Firestorm - Ellie Masters Page 0,7
away, not interested in getting dragged into that shit-storm.
Cage greets his chestnut mare, Chesty. “You want to go for a ride, girl?”
She gives a soft whinny and rubs her nose against his hand. Cage strolls to the tack room, grabs a bridle, and heads back to Chesty while I lead Knight outside.
Brody rushes out of the house. He’s dressed in worn jeans and a plaid shirt. We look nearly identical, except my shirt is red and black. His is green and black. Cage looks just like us, except his shirt is yellow and black.
It’s the triplet curse.
We try to never dress alike. That shit is for girls, but somehow, we always manage to wear something that ties us together. Not much to do about the jeans, but our shirts? Yeah, we didn’t plan that.
“Hurry up.” I put my foot in the stirrup and climb into the saddle. Knight is ready, but I keep him in check with the steady pressure of my thighs.
We ride together every day, in tune with each other. The reins are more for show. I don’t need them to control him. The gentle pressure of my legs, the soft nudges of my knees, and the tiny kicks of my heels, tell him exactly where I want to go.
For the most part, he allows me to lead.
Knight can be an ornery shit.
Brody heads into the barn as the two girls exit. They look barely legal as they hold their heads together and whisper. Their eyes are wide and their mouths gape when they realize there are three of us. I shake my head because I know exactly what they’re thinking.
We tried that once. It doesn’t matter how hot the girls, getting naked with your brothers and trying to get, and stay hard, is impossible. Banging the La Rouge triplets may be a bucket list item for many local girls, but none have ever managed it.
Cage saunters out, leading Chesty by her bridle. He vaults into the saddle and stares down at the girls.
“Ladies, thanks for a memorable morning.” He tips his hat then turns Chesty in a circle and speaks to me. “Last one there is a rotten egg.”
Chesty launches and Knight isn’t letting a mare get the best of him. Before I realize it, we’re racing down the lawn and barreling between the vines stretching out before us. Cage gives a hoot and glances over his shoulder.
I give him his lead and slow down to wait for Brody.
I’m so far behind in chores, there’s no way I’ll catch up. What I should do is turn around and leave Cage and Brody to mom’s fluffy pancakes, while I deal with the family business.
But I don’t.
As much as my brothers can be shitheads, we rarely get time alone together. Brody’s horse trots up behind me and I flash a grin. Cage is nowhere to be seen, but that’s okay. We’re taking a shortcut. Brody and I zip around the vineyard and head to the road leading to mom’s tiny cottage. We’re in an all-out race.
A hundred yards behind us, Cage’s garbled curse is too low to make out, but the thundering of Chesty’s hooves prove she’s not going to let the stallions win. She eats up the distance, but it’s too late.
Brody and I thunder down the road and turn into the small lane leading to mom’s house. Neck and neck, we race. There is no finish line and we don’t care. All that matters is getting there ahead of Cage.
Brody laughs as his horse pulls up short of mom’s porch. I vault to the ground as Cage draws to a stop.
“You cheated.” He dismounts and comes at me, fists swinging.
I meet him head on. We go down in a pile of limbs and laugh while we wrestle. He pulls his punches, as do I, and we wind up turning to our backs and laughing into the sky. Brody stands over us as our mother comes outside. She holds an earthenware bowl on her hip and stirs the thick batter inside.
“Pancakes?” Her bright green eyes twinkle as she takes us in.
“Yes, ma’am.” We speak in unison. Cage and I pop to our feet.
“Wash up.” Her voice is stern, but filled with love. “I’ve been expecting you.”
Our mother has a sixth sense about us.
Bacon crisps on the stove. Stacks of fluffy pancakes sit in the middle of a fully set table. It’s like she knew we were coming and exactly when we’d arrive.
While I pull out milk and OJ