by Vi Summers
“I heard a yell?” he panted, looking between me and Wyatt.
“He just scared the shit out of me.” I hoped Brandon wouldn’t spot the coffee soaking into his carpet.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned, like he was feeling a little worse for wear. Lingering wafts of alcohol rose off him, and despite it making my stomach turn, the sight of him wearing only dark blue boxer briefs had my eyes drinking him in as if he were my morning pick-me-up.
Lean but muscular, his entire body was varying shades of tanned. My perusal stopped at his bare feet, where I marveled at how the pale color contrasted with his tanned hands. On my way back up his body, I couldn’t help but bite my lip a little as I passed his crotch, remembering what the press of his erection felt like through his jeans. Skipping over his stomach and chest, a bolt of embarrassment hit my cheeks when my eyes locked with his. I’d been blatantly checking him out and lusting after him—while he watched.
I released my lip from between my teeth as Brandon’s hazel eyes blazed. All weariness in his stance was gone, replaced with desire that made my lower belly heat. God, how I’d like to jump on that rodeo and take it for a ride.
“I need a cloth,” I whispered.
Brandon’s brow pulled low. “Eh?”
“Oh.” Shaking clarity back into my head, I gestured at the carpet. “I accidentally spilled some coffee.”
“My fault, apparently,” Wyatt mumbled from under his arm, still slung across his eyes.
I thanked my lucky stars he hadn’t witnessed me brazenly eye-fucking his best friend.
Brandon, clearing his throat, spurred me into action. I hurried to the kitchen, as if running away from him would alleviate the tightness in my chest. The relief lasted all of ten seconds before Brandon arrived beside me and started pouring himself a coffee.
“If I can’t beat ’em, may as well join ‘em. Do you need another?” he murmured and held up the pot.
“I’m good, I think.”
I rushed to spot-clean the carpet, then padded from the living room to the sounds of Wyatt’s gentle snores.
“He fell asleep fast,” I whispered while my eyes traveled up and down Brandon’s bare back.
He sniggered and turned without warning, catching me yet again, satisfying my dirty little fantasies of what it would be like to see that body rhythmically rolling on top of me while…
I gulped when his eyebrows rose, and he angled back to the counter while drawling, “It makes it less weird if I can’t see you checkin’ me out, Louisiana,” he drawled in a wry tone.
“You need to put some more clothes on,” I snapped and threw the cloth into the kitchen sink.
“You’re right. Now that I’m up, it’s a little chilly.”
I couldn’t help myself; my gaze darted to his hardened nipples, then lower.
Dayum.
I retreated to the door, hoping to escape, when Brandon softly called my name. The gentle implore to his voice hit the sweet spot inside of me that only one other filled.
Holding my breath, I turned expectantly, and my heart bottomed out when Brandon took two soundless steps closer.
“You can go back to bed if you’d like?” he murmured.
I shrugged and tried not to let my disappointment show. “I’m up now, so...”
“Louisiana,” Brandon whispered again. “Can you please take this for me? I’ll be right back after I chuck some clothes on.”
Smiling and accepting his coffee mug, I tried to ignore his light footsteps jogging up the stairs. After settling into the armchair and lifting Tom the cat onto my lap, I chastised myself for the growing feelings beginning to overshadow the sadness in my heart. It wasn’t like me to get giddy over a guy. Sure, I had loved my ex way back when, but never had I been heady and breathless over him.
Brandon re-appeared at super speed and immediately went over to Wyatt and shook him awake.
“Now what?” Wyatt mumbled.
“Dude, go sleep in my bed. Louisiana and I are going to hang out down here.”
Without a word and hardly opening one eye, Wyatt rolled off the couch with the covers still wrapped around him and shuffled toward the stairs.
The moment he was out of sight, the tension in the room hit a fever pitch. As if sensing the change, Brandon rolled his shoulders, then settled onto the couch Wyatt just vacated.
We sipped in silence until a blur of white sped into the room.
