TAINTED

Chapter 4

IVY

The next evening, Eddie drove me to Whitefish Resort. It was dark by the time we arrived. Eddie hooked a left and rolled his truck through the iron gates leading onto the resort property. A few miles down the road, Eddie turned right and headed up the driveway to the Wyatt's private ranch. The driveway was long and narrow, and dirt and dust flew around his truck.

The sprawling ranch-style home appeared, overlooking Montana's finest mountains. The sight nearly took my breath away. It was stunning, and I had forgotten how beautiful Moose Creek was. Not to mention how incredibly appealing the ranch appeared to be. It was two stories high with a white wrap-around porch and stunning floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the mountainous landscape. It was gigantic and almost too good to be true.

Eddie leaned across my lap and opened the door. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to call. You know I'd drive all night if I had to."

"I'll be fine," I assured him. "The employee bunkhouse isn't that far away if I need anything or get lonely."

I walked over to the driver's side window, leaned through, and hugged Eddie. When I pulled away, he kept his eyes down and sighed tensely. I knew he wasn't happy about my situation, but he wasn't making things any better by acting this way. We both knew there was no way I could work at the General Store and make the same kind of money I would earn working at Whitefish Resort. The pay was double, and God knew I needed the money.

I waved goodbye to Eddie and made my way onto the porch. He gave me a subtle wave but didn't budge from the driveway. He was waiting for me to step inside the ranch, where he knew I was safe. I shoved in Blaine's key, turned the lock, and stepped into the dark interior. I closed the front door behind me with a soft click. I finally heard the rumblings of Eddie's truck roll down the driveway.

At first, I thought I was hearing things when I entered the foyer. I flicked on a light switch that lit up a massive chandelier of deer antlers hanging directly above me. I could hear voices faintly in the distance when I walked through the rustic kitchen. My heart stopped when I noticed two empty whisky glasses on the countertop. That's strange. I tip-toed through the kitchen and followed the noises. They were still muffled, but a female voice became much more evident when I bravely rounded the corner and stepped into the sunken living room.

"Oh yeah...harder...harder... yeah, right there, baby."

My eyes widened, and I threw both hands over my mouth to stop the gasp from escaping my lips. I knew I should look away but couldn't bring myself to do it. The bare ass in front of me was undeniable. I had studied it every single day of my high school life, wishing I could touch it. Rhys Wyatt's muscular back was bare, breathtaking and covered in tattoos. His dark hair was no longer short and groomed but long, unruly, and wild. The only thing distracting me from fully appreciating his presence was watching his hands cup around two long and skinny legs on either side of his hips with toes curling in utter bliss.

"I'm coming, Rhys... I'm...I'm... coming!" shouted the girl experiencing such great euphoria beneath him.

It made my blood boil. What the hell was he doing here?

"Are you fucking kidding?" I shouted.

The unknown female let out an ear-piercing scream that echoed into the cathedral ceilings. Rhys calmly turned around and covered his package with his free hand and her mouth with the other. His unbelievably ripped but lean and cut body was perfectly shadowed by the roaring fire that filled the living room with a soft but steady glow. His eyes flickered into mine, and his lips curled in utter amusement at the look of horror on my face.

The girl quickly sat up and covered her boobs - no, wait, let me correct myself, covered her fake tits with her skinny arm, barely hiding her nipples. She was pretty but hardly breathtaking, with mascara-smeared eyes and a messy head full of freshly fucked hair.