Marius

Six months ago, I was crawling through the mud on a top-secret mission, rifle in my hand, both legs attached to my body.

Today? I stayed face down in the dirt. Only this time, I attempted a one-armed, one-legged push-up while struggling to get a glorified meter maid out of my head.

The mighty hadn’t just fallen. I’d exploded. But I was goddamned lucky to make it out alive.

Now if I could only make it out of Butterpond in one piece.

Especially now that I’d found a pretty reason to stay.

The doctor said only to exercise if I felt comfortable. That was the difference between me and the doc. I didn’t work out to feel comfortable. I did it to get back to work. Nothing good came without pain. That included war, work, and women.

And family.

I’d escaped the house to do my exercises. Thought the backyard would shield me from an audience. But I’d doubted the tenacity of my family. Been gone for too long. Forgot I’d come from a long line of assholes.

Varius was the best company a man could hope for, given the circumstances. My younger brother kept to himself these days. No more weddings, no more funerals, no more Sunday ministry. I wasn’t around for the storm that had ruined his life, but at least bad luck had only taken my leg. His had damned his soul.

Didn’t like finding someone more lost than I was. Liked it even less when it was one of my brothers. Especially Varius, the one brother who’d inherited more of Mom than Dad. Lighter features. Friendlier, seafoam eyes over the darker, dirtier green the rest of us got. He’d bulked up since I saw him last. Tossed down the Bible and picked up some weights. The muscles would do him better than Scripture anyway.

“What do you want?” I asked.

I wasn’t that interested, but my brother didn’t often venture to this side of the farm, in the shadow of the brand-new barn, new life, new future for the Paynes. The barn seemed like an awful lot of money to drop on a building that would inevitably fill with even more shit for us to shovel, but it had reinvigorated Varius. Gave some in the family a sense of purpose.

Some men preferred loneliness. Varius needed his family. The sooner he realized that, the better.

“Cassi sent me.” Varius was too good of a man to lie, but he knew better than to use our little sister as an excuse. “She thinks you’re overdoing it.”

A couple push-ups and crunches was overdoing it?

I swore. Since when did my entire family view me as a cripple who needed to be babysat day-in and day-out? I didn’t stop the push-ups. Just gritted my teeth and welcomed the pain.

“I’m not doing anything more than I used to do.” That lie would destroy the rest of what the IED hadn’t touched. “In fact, I’m doing a hell of a lot less.”

“Think you can handle it?”

My brother was never confrontational. Wasn’t his style. Varius didn’t brandish the cross, but he sure as hell beat us with it. Killed us with kindness. That was preferable to the bullshit I’d been through.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“You might be doing too much, too soon.”

“No such thing.”

Varius knew better than to disagree. “So, what are your plans?”

I swapped arms only once the push-up threatened to burn the muscle off. Figured. I used to dread leg days. Trade even the worst pulled quad for the prosthetic.

“You tell me,” I said. “What do you think I should do?”

“Get out of Butterpond before you gnaw off the other leg.”

He was the only one who got me. But, Christ, he’d aged more than I had. Fifteen years ago, we were kids running around the farm. Setting fires. Pulling pranks. Chasing girls.

Now? Life hadn’t passed us by. It’d fucked us without even the courtesy of using lube.

“I know you don’t understand the farm,” Varius said.

“You’re not gonna give me a sermon, are you?”

“I stopped giving those some time ago.”

“Then what’s this?”

“A lecture.”

I preferred the sermon. Those tended to be optimistic. “So, you’re not asking me to pray? That used to be your answer for everything.”

“You really think anyone is listening?”

I flopped onto my back, seizing a moment of well-deserved rest as the sweat beaded on my forehead. “Tell you one thing, V. It’s a hell of a lot easier to pray when you’re meeting your maker…or shaking hands with the devil.”

“I’d hoped to prevent that.”

“Hell’s a lot more fun.”

“Than what?”

“Butterpond.”

I began the crunches. Tough with one leg. But I didn’t mind it. Just had to strengthen the muscle groups that remained. I didn’t care if it was harder now. I’d do double the work if that’s what it took. My discipline might have impressed my old squad, but I knew better. Nothing about the cold metal and plastic strapped to my thigh impressed anyone. It incited pity. Fear. The same old platitudes.

Thank God you survived. That must’ve been so frightening. What are you going to do now?

I had no answer for any of that bullshit.

“Just want to make sure you’re okay,” Varius said. “Julian’s worried. Tidus too. Quint’s taken to doing the robot when you enter the room. I think it’s his way of coping.”

