A few months later, the muster came together the way most things did around Ironstone—Grant on the phone, Elara with the list, and a dozen people who said yes before they’d even heard the whole plan. Bryce had asked for help bringing the cattle down off the back block of Black Cattle Co., and by the time Saturday morning rolled around, the yard at his place looked like the start of a small rodeo.
Mauve arrived first, her float rattling up the drive with two stock horses looking out over the tailgate. Mauve climbed out and introduced Wayne, her new boyfriend before they started unloading.
Ethan and Adele followed in their ute, and Tessa pulled in behind them, her bay gelding dancing sideways as she backed the float into place. Grant came last with the big trailer, Elara beside him, and Saige hanging out the window with a thermos in her hand.
“You’ve got a crowd,” Tessa said, sliding out of her cab and stretching. She wore old jeans and a faded work shirt, her strawberry blonde hair pulled back, and she smiled at him like it was the easiest thing in the world.
“I asked for help,” Bryce said. “Didn’t expect the whole district.”
“You’re stuck with us now.” She bumped his shoulder with hers and went to unload her horse.
The back block was rough country—timbered ridges and gullies that made the cattle hard to shift and harder to hold. Bryce worked the deeper country in the side-by-side while Tessa rode above him, Grant and Elara pushing the top fence line.
By mid-morning the mob was moving, a tide of black bodies flowing down the spur toward the yards, and Bryce felt the familiar satisfaction of a plan coming together.
They had the cattle penned by early afternoon, the weaners separated and the cows checked. Bryce stood at the yard gate with his hat pushed back, counting heads for the third time, and Grant came up beside him.
“Good mob,” Grant said. “Healthy.”
“They are now.” Bryce nodded at the fence line. “That boundary repair made the difference. They weren’t pushing through anymore.”
“Told you it would.”
They stood there a moment, the sun warm on their shoulders, the smell of dust and cattle thick in the air.
“I owe you all a feed,” Bryce said.
Grant clapped him on the shoulder. “We were hoping you’d say that.”
——
The barbecue was set up on the veranda of the cabin, a few trestle tables dragged out and covered in butcher’s paper. Bryce had spent the morning before the muster prepping—marinades in the fridge, esky full of beer, a stack of steaks that had cost more than he wanted to think about.
The cabin was all but finished now. The walls had been painted, the kitchen was complete enough to use properly, and only the skirting and a few extra cupboards remained on the list of jobs pinned near the door.
Everyone washed off the worst of the dust and changed.
Tessa came out of the bedroom in a loose cotton dress that swung around her knees, and Bryce watched her cross the yard, the late light catching her hair.
“You’re staring,” she said, reaching him.
“I know.”
She laughed and took the tongs from him. “Go have a beer. I’ve got this.”
The evening settled in around them. Wayne and Ethan argued about the best way to hang a gate. Adele and Mauve sat on the veranda steps with wine, their heads close together. Grant had found the esky and was distributing beers with the efficiency of a man who’d done it a thousand times.
Saige ate with them, stayed around long enough to complain about the music and steal something else from the barbecue, then headed back to Ironstone before the evening properly settled in.
Bryce moved through it all, checking plates, topping up glasses, laughing at jokes he only half heard.
“This is good,” Tessa said, coming up beside him with a glass of wine. She nodded at the crowd. “You did this.”
“I just asked.”
“That’s the hard part.” She leaned into him, her shoulder against his arm. “Most people never ask.”
The night deepened. More drinks appeared. Music played from a speaker on the veranda, familiar songs competing with the conversations around the fire pit.
After a while Bryce looked down at the beer in his hand.
“I’ve got bourbon inside.”
Grant looked over. “You’ve been hiding bourbon?”
“Forgot about it.”
Bryce stood.
Mauve and Elara looked at each other.
“We’ll help,” Mauve said.
Bryce laughed. “Of course you will.”
They followed him inside.
——-
Bryce opened one of the kitchen cupboards and pulled out the bottle.
“Knew it was in here somewhere.”
Mauve leaned against the bench while Elara collected glasses.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Mauve said.
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Maybe.”
Elara laughed.
Bryce set the bourbon on the bench. “Go on.”
Mauve glanced at Elara then lifted her shirt.
“Which of us has better tits?”
Bryce stopped.
Elara grinned.
“You volunteered for this?” he asked.
“I’m curious.”
“You’re both pissed.”
“So are you,” Mauve said.
“Not enough for this conversation.”
Elara stepped closer and lifted her shirt as well.
“You need to look properly.”
Bryce laughed. “I’m definitely looking properly.”
Between them, with increasingly helpless laughter from all three, the comparison became considerably less theoretical.
“Well?” Mauve asked.
“I’m not answering.”
“That’s because you haven’t touched them,” Elara said.
Bryce stared at her.
Elara raised her eyebrows.
“You’re serious?”
“Completely.”
Mauve laughed. “Go on.”
Bryce reached out.
First he felt Mauve’s left breast.
Then her right.
Mauve immediately protested. “That’s not fair. You need both hands.”
“Apparently there are rules now.”
“There are.”
