by Jane Jamison
“Why don’t you decide for yourself?”
“What are you talking about?”
Micah couldn’t suppress the joy he felt when he thought about seeing her the next day. “She’s coming out to the ranch tomorrow.”
Was it jealousy or irritation flickering across Ryan’s face? Maybe a little of both.
“You guys work fast,” muttered Ryan. “Why’s she coming here? Nah, never mind. Doesn’t matter. Once I get a look at her, I’ll tell you for sure that Julie’s a hell of a lot sexier.”
Micah sputtered his drink. “Julie?”
“Yeah. Julie Brooks.”
Micah glanced at Dane. Dane leaned so far forward that he almost slipped off the chair.
“Are you talking about the artist, Julie Brooks?” asked Dane.
“I’m talking about the volunteer at the women’s shelter named Julie Brooks.” Ryan leaned forward, too. “Chestnut-colored hair, blue eyes, good rack? About five-feet-six?”
“With a scar that runs from her left elbow to her wrist?” asked Ryan. “Not that it detracts from how hot she is.”
Micah had noticed the scar, but hadn’t asked about it. He would later, once they got to know her better.
“I think we’re talking about the same girl.” Micah put his empty bottle down. “This is great. Pretty weird that we met her in the same day, but, hell, I don’t care about how it happened or when. If we three picked out the same girl—”
“Woman,” interjected Ryan.
Ryan’s attention to details was downright irritating at times. “If we picked out the same woman, then that’s got to mean something.”
“It means she’s the one for us.” Dane finally slipped off the end of the chair, going to his feet. “We found her, boys. We found the one in a million we’ve been waiting for.”
* * * *
After meeting Dane and Micah last night, Julie had been eager to share her news with Brenna. Molly was already fast asleep by the time Julie had made it home from the gallery, so the opportunity to tell her new friend about the success of the show and, even better, meeting the men was perfect. They’d shared a glass of wine, with Julie doing most of the talking, until Brenna had started yawning. Saying goodnight, Julie had changed into a modest nightgown in case Molly wanted a drink of water during the night. She’d slipped into bed and pulled the covers over her head then fallen asleep with a smile.
Which made the nightmare even more horrible than ever.
She’d awakened early in the morning, gripping the comforter. But at least she hadn’t cried out and disturbed Brenna or Molly. She was dressed and ready to meet Dane and Micah long before her guests had gotten up. If she’d known she was going to get up so early, she would’ve made their date for the morning hours just as the sun was rising.
Although she tried to stay busy, thinking of exactly how she wanted to paint Dane and Micah, the day dragged on. Keeping indoors in case Randall was searching for Brenna and Molly, they watched movie after movie until Julie was about to go out of her mind.
At last, the time had come for her to load up her camera and paints. She hurried, eager to see the men again. As anxious as she was, she’d be lucky not to get a speeding ticket on her way out to the ranch.
The idea of meeting two men in the middle of nowhere should’ve frightened her. And yet, instead of being nervous, she was excited and eager to get to know them better. Any other men wouldn’t have made her feel so safe and yet Dane and Micah exuded a trust she could believe.
She gripped the steering wheel and checked the sky. Only a few dark clouds scattered across the horizon, yet suddenly, one reminded her of the dark silhouette plaguing her nights.
The Silhouette Man.
Hank.
Would he get out on parole?
The smile she’d worn most of the day died. She knew she should go to the parole hearing, but she couldn’t find the courage. Besides, she had faith the board would turn him down. How could they let a dangerous man like him go free? Surely they’d see past his “model prisoner” persona. The men and women on the parole board were smarter than to fall for his tricks.
At least she hoped so.
Forget about Hank and the parole hearing. Don’t let anything ruin your day.
Using her phone’s GPS, Julie took the next left turn. Once she’d exited off the highway leading out of San Antonio, she’d ended up on a series of small, two-lane roads. The Flying D Ranch was a fair-sized spread about twenty miles outside of town. Although she knew next to nothing about cattle or ranching, the beauty of the land struck her. She’d never given much thought to living in the country, but she could see the appeal of it.
Long stretches of green land were interspersed with herds of cattle and horses. The wind blew through the open window of her car, giving her a feeling of freedom she hadn’t experienced in a long while. By the time she’d made the last turn that would take her straight to the ranch, she was humming along with a country tune on the radio.
Would she think they were as handsome today as she’d thought they were last night? But finding them handsome wasn’t the half of it. They’d intrigued her with their charm and their obvious intelligence. God knew they were sexy as hell, and the fact that they’d sparked life into her was thrilling.
But what was she going to do about it? Anything? Everything?
She didn’t have long to consider a plan as she pulled up to the lovely two-story home with black shutters and a wraparound porch. Immediately, her attention was drawn to the men coming out of the small red barn in the pasture next to the house. They led two horses, one black and the other a bay.
Her breath caught in her throat. Like most women, she found men in uniforms strong and masculine, but she’d never considered how sexy a man in faded jeans and a denim shirt could look. They both wore cowboy hats pulled low, but when they saw her, they pushed them back and gave her wide grins.
