His for Now (The Byrne Brothers Book 1)

by Sofia Tate

  HIS FOR NOW

  The Byrne Brothers – Book 1

  Sofia Tate

  Copyright © 2018 by Sofia Tate

  Kindle Edition

  ISBN: 978-1-7325261-2-9

  Cover Art by Cover Couture

  Photos © Shutterstock/Paulmart

  Photos © Shutterstock/Stephen Borengasser

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Places, names, characters and events are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  To my muffin top, my twin facial scars, my cottage cheese thighs, and my junk in the trunk—

  I acknowledge your presence.

  Despite all of my efforts to get rid of you, we’re stuck with each other, and that’s okay.

  You do not define me.

  You do not have power over me.

  My life is full of joy and laughter, love and passion.

  I hope you’re enjoying the ride because I sure as hell am.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  Books by Sofia Tate

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  Ronan Byrne pulled his weather-beaten dark green Chevy pickup into a space in front of Blossom Café, one of the only three restaurants in his small Nevada hometown. Because of his truck’s pitiful excuse for an air conditioner, his entire back was covered in sweat thanks to the late June heat. He had just driven back to Blossom from Reno after another meeting with the chief loan officer at his family’s bank and was desperate for some caffeine.

  His scuffed boots landed on the ground with a thud. As he ran his hands through his jet black hair and fanned his shirt to air it out, he noticed the shiny white Range Rover parked across the street.

  Damn city people. Probably here to check out another property that’s about to be foreclosed.

  He walked in and nodded to the regulars in greeting. Jack Neary, the owner of the ranch that bordered the Byrne property, was sitting at the table nearest to the door.

  “Hey, Jack.”

  The grey-haired man gave him a nod. “Oh, hi, Ronan. What’s going on?”

  “Not much. Just dying for some coffee.”

  He approached the counter where Francesca Davies was standing behind it, flashing him a warm smile. Her family owned the café and had lived in Blossom almost as long as his own.

  “Hey, Frankie. Has Declan been in today?”

  The young woman gave him a knowing look in return. “Of course. He was his usual chipper self, grunting and moping at 7am for a coffee black as you can make it and an egg, cheese, and bacon sandwich.”

  Ronan shook his head at the news. His middle brother was the local deputy sheriff. The entire town knew Frankie had been in love with Declan since they were kids. Everyone knew that, except Declan himself.

  “What can I get you?” she asked.

  “Just coffee.”

  After he paid for his drink, he turned around and looked out at the customers.

  That was one of the things he loved about Blossom. Everyone knew each other. These were people he had known for most of his thirty-two years. They may have lived outside of town at some point in their lives, but they always returned. The same applied to him. Ronan had gone to college at University of Nevada, Las Vegas. He had studied a little bit of everything, finally settling on English for his major and Spanish as his minor. He thought he would become a professor at some point, but he loved his family’s ranch too much to move away from it. It was in his blood, everything from the smell of fresh hay to the sight of his parents walking together hand in hand to the stables for a morning ride. The ranch was a part of him.

  Jack glanced at Ronan as he took a sip of his coffee. “Have a seat, son. Looks like you need the rest.”

  Ronan nodded in gratitude, pulling out the chair across from his neighbor. “Guess it shows, huh?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Just got back from Reno. I had to go to the bank to ask for an extension,” he sighed. “They said they’d get back to me.”

  Jack shook his head. “I’m so sorry. You know if I had the money, I’d lend it to your parents in a second.”

  “That’s really nice of you, but you know my parents. They’d turn you down flat. Too much Irish pride for their own good.”

  “Yeah, don’t I know it,” Jack smiled.

  As he raised the coffee to his mouth for another sip, Ronan noticed a blonde woman in the corner of the restaurant. A laptop and a pile of file folders sat on the table in front of her. A pair of rectangular black-rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of her nose.

  Within a split second, he knew she was the owner of the Range Rover.

  She was an outsider, either a real estate agent or a prospective buyer. He wanted to know for sure. He was protective of his neighbors, and he would do anything to keep them from losing their homes, even if it meant something as small as gathering information.

  But then another thought struck him. His best friend, Sean Flynn, was getting married that weekend at Ronan’s family’s ranch. There was a possibility she could be a member of the wedding party.

  Whatever the reason for her sitting in the café, he was determined to find out what it was.

  “I’ll be right back,” Ronan said to Jack as he rose to his feet.

  He walked up to the counter. Frankie was occupied with putting more coins into the cash register. “Hey, Frankie, could you do me a favor?”

  “What?” she asked without looking up.

  “Could I borrow a coffee carafe for a few minutes? One that’s full?”

  She glanced up, puzzled. “Not that I’m going to say no, Ronan, but why in the hell would you need one?”

  He smirked. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring it right back. Let’s just say it’s for the good of the town.”

