Read Dirty Country Love: A Step-Brother Romance Novella Online
Authors: Candy Quinn
Dirty Country Love: A Step-Brother Romance Novella
Candy Quinn
© 2015 Pathforgers Publishing.
All Rights Reserved. If you downloaded an illegal copy of this
book and enjoyed it, please buy a legal copy. Either way you get to
keep the eBook forever, but you’ll be encouraging me to
continue writing and producing high quality fiction for you. This is
a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the
product of the author’s imaginations. Any resemblances to
actual persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by Michelle Keep. All cover art makes use of stock
photography and all persons depicted are models.
This book is intended for sale to Adult Audiences only.
All sexually active characters in this work are over 18 and all
sexual activity is between non-blood related, consenting adults.
More information is available at
Pathforgers
Publishing
Book Themes: Barely Legal Virgin, Breeding, Step-Brother
Romance
Length: 20,108 Words
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Chapter 1
Rollin’ hills, green grasses, and trees off in the distance.
It was a view as unchanged from memory as it was from a few hours
down the road where she came from, but to Britney it was home.
All her life she’d lived out in the countryside, or at least
all she could remember. From the time she was a lil’ child, she
remembered the smell of the barn, and the sight of the endless fields
of crops. Even before she found herself taken in by the kindly
gentleman that was friends with her ma, before she passed on.
She was young then, only about eight or so, she reckoned, but her
ma passed away and she had nowhere to go. Except to stay with her
godfather, Mr. Drake.
An older man, tall and stern, he always had a smile for her,
treated her like his own. Though he already had one of his own too,
an older son. Damien.
As the truck took her on back to the Drake farm, she felt a chill
run up her spine thinking about the older boy. He’d left home
for the big city long before she was of age, always full of piss and
vinegar, as the elder Drake used ta say!
He was always a bit of a trouble maker, unlike her, and so when it
came time for her to move on out… she didn’t go to the
city. Nope! She made her way to the tiny lil’ community at the
heart of the farmlands, to work the diner there.
She missed working on a farm itself though, and always wanted to
return. Preferably if she found a nice man, a good, hearty farmer, to
settle down with, pop out as many kids as the harvest had wheat!
Well… not
that
many, but near to!
She’d never met the right man, even though plenty a fella
flirted with her across the counter, but then word came…
Old Mr. Drake passed away. And with him the closest thing Britney
had to family close by.
She hopped a ride on over with a co-worker who was on her way to
visit a relative. Cindy was a nice gal, though not too chatty, so the
ride was quiet. But that suited Britney just fine, she wanted to
think about the man who was near a father to her.
She recognized the area immediately, long before she saw the farm
house, even though the lands all looked near identical for hours of
driving.
“That’s the place,” Britney said, sadness and
excitement mingling. She’d missed the place, missed
farm-livin’.
Pulling up to the front drive, Cindy came to a stop and gave a
smile.
“Ya’ll sure you’re gonna be okay out here?”
She asked.
“Yeah, don’t worry,” Britney said, taking her
bag in arms as she opened the door. “That lawyer fella said
we’d sort out the will real soon. And until then he told me
it’d be best if I tidied up and laid a claim to anything I want
to keep.”
Cindy was quiet for a moment before she nodded.
“Alright. You take care, Britney. I’ll see ya back at
work in a few days,” she said.
“Drive safe, Cindy.”
And with that, they parted ways, and the quiet of the farm was
soon Britney’s alone.
The farmhouse was a lovely old style, kinda Victorian with a
country vibe. It went back in the Drake family, and old Drake kept
meticulous, good care of it, and did his best to pass on the skills
and enthusiasm to do so to his son. Not that it panned out, with
Damien runnin’ off and all.
Britney soaked it all in, remembering the good years as she slung
her bag over her shoulder and sauntered on up.
It was another hot day in the country, and she wore her shorts and
plaid top, keepin’ it nice and breezy with her hair tied back
in a ponytail.
The animals were all taken off the farm, she was told, to be held
temporarily at another place, where they could be cared for until
matters could be sorted out. And though Britney worried there’d
be a lot of work to do, she found the place pretty neat, just as the
old Drake liked it.
She wandered around the halls and rooms, soaking it all up,
noticing how nothing had changed in all the years since she first
arrived. Well… except for the pictures of her. Elder Drake
really did treat her like one of the family, after all.
Still, she did her best to tidy up and look through things, though
she didn’t have much of a heart for disturbing the order of the
place and claiming stuff for herself. So instead she scrubbed the
floors, dusted the furniture, and got it all as spick and span as she
could.
Though a task as big as that was somethin’ for more than one
day, and well after night fell, she was bushed! Too beat to even
cook, she felt. But then, without someone to cook for she never much
felt like eating anyhow.
She went back to her old room and laid out on the bed, fully
prepared to drift off in her former room — which looked the
same as the day she left it — when suddenly the roar of a motor
tore the quiet of the night apart.
It made her heart race!
But Britney, still dewy from working a sweat up cleaning, went to
the window and peered out cautiously.
There, still a ways off, she could see a single light coming
towards the farm.
She didn’t know what to make of it, but as the roar grew
louder and it turned down the lane… she realized it had to be
a motorcycle.
