Cowboy Redemption (Down Under Cowboy Book 6) (7 page)

Kye – 6 months ago

“Let’s go, Raiders’ fans!  We want to hear you scream!”
  The commentator’s voice is instantly drowned out by the roar of the thousands of fans, shouting and stomping from their seats in the stadium.

“Ah, come on, Raiders.  Let me hear you!”
he booms, geeing up the crowd even further.

My blood thrums through my veins.  Adrenalin circulates through my system.  A smile appears on my face. 

This is what I love.

“Boys, you know what to do.  Get out there and stick to our game plan.  Complete your sets, make your plays and handle the balls well.  Let’s concentrate on reducing errors and just running the ball,” Coach says.  He slaps us each on the back as we make our way past him and down the tunnel before jogging out onto the field. 

We go straight to our positions and the whistle is blown.  The ball comes to me and lands heavily against my chest.  I run it, charging at the opposition before slamming into their player.  He takes me to ground and I stand, playing the ball to my teammate.

Ten minutes later, I get the ball again.  Charging through the defensive line, I lead with my shoulder and bust through.  I can see the try-line ahead, and I secure the ball under my arm, running as fast as I can.  The opposition is hot on my heels. I can hear the thud of their boots as they hit the grass behind me, closing in.  The man behind me dives, sweeping his arm out and making contact with my ankle.  I stumble.  My arm carrying the ball extends as I crash to the turf, over the white line.

Try time!

I’m lifted into the air by my teammates, as they slap my back and rub my head, shouting words of congratulations.

“Let’s go, boys, let’s build on this!” I yell, as we wait for our kicker to convert the try.

By halftime, we’re leading in a close contest.  At twelve points to ten, the game could easily be lost by us. 

“Good first half, boys, but you have to piss those silly little errors off.  You’re giving away penalties on their fifth tackle, letting them out of their own end way to easy.  You might as well be giving them the game,” Coach roars.  “Now get back out there and show me what you’re made of!”

We run back out onto the field, determine to own this game.

“This is ours, men!  Let’s do it!” our Captain shouts, clapping his hands and pumping us up.

“Go Raiders!”

“I love you, Kye.”

“Go, Kye!”

“Come home with me tonight, Kye.”

I block out the screaming crowd and concentrate on doing my job.  The partying will come after the match, but for now, it’s game time.

There’s five minutes to go and I have the ball.  I pass it left and my teammate fumbles as the opposition crashes into him, knocking him to the ground.  The ball bounces away.

“Fuck!” I roar.  We pack a scrum, knowing this is our last chance to win the match.  The other team is in front by four points.  We need to get the ball back. 

The ball goes wide and I run at my opponent, knocking him to the ground in a one-on-one tackle and stealing the ball back at the same time.  The ref waves his hand, indicating a play on, so I race to the try line, sidestepping and twisting my body to avoid being tackled.  I’m taken down, so I play the ball and move back into my position. 

Glancing up, I see the clock counting down.  We have one more play and ten seconds remaining.  It is the fifth tackle, so I know my player is going to kick.  I wave my hand, indicating I have a free space in front of me and I want the ball.  The kick goes high, and I move toward it, jumping high into the air and grasping it.  It slips and I quickly rein it back in.  My feet land heavily on the ground and I shrug off the defenders as I barge through the defensive line and make my way to the goal area. 

I fall over the try line, right under the posts, and immediately stand, cheering toward the crowd, celebrating the points.

Floating on Cloud Nine, we exit the field after congratulating our opponents on a hard-fought game.  Now, we are ready to party.  The team always heads to our team sports bar to celebrate after a game, and tonight is no different.

“Go easy tonight, Kye,” the trainer warns.

“Yeah, yeah,” I agree, shirking him off.  I had a stellar match, completing more tackles than I have in recent weeks, and making more line breaks than I ever have.  Plus, I secured the game-winning try, so I deserve a night out.

As usual, the bar is packed.  Players, supporters and girls fill the room.  Loud music is pumping from the jukebox and drinks are flowing.

“What are ya drinking, bro?  My shout,” my teammate, Costa, asks me.

“Beer, thanks man.”

He returns moments later, handing me a drink.

“Cheers,” I say, holding the glass up.

“Fucking good game, dude,” he replies, chinking his beer with mine.