“Christ, Chevy! Would it hurt you to slow down a mile or two?” Brandon exclaimed at his hellion cat while Tom happily purred on my lap.
I laughed. “He always seems to be running.”
Brandon crooked a smile. “Has done since I got them. Those two are polar opposites. You wouldn’t think they were from the same litter.”
When our hushed laughter fell away, the strain in the air resumed.
“Louisiana,” Brandon started, then frowned. “Darlin’, I’m gonna have to shorten your name; five syllables are too much at the best of times.”
The arch of the coffee mug paused an inch from my parted mouth, and I scoffed. “There’s nothing wrong with my name, Brandon.”
“I ain’t saying that it’s not pretty. What I’m saying is that it’s too long to pronounce when hungover.”
I sniggered at his expense, then took a long sip to hide how his drawled words made my pulse skip. I focused on stroking Tom’s head while the hammering inside my ribcage refused to subside.
“Call me Lou,” I eventually murmured.
Despite the contract we’d both signed, and the rules blatantly stated in black ink, I was letting Brandon into my heart one more little blurred line at a time.
“Lou,” he repeated with a lazy tilt of his lips.
He looked too good, all sleep-mussed and relaxed against the couch cushions, knees wide apart and the mug resting on his thigh.
Between my legs began to ache, and I became all too aware of my nipples tingling beneath the over-sized hoodie. All I could think about was climbing onto him and riding him until I’d satisfied the heavy need pulsing in my core. Slide up and down his thick shaft while his hands gripped my ass, spurring me faster and harder.
Brandon ran a hand over his jean-clad thigh and coughed, breaking me from the trance that nearly had me panting.
“So, still want to go to the dance next weekend?”
“Ah…” I dipped my flaming face and focused on petting Tom. “Sure. If you haven’t changed your mind about going?”
When I looked up from under my lashes, Brandon’s eyes locked with mine. “Nope. Besides, I want to take you along. I think you’ll have fun.” Again, with the lazy tip of one corner of his mouth.
I tore my attention away and grimaced, mentally calculating how much money I could spare from my bank account.
“What’s the dress code?”
Brandon’s low chuckle rolled my way and had an instant calming effect. He took a mouthful of coffee, then shook his head.
“Pretty dress is fine, darlin’.”
“Only one problem with that.”
“I’ll ask Rory to take you into town this week. Shops are closed on Sundays out here.”
I balked. “What?”
“Welcome to the boondocks, Lou,” he drawled.
I snorted into my mug. “So, what’s the plan for today, then? Sleeping off your hangover?”
It was Brandon’s turn to scoff. “Nothing cures a hangover like riding in the fresh air. Besides, I need to ride up and check the calving herd this morning. You up for a leisurely ride?”
“Like, together? On one horse again?” My pulse jumped.
“Yeah.” He laughed quietly. “I’ll give Red’s back a break today; you can ride Dottie.”
Fear must have shown on my face because he quickly added, “We’ll take it nice’n slow. Enjoy it.”
I almost, almost, had to fan my face. As unintentional as it was, the way he said nice’n slow was way too sensual for me to deal with.
“If you promise not to gallop off and make
me follow.”
Brandon surprised me by looking offended. “Why do you think I’d do that?”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I don’t trust easily.”
The silence drew out as I looked everywhere but him. When I finally chanced a glance his way, he was running his hand through his hair like he had something else to say. His eyes then locked with mine.
“It’s okay. I get that you’re missing him.”
It wasn’t a question, nor was it an accusation. It was the cold, hard truth.
I swallowed thickly, fighting back instantaneous, crippling emotion. This subject had been poorly disguised in the background until now.
Tears welled in my eyes despite my best efforts to not let his statement affect me.
“Every second of every damn day and night,” I whispered, while my heart crushed in on itself.
“Aw hell, darlin’. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
Brandon shifted and crouched in front of me. As his hand extended, he diverted his reach at the last second to pet Tom’s head.
