The Mighty Quinns: Brody. Kate Hoffmann
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if it weren’t for my criminal activities?”
“Or mine,” she countered. “I’d be without a job and with no prospects for finding one.”
“I think that deserves a kiss, don’t you?”
“I suppose I could spare one. But don’t get greedy.”
She pushed up onto her toes and kissed him, not waiting for Brody to make the first move. She liked the taste of him, the way his hands felt on her body. His touch made her feel alive, as if she was doing something far too dangerous for her own good. It was exhilarating and frightening all at once.
Payton looped her fingers in the waistband of his jeans and pulled his hips against hers. He groaned softly as the kiss deepened and their bodies melted into each other. Her hands slipped beneath his T-shirt and she ran her nails up his spine and back down again.
She’d never been so aggressive with a man, but with Brody, all her inhibitions seemed to fall away. There were no rules when she kissed him. Here in Australia, she’d live every day as if it were her last, with no regrets and nothing left undone.
Suddenly, he pushed himself away from her. He sucked in a sharp breath and Payton could see he was trying to regain his self-control. She glanced down and noticed the bulge in the front of his jeans. His reaction pleased her.
“Later,” he assured her. He picked up her bag, then grabbed her hand and pulled her along to the front door of the house.
They ran into a man jogging up the front steps and he stopped and pulled off his hat, glancing back and forth between Payton and Brody, before noticing their linked hands. “Hello,” he said.
“Teague, this is Payton Harwell. Payton, this is my brother Teague.”
He held out his hand and Payton was forced to let go of Brody’s to shake it. “Pleasure,” he said with a wide grin.
“She’s going to be working with the horses,” Brody said.
“Good onya,” Teague replied. “That’s where I’ll be working for the next few days. You have much experience with stock ponies?”
Payton shook her head, grateful for the welcome but worried that she might not prove herself useful. “No. But I’ve been around horses since I was six or seven. Show jumpers. But horses are horses. They all have four legs and a tail, right?”
Teague chuckled, as if pleased with her little joke. “Yeah. They usually do. So I guess I can’t give you any of our three-legged ponies.”
Payton’s eyes went wide.
“Crocs,” Teague said, a serious expression on his face. “They’ll eat the legs right off a pony if you let them. One leg we can deal with. But a two-legged stock pony just doesn’t work.”
“Oh, no,” Payton said. “That’s horrible. Can’t you—”
“Don’t be a dipstick, Teague.” Brody shook his head.
An older woman appeared at the screen door. “Doc Daley is on the phone,” she said to Teague, motioning him inside. “Says it’s an emergency and he’s tied up in surgery this afternoon.”
Teague frowned, shaking his head. “Probably another croc attack,” he said. “Another three-legged pony. Mary, have you met Brody’s new friend?”
The woman stepped out onto the porch, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. She wiped her hands on her apron, then smoothed a strand of gray hair from her temple. “Well, now. It is a pleasure to meet you, dear. I’m Mary Hastings. No matter what these Quinn boys tell you, I’m the one in charge here.”
Payton shook her outstretched hand.“ Payton Harwell.”
“Ah, an American. We seem to be attracting an interesting group of ladies. First, an Irish lass and now a Yank. If you need anything, you come to me, dear. We girls have to stick together.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “And don’t believe a word about those three-legged ponies. These boys get too cheeky.”
Teague grabbed Mary around the waist and planted a kiss on her cheek. “And don’t you love it? Don’t worry, Mary, you’re still my girl.”
Brody took Payton’s hand and led her off the porch. “Come on, I’ll show you the bunkhouse.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Payton said, waving at Teague and Mary.
“See ya later, Payton,” Teague called.
“When you’re settled, you come back to the kitchen for tea,” Mary called.
They walked together to the south bunkhouse, a low building set near a small grove of trees and a neatly tilled vegetable garden. “That’s Mary’s garden,” he said. “You might want to avoid walking by when she’s working. She’ll have you pulling weeds all day long.”
“She’s nice,” Payton said.
“After my mum left the station, my dad hired her. She’s kept the house running.”
“Are your parents divorced?”
He shook his head. “Nope. They’re living together in Sydney. But there was a time when they were separated, my dad here and Mum in the city. Station life is hard, especially for women.”
Payton gave him a sideways glance, wondering if he was warning her off. She was just looking for a job. She didn’t intend to spend the rest of her life in the Australian outback. “I can imagine,” she replied.
Brody opened the front door of the bunkhouse, then stepped back to let her enter. Payton found the interior simple but clean. In one corner of the room, several overstuffed chairs were gathered around a small iron stove. There was a scarred desk beneath one of the windows and a dry sink beneath another, complete with bowl and pitcher. An old wardrobe stood near the backdoor. Each of the three walls held a bunk bed, crudely constructed of rough planks and a pair of mattresses. One of the lower bunks was made up with a colorful quilt and two pillows.
“That must be where the genealogy lady is sleeping,” Brody said. “Bedding is in the chest at the end of the bunk. The dunny is out back, through that door.”
“The dunny.”
“The toilet. There’s a shower back there, too.” He walked over to the wardrobe and rummaged through the contents until he found a pair of gloves and an old felt hat, like the one his brother Teague wore.
Brody set the hat on her head and handed her the gloves. “There you go,” he said, tugging on the brim. “Pretty spiffy.”
“I’d like to get to work,” she said.
“You don’t have to. It’s your first day. Take some time and settle in. We’ll have some lunch.”
“No, I’m ready to start,” she insisted, well aware that she’d have to prove herself to Callum.
“You’re not really dressed properly. We’ll need to find you something to wear.”
“I don’t really have anything else along,” Payton said, glancing down at the peasant blouse and jeans she’d bought in Brisbane. “Just a few dresses. This will have to do for now. I’ll find something later.”
“All right,” he said with a shrug. “Let’s go.”
They walked out of the bunkhouse and through the dusty yard. The station was almost like a small village. Brody pointed out each paddock and barn and shed, telling her what function it served. There were two more bunkhouses for the stockmen and a small cottage for the head stockman.
The stables consisted of a long building with stalls along one side and tack, feed and supplies stored on the opposite side. “We breed stock ponies here, so we keep a lot of mares. We break the ponies and then sell them to stations all around Queensland. Kerry Creek ponies fetch a good price.”
Payton pulled