Dirty Country Love: A Step-Brother Romance Novella (4 page)

“Shit, Brit!” he said in shock, placing the box back
where it came from. “You okay?”

She barely had time to realize what was happening before he
stopped it, and she stared at him in stunned silence. It was almost
like the wind was knocked from her lungs, but after a couple seconds
she shook her head free of the mental fog.

“Just lost my footing,” she explained, embarrassed.

Damien bent down and instead of helpin’ her up, just
outright picked her up and put her back down on the chair at the
table.

“Fuck,” he said, cussin’ like his pa never
would, “guess that pantry’s kind of a nuisance for a lady
as delicate as you.” He said it partially teasing, but the wry
grin on his face showed he meant it playfully.

“Not my fault you’re all giants,” she said,
trying to keep her tone light. She brushed some stray hair from her
face, still trying to catch her thoughts. “I don’t know
what happened. Was just reachin’ up to grab it and somehow I
was fallin’ but I must’ve nudged it over the edge at the
same time.”

“Must’ve been somethin’ spilled on the floor,
makin’ it slippery,” he remarked, looking back into the
pantry before he shut it up. “I’ll see about fixin’
it for ya. But in the meantime, no need for those… some fresh
stuff, straight from the farm,” he said, picking back up the
bundles of carrots and potatoes he was carrying with him.

Her eyes lit up. There were few things she enjoyed more than fresh
vegetables, and she walked over to them eagerly.

“There look real great,” she said with a broadening
smile, her bruised ego fading into a memory already. “I haven’t
had real food like this since Christmas.”

He grinned and chuckled, givin’ her a light pat on the
shoulder and a squeeze before he turned away.

“I’ll go wash up and lend a hand,” he said. And
true to his word, he was back in no time.

He wasn’t all dressed up or nothin’, but when he did
come back it was with a button up short sleeved shirt, and his hair
brushed back. He looked to be tryin’ at makin’ himself
presentable, and he got up right beside her, elbow to elbow, helpin’
himself to peelin’ some potatoes.

She smiled at him, her heart pounding in her chest over such a
simple task.

Over supper they were laughin’ and smilin’, like no
time had passed at all, but a whole lot. She felt closer than ever to
the big, enigmatic man.

As he pushed away his plate, scraped clean of every last trace of
food, he smiled across the table at her.

“So you get a lotta troublesome customers over at the diner,
or what? I bet there’s some real nuisances,” he said with
a half-grin.

“Nothin’ I can’t handle,” she said with a
tinge of pride. “Most folks know where the line is, and if they
don’t, they’re shown the door. Only once was there ever a
real problem and that was only ‘cause some outta-towner started
a fight in the parkin’ lot.”

Damien laughed and rolled his eyes as he rested back in his chair,
letting it tilt.

“Always some jackass out to make up for his shortcomings,”
he remarked all too knowingly. “Hope he never caused you no
distress at least,” he added, sounding genuine. “I know
it must be rough for women folk workin’ around big brutes like
that, who don’t know how to keep it in check.”

“We were all inside, thankfully. Jack, the chef there, he
broke it up. Gave us somethin’ to talk about for a couple days
at least,” she said with a wry little grin. “Not often
somethin’ like that happens, not here.”

“That’s good,” he said, smiling warmly. “I
know that even if you didn’t head off to the big city, must’ve
been a real change to go from the farm to workin’ in town.
Would hate to think of ya stressin’ needlessly. Because sweet,
talented, hard workin’ and lovely as you are, it’s a real
shame you don’t have a man around to wipe away yer fears and
anxieties.”

“Yea, it was a change. Mostly, I mean, havin’ to be on
my own. Gets quiet at night, you know? Even in the town with the cars
and lights. Sometimes feels even more lonesome, since you’re
surrounded by all these people that you don’t really know.”
She licked her lower lip, shrugging a bit, “I mean, it’s
nothin’ like the city and what you must’a felt though.”

Damien got a little darkly quiet there for a moment, and she
worried that he’d clam up and talk no more. But instead he
nodded slowly after a time and spoke up.

