"Chelsea, I really don't think you should be on that tractor," hissed Stacy at her drunk-as-a-sailor friend.
"Shut up, Stacy! God you're such a prude! Why don't you just go back home, I bet it's past your bedtime anyway," sneers Chelsea, her mouth forming words without her brain editing them. Dylan had just broke up with her and she'd wanted to forget the pain. So knowing everyone, or rather nearly everyone, would be at the town meeting Chelsea had gotten out her stash of alcohol she'd secretly been buying and drunk as much of it as she could by herself. Of course, just her luck, Stacy, one of the worker's daughter at the farm, just had to stop by to see if Chelsea was okay. She never wanted the goody-two-shoes to tag along but the girl did regardless.
"Chelsea! Please, you'll hurt yourself! Please, get down from there," begged Stacy watching the blonde holler as she finally mounted herself into her Daddy's tractor.
"Chelsea!" cried Stacy, horrified as Chelsea started the engine and jolted the huge machine forward. Not wanting to be flattened, Stacy leapt to the side and kept calling the spoilt girl's name until her throat was raw. Tears started flowing as she thought about how the reckless drunk girl could get hurt...but then Stacy stopped crying, it's not her fault if Chelsea gets hurt, she tried to warn her!
Chelsea felt the fresh country breeze whistle through her long honey strands, fanning it back. Wo-ho! She thought. Suddenly the tractor crashed through something. The engine began spluttering before jolting to a stop. Annoyed, Chelsea jumped down from the tractor only to have her head spin from the motion. Carrying on despite seeing double, she noticed she'd crashed through a fence. Her shoulders slumped at her ride being cut short and before she could climb back in the tractor to fix it, blackness seeped her senses and she passed out.
Her brain seemed to be trying to escape her skull with all the pounding it was doing. Bright blue eyes squinted at the piercing Texan sun and her body felt exhausted. Groaning she looked over to the bedside table to spot two Aspirin tablets and a glass of water. Gulping it all down she snuggled back in bed, facing away from the glare of the sun and succumbed to sleep.
When she awoke it was due to her father shouting her name. She sat up, feeling much better and softly padded downstairs.
"Yes Daddy?" she asks in her sweet, melodious voice.
"Oh no you don't young lady!" bellows her dad. She watched his furry eyebrows set straight and a scowl adorn his lips. He was in his usual attire of a loose plaid shirt, tucked into a pair of bootcut worn jeans, a chunky belt to hold it up, and sturdy cowboy boots on his feet. Chelsea on the other hand knew she was still in the pink tank top and blue jean shorts from last night. How she managed to get home she didn't remember-in fact she didn't remember much of last night.
"Just what in all that's good, were you thinking getting drunk and joy-riding my tractor?!" yelled her father. She'd never seen him so mad at her. He never had much reason to be. She was a good kid, who wished to be rebellious only never had the guts to be. Until she'd had the belly-full of alcohol that is.
"I-I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to," apologised Chelsea. Remembering yesterday, just brought back all the pain for why she drank in the first place. Her son-of-a-bitch ex had the nerve to dump her because she 'was a lousy fuck'. Chelsea had said to hell with that! It wasn't her fault the damn boy couldn't last more than a measly few minutes or that he just wanted to stick it in, do a few quick thrusts, explode and leave; leaving her feeling like a fucking blow-up doll. Heck, she thought, a blow-up doll would probably receive more attention than she had. And then the bastard had the nerve to dump her!
"Sorry's not going to cut it this time, Chelsea," spoke her father bringing her out of her wonderings.
"But Daddy-" she starts. What more can she do but say sorry? It's not like she can just mend the tractor. She's not a mechanic.
"No. I don't want to hear it. Besides, it's not just my property you've damaged," her father said. She looked at him confused for a moment before remembering the fence! Oh Lord! She thought, who's fence could that be?They had three neighbouring farmers and ranch owners and she waited in anticipation at who's property she'd damaged.
"The fence?"
"So you do remember that? Do you know who's fence it was you crashed my tractor through?" questioned her father only to receive a small shake of the head from his daughter.
"It was Mr Callaghan's," he stated. Chelsea's eyes went wide for a moment. When she was younger, around 15, she had the biggest crush on Brandon Callaghan. She had seen him as a hot, mascular, older gentleman and so he became perfect for her to focus her adolescent crush on. But now at 19, she didn't see much of him and expected herself over the crush. After all, he's probably around 30 now and being more mature she had no doubt that she'd only found him hot due to her fluctuating hormone levels.
"Oh gosh! I'll tell Mr Callaghan I'm sorry," gasps Chelsea.
"I told you, it's not enough...But he has made a kind offer though. His maid is away on maternity leave so he's suggesting you fill in for her to repay the cost of the damages-"
"What? No, Daddy, please! There's got to be something else!" she cries. She'd normally play the school card but she couldn't right now, not since she'd graduated and after summer she'd be going to college.
