by Liv Brywood
Fender came to a stop on the opposite side of the ring. He stood with his head cocked toward the center. His ear cupped toward Brady, a clear indication that the animal’s focus was on him. Ultimately, horses followed a leader and Brady needed to show the mustang that he was in charge.
As he took a step toward the stallion, he was careful to keep his shoulders squared and his head held high. To exude anything less than pure dominance would make the entire session pointless.
“Easy, boy.”
He advanced slowly. Fender used one hoof to lightly paw the ground. Yesterday, he’d bolted before Brady could grab the reins. Today looked far more promising. He pulled a carrot from his back pocket. A little bribery never hurt.
Fender sniffed and shifted his weight slightly as if ready to take a step forward. He eyed Brady warily, but eventually his desire for the treat won. He inched forward and stretched his neck as far as it would reach. Brady didn’t move. He wanted the horse to come to him.
Another couple of steps brought the stallion face to face with him. The awareness in the animal’s gray eyes connected with something in Brady’s soul. To be taken from a life of pure freedom to a life of restraint wasn’t easy. When he was learning to control his inner bear, he’d fought plenty of battles between the wildness in his soul and the need to contain his power. Ultimately, he’d learned to shift at will.
The horse jutted his head forward to snatch the carrot from the palm of Brady’s hand. Fender took a step back. As he chomped on the sweet treat, he continued to watch Brady. When he finished eating, he looked at Brady expectantly.
Brady pulled another carrot from the back pocket of his jeans and offered it to the horse. As the animal chewed, Brady slowly reached forward to pet its muzzle. The coarse fur scratched against his palm. With each stroke, he sensed a change in the horse’s attitude. A thin thread of trust linked them together. Brady could build on that. Trust was one of the most important qualities in any relationship, especially in the relationship between a man and his horse.
After gently gathering the horse’s reins, he led him toward the barn. With winter in full effect, he wanted to get the horse wiped down and blanketed before nightfall.
The interior of the state-of-the-art barn boasted an industrial-sized heater. Stalls filled with horses lined either side of the large building. At last count, they housed twenty-five horses. When spring came, every one of the horses would need to be trail ready and capable of taking even the greenest rider. He had no doubt he’d have them ready.
He grabbed a winter curry comb which he used to brush sweat and dirt out of Fender’s fur. Ever aware of the horse’s fragile temperament, he carefully navigated the space around his ears, behind his elbows, along his girth area, and under his jaw. He finished by toweling him off.
Once he’d secured a blanket over the horse, he offered him another carrot. “Good job, boy.”
The horse chomped greedily. When he finished, he flicked his head up as if to thank him. Brady stroked his muzzle. He was a fine creature and would be a great saddle horse once he’d been broken in.
Satisfied with the day’s work, Brady stepped out of the stall and checked the other horses. He turned off the lights as he went, then closed and secured the barn doors. He couldn’t wait to step into a hot shower.
As he strode up toward the main house, the scent of fresh-baked apple pie and some kind of roasted meat permeated the air. He sniffed in appreciation as his inner bear roared with approval. Their cook, Sarah Fink, had outdone herself again. If she ever left the ranch, they’d probably starve.
Lights glowed from every window of the lodge-like home. A glittering Christmas tree sparkled through the lightly frosted living room window. A giant wreath of fresh pine branches and dried lemons decorated the front door. Christmas was a little over two weeks away, but he could hardly wait. He and his five brothers did everything in their power to recreate the magic they’d experienced as children. They kept up all the old traditions as a way of honoring their mom. She’d passed away two years ago and Brady still felt the loss as if it had been yesterday.
He stepped onto the wraparound porch and sat on the wooden bench swing. He slid one boot off, then the other. The crunch of footsteps sounded along the gravel driveway. They weren’t expecting guests for another week. When he looked up, his heart dropped through his stomach.
Rachel.
Bundled in a huge red snow coat, the face that haunted his dreams stared back at him. Long, curly tendrils of chestnut hair bobbed with each step she took in his direction. The luminous green eyes he’d spent hours gazing into regarded him warily. Every inch of her luscious curves filled out a pair of skin-tight jeans.
He stood on shaky legs, completely forgetting that he only wore socks. “Rachel?”
She whispered, “You’re not in Afghanistan.”
A rush of anger tightened his muscles. Every hurtful word she’d hurled at him came back in a rush. The last time he’d seen her, she’d swore she’d never speak to him again. She’d called him a coward and had claimed he’d never really loved her. She hadn’t understood his decision to leave, and he’d never forgotten the look of betrayal in her eyes.
He tensed. “What are you doing here?”
Chapter 2
Rachel shivered less from the cold than from the look on Brady’s face. The initial shock of seeing him vanished as anger flashed in his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
She fought to keep her voice steady. “I didn’t know you were back.”
“I’ve been back two months. I thought you’d moved to Bozeman.”
“I did.”