“Yeah. The city never shut up. People everywhere. Everythin’
over packed. But y’know?” he laughed dryly. “You
learn a lesson there, that you can feel more alone in the middle of
the crowd than you can in the middle of the prairie. It’s an
alienatin’ feeling,” he said poignantly.

“It’s weird, isn’t it? I mean, how hard it is to
just feel a connection with someone.” She didn’t know how
to add on that she felt a connection with him.

“Pretty damn hard,” he said, taking a deep breath,
before he got up and helped her take the dishes into the kitchen.

The next day she woke up and found he was already up and out. She
saw him walkin’ across the field towards the workshop that old
Mr. Drake used mainly in the winter.

She set about her usual business, and got to work on preparin’
something of a breakfast for the two of them.

When the meal was done, there was still no sight of him. So she
went to the door, called out. Still nothin’.

“Where’s he off to?” she muttered to herself,
and went back into the kitchen.

Making her way to the pantry again to fetch some sugar for their
mornin’ coffee, she found herself accosted. A pair of arms shot
out from the door to the dining room, one covered her eyes, the other
wrapped about her waist.

“Got a surprise for ya,” came Damien’s gravelly
voice, right in her ear.

She squeaked, but part of her knew it was him and not some random
burglar. Though with his strong arms around her, it took her a second
longer to register what he’d said.

“A surprise?” she whispered, truly shocked he’d
ever think to do something for her. When they lived together he would
barely make her a birthday card, let alone go out of his way to
surprise her.

“What is it?” she asked, excitement rising within her
chest.

He chuckled in good nature, his broad chest heaving against her
back, reminding her of the hard, powerful physique that he possessed.

“Nothin’ big,” he said leading her forward, eyes
still covered. “But I didn’t want a repeat of yesterday,”
he explained, pulling open a door before unveiling her sight and
letting her peer into the open pantry.

There, upon the floor of the pantry, she saw a well-polished,
newly crafted foot-ladder. The air even smelled of the woodwork,
which must’ve been what drew him out of bed so early.

All to craft somethin’ she’d only need for a few days.

“Damien,” she murmured, her hand fluttering to her
chest. She couldn’t believe he’d put himself out to do
something like that for her, and she spun around, throwing her arms
about his neck. “Thank you!”

Her excitement came as a surprise to him, judging by his wide
eyes. But he smiled and wrapped his arms about her in return, hugging
her tightly as he grinned. The quiet between them dragging a while as
his gaze trailed down along her lips.

He snapped his gaze back up to hers and gave her another tight
squeeze.

“Pa should’ve done it ages ago anyhow, but I bet he
never even noticed. You’re not the complainin’ sort, are
ya?” he remarked wryly.

She shook her head. He was so warm, his hard body pressed to hers,
making her have to go up on her tip-toes just to hug him. The
step-stool would come in handy for that, too, she mused. She felt
like she should pull away, that she’d lingered too long, but it
was only reluctantly that she withdrew her arms from ‘round his
neck.

Then reluctantly again that he pulled his thick limbs from low
around her waist.

“Now… what’s for breakfast,” he asked
with an impish smile.

It wasn’t the last time Damien surprised her with a little
gift. Later that day, he came in with some fresh picked berries to
make into jam.

“Found ‘em down by the river,” he explained with
a smile.

Though the next day she awoke to find some fresh wildflowers on
the table, waiting for her. Along with a note that read:

Gone to town to pick up a few things and finish some work. Be
back for supper.

Then finished it off with a lil’ heart.

She stared at it far longer than she oughta. She didn’t know
what to make of it, what to make of him. He came into her life again
lookin’ every bit the bad boy he used to be, but inside, he had
a heart of gold. He genuinely seemed to care about her, and want to
make her happy.

She brought the flowers out with her to the kitchen, putting them
to the side and glancing overlong at the note every so often.

Of course she’d noticed the little changes in behaviour. The
way he lingered nearer to her, the way he held her tight. And she
hadn’t forgotten when she’d spied him nude, and his
devious smile.

But surely there wasn’t anything inappropriate, not between
them.

