The Bad Boys Songs - This Entire Book is Under Major Construction!!

Chapter 3

Briar giggled about the motorbike boy like a young girl with a schoolgirl crush, but Brontë stared after him, suspicious but attracted to Reid Benedikt and the mysterious air about him.

Sat at the breakfast table with her siblings, Brontë stared at the red jam caked on the toast. They had no practise today, Mr Greter had mysteriously become ill, and Braxton looked more pleased with himself than usual. Braedon on the other hand looked sheepishly sick with guilt when Mr Greter threw up again. Loudly. That he bolted from the table and shot out the window.

"Aye. Aye. Aye." Mrs Barova, a small plump woman with a mane of dark frizz around her head and dark skin, shook her head. "Vhy don't you cheeldren use se door?" She smiled. Mrs Barova or Beatriz was there to cook for the children and look after the children when other guardians weren’t about.

Brontë would often note Beatriz as a substitute mother for the one they never saw. Then again, running a Winery is harder than first thought. "Sat would be se only reason eet ees there! For use!" Beatriz said dramatically.

Briar grinned up at Beatriz, jam and crumbs sticking to the side of her mouth. "It's easier Beatriz." She smiled.

Beatriz walked over to Briar and handed her a tissue. "Zan pooshing open se door?" She questioned back.

Briar nodded. "Sí," Wiping her face.

A thought struck Brontë as she continued to stare at the toast. She lifted her head immediately. "Gracias, Beatriz." She thanked finishing her orange juice.

“But you haven’t touched your toast!” Beatriz informed. Brontë grabbed book, this one not falling apart like yesterdays. She returned to the table and took a bite from the toast before heading for the window. "Bee carefool, ángel," She called. "I do not vant to bee se von to esplain how you broke your neck.”

Brontë laughed, kissing Beatriz’s cheek. "I'm always careful, Beatriz."  She smiled before flying out the window.

"Se door! Use eet!" She yelled, laughing. "Or eel bolt se vindow closed," Brontë stumbled her way through the vineyard towards her tree, wiping away the remnants of jam and crumbs. She wiped her hands on her denim shorts beneath the pale blue blouse with sleeves coming to her elbows. Her long dark hair had been straightened and reached her hips, her heeled knee boots back on her feet.

It was quite early. Only 10 and just beginning to get hot. The mountains rolling in the blue sky like waves frozen just before crashing onto the valley, a breeze was present today, a little stronger than yesterday’s but certainly no means of cooling down in the rising temperature.

The birds tweeted their bloody heads off with their morning song. She loved it but soon enough it was on her nerves, a bird nest right above where she sat, reading her book. She’d spent the first few minutes of sitting in her tree pretending to read but found herself looking up to find Reid. Too many times than she’d ever admit. Soon she gave up and concentrated on the words. The birds started to hit her nerves. "Hey!” She called, leaning to the sides to look up at the nest. “Can you and your sweet chickens please be a little less cheerful?" They continued. "No?"

 "This is just a guess..." Brontë jumped at the voice and fell out the tree and landing hard on the floor with a thump. "...but I don't think they speak English." Brontë glared at him from her place on the floor. Reid walked up to her, towering over her like a sky scraper. Then offered his hand. She took it after a moment of hesitation. A smug grin remained on his face as he pulled Brontë to her feet. “You’re welcome.” He smiled.

She cocked her head at him. "What?" He asked.

"I think I just saw your head get bigger." She said. He smiled back sarcastically, opening his mouth with a comeback as her book dropped from the tree, landing on his head. Brontë failed to suppress a laugh. "Oh there we go." She smiled with mock happiness. “You’re head has returned to it’s usual size. Few, I thought you’re ego had gotten bigger, but now it’s back in check.”