by Cindi Madsen
The thud of the suitcases hitting the floor echoed through the room, and she turned in time to see Brady stalk toward her. Heat ignited every cell in her body, and an instinctual squeak came out, even though she had no intention of fleeing this hunter.
He gripped her hips, lifted her off her feet, and tossed her onto the bed. After removing his hat and boots, he crawled over her and rained down pleasure with an intoxicating mixture of coarse stubble and soft lips.
His cell phone trilled, the electronic square vibrating against her hip bone through the pocket of his jeans. He reached back and gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head in a way that would frizz her hair. Then his lips descended on hers again as he fiddled with the buttons on her shirt. One by one, they came undone, and as he dragged his mouth over the swell of her breasts, her nipples puckered in anticipation.
The phone rang again, and Brady sat up. Surely, he wasn’t going to answer a call in the middle of their heated make-out session.
Thankfully, he unbuttoned and unzipped his Wranglers and shucked them, phone and all, onto the floor. “Where was I?” Brady raked his gaze over her. “Right. Getting you naked and underneath me.” He undid her jeans and tugged them off her thighs. He paused to rid her of her boots, and then her pants joined his on the floor.
As he leaned over her, Tanya hooked her legs around his waist and secured him against her. The warmth of his skin seeped into her, and she rolled her hips, gasping as his erection knocked against her core.
A booming knock echoed through the room, and Brady and Tanya both froze, their eyes going wide.
“Knock, knock.” The door muffled the deep, rumbly voice but not enough to prevent her from recognizing it as Nash’s. “I called and called, but you must have your phone on silent. I’m gonna tell Ma on you.”
“Shit,” Tanya said at the same time as Brady did.
“Lucky for you, I was able to sweet-talk the desk clerk into giving out your room number. She said you’d just checked in, too.”
Brady leaped off the bed, extended a hand to Tanya, and hauled her to her feet. He scooped up their pile of clothes and shoved her jeans and shirt toward her. “Can you answer the door? My dick doesn’t currently fit in my pants.”
A giggle burst out, and Brady chuckled as well.
Nash knocked again. “Hello? Have you gone deaf?”
Tanya jerked on her clothes as fast as she could. Brady’s T-shirt was on, the button and zipper of his Wranglers undone, and she smacked his ass as she walked past. “Can’t wait till later, when we can finish what we started.”
“Not helping,” Brady muttered, ducking into the bathroom as Tanya went to answer the door.
As soon as she swung it open, Nash wrapped her in a bear hug. “Tanya! I haven’t seen you in forever. You look…” His eyebrows drew together. “Flushed.”
“Um, yeah, I was on the bed dozing off a bit, and…” She studied him right back, from the angles of his cheekbones to the strong jawline, dusted with blond whiskers. She tugged the ends of his hair, now long enough to brush his shoulders. “Dude. No barbers on the road?”
“Don’t act like you’re not affected by the sexiness,” Nash said, waggling his eyebrows, and she laughed. The guy had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, but there was a hint of sorrow in the depths that’d never gone away, as if he’d lived three lifetimes already. “Why do you think I haven’t been to Silver Springs in a while. Ma would chase after me with scissors, and I doubt telling her that I’m like that Samson dude who got strength from his hair would do any good.”
“It would not,” Tanya confidently proclaimed.
Brady stepped out of the bathroom, and she got out of the way as the two brothers strode toward each other. They crashed into a hug in the middle of the room, and Tanya found her throat unexpectedly tight. She wasn’t sure of all the reasons Nash stayed away, but she did know Brady missed him terribly.
They clapped each other on the back—presumably because slapping made hugs manlier—and then settled into the two chairs at the circular table in the corner of the room. Tanya sat on the foot of the bed, and they chatted about life and rodeos. Nash made a joke about how he’d won so many buckles and saddles that soon he’d be unable to carry all his prizes around.
“Humble as ever, I see,” Tanya teased.
“I’ll get right on that after I’m the number-one-ranked bull rider in the world.”
“So any day now.”