The amber liquid slides down my throat easily and before I know it, I have consumed enough drinks to have my mind feeling hazy.

Girls paw me, running their manicured hands over my shoulders and down my face.

“Let me feel your muscles, Kye.  You’re so strong,” one croons, giggling when I flex my biceps.

“Hey, baby,” a girl says, sitting her arse down in my lap.  Her short skirt rides high and my hand immediately grips the top of her bare thigh.  Her skin is smooth.  She wiggles a little in my lap and my cock begins to take notice.

“Want to dance?” she asks, giving me puppy dog eyes.

“Sure,” I slur slightly.  Standing, she takes my hand and leads me onto the floor.   The beat sounds foggy as it filters through my inebriated brain.  Shaking her arse in front of me, she bends over.  Unable to resist, I move in closer, gripping her hips and pulling her toward me.  She grinds her juicy round arse against my cock, teasing me.

Fuck yeah, I love this life.

Hours later, sometime in the morning before the sun has risen, I stumble out of the bar. 

“Fuck I’m pissed,” I slur to no one.  I’m so drunk I can’t feel my fingers and my legs are starting to go numb.  It has been a fucking awesome night, though.

“Good game, bro.  Go home and sleep it off. See you at training on Monday,” Preston, one of my teammates, says, scuffing my head.

“See ya, man.”  I stand on the curb, waiting for a taxi.  They always seem to all disappear when you need one.

“You leaving without me, baby?”  The girl I danced with earlier comes up behind me, touching my shoulders and whispering in my ear.

“Drunk,” I mumble, not awake or sober enough to have a proper conversation.

“You want some company?” she whispers seductively. 

I shrug.  Sure I’d like some company, but I’m so fucked up at the moment, I don’t reckon I will be able to get my dick to rise.

“Oi, dickhead!” I hear the words shouted, but ignore them, figuring it is just blokes having an argument.

“You gonna ignore me now, Golden Boy?”  I turn my head and see the man is actually talking to me. 

“Oh, prissy boy’s taking notice.  You going home now, poof?  Scared of a good night?  Wouldn’t want your pretty boy image getting tarnished by partying with the real men, now would ya?” he goads me.  I should ignore him, but he is pissing me off quickly.

“Fuck off, idiot,” I mumble.

“He shouldn’t talk to you that way, baby.  Go over there and show him what those big sexy muscles of yours can do to his face.  Teach him a lesson,” the chick croons.

Her voice is giving me a fucking headache.

“Aww, look, he’s got a little whore to warm his cock tonight.  Sweetie, I think he’s interested in dicks more than pussy,” he says, provoking me further.  My temperature rises and I grit my teeth.  My hands clench into tight fists, itching to fight him.

He pushes me from behind and I stumble forward.  My resilience snaps.  Using one hand, I push the girl out of the way and glare at the guy.

“Fuck off, arsehole.”

“Come on, pretty boy.  Hit me,” he goads, pushing me again.

“Push me one more time and I’m going to fucking kill you,” I warn through clenched teeth.

“Show him who’s boss!” the girl cheers.

Being a smart arse, he pushes my shoulder roughly using just his fingers. 
That does it
.  My fist connects with his nose before I can rein it in.  Blood spurts out onto the concrete, but I don’t stop.  I hit him again, and again, and again.  Someone tries to pull me off, but I shake them off me and go back in for one more shot before I’m dragged away into the gutter by someone. 

The rage begins to clear from my vision and I notice the police officers standing above me. 

Fuck.

~*~

For some reason, whenever I have time to think, it is
that
moment that my mind goes to.  I played ninety-eight first grade games for the Raiders, but it is
that
game,
that
night that always filters through my idle mind.  It is the night my life changed, the night that eventually brought me to Pine Creek.  To
her.
  Kennedy.  The sweetest, kindest soul I have ever come across.

She’s also got one hell of a fine arse, too.

When I stood before the judge two weeks after that incident, he recommended I be sent to Hope and Chance Retreat for their three week intensive program. I am also on a twelve-month good behaviour bond, meaning if I mess up during that time, I will be sent straight to jail to complete the rest of my sentence.