So then why did she feel the way she did? Why was she hummin’
a silly song, excited for his return?

Why was it that every time she thought about him, her stomach
fluttered, and she felt so happy durin’ what was a time of
great loss for her?

To be certain, there was a lot of sadness. Even for Damien, who
was stoic and strong, she read the mourning etched into his hard,
masculine features. But it was the softer moments, the joy of
reconnectin’, that really made the moments so special.

When supper was approachin’, she heard the sound of his bike
comin’ down the road and peered out the window. There he was,
all dressed in black, tearin’ down the road towards home.

When he got off his motorcycle, she noticed he was carryin’
a couple bags from out of the storage on his bike. He headed first to
the workshop, and only then back towards the farmhouse, still
carryin’ one of those bags in his arms.

She’d been curious what he needed so bad in town. After all,
when he headed back to the city he’d have access to everything
he wanted and more.

Includin’ a woman to come back here with,
she reminded
herself, and her happiness at his arrival was tempered with
melancholy.

“What’s for supper?” he asked with a grin as he
stomped into the house, the big, leather-wearin’ biker like a
bull rampaging about with how big he was. “I’m starved
after all day.”

He didn’t indicate what he carried, but moved on past her,
into the other room, still in earshot as he stripped off his coat.

“I decided on lasagne with the meat we got at the market,”
she said, watching for his return. Her curiosity about him had grown
to a fever pitch with him being gone all day.

“Sounds delicious!” he called out from the other room.

When he returned he wasn’t all dressed up or anythin’,
just in his jeans and white shirt, but he bore a smile and offered up
his package. He peeled away the paper wrapping to show a bouquet of
expensive looking flowers. Nothin’ too fancy, as they were all
from the local flower shop, but still…

“Saw ‘em in the shop window and thought those ones I
left you this mornin’ were a lil’ whimpy compared to
these,” he said in a smooth, husky voice.

Her heart jumped into her chest and she almost lost her ability to
breathe. Worst still was the wetness that came to the corner of her
eyes, her lower lip trembling. It wasn’t just that she was
touched that he did something so sweet, it was everything else. That
soon he’d be walking out of her life again, back to the big
city.

Sure, maybe he’d call, or they’d try to get together
for Christmas and Thanksgiving, but she was terrified of losing what
they’d forged in their time together.

“Damien,” she managed meekly, reaching out for the
bouquet.

He handed her the flowers, but didn’t retract his arm.
Instead he stepped in close, placed his other hand upon her hip and
looked a little concerned.

“You okay?” he asked, his rugged face looking
perturbed as a realization crept over him. “Oh shit…
flowers don’t make you think of funerals do they? I mean…
not just pa but, your ma passed on long ago too.”

That wasn’t it, but it was surprising to hear the large,
hardened biker think with such concern.

She shook her head, but she had no idea what to say. How could she
even begin to tell him that the reason she’s so upset is
because she’s afraid of goin’ back to normal? To her
lonely job in the diner, back into town. She’d never felt so
bad about it before, it was happy and comfortable as a life got. But
after their time together, it was like there’s a hole that
couldn’t be filled.

She wiped beneath her eyes, swallowing back her tears.

“Naw, nothin’ like that. Just... Gonna miss it here,”
she said weakly and without conviction.

That made him stop and think, his deep, dark eyes scanning her as
he pondered. Though his first response wasn’t with words, he
merely slid his arm from her hip about her waist and pulled her in
tight and close against his hard body.

“There’s a dance comin’ tomorrow night. Over at
the Swanson farm,” he said lowly. “Will you accompany me?
That is, if you can spare the extra night from work…” he
asked, brow raised in anticipation.

It wasn’t what she expected, not even close. But the thought
of going to a dance with him... She couldn’t deny that she
wanted it. That she was excited at the prospect, even.

She drew in her lower lip, gnawing it thoughtfully. What would
people say, her showin’ up to a dance with him, though? But
before she could talk herself out of it, his hand squeezed her hip,
and she was brought back to the blissful present, his arms around
her, his body so near to her own.