She pulled the car to a stop, grabbed her camera, then opened the door and slid out. “Hi.”
“Hey, sweet thang.”
How many other girls had Micah called sweet thang? Green-eyed jealousy struck her. No matter how many women had heard the same nickname, even if it was only one, it was suddenly one too many.
When she saw their gazes go straight to her legs, she was thankful she’d chosen to wear shorts. Next to her large breasts, her legs were one of her best assets. She tugged her T-shirt lower, turning the girls out for the men’s enjoyment.
“Are you ready to be immortalized on canvas?” She cringed at the lame question but managed to plant on a big smile.
“Sure thing, sugar,” answered Dane.
“Then let’s get to it. Mount up, guys.” She had to keep it professional. Yet looking at their firm, round butts as they swung their legs over the saddle shoved all professional thoughts out of her head. They’d looked great while walking toward her, but now that they were on horseback, the air had thickened, making it harder to breathe.
How much hotter can they look? There was just something about a virile cowboy sitting on top of a huge animal that made her knees wobbly.
Keep it professional, damn it.
At least until the photos are taken. After that?
A tingle rushed over her skin, causing goosebumps. All kinds of things could happen “after.” What those things would include was up to her.
She couldn’t believe how amazing she felt. Although she’d had yet another nightmare last night, she couldn’t help but think she’d finally made progress in reclaiming her life.
Especially if that life included Micah and Dane.
“Julie? Are you ready?”
Micah’s question jarred her out of her lust-induced trance. “Oh. Sure.” Glancing around, she found the perfect spot for the photo. “Ride over to the oak tree then get your horses close together with about two feet in between them.”
She followed them over the short distance to the old tree, admiring how easily they managed their horses. The tree trunk was sev
eral feet wide while the many branches cast an umbrella-like cover over the men and their animals.
“Like this?” asked Dane.
She took a photo then checked the viewfinder to see how it looked. A quick adjustment in the white balance setting and she was ready to go. Another quick photo told her she had the right exposure.
“Micah, take off your hat.” He did, and she studied the scene again. “Dane, hold the saddle thingy with your wrists crossed over the top.”
“It’s called a saddle horn.” He leaned forward a bit, putting his wrists together as she’d directed. The position gave him a more casual, just-back-from-the-range demeanor. She took a few more photos, going as fast as she could to capture the shadows and hues. With dusk coming in fast and night following soon enough, she’d loose the right light.
“Are you ever going to start painting us?”
“Already tired of posing, Dane?”
“No way. Dane would pose for hours if he could get someone to watch him.”
“You’re full of shit, man.”
She snapped the final photo, one that would remind her of the colors and shadows the setting sun made. “Stay put while I set up my canvas. I won’t get much done, but I’ll at least get a rough sketch going.”
“Do you need help? An easel’s got to be heavy.”
“No, thanks. I want you and Dane to stay exactly where you are.” With the horses getting as antsy as the men, she didn’t want to have to reposition them again. Naturally, they’d never stay in the exact position as the photos, but it would be close enough. Closer still if they didn’t get off to help her.
They were clearly uneasy sitting by as she carried the heavy easel over and set up her canvas and paints. After offering to help a couple of times more, they finally settled in and waited for her.
With the canvas ready, she got to work.
Her mind centered on the sketch outline of her subjects. Although she concentrated on what she was doing, the underlying hum of attraction remained.
Once again, she pondered the question. Was she ready to try again? For sex? For companionship? Maybe even for love?
She looked at Micah and Dane, giving them a critical eye as she noted the tone and texture of their faces. She made a few more strokes on the canvas, the creative side of her doing the work while a different part of her went in the other direction.
Would they be agreeable to her dating both of them? To sharing her bed, either separately or together?
Could she trust them? Not only with her body, but with her heart? Did she trust herself? The answer, as it had so many times since meeting them, came back fast. She could. Having gone through so horrible experiences with Hank, she’d learned to rely on her instincts and her instincts were telling her that these were men she could trust with not only her body, but with her heart.
The initial sketch was finished quickly. She started painting, making quick strokes with her brush. If she could get the basics of the colors, then she could work on the painting later.
“Can you talk while you work?” asked Micah.
“Sure. What about?”
He shrugged. “Whatever. About your work, your life. Did you always want to be a painter?”
“Nope. I wanted to be the first woman on the moon.”
“Seriously?”
She gave Dane a questioning look. “Is it the going to the moon part that sounds strange? Or that I wanted to be the first woman going to the moon?”
“Hey, don’t go calling me a sexist. Most people dream of more down-to-earth things.”
“Not me. I like looking at the night sky and wondering what it would be like to fly above the earth.”
“You could’ve become a pilot. Trust me. Flying way up high above everything is amazing.”
“Do you fly, Dane?”
He averted his gaze as though he’d started a conversation he didn’t want to finish. “Sort of.”
Micah jumped in, saving Dane from talking any further. “So why didn’t you get your pilot’s license? Or join the Air Force?”
“I wish I could have.”
“What stopped you? Money?”
