Under the Alpha's Protection (Steamy Werewolf Shifter Menage Romance) (5 page)

*              *              *              *

Dinner wound up being grilled barbecue-smothered chicken with garlic mashed potatoes, brussels sprouts, and stewed green beans. He wolfed down the food quickly before fetching himself seconds.

“What do you think?” I asked politely, reaching for the can of beer that he’d set by my plate. “Hold up to expectations?”

“You know, you’re makin’ me wonder why this is the first time we’ve thought of this here arrangement.” He sat down with the plate and set about wrecking the food again. “Sure as Hell beats my signature fried grits and toast.”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t want my signature anywhere
near
that.”

We shared a laugh, and caught up on each other’s lives. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t have much news to report since Grandpa had passed away last year. There had always been a few extra ranch-hands around, and I was surprised to see that Uncle Jack seemed to be taking care of everything by his lonesome.

“Oh, I have a few…friends,” he mentioned after a sip of beer when I brought it up later that night. We were absent-mindedly watching Formula 1 racing on television. “They pass on through sometimes and lend a hand. In fact, you’re gonna meet ‘em soon.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, intrigued. I hadn’t been aware that anyone else was going to be around while I was here.

“Yeah, probably should’ve mentioned them before…pack of boys, those lot. Ranch hands that help out from time to time. Young fellers, real tough. Only lot I’d trust to help care for this place. Known ‘em for a while.”

I thought about this as I drank more of my beer. Part of the whole reason I’d come up here was to get away from boys, but it sounded like these weren’t my typical fare. I wondered what they were like, how tough they really were.

This trip was about to get a whole lot more interesting…

*              *              *              *

Bright and early that morning, I was up and fixing breakfast for Uncle Jack and myself. He quickly scarfed down a plate of scrambled eggs, seasoned sausage cutlets, and French toast before taking me outside to teach me how he expected the chores done.

Milking the cows was less squeamish than I had imagined, but it was still tedious work. I listened to the milk striking the metallic pail in bursts, and it reminded me of the way the rain would hit the metal roofing above the lunch tables at my elementary school. When done, I settled the cows back in under his watchful eye, and he helped me lug the buckets back indoors to be chilled and prepared later.

Next, he showed me how to clean the stables. It was messier work, and I was always rubbing my brow with the back of my forearm, but the animals sure appreciated it.

“Now, when the boys come in, they’re probably gonna take care of the more laborious side of things…you’ll probably only have to do this one other time before they show. But it still needs to be done, and I’m goin’ to be too busy tending to the cattle out there to handle it all myself.”

“No, I’ve got it,” I reassured him. “I’m here to help, after all.”

He patted my head again, a strong smile across his lips. “That’s my little niece. Now then, about the inside…”

He explained his expectations about the cleanliness of the house, which I found fairly reasonable. It helped, as I said, that he had already maintained it pretty well. But he wanted more attention paid to the mud room, where he’d kick off his muddy boots and throw down whatever filth had accumulated during his work. He also wanted his boots polished while he relaxed after a hard day, and showed me the proper way to scrub them clean before whipping out the polish. Uncle Jack went through everything once for me, quizzing me briefly afterwards. Apparently satisfied, he asked me about dinner.

“A surprise,” I told him.

“Is it always gonna be a surprise?”

“Damn straight.”

“Keep ‘em guessin’,” he chuckled to himself.

Leaving me to resume my duties, he snatched up a coiled whip and saddled up outside, then galloped off into the trees. I had already begun mentally preparing dinner as I started scrubbing down the floors, but I wondered to myself what it would be like to be out there with him, riding horseback and tending the land…

*              *              *              *

The ranch hands he had mentioned showed up around mid-day on Thursday. Uncle Jack hadn’t done them nearly any justice with his vague descriptions — they looked to be every ounce of man that he was, with their firm builds, broad shoulders, and chiseled jawlines. They were built taller and larger than my uncle, somehow seeming to draw the man who already imposed above my father. With dusty hair, glimmering green eyes, and charming demeanors, the ranch hands politely introduced themselves to me.

“Brad, ma’am,” the first told me, doing a little bow as he lifted my knuckles to his lips. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Caiden,” the second offered, doing the same as he kept his confident eyes on mine.

“And I’m Petro, at your service,” the final one explained with a sly smile.

“The pleasure’s mine,” I answered them collectively. As much as I wished to maintain my composure, I could feel the blush rushing to my cheeks at the sight of these three incredibly hot, well-mannered country boys.

“Well, come along, then!” Uncle Jack motioned, waving them inside. “You’ve had a long gallivant on the way here, haven’t ya? Time to rest those boots and take a load off…you can wait until tomorrow to get started.”

“Oh, unless it’s any problem, we’re fine getting started right now,” Brad offered with a wink my way.

“You lot and your stamina. Well, suit yourselves!” My uncle smiled, clapping them on the back. “Darlin’, you’re gonna be cookin’ for a few more tonight. See to it that our esteemed company is well fed, wouldn’t ya?”

“She cooks?” Caiden asked, looking at me with renewed interest.