“Give or take.”
They all chuckled, and the strings in Tanya’s heart twanged. With Brady around, she didn’t lament the loss of the “good ol’ days” often, but now that the three of them were together again, she could hardly focus on anything else. She’d missed this, but seeing Nash somehow made her miss him even more. It’d be tempting to use this as an opportunity to persuade him to come home. All the Dawsons missed him fiercely. But she’d sometimes resented her lack of options, so she wasn’t going to pressure him to fit in whatever box he’d view as a cage.
“Anything else you two want to disclose while we’re catching up?” Nash asked, and Tanya and Brady shared a look. Did they fake ignorance? Did they tell? It wasn’t like he could just sense it.
Right?
“Yes, I am talking about you two. Tanya, your shirt is crooked, and Brady, the bottom of yours is sticking out your fly.”
“What?” Brady glanced down. “Bro, what have I said about staring at people’s crotches? It’s creepy.”
“Nice try, but your reverse psychology tricks don’t work on me now that I’m so mature and shit.” Nash crossed his arms on the tabletop and narrowed his eyes at them. “How long have you been sleeping together?”
* * *
If Brady were being honest, he’d wanted to shout the news from the rooftops for days. He glanced at Tanya again and, at her nod, came clean. “We took things to the next level a couple weeks ago, and we’ve been fitting in as much line-crossing as possible since, if you know what I mean.”
“Nice,” Nash said, and they high-fived.
“Um, hello?” Tanya said, waving her arms as if they’d forgotten about her.
“Sorry.” Nash scooted the roller chair to the foot of the bed and held up his palm. “High-five.” He added his stupidly charming grin, and Tanya smacked his hand.
“No one else knows, and like Brady said, it’s new.”
“Maybe to you two.” Nash snatched the bag of sunflower seeds they’d brought off the TV stand and helped himself. One cheek popped out as he poured the seeds into his mouth. “The rest of us have seen it since always.”
“See, this is why we’re not telling people,” Brady said, and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Tanya’s furrowed brow. “Isn’t it?”
“I…” She shrugged. “Something about complications and people in our business. Sounds like everyone’s been all up in it since always.”
“That’s why I got out of town. Silver Springs is a fuckin’ fishbowl sometimes and sadly short on things to do.”
“Just don’t ever say anything like that to Ma.”
“Who do you think I am? The same punk kid who first came to the ranch?” Nash cracked open sunflower seeds with his teeth. “One day, it’ll be a great place to settle down. But for me, that day is way, way, way down the road.”
Tanya tucked her legs underneath her. “Too busy bedding buckle bunnies?”
“Too busy in general. But shame on you, Tanya Clayton, for prying into my love life.” Nash placed a hand on his chest and added an overly dramatic gasp, and Tanya threw a pillow at his head.
Nash blocked it with his forearm. “Bro. Control your woman.”
With a shriek, Tanya launched herself at Nash, pillow in hand. She smacked him with one end, and they went back and forth, exchanging insults and pillow hits and laughing. Then Tanya moved to Brady’s side of the table and s
at on his lap, one arm draped over his shoulders.
He snaked an arm around her waist and leaned into the kiss she offered him. With her snuggled close and his brother here laughing and talking, the sense of fullness he’d been missing the past several months settled over him, and he wished he could hold on to it for longer.
“Sorry, lovebirds.” Nash stood and raked his hands through his hair. “But we’ve gotta get going. I’d like to grab lunch before we head to the fairgrounds, because we’ll probably have to eat dinner there. Then Destiny awaits.”
“Wow. Never thought I’d hear you spouting lines about destiny,” Brady said, getting to his feet as well but keeping his arm secured around Tanya’s waist.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t get all deep and reflective on the road.” Nash clapped him on the shoulder. “Destiny is the name of the enormous, grumpy-ass bull I drew.”
Chapter 20
As Brady sat in the grandstand, holding hands with Tanya, he was on cloud nine. It was fun watching the emotions flicker across his best friend’s face as she winced and cheered for the riders—and for the bulls—as they took their spin in the rodeo grounds.