My breath puffed hard as the crunches burned. “Nothing to cope with. I’m fine.”

“Can’t return to the SEALs.”

“No shit.”

“Got any other leads?”

It was either an intervention or interrogation. “There’s a job in DC.”

Varius said a lot more with the silences than he did when he opened his mouth. That made him the most dangerous out of my brothers.

While everyone in town fawned over my oldest brother, Julian, they’d overlooked Varius. He was the one with the most sense. Most empathy. Most inclination to stick his nose where it didn’t belong.

Julian might have been too much like Dad, but Varius learned from our old man’s mistakes. Something no one else in the family was ever able to do.

“It might be good for you to get out of the military,” Varius said.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, preacher.”

“What sort of job are you looking at?”

Christ only knew what trouble I’d find in DC. “A friend set it up. A cushy job. Some defense contracting gig. I’d be sitting behind a desk. Signing papers. Budgets and shit.”

“You’d be happy with that?”

“Do I have a choice?”

I gave up on the crunches and flopped into the grass. The leg bothered me. The doctor said I’d get used to it. What the hell did they know? They couldn’t find their prick in their own pants. No one was getting used to a piece of plastic wedged against an ugly stump.

I unfastened the prosthetic anyway. Figured it wouldn’t bother Varius. And if it did, tough shit. Bothered me more.

“I can’t stay in Butterpond,” I said.

“The farm that hellish to you?”

“Has it been that good to you?”

Varius frowned. He looked away, nearly getting sucked into that dark, miserable past that almost stole him from us before. At least he only glanced into that abyss this time. We were all getting tired of jumping in after him.

“The farm kept me sane these past couple years,” he said.

That I didn’t believe. After all the disasters and misfortunes that had beset the farm, no one in the family could claim that it was a good influence. Julian tried. Hell, he was the only bastard capable of convincing is to keep the fucking thing. And now that he was spending every last dollar he had renovating and rebuilding the barns, fields, and equipment, we were stuck with it.

Never thought I’d be working the land again. Sitting around the farmhouse. Sneaking off to get some privacy and peace before my brothers and little sister asked any more unsettling questions about my well-being and health.

Varius smirked. “Can’t imagine you in an office job.”

“Wasn’t going to be in combat forever. Only had another ten years or so anyway. Figure I got a jump on the new career path.”

“Hard to jump on one leg.”

“Easy to jump on one leg. Hard to get very far.”

Varius nodded. “You got an interview? How do you think that’s gonna go?”

“Fine.”

My brother wasn’t convinced. Another was I.

“Marius, you’re not some SEAL in the field anymore. Things gotta change. And with all the other problems, not sure jumping into this is a good idea.”

“And what do you propose I do?”

“Take some time and enjoy Butterpond.”

I laughed. “You gotta get out of the house more. You’re starting to lose it.”

Varius crossed his arms. Trying to look intimidating? Might’ve worked on anyone else. “I’m serious. You’re still recovering. You’ve been through a lot. Won’t you take some time and decompress?”

“And do what? Stay here? Help out in the fields? You know damn well Dad never wanted me here.”

“Dad’s not here anymore,” Varius said.

“And it’s still not my problem. This is Julian’s gig. He’s the one who wanted the farm. He got it. Whored out his ass to the zoning officer for it, and now he’s got a barn, a girl on his arm, and a baby on the way. Maybe that’s his scene, but it’s not mine.”

“How do you know?” Varius asked. “Maybe you should take this time to figure out what it is you actually want.”

“I can tell you that right now—I don’t want my kid brother in my face telling me what I should or shouldn’t do.”

Or what I’d lost.

Who I could’ve been.

Because now? It was all about what I could gain. A new job. The new purpose. Everything that I had been lacking before.

Before that bomb exploded, I’d never regretted anything. Once I lost my leg, regrets were all I had left. But I could change that. It all came from getting a new job.

From getting out of this mother fucking town.

“I did my time,” I said. “I got released from the hospital. The nurses stopped calling. I can handle myself.”

“Ever think it’s not physical therapy that you need?”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it.” I shouldn’t have dignified it with a response. Didn’t have a leg, but I had a middle finger that was in perfect working order. I flashed that to end the conversation. “I know what I gotta be doing now. Working. Finding a job. Completing a mission. All I gotta do is get back on my feet…foot.”

“That’s all you need?” Varius raised an eyebrow. “Ever think you could do something different with your life? Settle down. Buy a house. Start a family?”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Never know when you might find a cute girl.” Varius shrugged. “Gretchen Murphy, for instance.”

