Hard 5 by Stephanie Brother

16

The ride to the diner is bumpy. The narrow road leading out of the ranch is unlit, but Cash knows it like the back of his hand. I'm sandwiched between Scott and Sawyer, alternating between leaning against one or the other when Cash takes hard corners. Sawyer smiles as our shoulders are pressed together. "Easy, Melanie," he laughs. "If you want to get up close and personal with me, all you've got to do is say."

I flush all over, and Cash's eyes find mine in the mirror, his gaze hitting me with a bolt of electricity.

He's not jealous. I know that. I'm sensing that he's something totally different. Filled with tentative excitement, maybe? Worried about my reaction to his brother's easy flirtation? Worried that things won't go the way he's hoping?

When gravity sends me closer to Scott, there isn't any flirting, and I right myself as quickly as I can, feeling awkward as hell.

"Did you scrub all the dirt from under your fingernails, Melanie?" Colt asks.

"Of course." I hold up my perfectly clean hands. "I'm not scared of getting dirty, but I sure do like to get clean after."

"Amen to that," Cary says. "I swear, the number of times I have to clear hay from the bath plug is embarrassing."

"Better stop rolling in it then," Colt laughs.

"The only one who's been rolling in any hay is Cash," Sawyer says, turning to wink at me. There's a looseness about him tonight, as though any restriction he's put on his behavior around me has been lifted. I haven't had a moment alone with Cash to find out if he's talked to his brothers about our conversation, but Sawyer's demeanor is telling me he has. Are they expecting something to happen tonight? Is this what burger night is really about?

Am I on my first date?

A little bubble of laughter rises inside me, but I manage to swallow it down behind a small smile.

Who has a first date with five men?

Me, I guess.

I'm not really dressed for anything special. I dug out a pair of clean jeans and a plain white shirt. I did my hair a little differently, pulled half up into a barrette. I swiped on some lip gloss, but that's it.

Dates are supposed to be all about pretty dresses and hair curled into beachy waves. They're about shoes with heels and purses too small for anyone's possessions. They're for smart cars and fancy restaurants.

But I don't want any of that, really.

Expensive cars and tiny meals on giant white plates don't appeal to me. Food that tastes good and fills my belly is more my scene. Men who treat a woman with respect and have manners but no airs and graces suit me better.

The Bradfords are exactly the kind of men who would make great husbands. In an ordinary situation, each of them could settle down and make a beautiful family, but what they want from me isn't ordinary, and what we're doing tonight isn't ordinary either.

We're going to eat together, and after, we'll come back to Flint House, and then what?

There's nothing to stop things from happening. I've got no chaperones to keep things between us above board. Cash has asked me, and I've kind of given him the green light, but just thinking about standing in the center of these big strong men, with all of them wanting to kiss me and touch me, has me flushing from the soles of my feet to the roots of my hair.

I've fantasized about things that would never have crossed my mind before. And I've found just the thoughts of being with all of the Bradfords arousing. The reality could be so much more than my innocent mind can conjure. A little sigh of breath leaves my lips before I straighten my back, forcing my mind back to reality.

All I've got to do is eat a burger without choking to death, and what happens later is as up to me as it is to them. If I don't like anything, I'll tell them, and I know they'll listen because I trust them.

I trust them.

The realization that my perceptions of the Bradford brothers have shifted from thinking they're devils to trusting them with my body is startling. Startling enough that I grip the edge of the seat so that I have something to prevent me from drifting away.

Beside me, Scott's hand is also resting on the seat, and when our fingers brush, the shiver that runs through my body makes me flinch. The intensity rings out in my mind, but Scott pulls his hand away immediately. Did he see my reaction? Did he worry that I don't want him to touch me?

"So, how do you have your burger, Melanie?" Colt asks, interrupting my panic.

"Medium with bacon, cheese, barbeque relish, and pickles."

"Pickles?" Sawyer screws up his face. "They're the first thing I take out."

"Why?" I swat his hand. "Pickles and beef are meant to be together."

"What about your fries? Ketchup or mayo?"

"Both mixed together." Colt pretends to retch at my suggestion. "What? It makes pink sauce. Pink sauce was a delicacy in my house."

"And milkshake?" Cash asks. "Or beer?"

"Milkshake," I say, smiling as his eyes meet mine in the mirror. "Strawberry, of course."

"Of course."

"I reckon Scott and Cash like beer with their burgers, but I'd say Sawyer's a chocolate milkshake kind of guy."

Scott snorts. "She's got you figured out."

"Chocolate milkshake is the best."

