by Emery Rose
“Get the fuck out of here.”
“Hey Austin, whassup?”
That sounded like Ridge. I was still standing behind Brody’s back with his hand on my thigh.
“Hey man. How you been? Hear you and my nephew got lit the other night.”
Ridge laughed. “Yeah. It was pretty sick.”
“Have your fun now. When football practice starts, I’m gonna kick your asses into shape.”
“Will I have to call you Coach?”
“Damn straight. Second thought, Sir will do.”
Brody snort-laughed. “Whoever made you one of the coaches of a high school football team must be dumber than a box of rocks.”
“I’m still a high school football legend.”
“In your own mind.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to see who Brody was joking around with. I moved out from behind his protective stance and stood next to him. The guy standing in the stables was as big as Jude and built like a football player with dark brown hair cropped close to his head. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “Holy shit. You look a lot like that singer.” He clicked his fingers, trying to come up with the name.
“Yeah, I get that all the time.”
Brody’s lips quirked in amusement. He looped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to his side. Austin’s eyes widened. “Well, I’ll be damned. When did this happen?”
“No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, okay. Brody Commitment-Phobe McCallister. I’m Austin Armacost.” He extended his hand and I stepped forward to shake it.
“I’m ...” I looked over at Brody. He nodded, and I got the feeling he trusted this guy. “My name is Shiloh.”
He released my hand. “Damn. That’s it. Shiloh. It was on the tip of my tongue. Not sure what you see in this guy.” He puffed out his chest. “My ranch is bigger than his.”
“You inherited your ranch. Doesn’t count.”
“Still counts.”
I laughed.
“Is she the reason you needed my pickup?” he asked Brody.
Brody nodded.
“Glad to see it’s in good hands.”
“Thanks for lending it to me.”
“Owed Brody a favor. It’s no big deal. You gonna help me load these horses so you can get back to whatever the hell you were doing?”
“They’re over in the pasture behind the round pen. Bring the trailer over to the gate.”
Austin nodded and told me it was nice to meet me before he strode out of the barn. Ridge had disappeared a while ago, so it was just me and Brody now. “I’ve got a lot of people coming and going in my life.”
“I can see that. They seem like good people.”
“What I mean is that hanging out with me might mean a lot of people will find out who you are.”
“I know what you meant. But you trust them, right?”
“As much as I trust anyone.”
“That’s good enough for me. Well...” I backed away toward the door. “I’ll let you get to work. I have some calls I need to make.”
Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked out the back door of the barn. I was hoping he’d visit me later.
After I made my calls to my manager, Marcus, then my publicist, I made an omelet and microwave popcorn for dinner, and worked on my music.
When I checked the time, it was already ten thirty. Chances were I wouldn’t be seeing Brody again. I picked up my phone and debated whether to call him or not. Maybe he was in bed already.
I set my phone down on the coffee table and turned on the TV, surfing through the channels until I got to a music documentary about Janis Joplin and settled in to watch it. She was strumming her guitar and singing “Me and Bobby McGee” with Jerry Garcia accompanying her on the guitar. Janis was so fucking cool. Why did all the best musicians have such tragic lives cut short?
My phone buzzed on the coffee table and I smiled when I saw Brody’s name on the screen.
“You busy?”
“Just watching a music documentary. Wanna come over?”
“Can’t. Was wondering if you wanted to see a foal being born.”
I jumped off the sofa and stood up so quickly, I got a head rush. “I’ll be right over.”
Chapter Fourteen
Brody
“Add this to the list of things that make me cry.” She wiped the tears off her cheeks with the hem of one of my old flannels she’d found on a peg in the tack room. She was wearing it over a tank top, the sleeves rolled up, buttons undone, the hem longer than her cut-offs. “It’s so beautiful, you know?”
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into me. “I know.”
Shiloh hadn’t been the least bit squeamish when the foal was being born. She’d gotten right in the stall with me to help out in any way she could. Now the foal—a fine little filly that had come into the world an hour and a half ago—was on her feet and nursing while we stood a good distance away to observe so Cayenne and her newborn foal could do some bonding.
Exhausted from the birth, the filly lay down on the straw for a nap. Shiloh yawned again. I squeezed her shoulder. “Come on. I’ll walk you home so you can get some sleep.”
It was two in the morning and I’d only be getting a few hours’ sleep. That’s always how it went on foaling nights. With a final look at the mare and her foal, I grabbed a flashlight from the tack room and walked with Shiloh out of the barn and into the dark night with Buster close at my heels. She stumbled on the uneven ground and I caught her arm before she went down then clasped her hand in mine, training the flashlight ahead of us as we made our way in the dark. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d held someone’s hand. Had I ever? You would think at my age there wouldn’t be any more firsts left to experience but being with Shiloh made everything feel new and different.
The joy and wonder on her face when that foal had come into the world. Her tears when she told me how beautiful it was, as if she’d never seen anything so wonderful before. Tonight, she’d told me about all the places she’d traveled and the sights she’d seen when she was touring. At twenty-five, she had seen the world, had frequented the hottest clubs and had dined in some of the finest restaurants. Yet to me she still seemed so genuine, casually shrugging off her fame and fortune as if it didn’t impress her much.