“You’re damned right she does. Fantastic grub all around,” Uncle Jack answered. “You’ll not want to leave!”

“No, I think perhaps not,” Brad smirked, his electric eyes focused on mine. For a brief moment, I thought I sensed something deeper to his words, as if he were telling me something. Licking my lips slightly, I became very aware of my breathing…

“Well, I’m convinced!” Pedro chuckled. “As long as it isn’t your fried mystery meals, I don’t give a rat’s ass if she serves us rat’s ass!”

The men roared with laughter as they clamored outside, heading towards the stables. Thoughtfully, I watched them all ride off a few minutes later, although I noticed Brad turn straight towards the window and tip his ten-gallon hat as they went on their way.

*              *              *              *

Getting used to the ranch hands being around wasn’t much of an adjustment, although I could sweat that I would see Brad smile at me out of the corner of my eye, or his gaze linger on me from time to time. Whether or not I was imagining it, I couldn’t help but smile inwardly. The kinds of guys who usually paid attention to me were typically nothing special, but it felt more substantial when it came from such handsome, rugged strangers…strangers who believed in being a
real
man, living off the land…

They immediately took over the laborious stuff, as Uncle Jack had noted. I still woke up early to cook breakfast for everyone — in fact, I woke up a little earlier than before just to make sure there was enough to go around. After seeing them off, I took care of all the house duties, cleaned up the mud room, and polished the boots from the previous night. Since there were four of them now, they rotated out boots to keep me from falling behind on the workload. It usually took about an hour and a half to clean all eight boots, clearing off all the caked mud, and then polishing them afterwards.

I usually found myself with about an hour of television time before I had to start preparing dinner. I tried to keep it as varied as I could, although I quickly learned that I could probably cook them their own boots (with a little seasoning, maybe) and they would have been happier with Uncle Jack’s own concoctions.

Sundays were the lazy days, although I still had to have my uncle bring me into town to do all the grocery shopping for the week. We frequented a farmer’s market that sprawled out in the rural little village, picking up only the freshest vegetables and nicest cuts of meat.

“Why don’t you grow your own vegetables, Uncle Jack?” I asked him on one of these trips. “You’ve got a whole ranch, it seems like you’d save some money and satisfaction with that…”

“If you want a garden, build a garden. I never had the time or patience for that. Tried a few times, killed damn near everything.”

That was my uncle for you. He was always straight to the point, willing to embrace his own flaws, and apparently less nurturing and hospitable than a desert.

I didn’t spend much time with the ranch hands, despite their increasingly obvious interest in me. They seemed to stick close to my uncle with whatever they did, and I silently begged to be left alone with them, to see if I had been reading the signals correctly.

And one night, out of the blue, I got my chance…

*              *              *              *

I couldn’t sleep that night, easily a month into my trip, and decided to kick on some clothes and take a walk around. Uncle Jack had warned me to be careful if I wandered around after dark, but I knew I was a big girl, and that there weren’t any major predators near the ranch.

The whole property took on a somewhat mystical feeling after dark. Always being inside after they came back in, I’d never bothered to walk around under the moonlight, and the whole place just seemed
alive
with the settled dusk.

Wondering what to do, I remembered a small lake nearby — more like a pond, in all actuality. Thinking myself ready for a midnight swim, I carefully navigated my way towards the soft lapping of the water, through the brief, brisk layer of trees between it and me. I knew these woods stretched on for miles in either direction, but there was a stone crag that jutted out near the right way, acting as a natural landmark.

Soon, my boots found the right path, and I slipped onto the trail and towards the water. Excitement filled me. I’d never been skinny dipping before, especially at night, and I was excited to live a little and enjoy the privacy of the lake under the stars.

Try doing THIS back home
, I smugly smiled to myself.

Once I found the clearing of the lake, I stepped onto the small bridge and kicked off my clothes. Down to my underwear, I thought for a moment whether I should keep them, before finally shrugging and tossing them into the pile as well.

I slipped into the cool, refreshing water. It was fairly hot and humid here, even at night, and the water had retained some of the temperature. No need to wade near the bridge — I dropped in completely, feeling the silt beneath my toes as my head descended a couple of feet underwater. Rising back up and treading water, I started to swim out a little further — but not too far.

Alone with my thoughts, I wondered about my parents, about home, about college and my life afterwards. Uncle Jack had it so easy. It was hard, backbreaking work, but with some help, he’d be able to easily keep the place maintained. He didn’t have to worry too much about the outside world — keeping up with the neighbors, living with constant technological advances, social media, changing fashions…it was just the land, the help, and him.

I respected him. I admired him. I loved my father to death, both Mom and Dad, but they didn’t have the stamina or the fortitude to do what my uncle did. They wouldn’t last longer than a few days out here, doing what he did the last few decades. He was a dying breed, and even into his Fifties, he loved what he did and he was damned good at it.

The sounds of rustling from the trees ripped me from my thoughts, and I instantly dropped underwater. Swimming as low to the slit as I could, I darted in the direction of the bridge.
Was somebody else out there?
But then the worse question was asked:
was I wrong about the predators?