“What?” she asked when she glanced at him, making him realize how intensely he’d been staring with a goofy grin on his face.
“I just… This is nice, being here with you like this.” He leaned in and kissed her pinkening cheek.
“You don’t miss the rush of the arena?”
“Here and there, sure. I think I tend to idealize the good old days and forget that competing also took a lot out of me. Honestly, I never expected to enjoy sitting in the stands so much, but I was watching you get all riled up, so pretty I can hardly believe you’re mine, and it’s a different kind of rush. One I could definitely get used to.”
At the moment, Brady could hardly remember what the anxious, restless sensation that’d plagued him for months even felt like.
But hearing “Nash Sutherland” across the speakers caused tension to creep along the line of his shoulders. He and Tanya stood, as did the rest of the crowd, because they were up to the heats with the cream of the crop, and every second mattered that much more.
Tanya tightened her grip on his hand to the point he might not have circulation in it for the rest of the day, but he held on to her right back. “He’s got this,” she said. “He does this all the time, and he’s a pro.”
“You convincing you or me?”
She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. “I’m not rightly sure. Eeep—”
The sound of the gate swallowed up the tail end of her nervous noise, and Brady’s heart beat double time. “The bull’s kicking and spinning great.”
“Nice height and rotation,” Tanya added. “So lots of points there.”
Brady winced as the bull cranked at an angle that threw most riders, and Nash’s head flung forward, his face missing the sharp end of one of the horns by mere centimeters. Brady’s breath whooshed out in relief as Nash corrected, riding parallel to the animal, the arm in the air never touching the bull.
“Six, seven…eight,” Tanya said, and the buzzer punctuated her countdown.
They screamed and cheered, as did everyone around them. Nash had built quite a name for himself. Ever the show-off, he out-clowned the clowns, shaking his ass at the bull. Then he sprinted over to the audience, tossed his hat into the stands, and threw up a fist.
The crowd roared, eating up the cockiness and blasé attitude.
Nash was well suited for this career and for the fame that came along. Adrenaline plus adoration without anyone scratching beyond the surface or digging too deep. Occasionally, Brady worried his brother hadn’t quite slayed all his demons, but if riding bulls kept them away, he wished Nash a lengthy and successful career. Now he just had to keep that from giving Ma a heart attack—which was why he kept his concerns to himself.
Ma had a saying about the teens who only became angrier if you showed them any kind of praise or affection. “Some people need more love to fill their well, but unfortunately, those who were supposed to keep it primed and full never added anything, so they sealed it and gave up. What we’ve gotta do is keep on pouring, even if only a couple of drops get through that lid at a time.” She’d also added that water was one of the most powerful forces on earth—second to love, of course.
As the announcer leaned toward the microphone to read off Nash’s scores, the crowd collectively held their breath.
“Eighty-seven point nine.”
The crowd went wild once again, celebrating the fact that Nash had just taken the lead by a point and a half, with only one more rider to go. Eight seconds could feel like a freaking eternity in so many ways. In the arena. Biding your turn to go. Watching a loved one. Waiting to see if someone else would beat the top score.
The next rider stayed on for eight seconds, but the bull wasn’t as tough to manage, and the rider didn’t look to be as in control as Nash had been. Sure enough, a moment later, Nash sealed the win.
“We should go find him before this place gets crazy,” Brady shouted at Tanya over the racket, and she took his hand. They made their way down the grandstand bleachers and headed around back to wait for Nash by his parked truck.
But then Tanya gasped, and a horse let out an awful noise full of pain, and Brady whirled to find the source. His brain caught up to his eyes a couple of seconds later as he watched a man flog a gray-speckled horse.
Tanya’s hand slid from his before he realized what she was doing. She sprinted over and inserted herself between the hysterical horse and the man with the whip, and his heart lurched in his chest, so much panic flooding his body he feared he might drown in it.
