Page 24 of Hollis (The Moore Men #2)
Fifteen
Hollis
“ Y ’all, I think I’m broken.” I wipe the sweat off my brow with the back of my hand. Goddamn, the Texas heat is out for blood today.
Finn and August exchange an amused look before my brother says, “This isn’t news.”
Narrowing my gaze, I flip him off. “I’m serious. Something is wrong with me.”
Surely, something inside of me is broken, because why the fuck can’t I stop thinking about Ford?
Finn removes his hat and runs his fingers through the sweaty brown strands as he exhales a heavy sigh. “Fine, I’ll bite,” he huffs. “Let’s hear it, brother.”
“I’m so glad you asked,” I drawl, pulling out my pack of smokes and lighting one up. “I hooked up with someone this weekend, and?—”
“Like I said before,” Finn cuts me off. “This isn’t news.”
“Would you shut the fuck up and let me finish?” I groan, which makes August chuckle.
My brother rolls his eyes and gestures with his hand for me to continue.
“As I was sayin’, it was someone I really shouldn’t have hooked up with, but it happened…
twice, and now I can’t stop thinkin’ about it.
And what’s worse is that they’re barely even talkin’ to me. It’s drivin’ me fuckin’ nuts!”
“What do you mean, it was someone you shouldn’t have hooked up with?” August asks, resting his shoulder against the tree we’re standing under for shade. “And weren’t you camping with Remi this weekend?” His eyes widen. “Oh, shit! Did you fuck Remi?”
“What?” I hiss, my head rearing back. “No, I didn’t fuck my best friend. What’s wrong with you?”
“Do not tell me you hooked up with that woman who’s married on Remi’s crew,” Finn mutters.
“Absolutely not.” I shake my head, my face twisting up. “You know I don’t fuck with married people.”
“Well, then, who?” he asks, and he couldn’t appear more unenthused to be a part of this conversation.
I really shouldn’t tell them.
But I have to tell somebody.
“Fine, but you have to keep it to yourselves,” I say. “I’m serious.”
“I won’t tell a soul. Scout’s honor.” August holds up a three-finger salute. “Other than Tripp, of course.”
“What? No!” I scoff. “Nobody!”
“Yeah, I don’t keep shit from Ash,” Finn adds.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I mutter under my breath.
Taking a long drag off my cigarette, I consider my options.
I can’t talk to Remi about this, for…obvious reasons, but I need to get this off my chest. I’m losing my mind over Ford, and I don’t understand it.
Fuck it. Heaving a sigh, I say, “It’s Ford. ”
“Captain Wesley?” August’s eyes bulge from their sockets. “The man livin’ two cabins down from me?”
“That’s the one.”
Finn chuckles and shakes his head, kicking at the dirt with the toe of his boot. “You’re a fuckin’ idiot,” he drawls.
“Fuck off,” I bite out. “You’ve got no room to talk. You fucked your nanny, who also happens to be your ex-girlfriend’s twin brother.”
“Break’s over,” he announces, flipping me off. “You wanna keep yappin’, get back to work while ya do it.”
“Okay, I’m not seein’ the big deal,” August says as we make our way back to the truck.
I groan. “The big deal is, it’s been days —three, to be exact—since we all got home from the campin’ trip, and it’s all I can think about. It’s driving me up a fuckin’ wall.”
“How did this happen in the first place?” Finn asks. “I’ve seen Ford’s ex-husband, and you do not strike me as that man’s type.”
A smirk tugs on my lips. “Shit, I’m everyone’s type.”
“Sure, you are,” he deadpans. “But again, how did it happen? What, you two got drunk during the trip and one of you ended up in the other’s tent? While that’s on par for you, it doesn’t really seem in line with his character.”
“Get this,” I say, holding back a smirk. “I matched with a guy on a dating app about a month or so ago. His profile was mostly anonymous, so I had no idea who it was until I saw a tattoo on Ford that matched the guy on the app.”
“And then you two figured it out?”
“That’s the wild part… My profile isn’t anonymous.”
“Oh, shiiiit .” August throws his head back and laughs. “Captain Wesley knew it was you?”
I nod. “The entire fuckin’ time. ”
“Well, that makes things interesting,” Finn hums under his breath.
“I’m still not understandin’ why you said you shouldn’t have hooked up with him.” Confusion wrinkles August’s forehead. “You’re both consenting adults. Why would it matter?”
