4. Woody

4

WOODY

“Dad! Look at the pretty horns!”

Looking up from yet another fence repair—those cursed Dalls were gonna be the death of me—I found McAvoy walking with his daughter just downhill from my location. They hadn’t yet spotted Rowdy and me, but the hill lent itself to a sort of amphitheater effect, like they were talking right next to us.

“Stevie! Wait up!”

McAvoy was stupid hot in his alumni T-shirt and jeans that stretched across his powerful thighs. Stevie’s hair was up in two crooked pigtails with long, misshapen braids the same color as her father’s. While it was possible that her dad was as bad at braiding as he was at personal safety, something about the determined way in which she was walking toward the fence made me think she’d insisted on doing her own hair.

That same determination seemed to apply to her style as well. She was wearing some kind of twirly dress over pants with pink cowboy boots, and she had several sparkly beaded bracelets on each wrist. Her smile nearly cracked her face in two when she neared the small herd of springboks that were foraging.

“Those belong to Mr. Lockwood, sweetheart. He rescues a bunch of animals.”

She was barely listening to her father, way more interested in making friends with the animals in front of her.

“ Hi ,” she said, waving manically.

Several of the boks twitched at the loud greeting, and Rowdy snorted. When the boks saw Stevie in all of her sparkly glory, the herd bounded away, some of them pronking—hopping high in the air, bent almost in two—and she grabbed her belly, laughing until her dad joined in.

“They hop, Dad! Did you see how they hopped ?”

He knelt next to her, and while I couldn’t hear what he was saying, his position highlighted the impressive bulge in his jeans. Fucking hell.

I needed to get my head out of the gutter, at least when his daughter was around. That reminded me—rumor around town was that he’d had her with the help of a surrogate. According to Rowdy, he was a good dad, for whatever that was worth. Yet another reason for me to stop picturing him naked.

I forced myself to refocus on the fence repairs, ignoring their presence until a few minutes later when Emery’s resonant voice called out, “Stevie! Get back here!”

By the time I tied off a bit of wire and looked up, Stevie was right in front of us.

“Hi! I’m Stevie!”

She waved at us with the same enthusiasm she showed for the springboks, then pointed at Rowdy. “You kinda look like Mr. Lockwood, but your eyes are darker, and your hair is longer.”

He fluffed his messy manbun, grinning. “That’s ’cause I’m Woody’s cousin. Name’s Rowdy.”

“ Woody ? Who’s Woody?”

Rowdy thumbed a gesture at me. “This mean cuss right here.”

“I’m not mean,” I protested, just as she giggled her head off.

“Yeah, well,” she said with a know-it-all look, “you’re not nice.”

I bit back a laugh and didn’t give her a smile or nothing, hoping she’d get bored and wander off.

She didn’t and instead asked, “Mr. Woody? What do you call the deers with the pretty horns?”

Rowdy snorted, knowing I wasn’t a fan of children. I would not be mean to a kid, of course, but...sigh.

“They’re called springboks, little one. It’s an antelope from South Africa.”

“I’m not little. I’m ten.” A line appeared between her brows. “Wait...they came here from Africa ?”

“Apologies. I didn’t realize that you were ten.”

“Almost eleven,” she asserted.

“Good to know.” I gestured at the boks in question. “And those didn’t come from South Africa directly, but maybe their grandparents did.”

“Wow,” she sighed, her pretty amber eyes glowing. “They’re so beautiful. Do you think I can be their friend?”

Her father caught up with her, putting his large hands on her tiny shoulders. Come to think of it, his eyes were the same pretty amber color. Based on the protective posture, I had a feeling if I looked at her sideways he’d be over this fence so quick it would make my head spin.

Not sure why that had my cock wanting to say hello, but Rowdy had been right the other day—I needed to put this inconvenient broken heart behind me and get laid.

“Well, not like a typical friend. Not like my cousin, who shows up whenever he wants to,” I said, gesturing at Rowdy.

She laughed again, because kids were easy like that.

“Hey!” Rowdy pouted. “I’m helping you with the fence.”

“Yes. You are. Even before I asked.”

I turned back to Stevie, whose warm eyes were locked on me, as if she was listening to every word I had to say. I was gonna hafta watch my mouth around this one.

“Like I said, they wouldn’t be like a typical friend where you could pet them and hang out. But you could bring treats for them to the fence. They’d wait for you to step far enough away before eating them, but they’d definitely enjoy that.”

“What sorts of treats?” McAvoy asked, staring me down.

“They like succulents,” I said, pointing to some stonecrop creeping over the limestone. “Though you gotta be careful around outcroppings.”

“Are those the rock shelfs my dad told me about? The ones that sometimes have snakes under ’em?”

“Yes. So, I wouldn’t do any of that without your father present.”

Her sigh was epic. “ Oh -kay.”

Before I could respond, she gave me a judgy up-down and wrinkled her nose. “Why do you have a lady with big red hair on your T-shirt?”

Rowdy laughed, and I gave him the finger behind my back.

