Hott and Handled (The Hott Brothers #3) - Leah Sharelle Page 0,42
and I rode to the valley, which I had already seen then further down where he showed me the most beautiful sight I had ever had the pleasure of seeing.
Wild brumbies.
Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to see the majestic sight of wild horses grazing peacefully only a few hundred metres before me. It was a moment I will never forget, nor would I try to.
“Dillion, my boy, as strange as it sounds to you, I don’t have to tell you everything I do,” I retorted, deciding to have a little fun with my teenager.
“You are the one who begged and pleaded to go sleep over at Mark’s place, my boy. Going to see Nixx was his idea, not mine,” I continued, hiding my smile by ducking my head into the oven. As if I would say no to a day with Nixx, no matter that my arse was more numb than if I had gone to the dentist and had a mouthful of needles.
“If I knew you were going to the Triple H Mother, I would have come home early.”
Rolling my eyes at being called mother for the nineteenth time week, I ignored his whining, pulled the roast lamb out of the oven and placed it on the potholder. The vegetables were ready and wrapped in foil to keep them hot, all we needed was our guest to arrive.
The sound of a motorbike pulling up to the side of the house sent fluttering butterflies loose in my stomach. The bike was a dirt bike, but with a more resonant engine sound, than the one Dillion had been riding the other day.
“Nixx is here!” Dillion shouted, racing to the kitchen window, “holy shit Mum, he has a KTM 690 Enduro.”
“Does he? And watch your language,” I replied automatically. “Make yourself useful and go greet Nixx while I dish up. We can eat in the kitchen, it’s nicer in here than the dining room.” Rolling my eyes again, this time at the room I liked to call the dining room. It was anything but a dining room and we never used it.
“Dining room? Is that what we are calling the shoebox that only a table and two chairs is able to fit in?” Dillion mumbled, saying out loud what I had been thinking, as he walked out of the kitchen to the back door. In truth, the house only had a back door at the side. The place had been a storage building for the pub, the previous owners converting it into a residence of sorts to increase the selling value. I hated the house, even with my personal touches, but it was mine and Dillion’s, and no one could take it from me … well other than the bank, of course.
Grabbing three plates, I started to dish up while my son’s chatter drifted in from the side entrance. I couldn’t hear Nixx speaking, but that was most likely because my son was talking a mile a minute at the poor man.
“Dillion, let the man get inside at least before you drown him in questions about his bike,” I shouted, with no heat in my reprimand. Not that I blamed my son for his hero-worship, I was kind of smitten myself with the hunky cowboy.
“Hmmm, smells great baby,” Nixx praised me, walking in behind Dillion.
Smiling, I turned and faced the man who consumed my every thought. “It’s lamb, not beef, hope that is alright?” Laughing when he clutched his chest and made a sound of disgust.
“No beef? Sacrilege!” he joked, coming around the table and grabbing the plate out of my hand at the same time leaning over and kissing me softly on the lips.
“Hey baby,” he breathed against my lips.
“Hey,” I parroted, freezing in place. Dillion was a few metres away, watching us. What must he be thinking of seeing his mum kissing another man who wasn’t his father? Hell, this was probably the first time he had seen his mum kiss any man.
“Mum, can I go look at Nixx’s bike real quick before tea?” the boy in question asked me. Turning my head, I looked wide-eyed at my son and saw he was watching us, but nothing in his expression told me he saw anything wrong with the display of affection between Nixx and myself.
“Um …. sure?” I stuttered, looking back at Nixx to see an amused smile on his lips.
Chuckling softly, Nixx wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me into his side.