Yeah, that sweetness had already found me. A beautiful, cinnamon angel with a perfect pout, sexy curves, and an ass the did some ridiculous hard work in that bridesmaid’s dress.

My family knew her. Apparently, she was best friends with Julian’s girl. Worked for the municipal offices, and her daddy owned the veterinary clinic. But no one had mentioned what a pain in the ass she was. Gretchen was five foot, five inches of spunk, quirk, and tits. Not my normal type, but she wasn’t bad for a quick fantasy in the shower.

Or a lingering thought before bed.

Or a series of frustratingly vivid dreams during the night.

Or as the cause of my obscenely hard cock in the morning.

Yeah. Maybe I needed to find myself a cute girl, but I doubted Gretchen was willing to offer what I needed, no matter how perfect that sweetness would’ve been.

Varius shrugged. “You really think you can just waltz into DC, get this cushy job with all these defense contractors and lifelong politicians and sleazy lobbyists and not play their little game?”

I scowled. “What game?”

“You realize how shitty you’ll look to these people?”

“Thanks.”

“You’re the Navy SEAL with no leg and a shit ton of problems. A man who lost his job and almost his life. They’re not gonna give a damn about how fast you can assemble a rifle or how good a shot you are. You’re a SEAL, so you’re not stupid. You know what they’re gonna want.”

“A man willing to leave his loudmouth brother behind?”

“They want the man who’s got pictures of his kids in his wallet. A guy who’s bargaining about vacation time because he’s gotta take the family to the lake every summer. They want happy little homemakers and a daddy who coaches the peewee soccer team. They want someone normal, Marius.”

“And I’m not normal?”

Varius refused to answer. “You tell me.”

“I can make my way around the water cooler.”

“Only if you’re water-boarding your coworkers.” He should’ve quit while he was the only brother I still liked. “You need to sort yourself out. Take this time and spend it with your family. Spend it with yourself. Figure out what you want to do with your life, Marius. You’ve been given a gift.”

“Six surgeries and a prosthetic leg is a gift?”

“You have your life.”

“Am I still allowed to live it the way I choose?”

“As long as you play it smart.” My brother lowered his voice. “I’m not sure you can live it at all right now. You’ve got to realize what happened to you was some heavy stuff. You’ve got a lot to work through before you can think about holding down a nine-to-five.”

Bullshit.

That was such bullshit.

What the hell was sitting around the farm going to do to help me? Worrying about what I felt, and the thoughts in my head, and the nightmares I had at night? Didn’t fucking matter. The only way to get better, to heal like everybody wanted, was to get a job, and to be the best person for that job.

I could work anywhere, do anything, and feel a sense of pride as long as I had a mission.

What was I supposed to do without one?

Life decided to answer that question for me. Karma was a bitch, and she kept coming for my leg. Only this time she sent her minions.

A blur of black and white sprinted across the backyard. A spotted tornado of rabid insanity and puppy adrenaline dove for my prosthetic leg. The dog barked, captured my leg, wagged his fucking tail…

And then he sprinted the fuck away.

“The hell!” I shouted, but the dog took off quicker than I could get up on one leg. Varius offered his hand, but I batted it away. “I’m fine.”

My brother laughed. “Might be life’s way of telling you to take it easy.”

“No. It’s life’s way of telling me I’m gonna spend two days camped outside the Ironfield VA trying to get a new leg.”

Jesus Christ. The dog brandished my leg like he’d found the greatest goddamned bone in a butcher’s shop. The metal squeaked. The dog gave it a vigorous shake, as if he’d planned to tear the stuffing out of it. The prosthetic had no stuffing. Only had hundreds of dollars’ worth of very precise plastics, metals, and artificial joints.

And I thought the fucker and I were friends.

It had to be the same dog. What other asshole border collie roamed Butterpond’s streets stealing limbs and underwear? For one afternoon, the dog had delivered me the greatest treasure since my disability check. I had the bra currently hanging from my rearview mirror. A gift. A delicate piece of cloth that had caressed the skin of the most beautiful woman I ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Varius offered me my cane. It was about as much help as I dare take from my brother. I didn’t let him chase the dog. What sort of man would I be if I couldn’t retrieve my own leg from the mongrel’s mouth?

What was worse—losing a leg in war or losing it to a damn dog?

I knew the answer to that. Just tried to prep myself for the inevitability of crawling my ass to the VA to ask for a second prosthetic.