“Remi would be pissed if he found out,” I explain. “I kind of have a track record of fuckin’ his boss.” I pause with a wince, then add, “Okay, it’s really only one other boss, but it’s a sore subject. He’d be pissed.”
“So, don’t do it again,” Finn says. “Problem solved.”
“Yeah, that’s the thing, brother… I don’t think it’s possible to not do it again.”
Memories flit through my mind, heating my body in a way the Texas heat could never.
The way Ford’s mouth ravaged mine in the tent that second night.
The way his hungry eyes held mine as our cocks slid together.
His tight, rough hand wrapped around us, and mine on top of his.
Every groan and grunt. Our shared heavy breathing.
And the way he utterly fell apart for me— because of me.
Everything about it was fucking hot.
The gravel in his voice scratched something inside my brain, and after we finished, I found myself not wanting to leave. Lying beside him in that tent was nice…comforting. I left in a hurry because I was worried if I didn’t, I’d end up staying there all night.
What is it about him?
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Finn drawls, pulling me from my thoughts. My brother looks from me to August, his brow lifted. “You seein’ what I’m seein’?”
“That Holli-boy has feelings for the hot captain?” August chuckles and nods. “Yup, sure am. ”
My face twists up. “Don’t be fuckin’ ridiculous,” I spit out. “I do not. I barely know the guy.”
Finn’s watching me with amusement dancing in his gaze. “Sure. Whatever you say, brother.”
Flipping him off, I drawl, “What happened to gettin’ back to work, asshole?”
August rolls his lips to stop from laughing, and that’s the end of it.
The rest of the day drags on, feeling never-ending, and I can’t seem to stop thinking about what Finn suggested.
An absurd suggestion at that. Just because I enjoyed hooking up with Ford—and want to do it again even though I shouldn’t—doesn’t mean I have feelings for the guy.
Yeah, I enjoy being around him, I like getting to know him, and so what if my heart races any time I think about him now? That doesn’t mean shit.
Once we finish everything we needed to get done, we head back to the barn and put everything away before Finn, August, and I walk over to my dad’s house.
We’re having dinner there tonight, and I can’t wait.
My lip curls into a grin when I spot Ford’s truck parked out front.
My father must’ve invited him. Ash’s beater of a car is here too, meaning we’re the last to arrive, which isn’t surprising.
That’s the life of a cattle rancher, though.
Known it and lived it my whole life, don’t know any other way.
Sunup to sundown is the norm this time of year.
Late fall and winter things will slow down a bit, but in the spring and summer, our days are long and taxing.
We could benefit from hiring a couple more ranch hands to help out around here, but convincing Mr. Cheapskate—also known as my father—to do that is damn near impossible.
This ranch has been in our family for nearly seventy years, and for as long as I can remember, my dad’s always been weird about bringing on non-family employees.
He had to when Finn and I were kids after my grandpa passed, but I distinctly remember him bitching about it any chance he could.
But sometimes it’s necessary, like now, as we ride into busy season, especially since my dad had to take a step back from a lot of the day-to-day work when he was diagnosed with osteoarthritis at the end of last year.
Stepping into the house, the air conditioning sends a chill down my spine as I kick off my boots and hang my hat while my brother and cousin do the same. My stomach grumbles as the savory aroma from the brisket my dad smoked fills my nostrils.
“Fuck, I’m starvin’,” I mutter, turning my gaze toward August. “Is Tripp comin’?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, he’s got a shift. I’ll bring him home a plate.”
I can hear my nephew giggling from deeper in the house, and it brings a smile to my face instantly.
That kid has the most infectious laugh I’ve ever heard, and it’s impossible not to be in a good mood around him.
The three of us stroll down the hallway toward the kitchen, the chatter and laughter getting louder the closer we get.
Music also plays softly, the quiet beat reaching my ears as we round the corner.
With the ‘ Flipping Awesome Grandpa’ apron Tucker got him for Christmas tied around his waist, my dad is the first one to come into view.
Resting his hip against the counter next to the stove, with a beer in hand and a grin splitting his face, he watches Ash and Tucker dance around the kitchen to some old George Strait while Ash serenades the giggly, squinty-eyed five-year-old in his arms. Bubba, their rambunctious puppy, trots around them, his tail wagging and his tongue hanging out of his mouth, like he, too, is dancing .