And there it was. The sticky question that always came to the surface sooner or later. In the past, she’d kept the information hidden as long as she could. She’d never liked how people, even her friends, changed once they found out. She’d kept it from Hank, too, but learned later that he’d known from the beginning. He had, in fact, planned their meeting because of what he’d found out about her family.
“Sorry, sweet thang. I didn’t mean to stick my nose in your business.”
She had to make the choice. Either she told them the truth or she used her usual lie. The lie was on the tip of her tongue when, all at once, she wanted them to know. She trusted them on a gut level. “No. I had the money.”
“Then why didn’t you go for it?” Micah’s gaze zeroed in on her. “Or did you fall in love with painting before you could take to the skies?”
“Kind of.” She cleared away the lump in her throat. “My parents and little brother were killed in a boating accident when I was seventeen. I guess I kind of lost it for a while.”
“Damn, Julie, I’m sorry.”
“What do you mean you kind of lost it?”
“Fuck, man, think before you blurt things out.” Micah’s glare died as he turned back to her. “Don’t pay him any attention. His momma dropped him on his head when he was only a hatching.”
She laughed, a rare thing when memories of her family were fresh. “A hatching?”
“Yeah. Like an ugly duck,” answered Micah. “I really am sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks. I don’t usually talk about it, but I was really lost myself after the accident. I couldn’t think beyond the day and found myself without any goals. Nothing seemed worth the effort of getting up in the morning.” She hesitated. She didn’t want their pity.
“I was supposed to go sailing with them, but I backed out to spend the day with my best friend. The police and my father’s attorney woke me up in the middle of the night and told me they were all gone.”
She looked up, needing to see their reaction to what she’d tell them next. “They told me my family was dead and that I had inherited not only my father’s millions but also my mother’s heritance she’d received from her parents.” So far they hadn’t even blinked. “One day I was a teenager enjoying a fun night with a friend. The next day, I was worth millions.”
Dane whistled low and long. “Damn. You’re fucking rich.”
Once again, Micah shot him a glare. “And you’re a fucking idiot.” He started to dismount then remembered he had to stay still.
“I’m sorry, Julie. Micah’s right. I’m a moron.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“But you pulled yourself together. I mean you’re a terrific painter.”
“Thanks, Micah. I love what I do.”
“So how’d you get yourself out of your funk?”
“I swear to God, Dane, if you don’t act like you have some sense in your head, I’m going to knock some into it.”
“Again, I’m sorry. I’m just curious, is all.”
“And again, it’s okay.” She studied the painting but wasn’t really seeing it. “I found art and fell in love with creating something out of nothing. If I hadn’t, I’m not sure where I’d be right now.”
“So it wasn’t a man that saved you?”
Micah groaned, apparently giving up on Dane.
“No, it wasn’t.” Not only was it difficult to tell anyone about being rich, she had the awful task of explaining about Hank. Did she have to tell them? And yet, again, she found herself wanting them to know. If she was going to trust them, they needed to know they could trust her. “I did, however, meet a man I thought I loved.”
Their reactions made her both sad and happy. At once, they looked crestfallen, as though she’d punched them in their stomachs. She didn’t want to hurt them, yet seeing how upset they were a
t the thought of her having someone in her life gave her a boost of confidence.
“You’re not married, are you?”
Another boost to her ego. “No. He is—was—my boyfriend, but we broke up. He’s not around any longer. In fact, he’s in prison.”
She’d given them another surprise.
“What’s he in for?” Never mind that Micah had criticized Dane for asking pointed questions.
When it had first happened, she’d often hung her head, sure she was as much to blame as Hank was. Now she knew better. Yet, telling her story was still hard. “He’s in for aggravated assault and domestic violence.”
“Shit.” Micah’s jaw dropped. “Are you saying he hurt you?”
“He did, but it’s in the past now.”
“How’d he hurt you, sugar?”
“The usual ways.” Making it sound less horrible than it was helped her talk about it. “He made me feel like I was nothing. He made me think that it was my fault whenever he flew into a rage.” She met their gazes head-on, straightening her back and defiantly thrusting out her chin. “And, yes, he beat me.”
“Is he still alive?” Micah’s tone had an awful edge to it.
“I don’t understand.” He’d gotten so angry, so fast. Did he have a temper?
“Because I’m going to kill him.”
She’d expected the usual outrage and platitudes people tended to say, but she hadn’t expected such strong anger coming from both Micah and Dane.
“I told you. He’s in prison. It’s over. I don’t see him or hear from any longer.”
“If he ever contacts you…”
Dane didn’t have to finish his sentence. She knew all too well that he had the same idea as Micah.
“Let’s change the subject, okay? I don’t like thinking about him, much less talking about him. Tell me about you guys.” She put on a smile she didn’t feel and began painting again.
“There’s not much to tell.”
She scoffed, determined not to let Dane get away with not answering. “Uh-huh. Well, then tell me what there is to tell. How did you meet?” She laughed. “It kind of sounds like you’re dating.”
“Oh, hell no. Even if I was gay, I’d never go for his scrawny ass.”