Kate Hoffmann - Australian Quinns - The Mighty Quinns - Brody

Payton smiled. “Thank you for letting us stay here. I got lost last night and wasn’t really prepared to sleep outside.”

Hayley nodded, her expression cool and guarded. She’d never really warmed to anyone else in the Quinn family or anyone connected with them. In truth, Brody’s parents had discouraged a relationship to the point where they forbade Teague from seeing her. At the time, both Callum and Brody had sided with their parents. But Teague had never bothered to follow their advice. And he probably wouldn’t now.

“I—I have to go,” Hayley murmured. “Stay as long as you like. I won’t say anything to my grandfather.”

She wheeled her horse around and kicked it into a gallop, the dust creating a cloud behind her. Brody and Payton watched as she rode off. Brody glanced down at Payton, then slipped his arm around her shoulders. “That was odd,” he said.

“She seemed nice.”

Brody laughed. “What is it with you Americans?”

“Us Americans?” Payton looked around. “There’s only one American here. Are you speaking of me?”

“Yes. Why do you always have such a positive attitude about everything? Everything is always…nice. Even if it isn’t, you smile and pretend it is. Why don’t you just say what you think? Hayley Fraser is a bitch.”

“I don’t even know her. Why would I think that?” Her brow creased into a frown and she shook her head. “And why are you such a grouch?”

“See, there you go. I am being a grouch.” He turned and walked inside, grabbing his clothes scattered across the floor. “At least you said what you thought.”

“My mother always told me if I couldn’t say something nice, I shouldn’t say anything at all. It’s hard for me to forget those little lessons.”

“People aren’t always perfect,” he said.

“I know that. I’m not naive. But I prefer to see the positive qualities rather than dwelling on the negative.”

“Like the way you look at me?” Brody asked.

Payton sat down on the edge of the bunk and began to idly pick lint off the blanket, smoothing her hand over the rough wool every now and then. “You’ve been very nice—I mean, you’ve been generous and kind and understanding. You got me out of jail, you gave me a place to live and—”

“I sleep with you. I make you moan with pleasure, I touch your body like—”

“All right. You do have a nasty sarcastic streak that comes out when you haven’t had enough sleep. You’re not perfect. And neither am I. So can we leave it at that?”

Was that it? Brody’s jaw twitched as he tried to control his temper. He’d been so happy to find her last night he hadn’t even thought about what he’d learned from the Internet. She’d run away from her family and the man she was supposed to love and for some reason, she’d decided to hide out with him.

But sooner or later, she’d get sick of life on the station, just like his mother. She’d realize she’d made a mistake and she’d be gone, back to her comfortable life with her rich husband and his fancy job. So why hadn’t she told him the truth about her past?

Maybe for the same reason he hadn’t told her about his past—he wasn’t proud of who he’d been, or of some of the things he’d done.

“Get dressed,” he said. “We need to get back. Cal will be wondering where we are.”

“If there’s something you want to know, all you have to do is ask,” she said.

“No.” He shook his head.

“I’ll tell you anything.”

That was the problem. Did he really want to know all the details of her relationship with a man she loved enough to marry? Did he want her making comparisons between the two of them? He ought to be happy for the time they had together and just leave it at that. Brody certainly couldn’t offer her the kind of life that Sam Whitman could.

“I’m fine,” he said, forcing a smile. “You’re right. I’m just cranky.” He walked across the room and stood in front of her.

“Don’t act like such a dickhead,” she muttered, sending him a sulky look.

Brody laughed, taking a step back. “Well, there you go again. I see you’re learning the lingo. You could tell me not to be such a drongo.”

“That, too.” She drew a deep breath. “What is that?”

“A dimwit,” he said. “An idiot for not appreciating you. A fool for taking my bad mood out on you.” He held out his hand and when she placed her fingers in his, he gently pulled her to her feet. “So, what are we going to do with our day today?”

“I have to work in the stables. I was gone all yesterday.”

“I’ll help you finish.”

“I bought a swimsuit, so we could hang out in the hot tub. And I bought some new underwear. I might even model it for you.”

“I’m feeling my mood getting much lighter,” he said. “What color?”

“Is your mood?”

“No. What color is the underwear?”

“Black,” she said.

He wrapped his hands around her waist drawing her body against his. “I like black underwear.”

“Every man likes black underwear.”

He bent down and brushed a kiss across her lips. “You know, we could stay here a little longer. At least we have some privacy.”

A tiny smile curled the corners of her mouth. “For a little while,” she suggested. “But only if we go back to bed.”

With a low growl, he pushed her backward until they both tumbled onto the narrow bunk. “Maybe if I have a bit more sleep I won’t be so cranky.”

He felt her hand on the front of his jeans. “I know exactly how to make you feel better.”

“Then I’ll put myself in your capable hands—or hand.”

THE MIDDAY SUN shone in a cloudless sky. Payton stood on the fence at the edge of the paddock and watched as Callum demonstrated the fine art of campdrafting. He’d declared a holiday from all work in honor of the queen’s birthday—June 8. Brody had explained that it wasn’t Queen Elizabeth’s real birthday, but no one seemed to care about that small technicality. A holiday was a day off, something they all needed.

The stockmen had decided a barbecue was in order and had set up an afternoon of lighthearted competition between station employees followed by a sumptuous meal. They’d begun with a brief course on one of Australia’s original sports, showing Gemma and Payton how campdrafting worked.

A calf was let out of a pen into the paddock and the rider carefully herded the calf around a series of obstacles, barrels and posts. Each rider was timed and the fastest to get the calf through the obstacle course would win a cherry pie that Mary had baked for the event.

Gemma and Payton watched from behind the fence, cheering on each stockman and wildly applauding their efforts against Brody and Callum. Though Payton had only known Gemma for a week, it was easy to like her. She was witty and audacious, yet very levelheaded, someone Payton could turn to for advice. They’d taken to meeting up midafternoon for tea with Mary, the three of them enjoying freshly baked biscuits and a cuppa, as Gemma had called it.

To the surprise of everyone, Teague had turned up halfway through the competition with Hayley Fraser in tow. At first, she’d caused quite a stir among the men. Payton had informed Gemma that, according to Brody, Hayley was a popular television star in Australia and a huge celebrity. But the extra attention seemed to only make Hayley more uncomfortable and she chose to stand alone while she watched Teague compete with his brothers.

“She looks miserable,” Payton said to Gemma. “I’m going to go talk to her.”

“Callum certainly hasn’t done much to make her feel welcome,” Gemma commented. “Men can be so thickheaded.”