near. Foals that were dropped outside could be easy prey for dingoes.
“You look like you know what you’re doing.”
Payton glanced up to see Brody’s brother Teague standing just outside the stall, his shoulder braced against a post, his arms crossed over his chest. Like Brody and Callum, he was gorgeous. But unlike Brody, he didn’t send shivers of desire coursing through her body, nor did she spend hours thinking about kissing him.
She shoved the sleeves of her oversize work shirt above her elbows, then nodded. “It’s a whole different kind of horse,” she said with a smile. “They have a wonderful temperament.”
“That’s the way we breed them and train them,” he said. “And for stamina and strength and agility. They need to be able to last all day long. Sometimes all week.”
Payton continued her work. “What are the bloodlines?”
“Originally thoroughbreds and Arabians with some Welsh mountain and Timor pony thrown in.”
“When do they foal?”
“They tend to start in September and go through the first of the year. Usually right after mustering ends, we start in with foaling.”
“Davey said the colt in the next stall has been sold. He’s beautiful.”
“He’s going to be trained as a show horse. Some of our horses are used for polocrosse. And some for campdrafting.”
Payton set the horse’s hoof onto the concrete floor and straightened, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “What’s that?”
“Besides Aussie-rules football, polocrosse and campdrafting are the only native Aussie sports. Polo-crosse is a mix of polo, lacrosse and netball. And I reckon campdrafting is kind of like your rodeo riding. The horse and rider cut a calf from the herd, then they have to maneuver it around a series of posts.”
“I’d like to see that,” she said.
“I’ll take you sometime,” Teague promised. “There’s a campdrafting event in Muttaburra in August if you’re still around.”
“I’d like to try it.”
“Then I’ll teach you.”
“Teach her what?”
Brody appeared at his brother’s side. He was dressed in traditional stockman’s attire, a work shirt, canvas jacket, jeans. He wore a felt hat on his head and his hands were clad in well-worn leather gloves. She hadn’t seen him since the previous evening and she’d forgotten just how beautiful he was.
“Hey, little brother. Where have you been?”
“I went out with Davey to fix the windmill in the high pasture.”
Teague clapped his brother on the back. “Good to see you putting in an honest day’s work.” He touched the brim of his hat and nodded at Payton. “I’ve got a call. I’ll see you later, Payton. Maybe you can give me a hand tomorrow morning. I’ve got vaccinations to do on the yearlings.”
“Sure,” Payton said. “I’d be happy to help.”
He nodded again. “I think I’ll like having you here.” Teague turned to Brody, arching an eyebrow and examining him critically. “Have you had all your shots?”
Payton watched Brody’s jaw grow tense. As the youngest brother, he probably had to put up with a greater share of the teasing. “Don’t mind Teague,” Brody said as his brother turned and walked away. “He has a bad habit of yabbering to anyone who’ll listen.”
“So, is Teague in charge of the horse-breeding operation?”
“When he’s around. He’s a vet.”
“A veterinarian? Really?”
Brody nodded. “He’s usually flying from station to station. He spends a few days at home, then takes off again. He’s the brilliant one in the family.”
“He’s nice,” Payton murmured. She met Brody’s gaze and her breath stopped in her throat. It was all there, the desire, the need and even a tiny hint of jealousy. She drew a ragged breath as he crossed the short distance between them to pull her into his arms.
Payton had tried to put all of this out of her head. From the moment she woke up that morning she’d been waiting to touch him, to taste him. It had been eight hours of sheer torture and now she felt the tension in her body release as their mouths met.
The more she saw of him, the more difficult it was to resist him. And yet, that didn’t frighten or confuse her. She didn’t need to figure out the consequences of her every action and reaction. She could kiss Brody and that was all it was, a kiss. It felt good to cast aside her penchant for planning and just go with the flow.
But how long could that last? How long before a simple fling turned into something more complicated? Her feelings for him were already so intense, her desire undeniable. She’d promised herself that she’d be guided by her instincts, and every instinct told her to enjoy their time together. They didn’t need to make promises to each other. This was enough.
He cupped her face in his palms and drew her deeply into the kiss, as if desperate to possess her. Payton was stunned at how easy it was to stoke his need. There was no hesitation, nothing she held back. Though she barely knew Brody, she felt a connection with him that she’d never shared with a man before.
He pulled her out of the stall, his hands tight around her waist. Stumbling back, they fell into a pile of straw, their mouths still frantically searching for the perfect manifestation of their need. He tossed his hat aside, then tugged off his gloves, his hands immediately moving to cup her backside. Though Payton knew their privacy in the stable wasn’t certain, she didn’t care. All that mattered was his touch, his fingers tearing at her shirt until he exposed the curve of her shoulder.
His teeth grazed her skin and Payton tipped her head back, inviting him to take more. There were moments when she acted on instinct, as if this woman had always been buried deep inside her and was just waiting to get out. And then, at other times, she felt like a teenager, fumbling her way though her first sexual experience.
He excited her and frightened her all at once. And yet, she pushed aside her fears, rushing headlong into her desire, aching to experience release. Payton tugged at his jacket, pulling it over his arms until she could unbutton his shirt.
“Too many clothes,” she murmured as she brushed aside the shirt and placed a kiss in the center of his chest. He was so magnificent, she mused, his skin deeply tanned and his body finely muscled. Her lips found one of his nipples and she circled it with her tongue.
Brody ran his fingers through her hair, sighing her name softly as if urging her on. Slowly, Payton worked her way lower, trailing kisses over his abdomen. But before she could go farther, she heard the clip-clop of hooves on the concrete floor of the stable.
She looked up to find Callum standing just inside the stable door, his horse’s reins dangling from his fingers. With a soft cry, Payton scrambled to her feet, brushing the straw from her clothes and trying to adjust her shirt. Callum arched a brow as he looked down at Brody. “I can come back later,” he said slowly.
Brody shook his head, cursing. “No. Feel free. We were just…talking.”
“Oh, is that what they call it?” Callum asked. He pulled his horse along until he stopped in front of Payton. “Is my brother bothering you? If he is, you can just tell him to leave.”
Callum was always so serious that Payton couldn’t tell if he was angry or just teasing. She gave him an apologetic smile. “It—it won’t happen again,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
Callum reached up and plucked a piece of straw from her hair and handed it to her, a grin quirking at the corners of his mouth. Payton felt her cheeks warm and she took the reins from his hand. “I’ll take care of your horse,” she mumbled.
Tugging