  “Well, since you put it that way…”

  She pivoted and pulled a metal carafe from one of the coffee machines that lined the work space behind the counter.

  “Have at it,” she said, handing it over to him.

  “Thanks,” he said with a wicked smile.

  He slowly strode across the wooden floor towards the woman. She was wearing a white t-shirt under a black suede jacket. Her gaze remained fixed on the screen in front of her. Her fingertips flew over the keyboard, the clicking sound of the keys filling the air around her.

  Ronan stood in front of her. Her eyes stayed on the laptop.

  He cleared his throat. “Would you like a refill?”

  She kept on typing.

  She’s definitely from the city.

  “Hello?”

  A pair of eyes finally looked up at him. “Yes?”

  Suddenly, he lost his train of thought. He instantly knew he’
d never seen eyes that shade of green before, shining like emeralds. Her lips were perfect—not too thin, but the bottom one was just full enough to make him wonder how it would taste between his teeth. The creamy texture of her face made him want to run his fingertips along her soft cheeks. Her hair was straight and cut into a sleek bob, the ends of which perfectly framed her heart-shaped face.

  “Can I help you?”

  Her clipped tone snapped Ronan back to the present as he spoke. “I asked if you wanted a refill.”

  “Well, seeing as my cup is still full, I think I’ll say no,” she replied.

  Shit. Why didn’t I notice that? Idiot.

  “Is there something wrong with the coffee?”

  “No.”

  Ronan watched as she took a sip. The woman winced as she swallowed the liquid.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, slightly worried.

  “I’m fine, thanks,” she nodded as her eyes shifted back to her computer. “I just hate black coffee, that’s all.”

  “They do have milk here, you know.”

  “That’s reassuring, but I need almond milk because I’m lactose intolerant.”

  “What about soy?”

  “I prefer the taste of almond.”

  “Rice milk?”

  “Too watery.”

  “Wow, you’re very particular.”

  Her eyes remained focused on the computer. “Is that code for something?”

  “No. Just an observation.”

  “If you say so.” She took another sip of coffee, wincing again. “Ugh. I really need something for this. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, could you watch my things for me?”

  “Only if I can join you at the table.”

  “Umm…yeah…sure,” she stammered.

  Ronan pulled out the chair across from hers, setting down the carafe on the table away from the laptop.

  As he settled into his seat, Ronan glanced toward the counter where the woman was headed. His eyes caught something in their sightline, and suddenly, he couldn’t concentrate on anything else except for the beauty of the woman’s round backside in her black boot-cut jeans. She filled them out to perfection. Heightened by the high-heeled boots she was wearing, her ass was lifted into the air, forming the optimal view for his eyes as she continued walking to the counter where she exchanged a few words with Frankie, then over to the side cabinet that held the sugar packets, napkins, and other condiments. He imagined how it would feel to have her ass in his hands, touching her soft flesh, massaging it between his fingers…

  When she turned back to the table, Ronan quickly shifted his eyes and pretended the coffee carafe was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen in his life.

  She sat back down, shaking the sugar packets, then depositing their contents into her coffee. “Maybe these will help with the taste.”

  “Are you here on business?”

  She shifted in her seat, as if she was trying to find a comfortable sitting position. “Umm, I’m really sorry. I don’t want to be rude, but I need to get this done before I get to the dude ranch.”

  Ronan’s eyebrows rose in curiosity. “The Black Rose Ranch?”

  The woman spoke to him without looking up from her computer screen. “Yes, I’m the maid of honor for my best friend who’s getting married this weekend.”

  Bingo!

  He decided to play along. “A wedding? That sounds like fun.”

  She continued to stare at her laptop. “Hopefully, it will be. But I still have to keep in touch with my office, so that’s why I’m here drinking black coffee with two sugars.”

  “Because you’re lactose intolerant.”

  She smiled slightly. “I’m impressed. You pay attention.”

  I love her smile.

  “What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “I’m a management consultant with Powell & McLean.”

  He was about to say something when a tall redhead approached their table. Dressed in a white cotton top that barely grazed her midriff, tight jeans embroidered with rhinestones, and white stiletto leather ankle boots, her entire presence screamed sex.

  “Hey, Ronan,” she said with a high-pitched bubbly voice.

  He sighed and muttered something incomprehensible under his breath before looking up at the redhead. “Oh, hey, Staci.”

  Ronan turned his attention back to the blonde.

  Staci didn’t get the hint. “How are you?”

  “Fine.”

  “I haven’t seen you around lately.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  Damn it, Staci. Go away. You’re not the one I want to talk to.

  Ronan stared across the table at the blonde, hoping like hell she would say something so Staci would get the point and disappear.

  The blonde woman finally looked up, but she spoke to Staci, not Ronan. She held out her hand to her in greeting. “Staci, I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Blakely.”