“It’s okay. I want to talk about him…” I trailed off and held my breath to stop a sob from forming. “It’s just hard.”
“How long’s it been since you last saw him?”
I sniffed. “Almost ten months.”
He hissed a curse under his breath, then looked at me with raw pain radiating throughout his hazel eyes. It was incomparable to the agony and longing in my soul, yet seeing Brandon’s mutual sadness was comforting.
I ducked my head when a tear fell, then dried the rest of them on the sleeve of my hoody. My hand trembled in response to the emotions weighing me down inside. When I ran my fingers through Tom’s soft fur again, Brandon snagged my hand and rhythmically ran his thumb over my knuckles.
“What’s his name, sweetheart?”
Warmth blossomed in my chest at the thought of Brandon wanting to know about the love of my life; my son.
“Ollie. He recently turned five.” Tears began to gather. I had missed his kindergarten graduation and his first day of school. I’d missed out on almost an entire year of his cuddles and laughter. I’d missed out on seeing him grow out of another set of clothes, and maybe even losing his first tooth.
Brandon nodded as tenderness settled over his expression. “What’s he like, Lou?”
I snorted a rather horrendous laugh as I allowed the memories to surface after trying to repress them for so long—it was less painful that way.
“He’s blond, like his mama, and blue eyes to boot. He’s got this beautiful grin that I fall in love with every time I see it, and a laugh that always makes my heart swell…”
Despair overtook the fleeting happiness. I’d give anything to hold my son in my arms again, and that was why I couldn’t take this program for granted; if I was on good behavior for the first month, I’d be granted visitation rights.
“Who’s caring for your boy at the moment?” Brandon murmured softly.
Guilt crushed me. “The State.”
I saw his thoughts running a mile a minute. A crinkle appeared between his eyebrows and his eyes searched the carpet, as if they held the holy grail of answers.
“I’m gonna ring the sheriff and see if he can get visitation fast-tracked. A boy needs his mama.”
A fracture ran through my heart. Finally, someone was fighting for me instead of pushing me into the firing line.
When Brandon got to his feet, I dipped my head against a fresh wave of tears. He tenderly cupped a hand under my ear and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. Without a word, he left, then returned with a box of tissues. He silently placed them on the arm of the chair.
As if knowing I needed some time, he wordlessly padded into the kitchen and left me to weep away my sorrows. It was exactly what I needed, and by the time I pulled myself together, homely breakfast smells were wafting from the kitchen.
Chapter 16
Brandon
The morning horse ride went excellent in terms of Louisiana keeping her ass in the saddle, as well as finding no calving problems. It didn’t, however, go so great in terms of removing Louisiana from my thoughts and desires.
My heartache was real when she talked about her son. All I wanted to do was gather her into my arms and hold her. Comfort her. Instead, I let her be until she was ready for company. She didn’t need an audience while she fell apart, and her muffled sobs did a damn fine job of tugging on my empathetic heart.
I planned to pull some strings with the sheriff, based purely on the good-faith between us. Up until now, I hadn’t asked for special favors for any of the program participants, but I was willing to break that clean slate for Louisiana.
As much as I tried to deny it, she meant something to me, and that something grew a little stronger with each passing day. Sure, her relationship history was messy, and she had a child, and then of course there was the jail time, but I stood by my morals and to hell with anyone who said she didn’t deserve a second chance at it all.
Looking over at her silently riding alongside me, I couldn’t help but smile. She had grown so much as a person within the last fortnight, and the sharp edges of her personality were smoothing away to reveal a caring, passionate, beautiful woman. The fleeting snippets of her unguarded self were truly breathtaking.
Louisiana caught me staring and narrowed her eyes. “What?”
“Nothing, darlin’.”
“No say, because you’ve made me self-conscious now.”
Smirking, I guided Red a little closer to Dottie, which gave our conversation an intimate feel.
“If you must know, I was thinkin’ that you look happy.” It was the truth—more or less.
A shy smile played out across her face, as if she was embarrassed by allowing herself a moment of contentment.