She yawned again. “I might actually get some sleep tonight.”
“You’re not sleeping?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I have insomnia. It’s been this way for years. Late at night my thoughts are always racing.”
I was the opposite. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out for the count. “That’s not good.”
“It’s just the way it is. Are you a good sleeper?”
“Like a fucking baby.”
“I’m kind of jealous. How do you do it?”
“I kick all my problems out the bedroom door and slam it shut. Rest assured, they’re always waiting for me the next morning.”
She laughed. “Maybe I should try that.”
“Dwelling on all the shit in your life has never solved a single problem. All you do is end up losing sleep and making your problems seem bigger than they really are.”
“You’re really smart.”
“Never been accused of that before.”
“Is it okay with you if I visit the foal tomorrow morning? Just to check and see how she’s doing.”
I glanced at her. “Fine by me. But just so you know, the vet will be coming by first thing in the morning. Glenn, one of the guys who works for me will be around and so will Chris.”
“And what about you? Will you be around?”
“I’m leaving in the morning.”
“You’re going away?”
“Just for a few days. I’m doing a training clinic just outside of Abilene.”
“You take your skills on the road?”
“When the money’s right. I have a few training clinics lined up for the summer. Some are here.
Some at other ranches.”
“It’s all about the hustle.”
“Guess you’d know something about that.”
“Yeah, I do.” We stopped outside her door. “You were pretty impressive tonight, you know that?”
“Didn’t do much of anything. The mare did all the work.”
She placed her hand over my heart. “You got the filly breathing.”
“You weren’t too happy with my methods.”
“I didn’t know you were supposed to drop a baby on its head.”
I laughed. “Not such a good idea for human babies but animals are different.”
She smiled. “Well, good luck. Guess I’ll see you in a few days.” She put her hands on my shoulders and stood on her tiptoes to kiss me goodnight. It was just a sweet little kiss and ended all too quickly. Seconds later, she was inside, the door closed behind her. I headed back to the barn to check on Cayenne and her foal before I fell into bed, my alarm set to go off in four hours’ time.
“I still don’t get why you won’t let me stay home,” Ridge muttered on the way to school the next morning.
“I want my house to still be standing when I get back, that’s why.”
“This blows. Walker said I could’ve stayed with him.”
Walker was Austin’s nephew, Ridge’s partner in crime. Austin’s sister was currently going through a nasty divorce so the last thing she needed was to look after Ridge. As it was, Austin was always having to step in to help out with Walker. “Patrick and Kate want to spend time with you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Patrick just wants to lecture me. I won’t hear the fucking end of it.”
“I survived. You will too.” He stared out the windshield the rest of the way to school and didn’t say another word. When I pulled up outside the front doors, I reminded him that Kate would be picking him up from school.
“Whatever.” He grabbed his bag and slammed the door of the truck then stalked away. I waited to make sure he actually walked through the front doors of the school. With Ridge, you could never be too sure. On top of his shitty grades, he’d been known to cut school and show up late for classes.
After I dropped Ridge off, I hit the road. I was supposed to meet with the ranch manager and the owner at noon and it was already twenty past eight. I couldn’t afford to be late. Not when I was being paid ten grand. I needed the money for a new roof and Noah’s summer camp.
Fueled by coffee, I cranked up the volume on my music and listened to Shiloh Leroux all the way from Cypress Springs to Abilene. I’d never been one to get starstruck. I knew celebrities were just people, no better or worse than the rest of us. But I’m not gonna lie. It blew my mind that the bluesy rock voice blasting from my speakers came from the same girl who had helped me birth a foal last night. The same girl who I’d skinny dipped with in the lake. And ate lunch with on the tailgate so she could see my wild horses in action.
I listened to Acadian Storm’s music too. Whenever Dean the douche Bouchon was the lead singer on a track, it pissed me off. But I listened anyway. Even when Shiloh was singing the backing vocals, I could still hear her voice loud and clear. By the time I got to Abilene, I felt like I knew Shiloh on a more intimate level than I had before.
If her lyrics were a reflection of what she wanted and needed in her life, one thing was blindingly clear. Shiloh was looking for someone to love her.
Chapter Fifteen
Shiloh
It was eleven o’clock on Saturday night and I’d just gotten out of the shower when Brody called me. I answered the phone with a stupid smile on my face. He’d only been gone for a few days, so I shouldn’t have missed him, but I had. It was weird that in such a short time I’d gotten used to having him around and when he wasn’t here, this place felt emptier. “Hey Cowboy. How was Abilene?”
“It was all good. You still awake?”
“Well, if I wasn’t before, I am now.” Phone to my ear, I walked downstairs, liquid silk brushing my thighs, a warm breeze floating through the back screen door.
“What have you been up to?”
“Not much. Your cousin Jude stopped by yesterday.”
“What did he want?” he asked gruffly. “More handouts?”
“No. He brought me his world-famous chili and some jalapeno cornbread.”
