by Cindi Madsen
Tonight, she’d turned up the volume, leaving it impossible to concentrate on anything else. Her reddish-purple dress exposed her shoulders, and the short, flowy skirt displayed a whole lot of leg. Even though his brain told his eyes to stop it, Brady couldn’t help but gape at his best friend. He could count on one hand how many times he’d seen her in a dress, and his lungs filled with lead as he realized she must really want to impress Eric.
Dizziness set in as he went too long without inhaling or exhaling.
“Did you know she’d be here?” Wade asked. “Is that why you wanted to come? To crash her date?”
The question pulled Brady out of his trance, although his heart continued to thunder inside his chest. “She told me she had a date and couldn’t meet me for a drink, but I just needed to get away from the ranch for the night. I didn’t know they’d show up here.” Now he wished he would’ve stayed home. It felt like someone had taken a knife to his insides and was slashing away with reckless abandon.
Jess placed her glass down on the table with a clink. “Does it bother you?”
“Nope,” Brady automatically said, but the word came out too tight. He wished for a menu to hide behind, but since the waitress had taken his away, he wadded his straw wrapper into a mangled knot. “Like I said, I knew about it.”
Jess placed her hand on his forearm. “Not trying to be confrontational here, but it’s pretty clear it bothers you.”
Wade leaned back until two of the legs of his chair left the ground. “Babe, remember the rules? No talking about more than friendship when it comes to Brady and Tanya.”
She huffed. “I’m more of a rules-were-meant-to-be-broken kinda gal. I’ve never understood why your whole family tiptoes around it.” Urgency crept into her voice as her fingertips tensed against his skin. “You two have crazy chemistry, and you should see Tanya’s face whenever I mention your name. There’s longing there, I swear.”
Brady shook his head, his throat as dry as after a hard day of riding through a dust storm. “You don’t know her like I do. Yeah, we love each other, but we’re not in love with each other, and we certainly don’t go gettin’ all mushy and talk about it.”
Jessica crossed her arms. “Maybe you should. Does she even know that you love her?”
Yep. I definitely should’ve stayed home. Too late for that, so Brady excused himself and headed to the bar. He was going to need a stronger drink than the on-tap beer in front of him.
* * *
At first, Tanya had hesitated to take Eric up on his offer for a celebratory drink after their business dinner at the Italian restaurant down the street. But he’d insisted, she was all dolled up, and honestly, she’d been hoping to see the very cowboy who’d just sidled up to the bar.
Holy shit.
Unlike the guy at her side, who was wearing khaki slacks and a polo, Brady had on a red-and-blue plaid shirt and a pair of snug Wranglers that called to mind the “Cowboy butts drive me nuts” bumper sticker she’d put on her old truck back in high school. She’d thought it was funny. Her parents, not so much, and one night while she’d been asleep, Mom took a razor blade to it and scrubbed it clean off.
“…for you?”
Great. Less than a minute in the door and she’d already lost the ability to concentrate. She’d like to say it was only because Brady was in her direct line of sight, but even during dinner, her mind had constantly drifted to him. What was he up to? Would she get to see him tonight, and if so, would he notice her outfit and hair? Would that be enough to push past friendship into attraction territory?
“Sorry,” Tanya said, placing a hand on her churning stomach and dragging her gaze back to Eric. “What was that?”
“I asked what drink I could order for you.”
When Eric had asked poor, flustered Marvin for a wine menu down at the Rialto—the theater they hadn’t bothered to rename after converting it into a restaurant—Tanya had stepped in. She explained the bistro had lost their liquor license after they’d been caught serving to minors and now only served soda. She’d added that people around here didn’t drink enough wine to need a whole menu for it anyway. It was red or white, and the year was the last one, which they considered pretty darn fancy.
In hindsight, less information was also more.
“Actually, why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll go grab the drinks?” She backpedaled toward the bar, determined to seize the moment, the way her dating book advised her to do. “What’ll you have?”
Eric asked for a Jack and Coke, and Tanya nodded and pivoted around.
And immediately sucked in a sharp breath. Brady’s eyes locked on hers, prodding her very soul. He tipped his heavy-bottomed glass at her, inciting a riot of emotions, and by the time she reached him, she felt as though she’d run a marathon instead of walked a couple of yards.
“Hey,” she said, her voice coming out ridiculously breathy.
Brady raked his gaze down her body, and a trail of heat followed in its wake. “Check you out. All gussied up and out on the town.”
Tip after cataloged tip tumbled through her head.
Stop worrying about what could go wrong and focus on what could go right.
Sparking desire requires extra risk.
Teasing creates intimacy.
Play to his masculinity.
“Me? How about you?” Tanya wrapped her hand around his biceps, affected a slightly ditzy lilt, and squeezed. “All big and strong, over here drinking a cocktail and showing off your giant guns.”
Instead of him smiling or tossing out another line, his eyebrows scrunched together. “Cocktail? Come on, you know me better than that.”
The damn book never mentioned what to do if a guy corrected a flirty line. “Well, pardon the hell out of me, Mr. Technical. I embellished for the sake of the words rolling off the tongue nicer. I take back what I said about your guns.” She began to withdraw her hand, but Brady placed his large palm over the top, securing it once again to his arm.