He put one hand on each breast. Caressing and squeezing.
The women dissolved into giggles.
“Now mine,” Elara demanded.
He didn’t hesitate this time. He used both hands.
“I can’t decide.”
“Maybe try both of us at the same time.”
Bryce put one hand on Elara and one on Mauve.
“Well?” Mauve asked.
Bryce shook his head. “I still refuse to answer.”
Mauve considered that.
“You should taste them.”
Bryce looked at her.
Then Elara.
Neither woman was backing down.
“Of course I should.”
Mauve laughed as he bent to her first.
Someone outside called Mauve’s name.
She straightened.
“Shit.”
Bryce laughed. “Saved.”
“Temporarily.”
Mauve grabbed the bourbon from the bench.
“I’ll take this.”
“The Coke’s still here.”
“I’ll come back.”
She disappeared through the door.
Bryce reached for the Coke.
Elara was still standing beside him.
He looked at her.
She looked back.
“You haven’t finished.”
He gave her nipple the same attention he’d given Mauve’s.
After he straightened, and as he stood there attempting to judge whether his methodology was sufficiently impartial, Elara stepped closer.
For once neither of them had a smart comment ready.
She kissed him.
Bryce kissed her back.
Her hand caught the front of his shirt as his found her waist. The kiss deepened almost immediately, the drunken laughter from a few seconds earlier disappearing.
Bryce pulled her closer.
Elara’s hands moved over him, then down.
His followed. Slipping beneath the band of her jeans.
For a few seconds neither seemed particularly interested in remembering that everyone else was just outside.
Then Elara stopped.
She broke the kiss and stayed close, breathing hard.
“We can’t.”
Bryce looked at her.
Neither said anything.
Footsteps sounded on the veranda.
Mauve walked back into the kitchen.
She stopped.
Looked at Elara.
Then Bryce.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Elara said.
“Nothing at all,” Bryce said.
Mauve looked between them.
“Doesn’t look like nothing.”
Bryce reached for the Coke.
Mauve stepped into his way.
“Mauve.”
“What?”
She kissed him.
Bryce kissed her back.
His hands found her waist, pulling her against him. Mauve pushed closer immediately, one hand behind his neck while the other worked at his shirt.
Bryce laughed against her mouth.
“Really.”
“What?”
She kissed him again.
His hands slid over her hips as Mauve dragged his shirt upward. Bryce helped her, and the shirt landed somewhere behind him.
That was apparently all the encouragement she needed.
She pushed him back against the bench.
Bryce kissed her harder, hands roaming over her as Mauve’s fingers went straight to his belt.
He looked down.
Then at her.
Mauve grinned.
“Mauve—”
“What?”
“You don’t muck around.”
“No.”
The buckle opened.
Bryce laughed, caught between disbelief and wanting to see exactly how far she intended to take it.
His own hands were hardly innocent.
Elara stood near the other bench, watching them.
Finally she shook her head.
“Jesus. Get a room.”
Mauve looked over her shoulder.
Bryce laughed, suddenly aware of where they were and what they were doing.
“See?” Mauve said. “Permission.”
“That is not what I said.”
Elara picked up the Coke.
“Some of us are thirsty.”
That was enough to break it.
Mauve looked back at Bryce.
He looked down at his open belt, then at the shirt on the floor.
She started laughing.
“You started it,” Bryce said.
“I absolutely did.”
Elara headed for the door.
“Are you two coming?”
Bryce retrieved his shirt.
“Almost. Until you interrupted.”
Mauve burst out laughing.
——-
The night wore on.
More bourbon. More laughter. Music rolled from the speaker while people moved between the veranda and the fire.
Grant had settled near Tessa and was making no secret of enjoying her company. She laughed at something he said and pushed his shoulder when he leaned closer to say something Bryce couldn’t hear.
Bryce noticed, then returned to the conversation beside him.
At some point Mauve ended up on his lap.
It happened naturally enough that he barely registered it until her arm was around his shoulders and her weight had settled against him.
She kept talking to Adele across the fire as though nothing unusual had happened.
Bryce rested his hand against her thigh.
Mauve glanced at him.
He smiled.
His hand moved higher.
She continued talking.
Bryce began rubbing her through her jeans.
Her sentence faltered.
Adele looked at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Bryce smiled into his glass.
Mauve elbowed him lightly.
He kept going.
Her thighs tightened and she shifted against him, subtly changing her position while trying to maintain the conversation.
Bryce could feel her responding beneath the denim.
Mauve’s fingers tightened against his shoulder.
“Bryce.”
“What?”
She looked at him.
He knew exactly what she meant.
His hand kept moving.
Her breathing had changed now. Her body grew increasingly tense against him, the conversation abandoned altogether.
Wayne finished his conversation with Ethan and stood.
“Mauve.”
Bryce’s hand stopped.
Mauve closed her eyes for a second.
Wayne nodded toward the cabin.
“We should go.”
“Now?”
“Yeah.”
Mauve looked at Bryce.
Then down at herself.
When she stood, she tugged self-consciously at the front of her jeans.
Bryce caught the darker patch in the denim before she turned away.
She caught him looking.
