Dirty Country Love: A Step-Brother Romance Novella (6 page)

“Who was that?” she asked, half afraid of the answer.

“A scumbag,” he said curtly, taking her bag and
stowing it before climbing atop the motorcycle. He wasted no time
getting them going, and once they were cruising down the highway
there was no more talking to be done over the noise.

It had to be a good hour before Damien pulled them off the main
road and took them down a quiet path she didn’t recognize. Home
was still a nice long drive away, but he came to a stop in a grassy
little area, secluded from the noise of the road.

Once he shut off the bike he turned to peer back over his
shoulder.

“I owe you an explanation,” he said, and she could see
that despite his victory, he’d taken some nicks and scrapes to
his own ruggedly handsome face in the fight.

The hum of the motorcycle had quieted her mind and her racing
thoughts, but the second they were free to talk, her stomach
tightened. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to know, but that
was just fear talking. The idea that she really didn’t know him
and that their time together had been little more than a farce scared
her.

Like it could all be taken away just like that.

“Okay,” she managed as he rose off the bike and then
pulled her up with him in a smooth, careful motion.

“I know that must’ve been an ugly sight to see,”
he said, his hard face contorted into one of sympathy. “You
ain’t used to seein’ fellas slug it out like that over a
woman. Or at all, I s’pose,” he conceded, taking a deep
breath that made his chest swell up.

She bit in on the corner of her mouth before giving him a little
nod.

“We should’ve just taken off,” she said.

He reached out and placed his two hands upon her arms, holding her
in his grasp lightly as he stared into her eyes.

“That ain’t how things work with guys like them.
Especially that piece of shit,” he said, just a little bit of
his angry rumble eking back into his voice. “When he talked
about you like that… well,” he betrayed a facial tick of
irritation. “It didn’t just piss me off, it meant I had
to do somethin’. Had to stake a claim to you, or else someday,
if he came across you again… he might try somethin’. And
get rough.” He sighed, “And with those guys, there’s
only one way you stake a claim to a woman. It’s with brute
force.”

She gazed up at him as she listened, heard the hurt and anger in
his voice that simmered just beneath the surface. She’d never
seen nothin’ like that, and especially not over her. Some girls
might be pleased to have a guy rush in and defend her like that, and
thinkin’ back to the crude, horrible things that other man said
it was hard to believe he didn’t deserve it.

But seein’ what Damien could do scared her more than a
little.

“That all just seemed normal to you, Damien.”

He stared at her a while, lettin’ more than her words sink
in, but her worries. The expression on her face that said it all.

“Look,” he began, licking his lips and letting his
tough, broad posture soften a little, “I didn’t want you
to see that. But even more, I didn’t want you to maybe run
across him some time when I wasn’t around and have him try
somethin’. I didn’t mean for you to see that side of me,
Britney.”

He looked so bothered by her having seen a taste of the tough guy
as he was in the city. Like she’d caught him in some
compromising position. Like they were kids again and she’d
walked in on him doing something he really shouldn’t be.

Her shoulders slumped as she took in a deep breath. It was
strange, the war goin’ on within her. The feeling of security
and fear, gratitude and worry, all swirlin’ within her bust.

And she knew, if she’d run into that guy without Damien,
she’d have been way more scared of him than she was of Damien.
He’d never hurt her, not like that.

“You used to have to do that a lot?”

“No,” he said firmly. “Not that rough. Most men
aren’t as stubborn as that piece of shit,” he said with a
sigh. “But then you saw how many scars he had.”

Damien reached out to grasp her shoulder and squeeze it gently.

“I only did what I had to, to make sure that animal didn’t
ever pose a threat to you. I know you live out in the country, but
these guys… they do runs all over the place. And the thought
that someday he might end up in your diner…” She could
see him grinding his teeth in anger at the thought.

She took in a deep breath. It was a lot to take in; him spoiling
her to a new outfit followed by him beating up another man. And then
they had that dance to go to...

