“What?” My forehead wrinkles as I stare at the twenty-something-year-old bartender who knows more about my father than I do. “Why wouldn’t Archer tell me that?”
She shrugs. “He just found out before he left for that bar expo meeting in California. I’m sure he was short on time and didn’t have a chance to say something yet.” Marin glances down at the calendar under the register. “He gets back tomorrow night. I could set something up for you guys.”
A scheduled meeting with my brother, that’s how busy we are now. “I think I’ll call him, thanks.”
She nods and goes back to helping the lady in full western gear that’s become a staple in the third seat to the left of the bar. Today she’s onto fruits and cream shots.
Outside of that though, the distillery is pretty quiet today. I wonder if that redneck and all his bullshit is really drawing our customers away. Done with the drama, I glance toward my little troublemaker to the side of the bar. “You want to go look at those chickens?”
She blinks up at me as though I’m crazy for mentioning any of this out loud. Maybe I am, but I’m too damn burnt out to give a shit right now. The last twenty-four hours have been the craziest of my life. I might not be thinking straight, but I don’t care. I want to take my girl to get her chickens. I want to see her smile.
“Yeah, I do.” She grins, hopping up from the bar.
“Chickens?” Benny sets his whiskey down and narrows his brows. “What the hell is going on with you two? You’ve been acting weird.”
I shrug. “What’s weird about chickens? Ivy’s been wanting to build a coop so I’m helping her get started.”
Apparently, this sounds believable because Benny tilts his head back and returns to his phone. “You are the expert on livestock. I have to head back to the city for a meeting this afternoon. Can I at least get a goodbye?”
“Oh shoot!” Ivy shuffles back across the bar and jumps into her brother’s arms. “I’m so sorry we didn’t get more time together. When are you coming back?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not sure. A couple of weeks, maybe. Whenever I get a handle on everything again. I’ll text you, though. Be safe.” He glances up at me. “Thanks for looking out for her.”
I nod and smile, despite the pang of guilt settling into my stomach as I step out onto the street. Man, I’m a real piece of shit. Who betrays the only real friend they’ve ever had? Who lusts after another man’s sister for years like some fucking psycho?
Apparently, me. I’m that guy.
She became an obsession, and the more I learned about her, the more I needed her, the more other woman couldn’t live up to her. I’m not sure what that means about me, but I’m done denying whatever feeling is clawing its way out.
The second we’re alone again, I tuck her little hand into mine and walk proudly with her at my side, despite the stares we get from passersby. There are a few women with judgmental looks, but for the most part, the stares are from men. Men who I assume are jealous they’re not stripping off her leggings to finger her in the backroom somewhere. Men, who wish a girl like Ivy would look at them. Men who pray at night for what I have.
Part of me is flattered by every stare. Another part is disgusted. These horny fucks with their lustful stares on such a young woman. My young woman. My girl.
Mine!
She tucks her hand into mine tighter as we stroll down Main Street in the mid-morning light. I’ve imagined this a thousand times over, but I never thought it would actually happen. I figured I’d spend a lifetime protecting her from a distance, wishing things were different. I never thought we’dactually give in, or that she’d reciprocate the feelings I have for her.
Another asshole glances in our direction, this one her own age. He draws his gaze down to her perky little breasts before glancing toward me with a wince.
“What the fuck was that?” I spin back and blurt the words before I’ve thought them through.
The kid just stares, playing dumb, like he didn’t just eye fuck my girl and glance at me like she could do better.
“Nothing, dude.” The kid tosses up his hands as though I’m crazy and keeps walking.
Ivy glances up at me, a smirk on her face. “What was that about?”
“He was looking at you.”
“Looking at me?” She scrunches up her nose. “Are men not allowed tolookat me anymore?”
“No. You’re mine. You’re mine and I need everyone to know it.” Whatever obsession I had before is stronger now, more electrified, animalistic, feral, primal, possessive. Ineedeveryone to know where she belongs, at all costs.
The bell above the door to the hardware store rings as we step inside and Ivy runs straight to the back toward the enclosure of chickens and ducks set low in feed bins with lights hanging over head. It takes me a second to catch up, but even from a few feet away, I hear her squeals and watch the tiny little jumps she makes, her breasts bouncing up and down as she moves.
Fuck. I’m going to explode.
“What do you like, trouble? If you don’t like these, I can take you down to a farmer I know. He’s usually got chicks.”