I hobbled through the backyard, around the side of the house, and towards the brand-new barn. Hardly recognized the farm anymore. On my way to the dog, I’d tripped over a blind rooster and collided with a three-legged goat. To add insult to injury, the goat had better dexterity than I did. My youngest brother, Quint, hooted from the porch, pissing himself in hysterics as I shouted for the fucking dog.

“Need any help?” Quint shouted.

I flipped him off. He collapsed back onto the porch swing, tears in his eyes.

And of course, the dog thought this was a ridiculously exciting game. His head went down, his ass shook in the air, and those ultra-sharp canines undoubtedly wore holes into a brand-new leg that I’d promised I would keep safe. I hadn’t destroyed it yet, so I thought the recovery was going well.

At least until this point.

I thought I’d hit rock bottom the instant the bomb went off and I lost my leg with most of my blood. I’d laid on the ground, staring at the sky, figuring that nothing would ever be as bad as that moment.

I was wrong.

Rock-bottom was losing my career, coming back to Butterpond, and chasing a stray dog around the family farm while it mocked me by waving my own prosthetic toes in my face.

The farm was now part family heirloom, part animal sanctuary. One of the few ways we were able to secure a barn with the current zoning laws. Of course, the rejected Noah’s Ark of inbred animals we’d received weren’t even good enough for a pot of stew. And we sure as hell didn’t need another mongrel sprinting around.

I dug the cane into the soft dirt and hauled ass—hopped—after the mutt.

A woman’s scream echoed over the yard.

Shit.

I couldn’t sprint, but I could hop. Looked like an idiot doing it, but I bounded through the grass and dove for the corner of the barn. I rounded the corner and came face-to-face with the true horror of Butterpond.

Our alpaca.

Alicia was two hundred pounds of ugly, four feet of bad attitude, and one living, breathing demonic nightmare taking shape within our backyard. She was the most unpleasant creature on God’s green earth…and also the angriest.

The alpaca suffered from a condition called alopecia. Apparently, that meant she had no hair, no manners, and no common decency. She had a bad habit of wandering out into the open where anyone could see her. She also tended to spit when she sensed our displeasure—which was all the time as no one ever wanted to come face-to-face with a creature forged from the bowels of hell and shat onto our farm as a charity case.

And there was my glorified meter maid, antagonizing the alpaca. Gretchen curled into a tiny ball at the creature’s feet, covering her head as the alpaca’s leathery, bat-like skin jiggled in the wind.

Alicia reared to attack, consumed by her jealousy of other mammals with hair and the blessings of God.

“Get!” I pitched my cane at the naked pachyderm. “Back the fuck up!”

Alicia had seen enough horrors in her life, most of them herself. But my one leg seemed to disturb her more than her own fleshy, hairless skin. With a perturbed snort, she juked away from Gretchen and pranced into the barn my brother had built to shield her from the world…or to protect us from looking at her.

The dog had more sense than Gretchen. With my leg still clutched in his jaws, he trotted after the alpaca, running circles around the critter to herd her away.

The dog should’ve returned for his owner. The alpaca was nothing compared to the danger I posed.

What the hell was Gretchen doing here?

Gretchen wasn’t a cop, but a body like hers should’ve been criminal. I thought she’d had enough fun for a lifetime, humiliating me in that parking lot. Fucking figured. It was the first time I lowered myself to using the handicapped spot. To my credit, I hadn’t appeared weak. Two days ago, I had stood my ground. Though now, I tumbled to that ground and landed on top of the most beautiful woman in the world. A woman who made me too acutely aware of what I was missing to make this moment of fantasy complete.

Christ she was beautiful. Even the ridiculous puffball pigtails on the top of her head were more than adorable. It was sexy. Casual and fun. Beneath me, her eyes widened. Big pools of cherry chocolate. Deep, rich, absolutely Disney Princess.

How did a woman who so thoroughly busted my balls appear so innocent?

Maybe it was her lips. She gasped and O of recognition. She bit her lip to hide a half smile of squirmy embarrassment. It made her that much more kissable. Plump lips like hers demanded attention, appreciation, and a thick cock pushed between them.

Then again, it seemed wrong to denigrate such a beautiful, lovely girl with such monstrous thoughts. But that’s what made it fun for me. The chase. The capture. The thoroughly, remorselessly, deliberate defiling of a woman for the utter worship of her every curve.

Damn. The things I would’ve done to this woman.

The things I could still do to this woman.

I had to adapt, but it would still be quite enjoyable.

Gretchen wasn’t my type, and yet she was all I wanted. She wasn’t the tag chasing, blonde haired, blue-eyed tramp I’d always imagined in my bed. She was a sexy, athletic girl with skin as dark is my promises and a body desperate for my touch.