"Vanilla," Cary says.

"Banana," Colt says to a unanimous “Ewwww” from all of us.

"What the hell, Colt," I laugh. "Banana milkshake is like the drink of the devil."

"Pink sauce is the dip of the devil," he says.

"Pickles are the…" Sawyer hesitates, stumbling over what to say next.

"…pickle of the devil," I laugh.

"Lame," Scott mutters. He might be being dismissive, but at least he's joining in with some lighthearted conversation.

"So, what other disgusting things do you like to eat?" Sawyer asks. "I'm beginning to think we're going to need to start agreeing on the menu plan at the start of the week so we can avoid any pickle or pink-sauce concoctions."

"I like drinking vinegar-based salad dressing from the bottom of the bowl." There's another unanimous Ewwww. "Oh, and I love cheese and jam sandwiches."

"What the hell?" Sawyer screws up his nose.

"That sounds like it could be good," Cary says. "I like sweet and savory."

"Exactly," I laugh.

"Anyway. I'll make sure I run anything that isn't traditional meat and potatoes cooking past you guys first."

"We love your cooking," Colt says. "You just carry on doing what you're doing."

"What about you guys? You must have been cooking before I came along. What are your specialties?"

"It wasn't good," Scott says.

"Cash can make an omelet," Sawyer says.

"And Colt tried his hand at chicken and oven fries."

"We can manage hotdogs," Cary laughs. "To be honest, we ate a lot of sandwiches."

"Anything tastes good between two slices of bread," Sawyer says.

"Even pickles and pink sauce?"

He throws his arm around my shoulder and tugs me against him, squeezing hard and ruffling my hair. I squeal, and Colt and Cary turn to see what's going on.

"Do I have to remind you that I'm trying to concentrate here," Cash says in an annoyed dad's voice.

"This girl is trouble," Sawyer laughs as I try to push against his chest and escape from his grip.

"My hair," I whine. "What am I going to look like going out so messy?"

"You look sexy to me." Sawyer releases me and tucks some of my now-wayward hair behind my ears.

Sexy?

No one has ever called me sexy before, but all of this feels good. Warm and comfortable, like sliding my feet into my favorite pair of slippers. We're driving down Main Street by this point, and I gaze around, feeling excited to be out in the world again. There are people in smart clothes dressed up to go out for the evening. The bar seems busy, and there's a coffee shop with tables outside that's buzzing too.

Cash pulls up in the diner’s parking lot amongst the other trucks, and we spill out of the vehicle, straightening clothes and hats, getting ready to be seen in public.

"People are going to talk," Cary says, as though he can read my mind.

"Talk about what?" Cash locks the car, shoving the keys into the pocket of his jeans.

"Talk about Melanie being out with us. Talk about how we bought her ranch. You know how people are."

"So let them talk. What does it matter?"

"They're going to wonder why we're all out with one girl," Scott says, his dark eyes made darker by the shadow of his black hat.

"They won't be thinking about that." Cash shakes his head dismissively.

"They will." Scott starts walking, pushing open the door of the diner and disappearing inside. We follow, and the weight of his words causes us all to glance around. Inside, it's busy, but there are still tables available. Scott has chosen a perfect booth. At least it will give us a little privacy.

I feel eyes on me as I follow the Bradfords. Questioning eyes. We will definitely be the subject of gossip, but I'm sure they won't be thinking along the lines of what's really brought us here. This is a small town, and multiple-partner relationships aren't something that is commonly known about. Raising my chin, I slide across the red faux-leather-covered seat, until I'm sandwiched between Cary and Cash. Scott is opposite, with Sawyer in the middle and Colt last to take a seat.

"It smells good," I say, breathing in the scent of grilling meat that takes me back to all of my childhood birthdays.

"They better bring the food quickly," Scott says. "My stomach was expecting food two hours ago."

"Your stomach needs to learn to wait," Cash says. "But let's get some appetizers to keep us going."

I grin, knowing he must be hungry as a mule, but he's trying not to show it.

When the server arrives with menus, she takes our drinks order, smiling at the milkshake orders for these big, sexy men. "Ya'll ready to order food?"

"Yes," Scott blurts. "We're all ready."

"I'm n…" Sawyer starts, but Scott has his hand up to dismiss him in a flash.

"He knows what he's getting, and if he doesn't, I'm ordering for him. Melanie, tell the lady what you want."

Wow. Despite his ravenousness, he's still a gentleman. I place my order first, then the server notes down everyone else's requirements, leaving us alone with our rumbling bellies.

