece of shit,” she shouts, shaking her fingers and squeezing her eyes shut.
My lips pull. She’s something. That’ll teach her not to watch tutorials on her phone. I couldn’t see for sure, but I caught her watching and following along. It was obvious. “You swear like a man,” I tell her, holding out my hand so I can check hers is okay.