During my time at Hope and Chance, I came to realise that alcohol affects everybody differently.  For me, I can’t just have
one
beer.  I always seem to want to have more and more.  Everything is fine, until someone pushes my buttons.  Generally speaking, I’m a pretty easy going guy.  But once I have had a gutful of grog, my fuse becomes shorter and shorter until it is barely visible.  I find it hard to keep my anger in check and my fists to myself if someone starts mouthing off at me.

The best way to avoid those circumstances is to avoid alcohol altogether.  I thought it would be difficult, but it hasn’t been, really.  I think isolating myself from my friends helped a lot because I wasn’t tempted to go out with them and drink.  Even when I took the gorgeous Kennedy on a date the other week to the pub, I was so distracted by her, caught up in her web, that having a beer wasn’t even on my radar.

Deciding to stay here was an easy choice.  What wasn’t easy, was worming my way into Kennedy’s life.  I watched her for weeks before I made my move. 

Like a stalker.

I noticed she didn’t socialize a whole lot.  I also noticed that despite the attention she received from other guys, she never seemed to even realize it.  She did her job – a job that she is fucking amazing at – then she would go into her hut and not return until the morning time.  She rarely had friends or family visit.  She appeared to be a loner.

Since spending some time with her, I have come to know Kennedy is far from being a loner, she is just battling her own demons.  Demons I plan to help her fight.

If she will help me fight my own…

Kennedy

Pulling up in front of the pub, I double check my makeup before running my fingers through my hair.  Sliding on my sunglasses, I grab my handbag from the passenger seat and the keys from the ignition before climbing out.

“Hey, Aunty Kennedy.”

“Hey, Oscar.  How are you doing, mate?” His voice is getting a little deeper now and he is definitely morphing into a mini-man version of Jeremy.  He is all tanned skin, toned adolescent body and dark hair.

“Good thanks.”

“You out here alone?”  I ask, seeing no adults with him.

“Yeah, just kicking my ball. I didn’t want to hit one of the babies with it,” he explains.

“Good thinking, dude.”  I scruff his hair and go inside.

Originally I had planned to come to Skip’s party with Kye, but he called last night and said he was busy today and would meet me here at some stage.  I was a little disappointed, but some things can’t be helped, I guess.

After ordering a drink at the bar, I make my way out to the beer garden where my family and friends are gathered.  Immediately I see my sister, so I walk over to her.  Jagger and Lila are lying on a rug, chewing on rubber teething toys.  Bending down, I give them each a kiss and say a quick hello.  Beside them, is Brooklyn, sitting up, playing with a musical toy.  I kiss her cheek, too, not wanting to leave her out.  Then, I greet my sister.

“Hey, Ava.”  I smile, giving her a hug and kissing her cheek.

“Hey Kendy.”

“Hi, Kennedy.”  The smile and wave accompanying the greeting comes from Ava’s sister-in-law, Edie.

“Hey. How are you?”

“Good thanks! You?”

“Going well.”

“How is everyone?  Gosh, you guys have a bunch of kids between you all,” I joke, though really, it’s the truth.

“We’re all doing good.  Jagger and Lila have just started teething, so the last few nights have been fun…
not
.” Ava grimaces.

“Ugh, I’m not looking forward to going through that again.  Ella’s got her teeth, but Sebastian hasn’t even started,” Laura says.

“Ivie and Haidee!  Stop ganging up on Charlie,” Sienna chastises.  I look over to see the two little girls banging a toy on poor Charlie’s head and I can’t help but giggle a little.

Sebastian starts to fuss in his stroller beside me and I pick up his dummy and put it in his mouth.

“You can hold him if you want,” Laura offers.

“Really?  Thank you.”  I pick him up and he snuggles into my chest. 

“You’re such a handsome little man,” I whisper as his eyes begin to flutter shut.  Something in my chest longs for this.  For a baby.  I hold Sebastian a little tighter and gently kiss his soft little forehead. 

Suddenly commotion erupts as a fight breaks out between Banjo and Max.  Their dads, Clay and Jackson, stroll over to sort out the disagreement.  A few minutes later, Olive comes striding over with a purpose and goes straight to her mother’s side.

“Mum, the boys are picking on me. They won’t play the games I want to play,” she whines.

“What game do you want to play?” Edie asks.

“Mummies and daddies,” she answers.

“Well, why don’t you play a game of tag or something that everyone will enjoy?”

“Okay.” She pouts and then races off, the incident seemingly forgotten.