Gretchen clung to my arms, dug her fingers into my shirt, and stared at me with such amazement that it was as if I were the first, last, and only man she’d ever seen.

What was it about this girl?

She held my gaze as if we’d already spent our entire lives together instead of a few awkward minutes in the middle of Butterpond’s three handicapped parking spots.

Nothing I said would forgive the hardening of my cock. “You okay, sweetness?”

She pouted. Her eyebrows furrowed. “You shouldn’t yell at the alpaca.”

What the hell?

That was her concern?

Not getting pinned on the ground beneath my body, wrapped tightly underneath a layer of muscle and sweat? My shirt was saturated. My arms and leg burned from a morning of fierce exercise. I held her against me, but she didn’t demand that I let her go. Didn’t even try to move.

She could scold me just as easily on her feet or on her back.

That was some good intelligence to have.

I hardened. Fierce. Conquering. Every instinct I possessed, every ounce of blood running in my veins, every muscle rending itself in tight frustration, demanded I take this woman. Somehow. Some way. Gretchen had to be mine.

I’d give her the option. Right there on the ground like an animal or pushed against the side of the barn for a little more dignity. I wasn’t a man who offered champagne and roses. Hell, I didn’t even keep promises. I never knew where I was going, couldn’t tell anybody where I’d been, and for the past fifteen years of my life, I had no idea where I’d be in the future. In the states. Overseas. Alive. Six feet under.

A night with me had always been just that. One night.

But for this woman? I needed more than a taste. I had to hear her voice again. Loved how her fingers dug into me. I wanted to shock her, pleasure her, and earn that wide-eyed, innocent smile once more.

And she was worried about the alpaca?

Gretchen’s eyebrow perked, a thin waggle of determination and indignation. “Go apologize.”

Probably deserved it. The thoughts I’d had of this woman were downright unholy.

“You sure you want an apology now, or would you rather forgive me for something a little dirtier?”

I rested on the ground with Gretchen tucked neatly under me. Her legs practically wrapped around my waist. So fucking natural, as if this was where she belonged.

“You shouldn’t be mean to the alpaca,” she said.

She wanted me to apologize to the freak show on four legs? “That’s not an alpaca. We’re pretty sure it’s a demon.”

“Alicia is a beautiful animal.”

“Alicia is a walking testicle, and believe me, that’s her best trait.”

Gretchen frowned. “She has a right to be irritated. She’s naked.”

And for the first time, I was jealous of the fucking alpaca. “So?”

“Don’t you think you’d be uncomfortable if you were naked right now?”

Uncomfortable? No. Exhilarated? Abso-fucking-lutely.

I smirked. “I’m not ashamed of being naked.”

This surprised her. “Really?”

And suddenly I was aware of how strange I probably looked without the prosthetic. I gritted my teeth. “You think I should be? I might be missing a couple parts, but the rest of me makes up for it. I consider it a kindness. Gives the rest of the men in this world a fighting chance.”

Gretchen groaned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean your leg…That’s not what I…I’m sure you look great naked.”

“Only one way to find out.”

She wiggled out from under me, propping up on her elbows and biting that delicious lip. “That’s not what I meant either.”

“You’re allowed to wonder. Everything is in working order.”

“That new leg come with a warranty?”

“Hundred thousand miles…good enough for a couple hard rides.” I winked. “Promise you won’t be disappointed, sweetness.”

She smirked before she could hide it. A blast of heat crashed through me. That adrenaline was a fierce kick in the nuts.

I’d missed that.

For the past couple months, I’d been nothing more than a piece of meat. Weak. Stuck in hospital. Tended to by nurses and pitied by my family.

I didn’t need to heal anymore.

I needed to reclaim what was mine.

That surge of testosterone yielded to a quick and fierce hunger. I’d been a ravenous beast before the injury, but now? This wasn’t about proving anything to myself. This was taking what had nearly been stolen from me.

But Gretchen didn’t deserve that aggression. She settled onto the grass, sitting cross-legged in the sunlight.

“And what makes you think I’d be interested, Mr. Payne?” She tapped her fingers on her knees. The booty shorts tempted me—short enough to tease a man, just long enough to make him curse the day he decided to become a gentleman. “You talk a big game.”

“Not looking to talk.”

She hummed. “Not even one little conversation?”

“Slows me down.”

She pouted. “But what if I like it slow?”

“There’s a difference between doing it fast and doing it right. Life’s too short to piss around. Cut the bullshit. You’d like everything I give you.”

