“Come here!” I said while separating the strands of barbed wire, then sliding through the gap. “Come… Oh.”
My Mom’s place wasn’t a farm, there were ranches all around us, so I knew better than to wander into some field. This was why. A massive red and white bull stared me down, full of the imperious power of a beast that could fuck my shit up. I wasn’t worried about the wombat anymore. Backing away slowly, that was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? I had no idea. A scream built in my throat, but before I could make a squeak, he appeared. Golden brown hair, blue eyes that seemed to stare into my soul, then his brows jerked down in a frown.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he shouted, and that’s what it took for me to sit up straight in bed.
Bed? I looked around me and took in the unfamiliar room. Where the hell was I? Only one way to find out. I threw my legs over the side of the bed, then made for the door.
Only to find that the occupants of the house were already discussing me.
“I need to know who the hell this woman is before I call the cops,” a familiar voice growled. “Can’t have bleeding heart Barbies blundering into my bull’s paddock.”
Barbie? I looked down and then smoothed my hands down my stomach. I was a whole lot curvier than any doll I played with as a child.
“That doesn’t make her a criminal,” a feminine voice chimed in. “Stupid, yes, but if the cops locked up every person who acted the fool, you three would be in jail permanently.”
“Not helping,” the man said.
“We could go through her bags,” another man said.
“That would be a criminal offence,” the woman said.
“Troy,” a man said, “if she’s an influencer, maybe we should check her socials? She might be famous.”
“Maybe she posts thirst traps.” This man’s tone turned sly. “I’d like to see that.”
I’d spent months hiding away from the world and the need to walk back into that bedroom and make myself small, unnoticeable rode me hard. I couldn’t give into that impulse. That was American Mackenzie. Australian Macca was quietly confident, able to face down a room of strangers.
“Or you could just ask me.” They all turned to face me. OK, maybe American Mackenzie was still in the room with us, because right now I wanted to take several steps back. Instead, I put faces to the voices I’d overheard. The woman had long brown hair and a wiry frame, but the three men had to be brothers. Two were carbon copies of each other, apparently twins, but the last man? I recognised that frown as much as those massive arms that had picked me up so expertly. I stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Mackenzie James.”
“Mackenzie…”
The woman’s eyebrows arched upwards, and then she shot a meaningful look at the twins. One smirked, the other taking a step closer, obviously about to shake my hand. My ‘saviour’ got in his way, coming to tower over me.
“Not James Mackenzie.” He looked over his shoulder at the other woman. “Mackenzie James.”
“Ah, so I’m Charlie,” she said, weaving her way around the other man. “These are my brothers, Billy and Bronson.” Billy was the smirky twin and Bronson the friendly one. “You’ve obviously met Troy.”
“Not formally.” I gazed up at the man, then offered him my hand. “Though sweeping a girl off her feet does leave abig impression.” This was the moment when that frown was supposed to turn upside down. He’d laugh, and I’d thank him most profusely for saving me from the bull. Instead he just stared at me fixedly. I twisted my wrist, drawing attention to my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You,” he growled, stalking closer. “Wally was two seconds away from head butting you right back to the States.”
“And I really appreciate you rescuing me,” I said, forcing the words between clenched teeth. “You are obviously prepared to go the extra mile for your staff.”
“Not staff.” He shook his head, his scowl growing thunderous. “Not you.” Turning to the woman, he stabbed a finger in my direction. “She is not staying on this farm.”
“Family farm,” Billy said in a way that made me think he was forced to mention this often. “Everyone who votes for Mackenzie staying, raise your hand.”
Not sure why, but seeing three hands shoot up made me feel a little better.
“You’ve had experience working at a winery?” he said. “Grape picking?”
“Yes, and?—”
As I prepared to recite my whole work history, he cut me off.
“Good. No bulls, no sheep, no electrical fences…” Studying his face, I caught the moment when his expression softened, fairly sure I saw fear replace anger. My intent focus had him frowning again. Looking over his shoulder, he spoke to the woman. “Charlie, I’m heading over to Gruenwald. I’ll get James… Mackenzie set up as a picker over there.” Every time he looked at me, his eyes narrowed. “You’ll be in one of their worker’s huts before nightfall.”
Troy didn’t wait for our input, turning on his heel and walking out of the room.