“Now, now. Don’t be too hasty. Looks like you’re still on a date with the city slicker, and you’re certainly not gonna get a thrill like this from fondling his arms.”
Tanya rolled her eyes. “I told you it’s not a date. I should put in our drink order, though.” She leaned her stomach against the bar and asked Jeb Junior for two Jack and Cokes. When she cast a sidelong glance at Brady, he gave her another scrutinizing expression. “What?”
“You what?”
“Seriously?”
“I asked you first,” he said, and she fought the urge to smack him. She’d dangled the bait, shown interest, and done her best to make him feel like a man. So why wasn’t his desire switch flipping?
When was he going to take her into his arms and kiss her already? Or was he genuinely uninterested, and all this effort had been in vain? She couldn’t put this much time into getting ready every single day until he got it through his thick skull that she was trying to put out the vibe.
“No need to glare daggers at me, Yaya.” Brady tugged on the ends of her hair, and a shiver of electricity traveled down her spine. The voltage cranked even higher as his callused fingers drifted across her exposed collarbone. “You look nice is all.”
“Nice,” she repeated as evenly as she could, but she knew her face was as red as a freshly painted barn.
He rested a hip against the bar, swirled the ice around the cup, and took a casual sip of the amber liquid. “That’s what I said.”
Normally, getting a bead on her best friend wasn’t something she had to work at. Nice was such a vague term, and she’d hoped for more. He’d shuttered his features, too, as if they were in the middle of a poker game. “Are you purposely being difficult? It feels like you’re accusing me of something.”
“Telling you that you look nice is being difficult?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.”
&
nbsp; Brady snorted. “Well, get back to me once you do.”
Tanya whirled on him, fast enough that her skirt flared. Along with an undercurrent of frustration, now she got to worry about whether or not she’d flashed the preacher and his wife, who were eating their dinner at the table closest to her. “Shut it, Dawson.”
His mouth dropped open, and he flattened a hand to his chest as faux shock flickered through his rugged features. “Me? I’m just sittin’ here, enjoying some moonshine. You see, I don’t need to dress up and pretend I’m someone I’m not to impress some businessman from out of town.”
A sharp pain lanced her chest, the blunt force of his words expelling every ounce of oxygen from her lungs. “I… That’s not even… Of all the jerk things you’ve ever said…” Anger and hurt twisted through her, and she clung to the fire so she wouldn’t give in to the overwhelming urge to burst into tears.
“All this?” She circled her face with her hand. “The makeup and hair and sending flirty texts and doing research to figure out what men want? It wasn’t for Eric.” She snatched the two drinks off the bar, glad to have something to do with her hands, although it was going to take all her self-control not to toss them at Brady. “It was for you, you asshole.”
Chapter 9
Maddox was elbow deep in the underside of Jessica’s car when he spotted a familiar pair of brown boots approaching.
Everything inside him jolted, as if he’d touched an exposed wire without being grounded, and his heart thrummed faster in his chest. He told himself it was merely from the exertion of working on the car, even though there’d been no rapid heart rate moments ago.
One second passed.
Two…
Then Harlow crouched to peek under the hood at him. Her hat toppled off, and her honey-colored hair cascaded down around her face. “Hey,” she said.
Maddox went to roll himself out from under the car but then remembered he didn’t have his shop creeper—a flat scooter with wheels that allowed a mechanic to roll around. The wheels wouldn’t work well in the dirt anyway, but without its help, it took a few extra seconds for Maddox to wiggle out from the underside of the Toyota.
Minding the bumper so he wouldn’t hit his head, he carefully sat up. “Hey.”
He swiped his hands together and extended one to Harlow.
Her eyebrows crinkled, her internal debate clear for a second or two before she took his hand and hauled him to his feet. Electricity coursed up his arm, making it hard to convince his fingers to let go. But when she loosened her grip, he let her hand slide free.
“What are you doing to Jess’s car?” she asked.
“Stripping it for spare parts,” he deadpanned. “Then I’ll sell them to a chop shop.”
One of her eyebrows arched higher than the other. He took it as a good sign she didn’t believe he’d do something like that. Not unless Ian asked him to—Maddox owed him, after all.
The tools clinked together as he tossed them in the borrowed toolbox. “I’m fixing up her car. Don’t worry. I’m a far better mechanic than cowboy.”
“That’s nice for Jess, but not great news for me, your roping partner.”
He cracked a smile. “Guess that means you’d better whip me into shape.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Do you have a whip?”
Her eyes narrowed, the lips he’d sketched more than once pursing. “I could probably find a riding crop.”
“Kinky.”
Harlow heaved a sigh. “Why do I bother talking to you again?”
“Because I’m your roping partner.”
“Lucky me.” Now she was the one using the deadpan voice. She flattened her hands against his shoulder blades and shoved him toward the training area. “Less talk, more training.”
While he could’ve resisted, he let her propel him toward the area with the bales of hay sporting plastic calf heads. Once they were there, Harlow grabbed a rope and extended it to him. Then frowned as she eyed his open palms. “Your hands are covered in grease.”