Sebastian snores softly in my arms, so I gently lay him back down in his stroller. 

“There’s the birthday boy.” I smile, spotting Skip across the garden.  “I’m just going to say happy birthday,” I tell the girls.  “I’ll be back.”

“Kennedy!  Gee, it’s good to see you, love,” Dory says as I walk up beside her.

“You’re looking fabulous Dory.  You feeling better?” I ask.  Doreen was the previous owner of the pub up until she turned management over to her niece, Sienna.  She fell ill a while back and it took her a long time to recover.  Thankfully, she is back to good health now.

“Yes, love.  It’ll take a lot more than the bloody flu to kill an old bird like me,” she jokes.

“Oh, I think it was a bit more serious than the flu, Dory,” I chide. 

“Here she is.  Did you bring Kye with you?” Skip asks.

“He’s coming later,” I answer with a laugh.  Hugging him, I kiss his stubbly cheek.  “Happy Birthday, Skip.”

“Thanks, love.”  He hugs me tight then releases me to take a swig of his beer.

“The next one’s on me,” I tell him.

“So, who’s Kye?” Dory asks with a curious lilt in her voice.

“He’s just a guy I know from work,” I answer vaguely.

“I bet,” she rebuffs.

“Oh stop it!”  Seeing Rhonda, Skip’s wife, walking toward us, I quickly direct the attention her way.  “Hi, Rhonda.  Nice to see you.”

“Kennedy.  Good to see you too.”

“Well, I better get back over to my drink.”

“Yep, get over there and wait for Kye to arrive,” Skip tells me.

“I’ll be keeping an eye out for when he arrives.  Need to check out this Kye fella,” Dory mutters.

Shaking my head, I walk away.  On my way back, I wave hello to Jackson, Jeremy, Clay, Luke and Zeke who are all standing in a circle near the snacks table, drinking beers.  They are all such good looking men, it is no wonder they were snapped up so quickly by their women.  Of course, the exception is Ava and Jeremy.  It took them a long time to get their shit together, but I am partly to blame for that delay, so I prefer not to think too much about it.

“What about you, Kennedy?” Jules asks as I take my seat at the table.

“What?” I ask, taking a sip of my drink.  The ice has all melted and it has turned my vodka and lime all watery. 
I need a refresh.

“Are you going to have any kids?  It’s got to be your turn next.”

“Umm, I’m not sure.  First of all I’d need a guy to actually have the babies with,” I say.

“Not necessarily.  You can do that, uh, what’s it called?  Oh! Artificial Insemination.  You could do that,” Jules says.

“Yeah, I don’t know. I kinda like the idea of having a mother and a father.  I’m getting a bit old though, so I’ve probably missed my chance at motherhood.”  The thought makes me sad, but unfortunately it is the cold hard truth.  At thirty-seven, my biological clock has been ticking loudly for the past four years.  I have just done a good job at ignoring it.

“I read an article about a woman who was having her twentieth baby or something, and she was, like, fifty years old.  It’s never too late according to her!” Sienna informs me.

“Wow.  Seriously?”

Yep.  She was from Bosnia or Russia or somewhere like that.  Apparently she’s the world’s oldest mum.”

“That’s the woman who was having twins, right?” Laura asks

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“I remember reading that same article.”

Bugger that.

“I think I will have totally given up by then,” I say.

“There’s still time,” Ava says gently.  She must sense the turmoil deep inside my soul.

“Yeah,” I say, giving her an easy smile that I know doesn’t reach my eyes.

“Here comes a hunky spunk who could give you babies,” Jules mutters.  Just as she finishes speaking, I feel two strong hands land on my shoulders.  He gives me a squeeze then leans down to whisper in my ear.

“G’day, darlin’.”  Shivers erupt over my body and I barely contain the moan that wants to escape my throat.

“Hey,” I croak out brokenly, turning to face him.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“No worries.”  Feeling all of the girls’ eyes on us, I say to Kye, “You remember the girls?”

As if just seeing them for first time, he looks over my head and gives them a heart-stopping smile.

“How ya’s goin’?” he says, giving them a nod.

They answer him back with little more than a bunch of swoons.  I give them wide eyes then turn my attention back to Kye.

“Do you want another drink?” he asks.

“Yes, please. Vodka and lime.”