Brody snorted with disgust. “My chili is better.”
I stifled my laughter and plopped down on the sofa, my face tipped up to the cool breeze from the ceiling fan, my bare feet propped against the side of the coffee table. “Well, I don’t know... his is awfully good. I’d say it’s right up there with the best chili I’ve ever eaten.”
“That’s only because you haven’t tried mine yet.”
“There’s a lot of things of yours I haven’t tried.” I rolled my eyes at myself. Could I be any more obvious? Might as well ask him to come over and fuck me while I was at it. Lana Del Rey was singing about drinking all day and talking all night, pleading with her lover not to leave, not to say goodbye.
“As luck would have it, I’m only two minutes away.”
“If you’re looking to have a chili cook-off, I’ve had my fill.”
“I’m sure I can come up with something better than that.”
“Ooh, I don’t know. Competition is stiff. Austin gave me a truck. Jude gave me a week’s worth of his prize-winning—”
“Answer the door.” He cut the call and I started laughing.
When I opened the door, the laughter died on my lips. It had only been a few days since I’d last seen him, but it was almost like I’d forgotten what he looked like. I took a moment to drink him in, to appreciate the sight of Brody in a plain white tee and faded denim. His tall frame filled the doorway, longish dirty-blond hair disheveled like he’d been running his hands through it. He brought with him the familiar scent of leather and cedar and I inhaled, filling my lungs with it.
He graced me with one of his slow, lazy grins, his teeth so white against his tanned skin, and those little lines around his eyes crinkling. My stomach fluttered with anticipation, my nipples getting hard even though he hadn’t made a move to touch me yet. This yearning. This longing to be touched. It was the best kind of foreplay.
“Is this what you wear to sit around the house on a Saturday night?” He looped his finger in the thin strap of my silky camisole and slid it up and down, sending delicious shivers up and down my spine as I stood in the open doorway, barely breathing.
“I was preparing to spend some quality time with my big boy. I wasn’t expecting a booty call.”
He put his hands on my hips and walked me backward, kicking the door shut behind him. “Good thing you’re dressed for the occasion.”
“Good thing.”
My back hit the wall and he took my hands in his and raised them above my head, pinning them to the wall. Then he dipped his head and kissed the sensitive spot just below my ear. “Why’s your hair wet?”
“Went for a swim in the lake and then I took a nice, long steamy shower.” His lips coasted down my neck, brushing not kissing, as if he was breathing me in. He brushed his lips over my shoulder then my jawline and kissed the corner of my mouth. My heart raced and my breathing was shallow, almost scared that he was able to churn up so many emotions inside me with just a simple touch of his lips or his hands.
“Steamy, huh?” In the next beat, he said, “You went swimming without me?”
“Mmhmm. I floated on my back and sang to the moon.” Jeff Buckley’s version of “Hallelujah.” Whenever I heard that song, I pictured him floating in the Mississippi River, fully dressed with his boots on, singing. I didn’t think his death was an accident either.
“Lucky moon.” Finally, Brody kissed my mouth. My eyes closed, and my lips parted, my nipples straining against the thin silk of my camisole. His tongue slipped into my mouth and his rough, calloused hands slid down my raised arms and down my sides before flattening his palms on either side of me. “Did you think about me when you were taking that steamy shower
?”
“I was thinking about how I wanted to finish what we started.” My hands were free to explore now so they found their way to the hem of his T-shirt and under it. I splayed my palms on his lower back and inched upwards over his hard muscles and warm, golden skin.
“Funny.” He tugged my bottom lip between his teeth and sucked on it before releasing it. “I spent the whole drive home wondering what that sweet pussy of yours tastes like.”
“You have a dirty mouth, Cowboy.” I yanked his T-shirt up, wanting it off.
He acquiesced, reaching behind his neck to pull the T-shirt over his head then tossed it on the floor. “You love my dirty mouth.”
Brody lowered his dirty mouth to my breasts and cupped the right one in his hand, teasing my nipple with his teeth. Biting it through the fabric. My chest heaved, and I held the back of his head to keep it there. “I love your dirty kisses.”
“Then you’re going to love the other things I can do with this dirty mouth.”
“What are you waiting for?”
He lifted me up off the ground and my legs cinched around his waist, ankles locked as he carried me up the stairs. I held his face in my hands and kissed him hard as he blindly steered us to my bedroom, guided by the moonlight bathing the room in blue. Downstairs Lana Del Rey was singing “Born to Die”, her falsetto voice effortlessly hitting the bright notes and dragging the listener to the depths of the dark ones. “Don’t you just love Lana’s sultry voice?”
“I love yours more.”
“You’re biased.”
“I loved your voice before I ever met you.”
I kissed him softly to thank him.
He tossed me on the bed and my back bounced off the mattress and then his arms were braced on either side of me. I lifted my hands to touch his face and brushed my thumb over his lips.
“Tell me what you want, Shiloh.”
I traced his jawline and his nose and the shape of his mouth with my fingertips, trying to commit them to memory. “I want you to ride me hard like I’m one of your bucking broncs.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Shit. How’d I get so lucky?”