“It’s hard not to feel at peace in a place like this.”
Her expression turned wistful as she looked out over my ranch. We’d just come over the brow of a small rise and the elevation gave way to beautiful views across our part of the county, but something else stole and held my focus.
“It’s somethin’ else, that’s for sure,” I murmured without taking my gaze off her.
“It really is.”
Louisiana looked my way, and her dreamy smile slid away. She rubbed her lips together while thoughts played out through her features. A question was coming. I could see it.
“Why don’t you have a wife and kids already?”
Adjusting my hat, I laughed nervously. “Uh, well, I don’t really know how to answer that, darlin’.”
Lou turned her attention back to the trail in front of us. “I thought you’d at least have a girlfriend.” She winced as if the words left a mucky taste in her mouth.
“I’ve dated in the past. But to be honest, running this place takes up the majority of my time, and well, the city girls like coming out here for the first few times, then I guess the novelty wears off.” I shrugged. It was what it was.
Despite a family of my own becoming increasingly important to me, there simply wasn’t anyone to hold my attention long enough to make me want to put in a decent effort. Until now. Louisiana arriving at my property had somehow changed that.
“You’d make a great husband and daddy,” she murmured, as if accidentally speaking out loud.
Grinning and reaching over to playfully squeeze her knee, my fingers lingered longer than necessary. “I would, wouldn’t I?”
Louisiana scoffed and batted my hand away. “What about the local girls?”
Suspicion narrowed my eyes. “Why are you so hell-bent on playing matchmaker?”
Her mouth fell open. “I- I-”
We were still in the stage of figuring each other out, and she hadn’t yet worked out the subtle difference between my teasing and serious tones.
“Relax, Lou, I’m messing with ya. And you’ll find out the answer for yourself at the dance.”
There was no need to add that the local girls
fell into one or more of three categories: Taken. Friend-zoned. Or had their sights set on being a kept, wealthy ranch wife.
“Are you sure you want to take me, Brandon? I’m not exactly going to fit in with…” She waved her hand around. “…Everything.”
“Why fit in when you can be the difference everyone else is scared to be?”
She turned her sad eyes on me. “Not many people want to be a convicted felon, Brandon. I bet the entire countryside knows all about me and has already judged me based on the rumors.”
“People out here can be narrow-minded. There was an uproar when I started this program. Even more so when I hired Jake. Not only was I harboring felons on my property, but also a black man to boot.” I snorted despite it being no laughing matter.
Offering Jake a permanent position hadn’t been about race or his past; he was the best damn worker I’d ever had in this place, and he was an asset worth his weight in gold. Hence why he wasn’t just an employee—he was also a close friend.
“You did that intentionally, didn’t you?” Louisiana asked, with a twinkle in her eye.
“What’s that?”
“Hired him.”
I smirked. “Nothin’ gives the naysayers a bigger up yours than playing off their fears. It’s even better while proving them all wrong, darlin’.”
Her laughter filled the sweet spring air, then she exhaled a happy sigh.
“I like this side of you, Brandon. You’ve got me curious to see more.” Then a thought seemed to strike her. “Was I another point to prove?”
My defenses shot up. Accepting her into this program had nothing to do with proving points or bolstering my ego.
I locked eyes with her and made damn sure she heard the conviction in every single word. “I pushed hard for women to be given the opportunity of applying for this program, and I fought tooth and nail to counter every doubt and question they threw at me. I never ask to see an applicant’s photo—all participants are selected based on the merits of their application, and if you must know, you beat out two other women and seven men for this position. You earned your place here, Louisiana. So no, you weren’t simply another point to prove.”
I puffed to catch my breath after the unexpected rant. All those years ago, I proposed this program because I wanted to make a difference in the world, and I was just as passionate about it today as I was back then. It wasn’t a money-making scheme, nor was it to gain popularity or to make up for my downfalls; it was to give those who were willing to fight for it; a second chance after poor decisions.