“Be right back.”

Before he is even out of earshot, the girls are firing questions at me.

“How long have you been seeing him?” Sienna asks

“Is he good in bed?” That one comes from Jules.

“He’s so built and strong. What does he do for work?” I think Edie asks that one.

“Is he that tanned all over?” Again, Jules.

“I can’t believe how big his hands are,” Laura comments.

“You know what they say about guys with big hands…” One guess who said that! 
Bloody Jules.

“Stop!” I cry, holding my hands up.  “You girls are so bad.”

“We’re just eager for information,” Sienna explains.  “We don’t like being left out of the loop.”

“For starters, there’s no loop to be left out of.”

“I call bullshit,” Jules rebuffs.

“And you!” I point to her.  “
You
need to get laid or something.  All of your questions are sexual innuendos.” I say without malice. 

“My husband hasn’t given me any since Sebastian’s birth,” she mutters. 

“Here you go.”  Kye sets my drink down in front of me.

“Thank you.”

He gives my shoulder a squeeze.  “I’ll be over there if you need me,” he says before wandering off.  I can’t help but watch him walk away.  The way his arse looks in a pair of jeans should be illegal.

“Right, spill.  I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and now it’s even more intense than how it was at Easter.  And even then it was
intense
, so spill it,” Ava demands.

“Nothing’s going on.  We’re just friends.”

“Friends
do not
look at friends that way,” Ava says, giving me raised eyebrows.

“If I had a friend who was a guy and he looked at me the way Kye looks at you, Zeke would literally kill him,” Sienna says.

“Uh-huh.  Clay would do the same,” Jules agrees.

“Yep.  Luke, too.” Laura nods.

“Jackson would have a shit fit,” Edie says.

“Jer as well,” Ava agrees.

I take a big gulp of my drink, needing the liquid courage. “Fine!  We’re seeing each other.  We’re taking things slow.  No, we haven’t had sex yet.  Yes, I hope it happens soon, but I don’t really want it to because I’m scared.  That’s another story.  No, I’m not sure if he’s
that
tanned all over, because I haven’t seen all of his beauty, though I suspect he is, because, well, you all saw him!  There, I think I covered everything.” I exhale loudly, slightly frustrated, but more feeling happy that I have this life.  This life where I have female friends who actually
like
me for me.  And who I genuinely adore.  Friends who care about me.  These are the kinds of relationships I want to nurture and grow into something amazing.

“Well, why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” Jules exclaims.

“What are you scared of, Kendy?” Ava whispers.

“Can we talk about this some other time?” I ask. 

“We need a girls night!” Jules says.

“God, yes,” Laura agrees.

“My house, next Friday night?” Sienna suggests.

“I’m in!” The girls all agree.  Meanwhile, Ava and I are still looking into each others eyes.

“Girls night?” she pleads softly.

“Girls night,” I confirm with a nod.

“Good. Now let’s get drunk,” Jules cheers.

God, I love these girls.

~*~

“Hey, again,” I say softly.

“Hey.  How’s your night been?” Kye asks.

“Good.  Great, actually.  I’m having a really fun time.”

“Glad to hear it.” He smiles at me and touches my face, cupping my cheek.  The noise of the party fades away and standing here behind the secluded screen off the garden, it feels like we are the only two people in the world.  I’m mesmerized in his gaze, his soulful eyes so intently staring into mine.  I’m enraptured.   Caught up in his spell and I don’t think I ever want to be released.

“I’ve wanted to get you alone all night,” he says, leaning in.  “You were having so much fun with your girls, though.  Didn’t want to pull you away.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” I find myself admitting as he leans in even closer.  His mouth now a breath away from mine.

“Hmm.  I’ll have to remember that.”  His lips brush over mine ever so softly.  I sigh as our kiss deepens.  He grips my arse and I moan.  Unable to resist, my own hands mimic his actions, giving his firm, round butt a good squeeze. 
Goddamn, that’s a nice arse!
  He groans into my mouth and pushes me back into the wall.  I can feel the hard ridge of his cock against my stomach and it makes my blood heat even hotter.  I reach up and hold his face, loving the way his rough stubble feels against my soft hands.

“Is that Kennedy?”  I vaguely hear Dory’s whispered question, followed by a giggled affirmative reply from Jules.