Didn’t scare her. She leaned back, supported by her elbows. The booty shorts accentuated her long legs. Pink tennis shoes crossed at her ankles. The girl was all legs. Dark, cocoa skin teased me. Teased everyone.

Never thought I’d be chasing a beauty like her. I couldn’t see a blush on her cheeks, but every other part of her wiggled and squirmed with a mischievous delight.

How else could I make her squirm?

For the first time in months, I felt like my old self. At least, whatever of my old self was left.

This was healing. Not wasting away in some hospital bed, hiding from the world. Chasing a pretty girl. Delighting us both with the promise of simple, terrible, unrepentant pleasure.

“So, Marius…” Gretchen bravely offered a smile. “Give me one good reason why I should sleep with you.”

I grinned. “No bullshit?”

“At your request.”

“If you want to make a man’s wishes come true, I can give you a much better request.”

“What more could you ask for?”

I smirked. “Now there’s a dangerous question.”

She rolled her eyes. “So, we’ll start easy.”

“On the contrary, sweetness. You make this very hard.”

“And you’re making this far too difficult,” she said. “I just need a reason. Why should I get into bed with you?”

“I shouldn’t have to convince you. Isn’t the offer of endless pleasure enough?”

Her giggle was bright, lovely. “And what if I like to be teased?”

I doubted that. “Do you?”

“I suppose I do,” she said, “And I think a man like you knows how to tease a woman.”

“Sweetness, I just spent the last three months getting my leg sewn back together. I’ve been bounced through four countries, three different hospitals, and now I’m stuck at my family home. I’ve been through enough shit. I don’t need to tease right now. I’ve earned the real deal.”

She smiled now. Amazed by me or maybe just curious. Either way, it be her downfall.

“Are you always this sort of ravenous beast?” she asked.

Occasionally. “I’m a man who gets what he wants.”

“And what will you do when you get it?”

“That, sweetness, is up to you.”

Gretchen didn’t answer. She peeked over her shoulder and whistled with her thumb and finger. Her dog returned, but the little mutt didn’t look the least bit ashamed. He offered her the leg. I reached for it, but Gretchen took it instead.

Great. She examined the prosthetic. Hell, I’d avoided looking at the damn thing for the past month. But she turned it over in her hands. Bent the joint at the foot. Study the mechanism for the knee. Even winced as she peeked into the cast for what remained of my leg. It didn’t disgust her. Quite the opposite. She looked intrigued.

Or at least, a little guilty for slobber-coated plastic.

“You didn’t have to send the dog after it,” I said. “If you wanted a piece of me, all you had to do is ask.”

“If only he had come back with your wallet.”

“I can think of a far better place to grab me.”

Gretchen snorted. “So, I guess the alpaca isn’t the only dick on this farm.”

I shook my head. “No, the alpaca’s the ball sack.”

“And here I thought the big bad military hero would have the biggest balls in Butterpond.”

“Only because they’re underused.”

She laughed. “And I’m supposed to take pity on you?”

I shrugged. “I got plenty of pity. A good blow job though? That’s how you really thank the troops.”

Gretchen tossed the prosthetic to me. “And here, I thought I was pulling your leg.”

I took it, but I wasn’t strapping it on in front of her. Wasn’t likely to move either. Last thing I needed was for Gretchen to see my one and a half legs or the raging erection tenting my shorts.

“You know,” she said. “You make it really hard for me to have a crush on you.”

That was the most wholesome shit I’d heard in years. “You’ve got a crush on me?”

“Why bullshit?”

I liked this girl. “Good. I’m not a man who does formalities.”

“What do you do?” Gretchen asked. “Since we're being so honest with each other.”

“Everything a little girl like you his wanted but never dared asked.” I lowered my voice, a dark and sensuous promise. “Pleasure. Excitement. The fucking of a lifetime.”

She wasn’t convinced. “You make it hard to resist.”

“You’ve never been truly fucked until you’ve been taken by me.”

“And what if I’ve never been fucked before?”

“Life isn’t that good to me.” The girl was worse than a tease. I groaned, rubbing my face. I had enough bruising after the accident. At least I was used to blue balls. “What the hell are you doing here? I’m not returning your bra.”

Gretchen rolled her eyes. “I’m not here for the bra. You can keep it. Call it a trophy.”

“Or an appetizer.”

She smirked. “Better savor it.”

“You’d be surprised how voracious my appetite can be, especially if I’m offered something sweet to eat.”

“Too bad I don’t have any time in my schedule for a quick lunch.” She winked. “Too busy with the farm.”

“So, you aren’t here for me?” I asked.