  Staci gripped Blakely’s hand with great enthusiasm. “Hi. You’re not from around here, are you?”

  Ronan was now hanging onto every word from the blonde’s mouth, dying to hear what she would say next, hopefully the city where she had come from.

  “No, I’m not. Just visiting.”

  Staci’s face lit up at Blakely’s reply. “How’s Amanda doing, Ronan?”

  He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth.

  Fuck. “Why would you ask me that?” he growled.

  “Don’t know. Just curious.”

  He glanced across at Blakely to see if she was listening, but she just kept typing away.

  “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t spoken to her in a year,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Really? Then how about a beer sometime, Ronan? Catch up on old times.”

  He shut his eyes in discomfort. “Yeah, sure. I’ll call you.”

  Staci immediately perked up. “Awesome. See you soon, Ronan. Nice to meet you, Blakely.”

  “You too,” Blakely said.

  Ronan hadn’t noticed when Staci walked away. At least he knew the blonde’s name now. Progress.

  As she studied something on her laptop, she commented, “Poor thing. She’s going to be waiting a long time.”

  Ronan sat back in his chair and sighed. “Christ, she’s probably buying bridal magazines as we speak.”

  He looked over at Blakely, her eyes focused on her laptop.

  Wait a sec…

  “Pump the brakes. What do you mean that she’ll be waiting a long time?”

  She shrugged her shoulders as she continued typing. “I got the impression that you weren’t interested and you only said you’d call her to appease her.”

  “How did you know?”

  She looked away from the screen, leaning back in her chair as she gave Ronan her full attention. “You’re obviously the town catch.”

  “Yeah. So I’ve heard.”

  “The only eligible bachelor under the age of 35 in a town of 750.”

  “725, actually.”

  She began to make notes in her folder. “It says 750 on the sign coming into town.”

  “Hey.”

  She continued writing. “What?”

  “Don’t you ever stop?”

  “It’s called multi-tasking.”

  “Yeah, it’s rude is what it is.”

  She shifted back to her computer. “Have I asked you to end our conversation?”

  “No.”

  “Have you seen me cease my work at any point during said conversation?”

  “Yes, when you went to get the sugar and when you talked to Staci.”

  “I meant the conversation you and I were having.”

  “Then no.”

  “Et voila. Multi-tasking.”

  Ronan sat back in his chair.

  She is hands down the most irritating woman on the planet.

  He stared at her as she tucked a strand of stray hair behind her ear.

  And I can’t take my damn eyes off her. She’s incredib
le.

  Without warning, the cell phone that sat at her elbow lit up. She checked the caller ID and ignored it. But before she returned to her work, Ronan noticed her shutting her eyes, with her lips pursing almost in pain.

  His curiosity was piqued. “You okay?”

  “What?”

  The phone vibrated again. Once again, her demeanor shifted.

  She glanced once more at the phone and sighed. “Look, I’m so sorry, but…”

  Ronan understood. He began to push his chair back. “Yeah, no problem. It was nice talking with you.”

  The blonde finally looked at Ronan straight in the eyes and smiled again. “You too.” She gestured at the carafe with her chin. “You’d better go see if anyone else needs a refill.”

  Nice one. You’re good.

  He smiled slyly, leaning down slightly closer so the woman could hear him clearly over the sound of the phone. “See you soon, City Girl.”

  The woman’s eyes froze in shock and confusion at his words as his eyes held hers, her phone still buzzing insistently.

  Their eyes bore into each other’s until she snapped, “Oh, crap!” and fumbled for her phone. Ronan smiled and picked up the carafe to return it to Frankie. As he started to walk away, he heard Blakely speak. “Hi, Daddy…I know…I’m sorry…”

  He nodded at Jack on his way out. “See ya.”

  Jack pointed at Ronan’s coffee. “You forgot this.”

  “I had a good reason,” he replied with a glint in his eye.

  Once Ronan was back in his truck, he stared at the window of the café. From his vantage point, he couldn’t see Blakely, but knowing that he would be running into her again soon made it easier for him to leave.

  Blakely Pierce sat in her rented white Range Rover and took in the landscape of the Black Rose Ranch that was laid out in front of her.

  “Oh my God. It’s Tombstone.”

  She half expected tumbleweeds to come rolling down the hill as she parked in the lot next to the main office. All of the buildings were wooden cabins with long, wide decks. A circle of open space sat in front of the administration building with side paths that broke off to the guest cabins.

  Judging by the state of the buildings, the thought of what her cabin would be like frightened her. She could see the roofs of some of the cabins were missing tiles, and all of the wood was in serious need of a fresh coat of paint. None of the paths were paved, which meant her designer clothes, no matter how casual they were, would need to be dry cleaned the minute she got home. But her greatest fear was that she wouldn’t be able to get a Wi-Fi signal anywhere on the ranch.