“Your fault.”
Bryce laughed.
“Mauve,” Wayne called again.
“Coming.”
She leaned down close to Bryce’s ear.
“Next time.”
She followed Wayne toward the cabin to collect their things.
——
The party wound down slowly. People drifted away from the fire, conversations breaking into smaller groups as the night got later.
Bryce was by the esky, topping bourbon into his glass, when Tessa came up behind him, her hands finding his hips.
She watched him pour.
“Come to bed with me.”
She slid her hand around the front of him, feeling the bulge in his pants.
Bryce looked at her.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
He put the bottle down.
Tessa smiled and took his hand.
They went inside, past the kitchen and into the bedroom.
Bryce closed the door behind them.
The music outside faded to a distant thump.
Tessa kissed him before he’d turned fully around.
Her hands went to his shirt.
Bryce laughed against her mouth.
“In a hurry?”
“Maybe.”
They undressed each other between kisses, clothes dropping wherever they landed.
Tessa pushed him backwards toward the bed.
Bryce caught her around the waist and turned them, lowering her onto the mattress instead.
She laughed.
“Cheat.”
“Wasn’t aware there were rules.”
“There are now.”
He kissed her again, then moved lower.
His hand slipped between her thighs.
Tessa’s breath caught at the first touch.
Bryce took his time.
He worked her slowly with his fingers, building the pressure rather than rushing her, learning from every movement of her hips and every change in her breathing.
Tessa’s hands tightened in the sheets.
“Fuck.”
Bryce smiled against her skin.
Outside, the music continued.
His fingers moved faster.
Tessa stopped trying to keep quiet.
Her first moan was muffled.
The next wasn’t.
By the time Bryce slid his fingers deeper and found the rhythm that made her hips lift from the mattress, she had forgotten entirely that anyone else was still outside.
“Bryce—”
He kept going.
Her voice rose again.
Somewhere beyond the bedroom, the music wasn’t quite loud enough to hide it.
——
Bryce kept working her until Tessa was trembling beneath him.
Her thighs tightened around his hand.
“Fuck—don’t stop.”
He didn’t.
Her hips rolled against his fingers, chasing the pressure until the orgasm finally caught her. Tessa cried out, body tightening before shuddering beneath his hand.
Bryce stayed with her until she collapsed back against the mattress.
For a few seconds she just breathed.
Then she looked at him.
“Come here.”
Bryce moved over her.
She pulled him into a kiss.
By the time he entered her, she was still flushed from the first orgasm, her legs wrapping around him as he began to move.
The noise outside had become irrelevant.
Tessa certainly wasn’t getting quieter.
Bryce buried his face against her neck while she clung to him, the mattress shifting beneath them.
“Fuck, Bryce.”
He moved harder.
She answered him just as loudly.
Neither of them heard the voices outside the bedroom.
Or the footsteps approaching.
The door slowly opened.
The room was dark, but Bryce felt the presence of someone else.
A hand moved along Bryce’s thigh.
Elara’s hand.
Her fingers closed around his testicles.
He didn’t pull away.
They were loud. He knew it, knew the party could hear them, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. She was hot and tight around him, and her moans were getting louder, her nails digging into his back.
Tessa’s grip tightened on Bryce.
He felt it.
“I’m close,” she gasped. “Bryce, I’m—”
Elara’s fingers moved between them and slid into Tessa alongside Bryce.
She began moving her fingers with the rhythm of Bryce’s thrusts.
Tessa’s body answered before she could process what was happening inside her.
She came with a cry, her body convulsing around him, and Bryce followed, his own release crashing through him as he buried himself deep. For a moment, there was nothing but the three of them, the sound of their breathing, the heat of their bodies.
And then Tessa’s eyes snapped open. She looked down, felt Elara’s hand between her legs, and she shoved it away.
“Get off me,” she said, her voice shaking. “Get off.”
Elara pulled back, her face unreadable. “Tessa—”
“No.” Tessa scrambled away, pulling the sheet around her.
For several seconds nobody moved.
Grant stood in the doorway, his face a mask of confusion. Elara sat back on her heels, her eyes on Tessa, something like regret in them.
“You two know everyone could hear you, right?”
Tessa was crying now, tears streaming down her face, and Bryce reached for her, but she flinched away.
“Don’t touch me,” she said. “Just—don’t.”
“I’m sorry,” Elara said. “I thought—”
“You thought wrong.” Tessa grabbed her clothes, clutching them to her chest. “I need to go.”
“Tessa—” Bryce started.
“No.” She looked at him, her eyes red, her face raw. “I need to go.”
She dressed quickly, her movements jerky, and she was gone before anyone could stop her. The front door slammed behind her, and the cabin was suddenly, painfully quiet.
Elara stood. She looked at Bryce, and there was something in her eyes—apology, maybe, or understanding.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I misread it.”
"Miss timed it," Bryce answered as he sat there, naked “Probably should’ve come in about ten minutes earlier.”
An hour later the party had ended. The fire had burned out. And in the quiet of the cabin, Bryce lay alone, the weight of the night pressing down on him, and wondered how everything had gone so wrong.