“What if I’m here to reveal that I’m madly in love with you?”

Then I would’ve believed that I had died when the bomb went off, and Gretchen was the angel sent to rescue me from the purgatory that was Butterpond.

“I used up all my luck surviving the blast,” I said. “What’s the real reason?”

Gretchen huffed, teasing the long grass between her fingers. “I’m trying to be the world’s best daughter.”

“By seducing me?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, I’m seducing you?”

“Doing a good job of it.”

“You offer me no real conversation, hardly any foreplay, and now I’m the one responsible for getting you in bed? Seems like a raw deal.”

“If you want raw, you got it.”

“I told you. I’m here to visit the farm.”

She was gorgeous and she had a sense of humor. A rumbling laugh seized me. But I’d forgotten how to do it. Figured I’d have to teach myself to laugh again, then I’d have to learn how to fuck with one leg. At least Gretchen provided training for both exercises.

“Why the fuck are you here for the farm?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Maybe I came to gawk at the animals.”

“At this petting zoo, only the first ride is free.”

She wasn’t impressed. “Like I’d trust you. You’re the kind of animal that bites.”

“That should excite you.”

She tried to threaten me. Couldn’t. But it was cute nevertheless. “I’m an animal control officer. Snap at me just once, and I’ll muzzle you.”

“My bite’s worse than my bark. And the rest of me is even tougher.”

“Then I’ll be on guard while I tour your facilities.”

I gestured around what used to be and still was a jarring reminder of my childhood. “What facilities?”

When my father needed to make a choice between the farm and the family, the land always came first. He paid more attention to soil quality and rain clouds than his five sons and adopted daughter fighting for his approval. Crops were life. The farm was everything. And he’d made the decision long ago that it was Julian who would take his place. And what happened?

Fires. Cancer. Heart problems.

The barn was destroyed first. Didn’t matter how it burned down, but it had started everything. The fighting and the frustrations. Then mom died. Dad never recovered. Stopped growing crops. Stopped maintenance on the farm. Once he got sick, we had no other options. After he was gone, the land hung over our heads. Julian’s problem, but now he depended on us to get the farm operational again.

Which meant I was once again hiding out in the back fields, avoiding the responsibilities, family, and truth.

And yet Gretchen glanced over the farm as if she actually liked the rolling grasses, quiet pastures, and demonic animals roaming in and out of the barn.

“Micah invited me,” she said.

Micah. Julian’s soon-to-be wife and mother of his yet-to-be-born son. Seemed like something she would do. She was the only woman not only crazy enough to fall in love with my oldest brother, but just optimistic enough to think the farm might work. The alpaca was her handiwork. A slippery plot to work around current zoning laws and expedite the rebuilding of the barn as an “animal sanctuary.”

It made no sense to me. “What do you think you’re gonna find here?”

Gretchen met my gaze. “A wedding.”

I laughed. “I’m here for a quickie. Not interested in the ball and chain.”

“You’re breaking my heart,” she warned. “And here I thought I’d find my Prince Charming in Butterpond.”

“Why play Princess when you can be a dirty whore?”

“Careful, Romeo. I’m not that kind of girl.”

“That’s what makes it so much fun.” I leaned closer. “That’s what would make it such a pleasure.”

Gretchen baited me with a soft smile and long legs. Christ, what I would’ve done to sample the smooth darkness of her skin.

“I’m supposed to be touring the grounds of Triumph Farm to imagine a perfect wedding venue for my father and his fiancée. They want something unique to Butterpond. Romantic. They thought the farm would be ideal.”

“This farm is anything but ideal.”

“And this wedding is anything but a good idea.”

Her tone had shifted. Irritated.

No.

Worried.

“Someone isn’t very happy that Daddy is getting remarried,” I said.

Her eyebrow arched. “You haven’t been back in town for very long, have you? Ask around. I’ve got twenty-two reasons why this marriage is a bad idea, one for every year of the bride’s life.”

“Ouch.”

“I’m supposed to report to the bride tonight—at her bachelorette party. Just me, her, and a dozen of her closest sorority sisters.”

“Sounds like you need a reason to escape.”

“Can you perform a miracle?”

I grinned. “Used up all my miracles. But my bed is a perfect place to hide.”

She laughed. “Tell you what, Marius. I still need a date to the wedding. Come with me, and you might get lucky afterwards.”

I was horny, but I wasn’t desperate. “I don’t do weddings.”

“Not even to get laid?”

“Never needed to bargain for it before.”