"I never saw you guys in here before," I say.

"If we eat in town, we usually grab food at the bar." Colt points in the direction of Connor's Bar, a place I've never been inside.

"How come we didn't go there today?" I ask.

"It's a dive," Scott says.

Cash clears his throat. "It's not really somewhere we'd want to take you."

"Scared some other burly rancher would sweep me off my feet."

There's a rumble of disgust at that idea. "No one would come near you while we're around, but it's not exactly special."

"Neither is this place," Scott says, "But this town isn't exactly overloaded with Michelin-starred restaurants."

"It's not overloaded with any restaurants," Colt laughs. "If you're looking for an alternative to a burger, you'd be hard pressed to find it."

"Someone needs to open a Chinese restaurant," I say. "Or maybe a Mediterranean bistro."

"What do you eat at a Mediterranean bistro?" Cary asks.

"My momma always wanted to go to Greece. She used to tell me about the food. Crispy squid and lamb roasted for a whole day sealed in a clay oven. Fresh fish served with salad and flavored rice, stuffed vine leaves."

"Vine leaves…you mean like the leaves from a grapevine?" Sawyer asks.

"Yeah, I guess. They fill them with rice."

"And that's edible?" His raised eyebrows make me laugh.

"Of course. It's like cabbage or lettuce, I guess. Do you guys ever think about traveling?"

"We traveled to get here," Scott says, rolling a napkin into a sausage shape, then unfurling the tissue and smoothing it flat.

"From where?"

"We grew up in Fresno. It was our dad who wanted the country life, and we got dragged along for the ride."

The milkshakes arrive, giving me a minute to process that they haven't come from a farming family. My strawberry shake is creamy and fruity with a big squirt of cream on top and fresh berry on the side of the glass. Sawyer's chocolate milkshake is rich and brown, Cary and Cash's are similarly creamy, but Colt’s has a chunk of banana on a stick.

"So you didn't want to become ranchers?" I ask.

"It wasn't where we saw ourselves, but it got into our blood." Cash smiles, using his thumb to wipe some shake from the corner of my mouth.

"It got into some of our blood," Scott says, but he doesn't elaborate, and I'm left wondering if he's talking about his mom or himself. Does he want to leave Hard Valley? I can't imagine him doing anything else. He rides a horse like a man born into the saddle.

"Well, you're sure doing something right." I smile, watching Scott for his reaction, but he's staring out to the window, watching the world go by.

"We know you were born here," Sawyer says. "Did you ever imagine yourself someplace else?"

"I guess when my momma would talk about other places in the world, I imagined that I'd go and see them one day. We used to look at pictures of different countries in geography class, and I'd try to imagine myself there, on that beach or in that city." I shrug and reach for my drink. "It's hard to imagine me anywhere except here right now. Traveling's for people with money and roots. I think you need to feel like you can take time out of your life to expand your horizons but also know that you have a place to come back to."

Sawyer nods. "So, where would you most like to go if you could?"

"Ireland," I say. "My family's roots are there. My momma tried to trace our family tree, but she didn't get very far. I'd like to finish her work and go and see the place."

"We have Irish roots too," Cash says. "On our father's side."

"Do you know where from?"

"Nope. We've never done any family tree stuff."

"Well, maybe it's something we can do together."

The waitress appears with plates of food. There are chicken wings and nachos covered in beef, cheese, guacamole, and sour cream. There are some spicy chicken strips too that are coated in crispy skin, and deep-fried potato skins loaded with bacon, cheese, and jalapenos.

We all dig in like the ravenous beasts we are.

Conversation flows in between, and it's fun. I get to hear stories about the Bradfords growing up. Funny school pranks and how they came to get Big Boy. I tell them about my pet sheep and how I used to walk him around like a dog. I tell them about the crush I had on Aiden, my father's right-hand man, who was at least fifteen years older than me. They share each other's first relationship stories, and there are plenty of flushed cheeks and shoulder punches. Through all of it, I get to see them, not as the big scary ranchers who swallowed my farm up like the whale swallowed Jonah, but as decent men and brothers who love each other, first and foremost.

I laugh more than I've laughed in years, but when the waitress arrives to clear our plates, I realize that it's almost time.

I'm going home with these men tonight, and anything could happen.

On the way to the car, I think I see Jethro Flint looking at us from across the street, but he turns before I can confirm it's him, whispering to another man. The words he spoke at the store play out in my mind…Vultures who need to be taught a lesson.

He's got the Bradfords so wrong, but he'll never get a chance to find out as I have.