He didn’t say anything. As the silence stretched between them, she tried to ignore the way the long-sleeved plaid shirt stretched across his huge biceps. She pretended not to notice his broad chest or thick, muscle-bound thighs.
How many times had she wrapped her legs around his narrow waist? How many times had she peeled his shirt off to reveal the thick patch of wiry hair on his chest? How many times had she kissed the sensitive spot on the side of his neck where it met his collarbone?
She shivered and looked away as white-hot fire rushed through her body. She hadn’t seen him in four years, and yet she knew he’d smell of nutmeg if she wrapped her arms around him. He’d taste like red wine and warm summer nights. His flesh would tremble under her roaming hands. And if she ever got him naked again, she knew he’d still be harder, thicker, and more virile than any man she’d ever met.
He cleared his throat. “Why are you really here?”
“I just wanted to see you. I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“I’m fine.”
She knew that tone. Threads of sadness bound his words together, but the underlying pain cut straight to her heart and stole her breath. The urge to step forward and pull him into her arms rolled through her like thunder. For a second, she forgot the real reason she’d come to the ranch. But the moment passed and she regained control.
She said, “The ranch looks good. Your mom always does a great job decorating.”
He grimaced. “She passed away two years ago.”
She flinched and took a step forward. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“How could you? When I left for the Marines, you disappeared. You didn’t call. Didn’t write. I sent postcards to your mother’s house and I never heard anything. Did she give them to you?”
“She did.”
“And you chose to ignore them? Or maybe you’re just lying to protect your mom. She never liked me. She has a vendetta against shifters.”
“A shifter killed her father. She has every right not to trust them.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I should have listened to my brothers and stayed away from you. They were right.”
She drew back. “Mack never liked me.”
“It wasn’t just Mack. My mom, God rest her soul, warned me that a human would never understand the life of a shifter. You never understood why
I needed to join up, and you never will.”
“You were following in Mack’s footsteps. You’ve been in competition with him your whole life. When are you going to learn that life isn’t about competing with other people, it’s about competing with yourself?”
“I didn’t join the Marines because of Mack. I joined because it’s what shifters do. Giving up a few years to help defend our country is honorable. To turn away from that tradition would have meant turning away from my family.”
“What about me? I thought I was going to become part of your family. I thought…”
He sighed and ran his fingers down his stubbly beard. “I tried to explain it to you back then and you didn’t understand. Once I fulfilled my obligation, I would have been free to move on with the rest of my life. But you weren’t willing to wait for me.”
“Four years is a long time.” Especially with a baby on the way. She’d worked up the courage to tell him that fateful night, but when he’d dropped the bomb about leaving, she’d been too stunned to share her news.
In a softer voice he said, “I needed you to wait. There was no reason to rush into anything, but you couldn’t wait. I just…”
“What?”
He shook his head. A mask of coldness dropped to guard his expression and the anger in his voice returned. “Never mind. What happened between us was a lifetime ago. I don’t know why you’re here and frankly, I don’t care.”
Stunned by his vehemence, she swallowed the growing lump in her throat. “I didn’t know you cared. The night you told me you were leaving, I was shocked.”
“You said some horrible things to me.”
“I was hurt and angry.”
“I needed you to understand why I had to join the Marines.”
She took another step forward, further closing the distance between them. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
She froze. A rush of anger churned in her belly. “You don’t believe me?”
“I don’t know what to believe. You show up here after four years and claim you only want to see me. What do you really want? It must be something?”
“I… I just have to tell you…”
He held up a hand. “Just stop. I don’t care what you need. I stopped caring a long time ago, so I suggest you get back in your car and get off my property. You’re not welcome here.”
Her bottom lip quivered as she fought back tears. The real reason she’d come to see him sat on the tip of her tongue, but how could she ask him to help her now? He hated her. The horrible things she’d said that night would cost her more than just his love. They would cost her son his life.
She couldn’t risk asking Brady to help her now. If he became even more enraged, his bear would come out and she didn’t stand a chance against it. Not only that, but she’d lose the only chance she had of saving Jimmy’s life. Somehow, she’d have to find another way to get Brady to help her.
She stepped back. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have come here. This was a mistake.”
He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “One I hope you don’t make again.”
After hurrying through the snow to the car, she glanced back to where he stood. Dark shadows hung around him like a shroud. Glowing Christmas lights flashed across the sparkling snow as if warning her to be cautious.
As she turned the car around, she took one last look at where Brady stood on the porch. A vise closed around her heart. Once, she’d loved him more than anything in the world. Why didn’t she tell him about the baby that night? Why couldn’t she summon the courage to be honest with him?
She’d pondered these questions for years and could only come up with the lame excuse that she’d been afraid of his reaction. Would he have dropped his plan of joining the Marines and stayed with her? Would they be a happy family now?
A tear rolled down her cheek. She’d been eighteen at the time and meek. She couldn’t make that mistake again. Once Brady cooled down, she’d have to find another way to approach him. She hadn’t given up on her son in four years and she wasn’t about to start now.