“Bargain?” Her smile was bright, the cheerfulness a warmth I hadn’t felt in months. “Mr. Payne, I’m offering you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You can bed your very own bridesmaid.”

“Only if you let me fuck you in that hideous dress.”

Gretchen huffed. “Chloe likes orange. Reminds her of the sunset when she first fell in love with my father.”

“Now I get it.” I pointed at her. “You don’t want a date to the wedding. You want an excuse to leave.”

“And you want a night with me.”

“Night. Morning. Afternoon. Your pick.”

“Many have tried,” she said. “Do you think you’d succeed?”

“I don’t know how to fail.”

“Perfect. Because I would expect it to be good.”

“And I never disappoint.”

“Is that a promise?”

“What good’s a promise?” My voice hardened. So did the rest of me. “Why promise anything when you don’t know when your time’s gonna be up? No sense waiting when you can do it now.”

She snorted. “So, I should just lay down in the grass and let you take me right here?”

“I think that’s what you want.”

“You don’t even know who I am.”

“I know that you’ve never been properly fucked. And that’s a goddamned crime.”

She nibbled on her nail. Actually considering it? I was better than I thought.

But why wouldn’t she be interested? It was obvious the girl needed it. Bad. A beautiful smile and tight body like hers deserved more than just talking and flirting. She needed to knowhow utterly fuckable she was. How sexy, enticing, and ball-crushingly confusing she was.

She either needed to learn not to tease or how to take it properly. I was willing to teach her both of those very important lessons.

Gretchen attempted to stand, but I took her hand, tugging her back to the ground. She knelt before me, a petite little thing. I towered over her. Muscle upon muscle. Might have been missing some of me, but the rest was imposing. I’d made it that way. Built myself to be strong. Tough. Resilient.

And now?

I needed a reminder of my past strength and a reassurance for my future.

I gave a tug of her hand, capturing her as she tumbled forward. Gretchen gasped, but I pulled her to my lips. Her pouty, soft kiss met mine.

And that was it.

With a single, electrifying shock, I was struck with everything I’d been missing since the accident.

All-consuming desire.

The adrenaline surged, coupled with a wave of aggression. Possessiveness.

Confusion.

Gretchen kissed me, her voice a timid whimper as she placed her hands on my chest. Not pushing. Not struggling. Her fingers tucked into my shirt and she drove her body closer to mine.

The heat crushed my ribs, already battered by the frantic racing of my own heart. The blood pooled low. I hardened, desperate to move this woman over my lap, to feel her hips grind against mine, to savor every inch of her sizzling flesh against my own skin.

I didn’t care how it would happen, what I needed to do, or how long I had to tease her.

This woman would be mine.

In my bed. In my arms. In my head.

I wouldn’t rest until I had her. Wouldn’t be whole until she was tucked against my body, skin to skin, heat to heat, hip to hip. My entire life was revealed in the secret of her kiss. In the few, precious seconds her lips touched mine and her hands held me tight, I saw everything I needed in this world.

I’d never believed in fate.

I’d thought karma had kicked my ass.

I’d figured my luck had been used up during the amputation.

But every fiber of my being, what remained of my heart, and the tattered shreds of my soul told me I’d been brought back to Butterpond for a reason. My life had been spared—my life had been changed—for this moment.

But I wasn’t a romantic. I didn’t believe in soul mates or kismet.

But if the world it saved me so I could fuck this beautiful woman, then who was I to protest?

Gretchen pulled away as her dog leapt between us, dropping more toys and stolen treasures for her approval. A stick, Frisbee, and a pair of Quint’s boxers landed in our laps.

She smiled, but her voice rasped with a breathless wonder. “You’re a dangerous man, Marius Payne.”

“I think you like that.”

She’d never admit it. “I should go.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not ready to fall in love with you.”

I laughed. “Who said anything about love?”

She stood, brushing bits of grass from shorts so tiny it was a miracle she fit that perfect ass into the denim. “Well, I’m not ready to have sex with you then.”

“You didn’t even give me a chance.”

“There’s a time and a place for that, sailor.”

Yeah. The sooner the better. “How about after the bachelorette party?”

Gretchen shook her head. “No way. You have no idea how much alcohol I need to survive a night with these girls.” She winked. “And, once it happens, I’d like to actually remember a night with you.”

“Believe me.” I mourned the loss of her kiss with a sharp breath. “It’s not one you’ll never forget.”

“Keep promising that, and I might have to give you a shot.”

“I already took a bomb to the leg.” I watched her leave, those hips swaying as if to punish me. “A shot from you, sweetness? That’s a good kind of pain.”