The porch light was still on, so when the bike came to a halt
before the door, it was enough to shed some light on who she was
dealing with.
Was a big, tall fella, in black leather and jeans. A hard lookin’
sort, though she couldn’t make out much more.
She got to worrying, being all by herself in the house, and went
to fetch the gun she knew old Drake kept by his bed.
She had to load it, but there was time. The man seemed in no rush,
and his loud, heavy bootsteps could be heard coming up the front
porch steps before he got to the door.
Britney’s heart raced, but she loaded up the revolver before
the man was coming up the stairs to the second floor.
Trying to calm her breathing, she cursed her luck.
Her first night fully alone — no family or roommate —
and something like this had to happen!
She waited beside a door for the sound of the man reaching the top
of the stairs, where the squeaky floorboard would give him away. And
as soon as he got there she came around the corner and pointed the
gun.
“Stop right the—” she began to shout, but the
thug vaulted over the railing and grabbed her arms, pointing the gun
away in less than a heartbeat!
She knew it was all done then, because the man was broad and
strong, and had over a foot in height on her!
“The fuck you doin’?” he said, his voice
gravelly and dark.
Gravelly, dark and familiar.
Her vision went all blurry with the stress of the situation, but
hearin’ that hard but familiar voice, she stepped back, or
tried to at least. The big brute of a man kept her in place as he
wrenched the gun from her grasp.
“Britney? That you?” he said in the light above the
hall, staring at her in disbelief.
Her own shock was no less, because though he was dressed in thick
boots, black jeans and a leather jacket, looking like some biker
criminal off of the TV, his dark hair and strong-jawed face was all
too familiar.
“Damien,” she said in a light, airy voice; stunned
almost to silence by the sight of her former crush.
“Shit,” he said, still holding her tight as he looked
her up and down. “It is you,” he remarked, with a shrill
whistle, and a wry grin that said he was impressed with how she’d
changed in all the years past.
It made her heart beat even faster than before, and she was glad
it was still dim inside so her blush was a bit more private. Pressed
right up against him, though, it was hard to believe he couldn’t
feel her heart near ready to break out of her chest.
“You scared me,” she replied with a bit of a grimace.
She shouldn’t be surprised he’d come back for his own
father’s funeral, but still, she wasn’t expecting him
either.
“I ain’t the one pointin’ guns, Britney,”
he said, that wry look on his rugged face still before he checked the
chamber of the revolver and gave a whistle. “Fully loaded too.
You was ready to pump me full of lead it seems,” he remarked,
sliding the gun into his pocket as he held her close still.
Damien leaned in real close, his deep voice a low husk as he
murmured to her.
“Y’know, that’s a bit far to go for an
inheritance. Even by my standards,” he remarked with dry
humour. Or at least, Britney hoped it was humour!
But with his warmth pressing into her, she was havin’ a hard
time thinkin’ straight. She’d always been his annoying
adopted sister, someone he never had time for, and he’d never
held her like this before, not ever. She could smell the fresh air
and rich leather off him, and it was intoxicating.
“I thought you were a burglar,” she said, trying to
sound calmer and more in control than she felt.
“Nah,” he said, “not tonight.”
He flashed her a wink before finally letting her go from his iron
grasp.
“And damn, Brit. It’s been a long ass time,” he
said, crasser than ever as he unzipped the front of his jacket,
showing a tight white shirt that clung to a well sculpted torso
beneath.
Whatever Damien had been up to all these years, he sure as heck
wasn’t takin’ it easy, judging by all that muscle beneath
his leather.
She wanted to be a smart-aleck, to come back at him with something
quick witted, but she was staring at his chest even though she knew
she ought not to.
Nervously she went to tuck some blonde hair behind her ear before
realizing too late it was all up in a ponytail. She licked her lips
and took a deep breath.
“Well yea, you been in the city the whole time,” she
finally managed.
Though a peek upwards showed she wasn’t the only one starin’
at a chest.
“Startin’ to have regrets about that,” he
remarked, slidin’ one thumb into the waistband of his jeans as
he tongued the center of his lower lips. It was an awkward sort of
moment, but before it went on too long he said:
“When’d you get here, sweetie?” His voice kinder
than she was used to, even though it was rougher than ever. Probably
been smoking and drinking all these years.
“Earlier today. Just... cleanin’ mostly,” she
replied, and where his voice was hard and rough, hers had gone even
softer and more demure. Why was he looking at her like that?
The way his hand rested on and in his jeans, it tugged ‘em
down an inch lower, pulled his shirt taut so that she could make out
the bumps of his abs through the white cotton. He leaned one hand up
on the wall as he got in real close to her.
“It’s a real shame about pa,” he said, which
struck her by surprise, seeing that his mind seemed to have gone
elsewhere from the moment he saw her. “But it was enough to
draw the two of us back together here, at least. He’d have been
happy ‘bout that.”
“Yea,” she answered, because it was true. Old Drake
always wanted the two of them to get on better and to keep in touch
more but that never happened.
She fluttered her eyes closed, feeling a bit overcome by it all
and those weird thoughts she was havin’. She’d noticed he
was cute when they were younger, sure, but that was just a harmless
crush and then he rode on out of her life like he didn’t care
at all.