As she pulled off of the small road onto the highway, she forced her shoulders back. She wouldn’t accept defeat. Not yet. Not until she’d confronted Brady with the truth. Once he knew he had a son, he’d have to help him.
But when she flashed back to the anger in Brady’s eyes, her conviction wavered. What if he’d changed? Maybe he wasn’t the same man she’d loved all those years ago.
***
Brady watched the red taillights on her car fade into the blackness of the woods. His gut churned with tumultuous guilt. She’d clearly come to ask him for something, but his rage had overwhelmed his curiosity.
He shook his shoulders and stomped his feet to release the pent-up anger. The last thing he needed right now was to unleash his bear. He’d barely been able to keep him in check the first time the wind had carried her scent to him. She still smelled like fresh rain and passion.
Over the years, he’d tried to satiate his bear with other women, but none could inflame him the way Rachel could. He’d searched for his mate, but never found anyone who could hold his interest for more than a night or two.
He ran his hand over his face as he reviewed their conversation. She’d been right about one thing: he’d made a huge mistake going to Afghanistan. The things he’d seen haunted him every day. And one horrific night in Kabul would be seared into his heart and mind forever.
Even now, he could still hear the gunfire and smell the smoke. The screams of women in children echoed like ghosts in the moonlight. And blood… so much blood. Rivers of it flowing through the streets.
He stumbled down the steps and ran toward the forest. When he reached the first tree, he bent at the waist and dry-heaved before dropping to his knees. Snow soaked into his jeans. Within minutes, the frigid air seeped into every pore as if hell-bent on freezing his bones.
“Brady?”
He recognized Mack’s voice and quickly stood. He scooped a handful of snow up and used it to wipe his face. The inky night would camouflage the pain in his eyes. “Over here.”
Mack’s boots crunched in the snow. “What are you doing out here? I thought I heard voices on the porch, but when I came out, you were gone.”
Brady leaned against a towering pine and tried to relax. He debated whether or not to tell his brother about Rachel’s visit.
Mack said, “Who was the woman you were talking to?”
Of course he’d heard. “Rachel.”
“Rachel Stevenson?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t know you two were still in touch.”
“We’re not.”
Mack cocked his head to one side. “Then why was she out here talking to you?”
“I honestly don’t know. I was taking my boots off when she walked up. Shocked the hell out of me.”
“Sorta like seeing a ghost.”
“Exactly.”
Mack grunted. “I saw her in town a few hours ago.”
“Really?”
“She had a kid with her, three or four years old.”
Brady snorted. “She didn’t waste any time. Funny, she neglected to mention him to me. Hell, she must have jumped into bed with the next cowboy she met the second my plane took off.”
“You sure it’s not yours?” Mack joked.
“Nah, she would have told me if she’d been pregnant. We’ve had our differences, but she isn’t the type of woman who keeps secrets.”
“That would be a hell of a thing if he was yours. But you’re right, she wouldn’t have done something so unforgivable.”
“Nope. She called me all kinds of names and said some really awful things, but she’s not a bad person.”
Mack eyed him. “Will she be coming around again?”
“She doesn’t have a reason to.”
“You sure about that?”
Brady’s hands fisted at his sides. “Whatever you’re trying to say, just spit it out.”
> “I’ve seen that look in your eyes before. Watch out for her. She hurt you before and she’ll do it again if she has the chance.”
Brady stepped forward. He didn’t know why he felt the need to defend her, but he did. “I’m more than capable of dealing with her if she comes around again.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t. I’m just giving you some brotherly advice. Be cautious about a woman who pops back into your life after so much time has passed. They usually want something.”
“I have nothing to give her.”
Mack shrugged. “She wants something. Anyway, supper’s ready. Wash up and meet us inside.”
Brady followed his brother halfway to the house before stopping. “Hey, could you just set some food aside for me? I need to make a trip into town.”
“You’re running off to find her aren’t you?”
“No.”
He quickly strode past his brother. When he reached the porch, he sat down to put his boots on. The extra heat his bear emanated helped warm him up. He hadn’t even felt the cold until now.
Mack joined him on the porch. “Be careful.”
“You don’t have to worry about me.”
“You’re my little brother. Of course I have to worry about you.”
Brady smirked. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
After his brother entered the house and closed the door, Brady jogged through the snow to his truck. Last summer, the ranch had been packed, leaving them with a hefty surplus of money. He’d been able to buy a brand new Ford F-150. He loved the truck and took it in to town every chance he got.
With the turn of a key, the rugged black truck roared to life. He quickly maneuvered it through the woods and onto the highway. He drove into West Yellowstone. The tiny town only had a few bars, but he only needed one.
He parked at the Little Bear Bar and Grill. After pushing through the saloon-style wooden doors, he made his way through a group of dancing tourists and strolled toward the bar. His friend Steve Holliday owned the place and, true to form, Brady spotted him leaning across the hundred-year-old bar listening intently to a drunk college girl.