* * *
“Stop,” Tanya pleaded. “He’s hurt and exhausted—”
“Mind your own business, bitch. He’s my horse, and I can do what I please. Now move, or you’ll get the whip, too.” He cocked his arm, and Tanya lifted her shoulder and ducked her head, bracing for impact.
The man flung his arm forward, but Brady caught the guy’s wrist, spun him around, and clocked him in the nose. He fell to the ground, swearing and screaming as blood gushed from his nose.
“Stay down,” Brady said in the firmest, scariest voice she’d ever heard him use.
One of the guy’s stout cohorts rushed Brady from behind, but then Nash was there blocking and shoving him away. “You’re gonna stay back. I just rode an eighteen-hundred-pound bull, so I’m fairly certain I could handle you.”
The guy held up his hands and slowly backpedaled.
“Smart move,” Nash said.
Tanya’s rapid pulse throbbed, everywhere screaming at once—from the confrontation and thinking she was about to feel leather slice her skin and Brady and Nash and the horse. Passing out wouldn’t do anyone any good, so she sucked in a deep breath and cooed at the horse as she ran a gentle hand over it, avoiding the lacerations, some old, some fresh with dark-red blood.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the abusive owner, lunging for Brady’s legs. Tanya opened her mouth to call out to him, but her cowboy was already anticipating the move. With the heel of his boot, Brady kicked the guy flat on his back. He dove on top of him, one hand fisted in his shirt, the other clenched and ready to strike.
Nash grabbed Brady by the arm. “Remember what Ma always says. Doesn’t matter if someone else loses their temper, we keep our heads. We have to be better.”
“Tell that to his horse. To Tanya—he nearly whipped her.”
Other cowboys had obviously seen the altercation and were rushing over, and a police officer was also headed their way, coming from the grandstand area. Seconds before everyone else arrived, Brady straightened.
As various voices shouted and explanations began, Tanya returned her attention to the horse. “You okay, big guy?”
She frowned at the raw skin behind the bronco’s front legs�
��most likely a product of fastening the cinch too tight, and not just today, either. Another mark left her suspecting the guy also used a wire tie-down, which kept a horse’s head from lifting too high. An ache burrowed itself deep in her heart and radiated sorrow and indignation through every inch of her body.
Her throat constricted to the point she wasn’t sure she could successfully get out any words, and thanks to the ruckus of several baritone voices speaking at once, she had to force her voice louder. “We need a vet, ASAP.”
The officer glanced in her direction. “Already on her way. She’ll be here any minute.”
Tanya nodded, and the abusive owner yelled he’d sue them all and that he was going to press charges and she’d better get away from his horse or he’d have her arrested.
“You’re the one going down to the station,” the officer said as he bent and cuffed the man’s wrists. “Afraid I didn’t get the name of the guy who hit you.” The officer tilted his head at Brady, hinting for him to get lost.
“Not without her,” Brady said, jerking his chin her way.
Tanya cleared her throat so her words would come out as firm as her decision. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine. You and Nash do a lap or whatever while I wait for the vet.”
“I’m here,” a female voice said, sticking an arm in the air and waving it around, and the men parted to make way for a dark-haired woman who was maybe five foot. She had big, brown eyes and hoop earrings and was unquestionably the youngest, prettiest veterinarian Tanya had ever seen. Judging from the dropped jaws of the cowboys—save Brady, who was still looking at her, and was that hurt in his eyes? “I’m Doctor Camila Rojas.”
“Tanya Clayton. I don’t own the horse. I just stepped in when I saw the guy whipping him while he was tied to a post.” She updated the doctor on what she’d witnessed and the wounds she’d spotted behind the front legs.
Dr. Rojas didn’t have to lean down nearly as far as Tanya did to examine the underside of the gelding. She unzipped her medical bag and dug through her supplies. “If everyone will give me some space,” she said, and Tanya hesitantly turned to go. It’d be torture not to know if the horse was going to be okay or what was going to happen to him, and this was why she needed to open her rescue ranch. There were too many cases like this, and some of the abused horses didn’t have time on their side, which meant neither did she.