"Chelsea, I already told him you'd do it! It's about time you learned to take responsibility for your actions! Now after you've eaten something, you will go get dressed, something suitable please, and then make your way to Mr Callaghan. I will be ringing him to ensure you did go! Mr Callaghan's a fair man and has said you will receive an hour for lunch when you can come home and eat something. You will go there each morning at 8 precisely and return at 7. He will tell about the tasks he wants you to complete and you will do it! Understand?"
Chelsea sighed in defeat and mumbled a "yes dad."
"Good. And Chelsea?"
She looked up.
"If I hear even one complaint from Mr Callaghan about you, you can forget college."
Chelsea gasped about to protest only to see the steel determination in her father's eyes. She swallowed her words and went to get dressed.
The mud coated her boots as she scraped her feet along the ground. She didn't know what her Daddy meant when he said appropriate but she'd gone for blue skinny jeans and a red plaid top, tied at her navel. Her hair had dried within minutes after her shower due to the heat of the sun. Although it wasn't that bad for summer. She spotted ranch hands already busy at the broken fence on the far side and felt a stab of guilt. Still, she thought, he could have just asked her to pay it back. Not demand she be his maid!
Knocking at the door, Chelsea stood back with her hands crossed and hip cocked.
Her knees nearly buckled when she saw the man who greeted her. Holy...shit. Just like that she seemed to transform into her 15 year old self. The man before her was...gorgeous. It seemed age had not altered his handsomeness, only heightened it. He'd always been tall but even so he towered over her with his 6"2 frame to her 5"6. His shoulders were as broad as ever with his waist being slim. He had his own fair share of laugh lines from many years working under the sun with friends, but the marks only emphasised his masculinity. His lips were neither plump nor thin and were coloured a pale pink. He had a full head of soft sandy brown hair and a lighter shade of stubble over his cheeks, jaw and upper lip. Coffee brown eyes pierced down at Chelsea before he wordlessly side-stepped and let her pass. She caught a faint whiff of aftershave sliding by and gulped, knowing she'd have to stop herself being a fumbling, mumbling mess.
"This way. Take your shoes off," he grunted already heading down the hallway. Chelsea hurried to grasp her feet out of her boots and once doing so she rushed behind him.
On their own accord, her eyes travelled south of his body to focus in on a cute ass. Alas the jeans bagged and she could not see the shape of them.
So captivated by him, Chelsea didn't realise the room she'd walked into was pitch black until the door slammed shut and two large, rough hands drew her in. She let out a shrill cry of surprise until one of the hands clamped over her mouth.
"Shh," whispered a familiar voice, "don't scream," it then whispers before releasing her mouth.
"Mr Callaghan, what's going on?" breathes Chelsea wondering if there was a robber or something. Suddenly she was drawn further back into his body only to feel solid, hard parts of him that had her heart beating louder.
"Chelsea...oh sweet, little Chelsea. My, my, you certainly have grown," teased the man, his tongue flickering at her neck.
"Mr Callaghan, please, let go of me," softly said Chelsea tugging at his strong hold.
"You've definitely filled out..." he continues ignoring her protest. His hand move up her body to cup her breasts.
"These are certainly bigger than I remember...tell me, what size are you, sweet Chelsea?" he teased groping and squeezing the mounds through her shirt and bra. Chelsea's heart thudded a little faster and her breathing picked up. Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! She panicked. Sure she thought the guy was hot, but she never wanted this! She liked to admire him. She doesn't want to actually do anything with him!
"Tell me," he warned roughly squeezing her breasts.
"Ah!" gasped Chelsea before answering him, "34D."
"Very nice," he purred in appreciation.
"You've also filled out nicely down here," he said running his hands down the side of her body to rest at her hips, one hand reached her ass and squeezed.
"Mmm..." softly moaned Brandon running his nose up the column of her neck before placing a small kiss at the base of her ear.
"I look forward to playing with you, my pretty toy," he whispered in her ear before pulling away.
Chelsea wanted to protest at being called a 'toy' and felt angry by his wandering hands and words but suppressed it all. She'd felt too much fear. She was scared by him.
He switched on the lights and returned to his no-nonsense, business mode. Chelsea stood there still paralysed by terror when he instructed her to sit down.
She realised they were in his living room and quickly shuffled to perch on one of the leather couches. Brandon took a seat in the one opposite her. She gazed up at him and his stiff posture. His once lustfully body, now just frightened her. Chelsea had been groped before but only by teenage boys. Boys she could easily just throw a punch at or kick in the balls and slap...but she knew deep in her she could never beat Brandon. With his hard-earned, rippling muscles and quick eyes, she'd never be able to fend him off if he attacked and from his whispered words it seemed he intended to do a lot of groping.
"I'm sure your father has told you that you are to be my maid for the next two months while Lucinda is on maternity leave. After I have gone over your tasks to be completed you may set about your duties. I work on the ranch so you will most definitely find yourself alone in the house a lot of the time. The doors that are locked, needless to say should not be entered, the same goes for the basement. I'm sure I don't have to tell you not to steal from me, the consequences would be dire..." he sardonically grinned, a grin that caused shivers of fright down Chelsea's spine.
