“This is a bad fuckin’ idea.” Cade looks downright murderous on the back of his red mare as we ride through the pasture.
“No way.” Beau, on the other hand, looks giddy. “This is fun. Like old times.”
“Old times when we were, what? Teenagers?”
“Yeah. Exactly.” Beau points back at him. “Our family is founded on fighting with the Jansens. We’re like the Hatfields and McCoys.”
Cade snorts. “We are not like the Hatfields and McCoys.”
“It’s more like Ebenezer Scrooge, Captain America, and I’m the cool guy from Tombstone who can twirl his guns really well,” I reply.
“More like Fabio with all that fuckin’ hair,” Beau snorts. “And I’m Captain Canada thank you very much. Oh!” Beau slaps his thigh in the saddle. “No, no, no, I’m Maverick from Top Gun.”
“Why the hell am I Ebenezer Scrooge?” Cade grumbles from under the brim of his hat.
Beau and I only need to glance at each other for a moment before we burst out laughing.
“Seriously?” Cade bites out, shaking his head. “If you spent your entire life being responsible for you two yahoos, and now a kid who takes after the likes of his fuckin’ uncles, you’d be grumpy too.”
That sobers me a bit. I know Cade has the weight of the world on his shoulders. In recent years, I’ve come to understand him better. I’m a split down the middle of my two brothers. At times, I can be quiet and grumbly like Cade, but I can also be playful and reckless like Beau.
The problem is Beau’s lack of self-awareness. He’s all about danger, and fun, and living life to the fullest. He’s the happy-go-lucky middle child, who all the shit just seems to roll off. Like some sort of Teflon pan. Or at least that’s the way it seems.
The unit he’s a part of is ultra-secretive, which means we never really know where he is or what he’s doing.
But we’re all tight.
And I suppose that’s why we’re here, riding out to our property line together. When Cade mentioned the Jansens parked their tractor and tilling machine on our property—again—Beau hatched a plan that only someone with his level of maturity could.
I suppose I’m just agitated enough to go along with it. In the days since our kiss, Summer has gone on being completely professional, if a little wary. Like she’s nervous about ticking me off now that I know a secret of hers.
When we go to the gym, she’s not as hard on me. She’d enjoyed coming up with the hardest core exercises she could imagine. Like, tossing me a ball while I stand one-legged on a Bosu ball. When I would stumble, she’d laugh. But now, she offers me words of encouragement. And it’s fucking weird. I hate it. I’ve grown to like her pestering. Her snarky little digs.
I crave those interactions with her.
So, here I am, falling into old habits. Doing something I know I shouldn’t because, well, I guess it burns off steam. What I refuse to acknowledge is that the risk of getting caught also brings the chance of attention.
Negative attention. From Summer, who is currently meeting with her dad in the city. And will freak out when she finds out I did this.
But even negative attention from Summer feels like a reward. If she wants to dress me down, I’ll let her. I like the way her cheeks pink, the way her bottom lip pouts out, the way her eyes roll.
I’d like to make them roll in other ways too, tip back as her lashes flutter down. The view from between her legs would be spectacular, I just know it.
We crest the hill, and I will my boner away. If my brothers catch sight of that, there will be hell to pay.
“See?” Cade’s jaw pops, and he shakes his head at where the blue tractor is parked. Does it matter? Probably not. But we’re here anyway. “You’d think after years of this shit, they’d stop. I just know they did it on purpose. Trash, the lot of them.”
The Jansens don’t have a great reputation in town, they never have. If there’s trouble, it’s one of the Jansen boys. In the back of a police car, selling drugs, stealing shit, you name it. I don’t think they’re actually that scary, more just . . . well, like Cade said—trash.
We stay on our property, and they stay on theirs. The only spot of contention is near the creek where Beau built his house. He likes to fish out there and has had to chase those fuckers off our land twice for fishing where they don’t belong.
Most of my pranks concerning the Jansens have been limited to opening their chicken coop or sneaking around and cutting the twine on their bales of hay. Did I put sugar in their gas tank once? I’ll never tell.
Basically, general shit-disturbing farm-boy behavior as a child.
“Bailey isn’t so bad,” Beau interjects.
“Yeah, I feel bad for Bailey,” I agree. Bailey is quiet. She works her shifts at the pub at night and keeps her head down. I don’t think being the baby sister of the criminal enterprise in a small town has been easy for her.
Cade grunts. I know he has a soft spot for Bailey. There’s something about a baby sister that gets all three of us right in the chest.
“Alright, fellas.” Beau grins and opens his saddle bag, pulling out a roll of toilet paper and holding it up. “Let’s get to work.”
Cade actually chuckles now, as he swings a leg up over his mount and jumps down onto the ground. “Let’s do this.”
I follow suit, pulling out my own rolls of toilet paper, trying to contain my grin and the childish glee bubbling up inside me. At my age, I should not be this giddy over toilet papering the neighbor’s tractor.
But here we are.
We do the tires. The hitch. Beau gets underneath and does the axels. Cade does the pistons attached to the front bucket. Between the three of us, it doesn’t take long to cover the whole goddamn thing.
We stand back to admire our handiwork, grinning from ear to ear. The three Eaton boys, united in their childish pranks. It feels good. It feels normal. There’s no crush of expectations. There’s no worry about sponsors, or fans, or scores.
Our horses’ snort behind us, and I feel hilariously . . . at peace.
“I’m going to get the inside before we go,” I announce.
“Yeah. Yeah. Get the pedals and shit,” Beau prompts while Cade stands there, shaking his head.
“It’s never enough for you, is it, Rhett? You’re always looking for more.” I dodge the truth of that statement by dropping my head and trudging back over the dry grass toward the tractor, toilet paper in hand, as the sun dips low in the sky.
I yank the door open and step up into the cage, immediately wrapping the wheel. It’s when I bend down to get the pedals that I hear a commotion.
“Hey! What the fuck?”
“Oh, shit.” That deep growl can only be Cade.
I don’t shoot up right away. I keep myself folded down and peek over the dash into the field. There are two of the Jansen boys standing on the opposite side of a shallow ditch, looking red as beets, shouting and gesturing.
And then I glance over at my brothers. Fucking pussies that they are climbing up onto their horses, all while laughing.
The two others run toward them and spook my horse. Within moments, my brothers and my mount are taking off across the field, whooping and laughing as they go.
I can’t help but snicker when I see Beau turn over his shoulder and hold up three fingers in a sort of salute before he shouts, “May the odds be ever in your favor!”
Fucking dick.
The Jansens give chase, which is fucking stupid considering they’re on foot.
I weigh my options. I can get out of the tractor and make a run for it, or I can stay down and hope they’re too lazy to clean up the mess right now.
When I see the oldest one take a swig out of a tall boy can of beer, I opt to lie low. If I were a beer or two deep, I’d leave this mess until morning.
“I hate those Eaton motherfuckers.” Lance Jansen kicks a rock.
“Should we move the tractor?” the younger one asks. I can’t even remember his name. He’s younger than me, where Lance was in my grade.
“Nah. Fuck that. I’m parking this here every goddamn day from now on. Just knowing it pisses them off is win enough.”
I tilt my head. He has a point. Not that I’m about to say anything. I stay hidden until their chatter dies down, and once I’m sure they’re gone, I finish doing the inside.
And I do it real good. I mean, I cover that shit from top to bottom. Then, I hop out and make my way over the hill, checking over my shoulder now and then to make sure those hillbilly motherfuckers don’t come back for me. Someone smart would realize there were three horses and only two people.
But Lance and his brother are not that someone.