Should we still even go,
she thought to herself before
resting her head on his chest. He was comforting, even with his anger
and his cuts and bruises from the few jabs the other man had gotten
in.

“We should head back.”

Damien took his time, giving her a slow, firm embrace, his thick
arm sliding up her back before he let her go.

“Sure thing, Brit,” he said with a forced smile,
obviously troubled by the turn of events. And how she’d gotten
to see him at his worst.

Damien did up his shirt with his battered hands as he caught sight
of her in the mirror coming out of her room. His eyes instantly moved
to her, soaking her in with an entranced gaze.

“What?” she asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious and
tugging at the fringes of the dress. “Is it no good?” She
bit down upon her lower lip, feeling so anxious about it all on top
of the earlier doubts.

Damien turned and abandoned the last few buttons, leaving him
half-dressed up, half exposing his sculpted, tattooed torso.

“No, you look amazing,” he said, stepping in closer to
her, his gaze unable to leave her as if his eyes were glued upon her
form. “I’ve not seen a real— a beautiful lady like
you in so long… maybe never,” he said, the angry, tough
guy of earlier melting away a little as he stared at her, transfixed.
Smitten.

Heat sullied her cheeks and she had to look away. She wasn’t
sure how to take him, but that sweet comment was enough to soften her
heart towards him. Remember the good he had within him.

And when her eyes moved up once more, taking in his masculine
form, she had to force her eyes away once again to hide her
embarrassment.

She thought he was the one that really looked amazing.

“You should, ah, finish getting dressed.”

He looked down at his shirt, still dangling open, even if it was
mostly tucked in.

“Oh yeah,” he said, and he reached up to do the
buttons up, but he was painfully slow at it, and she soon saw why.
His knuckles upon one hand were in rough shape, with more than a few
nicks and cuts from the fight. The sort of thing that called for a
nice cleaning, just as ma would do for her scrapes, long, long ago
when she was so young.

She stared longer than she oughta, but once she decided, she was
quick to move into the bathroom. She found the antiseptic and the
bandages, bringing them back to his room and grabbing for his hand.

“You’d figure if you’re used to these sorta
tussles, that you’d know well enough how to care for yourself.”

Damien paused his work, his shirt still not entirely done up, but
near enough. Almost.

He watched her, his broad shoulders slowly relaxing as she took
hold of his much larger hand in her daintier ones.

“Ain’t the way things are done among men folk,”
he explained, looking at her with such fascination. And warmth. “You
don’t need to be fussin’ over me though. It’s my
own damn fault, not yours,” he explained gently, though it was
clear he seemed to like her attentions.

Besides, she wasn’t havin’ any of that. He was tryin’
to protect her in his own way, and so it was the least she could do
to look out for him too. She rubbed the cotton ball over his wounds,
clearing away the dirt and leaving it fresh and raw.

“No need to punish yourself and risk gettin’ an
infection just ‘cause you messed up, Damien.”

He never flinched, not even a little. Just watched her, seemin’
so relaxed with her care.

“I’m just not used to havin’ anyone tend to me
like this,” he said in his deep voice. “Y’know…
so caring. And tender,” he explained. And of course, she
remembered, his ma died long ago too. And though Mr. Drake was a good
man, he weren’t a real tender type. He was a hard, farmin’
man.

But still, it was silly to think he should just go ‘round
with those types of cuts on him. She covered the last one that needed
it with a Band-Aid and noticed that gleam in his eyes. The one she
knew about but had never seen, not really, and it made her stomach
flutter with dozens of butterflies.

“Well... there, you’re all patched up. Don’t
hurt too bad, I hope?”

“Nah,” he said, smiling unevenly at her ever so
slightly. “Feels better now than ever,” he added, as if
her little bout of attention to his battered fist had so moved him,
he was free of all pains and worries. “Not often a fella has
both a date with such a beautiful gal, but her tender care to boot.”

Her thumb grazed against his hand before pulling away. She didn’t
know how to date someone she’d grown up with side by side. It
was more than a little scary, but at the same time, it felt almost
right. Especially with how he’d changed, at least ‘round
her.

