"Colt," the other brother does the same. "And this moody version of me is Cash." He laughs at his own joke, but not in a boastful way. There's just a lightness in his eyes that makes everything seem easier. He turns to Cary. "Cash is bidding on the beautiful woman right now. She's driving a hard bargain."
"Whatever he's offered, double it," Cary says. "And can we go? We're going to be late."
Cash reaches out to take my bag in a gentlemanly way, but I refuse. I haven't agreed to anything, and these men are already assuming that I'm theirs as part of a package deal.
"I haven't said yes," I remind them.
Colt turns from the barn doorway. "But you will." He winks, tipping his hat and disappearing back the way he came.
"One week," I say, meeting Cash's gunmetal gaze. "And if it's not working out, I'll move on. No guarantees."
He nods, and it feels like some mutual respect exists between us.
I follow Cash from the barn, blinking and squinting against the fierce morning sunshine. The farmhouse draws me, and I stare into its darkened windows, remembering the smell of momma's biscuits and the fresh bread she used to bake.
When I glance back at the Bradfords, who are already jumping into their big pickup truck, I notice Cash is watching me closely. Maybe I imagined the respect. This job offer could be about him wanting to save face. What would it look like if a young girl was sleeping rough in town because of the Bradfords’ acquisition strategy? Not good at all.
Sliding into the backseat is a strange experience. Is this what criminals feel like when they're dispatched in a police car? I know I'm going with them of my own free will, but how free is my will when I have such limited other options?
I've never been onto the Hard Valley property before. The sign at their gate is shiny and new, and as we approach the main house, I'm stunned by its gorgeous, whitewashed exterior. It's big; at least twice the size of what used to be mine. No wonder they're struggling to keep up with chores when they have so much house and land to manage.
"Here we are," Cary says, turning to shine a huge, white-toothed smile in my direction. "We still call it Flint House, even though there is nothing flinty about it anymore."
"I'll get Melanie settled in. You guys can carry on," Cash says. It's a definite order.
Colt and Cary share glances, but they don't contradict their triplet, so I'm left trailing just Cash into a strange house.
When the front door closes behind me, I realize that no one knows where I am. These men could be serial killers, intent on keeping me locked in their basement. They could have strange desires that they want me to fulfill. What if my pa was right all along?
I’m reassured when I find that, despite needing a good scrub, the kitchen is bright and new and feels homely, not scary. The cupboards are gorgeous warm wood, and the floor a dark kind of tile that looks pretty flinty to me. There's a dog sleeping in the corner, who observes me through one slit-opened eye and then ambles slowly to its feet. "That's Big Boy," Cash says. "We've had him for years. He's too old to get about much anymore."
I crouch down as Big Boy shuffles over to sniff me. He's tall and brown, and would have been strong in his prime. Now, his nose nuzzles into my hand, and his watery chocolate eyes assess whether I'm good folk or bad. I guess I must pass his assessment because he makes a small whining sound and flops at my feet, rolling so I can stroke his belly.
Cash watches everything with an expression that gives absolutely nothing away. I like to think he's impressed with my dog bonding skills. Maybe he leaves Big Boy to decide who is trustworthy. The connection between man and dog can be a complex one.
"I'll show you to the spare room," Cash says, already making a beeline for the door to the hallway.
"See you later, Big Boy," I whisper, ruffling his fluffy head. I get a comforting whine in response, and a tired-looking tail wag.
The hallway is plain with dark wooden floors and cream-painted walls, but no pictures or furniture. The stairs are dusty at the sides and worn in the middle. It could be pretty, but it lacks the things that make a house a home.
Cash thuds up the stairs in front of me and my eyes are drawn to his muscular thighs and tight rounded ass. There's nothing about this man that doesn't scream solidity and strength. I shake my head, baffled by my own observations about this stranger's body. There's no way looking at Cash should make me feel so warm and flustered. If I listened to my pa, no man would ever give me those feelings.