“Uh, yeah. You dragged me out from under a car.”
“Because it’s time to train.”
He tapped her on the nose. “Don’t worry. I’ve been practicing.”
She tilted her head, her doubt clear. Honestly, he could hardly believe it himself. But he’d spent a healthy portion of his free time over the weekend training.
For her.
Just so they could do well in the competition. And to make her happy. Because they were…friends? Kind of.
Maddox formed his loop and adjusted the size, the way he’d done enough times over the weekend that he’d ended up with a blister. “Give me some space, will ya? I’m about to blow your mind.”
Skepticism filled Harlow’s expression, which ratcheted up the pressure. As he swung the lasso over his head, he did his best to block it out.
One, two… Three.
He released the rope, and the loop dropped over the plastic cow head with a satisfying thud.
Harlow’s brown eyes flew wide, her surprised enthusiasm sending another one of those jolts through him. “Dude. You did it!”
“Dude, I know.” He gave her a smirk. “I told you I practiced.”
“I thought you were full of crap.”
“I am. But I was telling the truth about that.”
Her smile grew, inciting a fleeting moment of pure joy before panic rushed in and washed it away. Since he’d inevitably disappoint her in the long run, this was a dangerous game. “Don’t get too excited,” he said. “There’s literally nothing else to do out here.”
She bumped him out of the way as she formed her lasso, that infectious smile still curving her lips. “I’m Maddox, and I’m so macho and cool,” she said in a low voice he was fairly certain was supposed to be his. “I don’t care about anything, I’m that hard-core. And I only do nice stuff when I’m bored AF.”
Right as she went to throw, he bumped his hip into hers, and her rope went wide. It missed completely, a puff of dirt rising as the rope hit the soft ground.
Harlow gasped and spun to face him. “You did not just do that.”
“Nope. Didn’t you hear? I’m too hard-core for that. And bored AF? Do you kiss your mother with that dirty mouth?”
She smacked his arm, and he laughed.
“Here. I’ll get your rope for you.” He reeled it in and handed it over.
“What do you care about, Maddox Mikos?” Harlow scrutinized him, and his chest squeezed. Not quite panic—he honestly wasn’t sure what it was. Only that it was dangerous.
“I’ve learned not to care too much about anything.” Because then it was gone, and he was never going to end up as the dumbfounded and crushed kid ever again.
“You care about your motorcycle,” she pointed out.
“I saved up for a year and bought it. It’s one of the few things in my life that’s all mine, not to mention it’s fast as shit. So yeah, I care about that.”
She stepped closer. Batted those long eyelashes. “What else do you like?”
The days when you’re here. Working to repress his emotions, he went with a casual shrug.
She studied him, and if beads of sweat began forming, he’d blame the sun that was beating down on him as hard as her gaze. “How about we make a deal? Every time you fail to loop the plastic calf head, you have to answer one of my questions—one hundred percent honestly.”
It was a risky proposition. Yeah, he’d made that first toss, but he still missed plenty.
She bounced on the balls of her feet, a mixture of excitement and taunting. “Come on. It’ll be fun and amp up the stakes.”
He glanced away, because damn, the girl was way too good at that. He dragged his rope across his palm so he could focus on the rough fibers against his skin. “What about you? If I’m going to agree, you’ve got to risk something, too.”
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br /> “Like what?”
Yeah, like what? He took her in, the innocent, wide-eyed girl who rode horses, raced around barrels, and roped calves in her spare time—for fun. “If I say the same goes for when you miss, it’s hardly fair. You’ve been doing this for years.”
Did she move closer or had he? “Okay, so make it fair,” she said.
He racked his brain but couldn’t come up with anything. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“Sounds like a stalling tactic to me.” She squared off in front of the bale of hay and tossed her rope. For a second, he thought she’d missed. While it wasn’t as clean as her usual throws, she managed to get it over the calf head. “Tick-tock.”
With her watching so intensely, he missed. Good thing he hadn’t made a deal with her yet, because he wasn’t sure he was ready for her questions.
* * *
In addition to yelling at her best friend for telling her she looked nice—or not finding her hot enough, as it were—Tanya had taken to avoiding him.
A totally adult move that her dating book naturally advised against.
But now Brady knew she was interested in that way, and how could she face him after her outburst? All it did was make her feel like the hot-tempered teenager she used to be, which had her alternatively moping and wanting to dig her head in the dirt like an ostrich.
On Saturday, Phoenix took a turn for the worse, so Tanya shoved her personal drama to the back burner. When the vet visited and claimed there was nothing more they could do to breathe life into the injured mare, Tanya draped a blanket over a pile of straw in the corner and slept next her.
Dark, melancholy eyes peered at Tanya for hours as she hummed and ran a hand over the horse’s muscular neck. It was almost as if Phoenix wanted to give up, and in addition to breaking Tanya’s heart, that attitude ignited a tender yet fierce instinct that nearly consumed her.
Two nights passed that way, but on Monday morning, something miraculous happened, and Tanya dragged her parents out to the stables so they could see it for themselves.