“We should head over soon.”

“Sure thing,” he said at last, and finished a couple
more buttons on his shirt before extending his arm to her in
offering. “If the lady will be so kind as to accompany me,”
he offered up that thick, bulging bicep to take, looking pleased as
punch to be takin’ her to the dance.

She let her worries and fears slide away. For one night, she
simply wanted to enjoy herself and not overthink everythin’.
She deserved that much, just a nice night out.

Her first real date, no less.

She’d brushed her golden hair, curled the ends so that they
teased the open halter top. Every so often she glanced down and
couldn’t believe it was her in that sexy, feminine dress. Her
heels were hard to get used to, but at the same time it put her at a
better height next to him, and that made her stand even taller.

Though when she was offered the helmet, she hesitated for a
second, already mournin’ the loss of her finely styled hair.

Safety first
, she told herself before buckling the helmet on
her head, slidin’ onto the back of his bike and wrappin’
her arms around him. It was becoming more familiar, more comfortable,
every time she did it, and when his hand caressed hers briefly before
he revved the engine, her entire world was blissful.

It was a lovely night, and the ride was short before they got to
the dance. The farm was done up, with a big patch of the land
converted into a party ground, with the barn and a great central tent
all set aside for the dance. The band played in the barn itself, and
all the guests went to dance beneath the canopy in front of it.

Damien pulled the bike to a halt and climbed off, helping her to
her feet with a smile.

“Hope that you remember how to dance, Britney,” he
said with a teasing smile, refusing to let go of her hand, rubbing
his rough thumb over her smooth knuckles.

She couldn’t help but gaze about, wonder striking her mute
for a few moments as she drank it all in. There was such life, such
excitement in the air as lights twinkled and the beat of the music
thrummed through them.

It was such a change from the usual calm and quiet of the farm,
and she was gettin’ more and more excited as her heart beat
excitedly.

“This is gorgeous!”

“Yeah, they really went all out,” he said, offering
her his arm again, letting her hand snake around his bicep as she led
her on down the trail with the other new arrivals towards the dance.
Lights were strung up all around. “I’m surprised they got
such a fancy lookin’ thing set up out here in farm country.
Must’ve cost a pretty penny,” he said, soaking it all in…
but mostly her, his eyes ever quick to return to the woman at his
side.

She couldn’t help but keep lookin’ up at him neither.
Lit as he was by the soft, twinkling lights, he looked even more
ruggedly handsome, but with a sweet edge to it. Made him look a
little less threatening and a lot more romantic.

Not that she should be thinkin’ about him like that. But she
didn’t know how to turn her feelings off. They were just there,
loud and impossible to forget.

“Should we... I mean, I’ve never been to somethin’
like this, so I don’t know what to do.”

He looked aside at her, raising a brow and grinning a little bit.

“Unless you were askin’ if we should blow all these
other folks away with our dancin’, I got no idea,” he
said, bee-lining right for the grassy dance-’floor’,
holding her hand.

He took her there, turning and guiding her to the spot as he
smiled down at her.

“If’n you don’t know how to dance, now’s
the time to warn me… ‘cause I’ll handle it all,”
he said with a playful wink.

Wait, he knew how to dance?
!

It was one thing for him to be polite to her, but him knowin’
how to dance was somethin’ she couldn’t have even dreamed
about.

“I can probably make due,” she said with a bit of a
grin. Sure, dancin’ alone in her living room wasn’t bound
to be the same thing, but she wasn’t going to concede defeat on
that, not at all.

The music was upbeat and cheerful, and in no time Damien led her
out into a dance.

He was big, bulky and broad, but none of that stopped the man from
moving in time with the music, leading her in a dance as if he knew
it almost as well as he knew fightin’. And each time she
thought she had the measure of him, he upped the ante. He lifted her
hand up over her head and spun her about before grasping her about
the waist again.

“Makin’ due,” he reiterated with a grin, seeming
to be enjoying himself immensely as they came together tightly for
one section.