“This is Peg Bundy. She’s the greatest mom on the planet.”

Stevie nodded with the wisdom of a thirty-year-old. “I don’t have a momma. I have a surrogate. Dad took his sperm and a lady’s egg and made me in a . . .” She trailed off, tapping her chin like she was trying to remember. “I dunno. It was like a plastic cup or something. Anywho, the doctors implanted me in the surrogate’s uterus and she grew me for nine months then gave me to Dad. I met her last year, and she had a nose ring and called herself a real Easy Bake Oven, whatever that means.”

I chuckled despite myself as McAvoy pressed his lips together.

“Alright, Stevie. We’ve taken enough of their time.”

“Why do you wear bracelets? I thought only girls wore bracelets,” she said, carefully avoiding the barbs as she reached through the fence to touch my wrist.

I shook my head. “Anybody can wear bracelets. Though, these belonged to my mama.”

Honestly, I wasn’t sure why I was still wearing them, but I couldn’t seem to get rid of them.

“Why isn’t she wearing them?”

“She passed away.”

“I’m sorry. That’s sad.” She twirled in place a few times, then approached the fence again. “Dad said that you’re taking care of the dog that got hit by a car.”

“I am. He’s recovering up at my house right now.”

“Dad said the doctor had to ampu—” She scratched her head. “To take off his leg.”

I nodded. “And stitch up a cut over his eye.”

She grimaced. “Is he going to be okay?”

“It’ll take a while, but yes. I’ll make sure of it.”

“That’s really nice of you,” she said, reaching out once again for my bracelets. “Did you give him a name yet?”

“Stevie, I said it was time to go,” McAvoy said, his voice soft and patient.

She wrinkled her nose. “Dad says I talk too much.”

“Just like me,” Rowdy said, elbowing me.

I shot him another death glare, then answered her question. “I named him Bandit because he steals food and socks.”

Stevie giggled. “I like that name. With Bandit, how many kinds of animals do you have now?”

“One dog, one impala, five Dalls—they’re the ones responsible for this hole in the fence—seven springboks, three waterbucks, two sikas, a kudu, a blackbuck, and two axis deer,” I said, counting out on my fingers. “So...twenty-three right now. But if you keep an eye out, you’ll see I get all different animals. Some might surprise you.” Narrowing my eyes at McAvoy, I warned, “But you should keep a couple feet away from the fence because they’re wild animals, and some can get aggressive.”

“Just keep ’em on your side of the fence and I’ll do the rest,” he said, low and smooth. Dangerous.

With a quick salute, he directed Stevie back toward their property, distracting her with questions about her pony and what new tricks they were going to try today. I’d have been offended by the obvious brush-off, but the man had cake for an ass and I could at least enjoy the sight of him walking away.

Pretty sure he thought I was a world-class asshole. That would have made things simple, save for the fact I couldn’t stop imagining him naked with a thick cock swinging between his strong thighs. Pulling myself out of that fantasy, I looked over at Rowdy to find him tapping on his phone.

“We’re not here to play farm animals, or whatever it is you’ve got on that phone of yours. If you’re here to help, then help.”

He looked up with a smirk. “You ever notice that McAvoy has a small birthmark on his neck?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

I may have dreamed about licking it last night, but that was no one’s business but my own.

He flipped his phone around. A familiar queer app was on the screen with a picture of a meaty guy with his head out of frame.

“Why are you trolling for hookups? We’re out here to work.”

He pointed to a birthmark on the guy’s neck. “Thought you said he was straight.”

I took his phone, noting the username—topboss512—and zoomed in, then cursed under my breath. That birthmark definitely belonged to McAvoy.

“Keep going. There’s another pic on his profile you’ll find very, very interesting.”

I read the quick hits listed on his profile: gay, exclusive top, 6’ 2”, 250 lbs, strictly casual, negative, condoms a must, hotel or you host, and favorite porn categories—rough, dominant, size difference, romantic.

My sexual fantasies just got a serious upgrade.

Before Rowdy could say anything about my lingering over the details, I thumbed to the next picture and nearly choked on my tongue. Full cock and balls, with his hand stroking the impressive length and girth. Even my imagination hadn’t been quite so generous.

I could write a ten-thousand-word epic on his veins alone.

Fucking gorgeous.

My mouth watered at the thought of taking him down to that impossibly thick root of his. Before Rowdy could see what I was doing, I hit the reject button and handed him back his phone.

His jaw dropped. “You asshole . Why would you reject him like that?”

“He’s my neighbor, Rowd.”

And I can’t fucking stand the thought of you drooling over his body.

“Mmhmm,” he muttered, then returned to fixing the fence.

As soon as his attention was back on the job at hand, I pulled up my phone, redownloaded the app, and searched for singles in the area.

I sucked in a breath when the familiar birthmark came up on my screen. Thumbing over to the picture I really wanted, I took a quick screenshot, then deleted the app and rejoined Rowdy on the repairs.

I wasn’t proud of it, but I knew what I’d be doing the second I got home.