TAINTED

Chapter 8

RHYS

My first week trapped under the same roof as Ivy went by relatively quickly. I hated to admit it, but having her around wasn't that bad. Not because I still had feelings for her. It was just better than being stuck at the ranch alone. We were both indifferent to each other, which was fine. Just because she grew into an unattainable beauty didn't mean I couldn't keep my dick in my pants.

When Eddie dropped Ivy off at the ranch last night, I ensured I wasn't around for more than one reason. I decided to drive to Polson – again – but this time to play a gig at MacDougall's Pub. It just so happened Jillian showed up to watch my set. She sat at the bar while I played on stage for over an hour. The bar owner liked my set so much that he booked me in for a gig every other night for the rest of the summer. This was a big deal for me to be recognized for my music. I was thankful for the opportunity, but mainly for an excuse to leave the ranch.

Once the bar closed, Jillian stumbled into the backseat of my Range Rover. She knew the drill. She got down on her hands and knees and started to suck me off. The problem was, I couldn't get into it. Panic set in when my dick started to go limp. That kind of shit was never an issue for me – ever. Seriously. I questioned what the fuck was wrong with me. I looked down at Jillian's dark brown hair, trying to focus. Blaming my inability to get hard as steel on whiskey and not Ivy Bishop. The mere echo of Ivy's name in my thoughts unexpectedly perked my dick up. I ordered my dick to get over it, except it hardened even more at the thought of her.

I gripped Jillian's dark brown hair, watching it morph into golden curls. I soaked in the drunken visions of Ivy with her lips around my cock. Enjoying my moment of emotional betrayal against my brother as I spiraled out of control and came into Jillian's mouth. My body went off, and when I was finished, Jillian crawled up beside me, mumbled some incoherent nonsense and fell asleep with her head on my shoulder. My head was a fucking mess. I couldn't return to the ranch, so I spent a sleepless night in the backseat of my Range Rover.

I truly hated myself when I drove back to Moose Creek the following day. I felt guilty and ashamed for letting Ivy slip into my mind. I blamed it on the alcohol and Jillian's inability to suck a decent cock. Like I said, I had no feelings for Ivy Bishop. None.

Thankfully, Ivy had already left for her scheduled shift when I entered the ranch. I poured myself a cup of coffee and downed it in seconds. My head was pounding because I was insanely hungover. My body felt like it just took a beating on the football field. Sleeping in the backseat of my Range Rover until I sobered up wasn't comfy, but it was needed.

I jumped when my cell phone rang. I answered it after two ear-deafening rings.

"Rhys, how are you holding up?" My father, Reginald Wyatt, boomed over the line.

Fuck. My father was the last person I wanted to hear from this early morning. He'd already yelled at me enough over the accident, my lack of focus, and my inability to meet his expectations that I sincerely hoped he was not about to do it again. My hangover couldn't handle it. I was in a foul mood, and my brain-to-mouth filter was not working fully.

"I'm fine. What's going on, Dad?" I asked as politely as possible.

"Anything you need to tell me?" he said coolly.

Yeah, how about I don't give a shit about football. I'm still drinking myself stupid, and I've done zero training and conditioning since I arrived in Moose Creek. But I don't say that. Instead, I say, "Nope. Nothing on my end. Just laying low in the ranch."

He cleared his throat. A strong indication my answer didn't appease him.

"Alright, Rhys. I am going to cut right to the chase," he snapped. "I heard you were in Polson last night playing your damn guitar at McDougall's Pub. What the hell are you thinking? Your only focus should be football and improving your grades."