Love Ever After: Eleven All-New Romances!

by Nina Lane

  A sudden surge of male laughter resounded from their corner, and Brody caught sight of a well-manicured hand reaching out and touching Liv’s elbow. The man did his best to pour on the charm before his hand fell away and brushed her leg on the way down.

  Brody tensed, ready to step in and crush every single one of those highfalutin fingers in his fist, but Liv would be furious with him. His chest burned as he tried to curb his temper for her sake. He bounced his leg on the ball of his foot, just itching to bolt out of his chair and teach this ill-bred urban cowboy a lesson in manners.

  Liv stepped politely out of the man’s reach and waited on the wannabe cowboy across from him. This guy seemed less forward than his friend, but no less fake. As he made some tasteless comment about Liv choosing the heat level on his wings, the third chump glanced up from his menu and spotted Brody glowering. He turned white and swallowed, elbowing his buddy. A few words passed between them before they all, including Liv, peered down the length of the barroom to where Brody sat.

  He didn’t have to stand to reveal his massive six-foot-three frame. He assumed he looked menacing enough as he stewed in his seat. His colorful sleeve of tatts on both forearms lent their share of intimidation as well.

  Brody dared them to do anything—say anything—that was the least bit out of line. To his disappointment, all three shrank behind the wall of the booth and wrapped up their order with Liv.

  She faked a smile in front of her customers and made some excuse that he was harmless, before she threw Brody a look and withdrew to the kitchen.

  He didn’t take kindly to the notion that she considered him harmless. When it came to her, he was about as harmless as a stalled stallion in a barn full of mares.

  Minutes later, Liv rounded the bar with a bucket of beer and set it in the middle of the newcomers’ table with another pleasant smile. She gave them some practiced spiel about her name should they need anything else before she patted one of them on the shoulder.

  Brody rolled his eyes in time to see her marching his way. She stopped short of his table and slammed a beer in front of him. “Do you mind? I’m trying to work here, Galven.”

  Brody eyed the white foam racing to the top of the bottle, bubbling over the lip. He hated a beer full of head. “I’m going to need another one of these.”

  She lunged forward, planting both hands on the table. “I’m serious, Brody. Knock off the badass-boyfriend routine, will ya? I need their tips, and I’m not going to get anything with you giving them the evil eye.”

  Brody gazed into Olivia’s gorgeous eyes, knowing he had a shit ton of beautiful cleavage facing him. The temptation to look down her shirt killed him, but he never wavered. He had more respect for her than that, which was more than he could say for most of the customers who bellied up to this bar. Not to mention the trio of tenderfoots she’d waited on.

  “Are you listening to me?” she asked, stomping her foot.

  Brody didn’t mean to smile. It just happened.

  Liv grumbled and snatched his frothy beer to exchange it. “I’m never going to get to Nashville at this rate.”

  Brody caught her hand, stopping her in her tracks. He liked the feel of it in his. To be truthful, he wished he could twirl her into his arms, tip her back, and kiss the daylights out of her.

  She planted her free hand on her hip. “What now, Galven?”

  The words she’d muttered echoed in his ears. “I’m never going to get to Nashville at this rate.”

  If anyone knew how badly she wanted to start her singing career in Nashville, it was Brody. For years, she’d dreamt of making it big and living off her voice instead of tips from yuppie city folk passing through on their vacation. After she landed that agent, everyone thought, including Brody, it was only a matter of time before she gained a big record deal. That was last year, and still…she hadn’t heard anything.

  Brody softened his grip and patted the top of her wrist. “I’m sorry, Liv. I know how much that dream means to you.” He peeled her fingers from the bottle and took a swig, enduring the watery taste of the flat beer. “I’ll leave right after I finish this…skunk piss.”

  “Give me that,” she said, smiling. “And you don’t have to leave. It’s fine.”

  He glanced around her, making certain the fellas still kept to themselves in their booth. “You sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. But chill out, okay? I can take care of myself.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t want anyone to take advantage of you. Men are pigs.”

  Liv’s soft laughter immediately brightened his mood. “Are you including yourself in that statement?”

  He thought about the many times he’d sweet-talked his way into a girl’s pants simply because Liv had unknowingly aroused him to the point of pain. He could admit he was a giant pig with girls he didn’t care about. But Liv was different. She deserved respect and a man who’d treat her right. Which was why he often took out his sexual frustrations on girls who hadn’t a care for their own self-respect. “On occasion.”

  She blew out a dry laugh this time and shook her head. “I’ll be back with your beer in a sec.”

  Brody watched her walk away, his gaze automatically falling to her tight little butt. He couldn’t help but be mesmerized by its subtle sway. The image of her lowering that perfect heart-shaped bottom over his thick erection in a reverse cowgirl position had him wishing he and Liv weren’t friends at all. He could screw her brains out and not worry if he did all the right things in the sack. He could cum as quick as he wanted without having to prove his stamina, and he could leave as soon as he was through without agonizing over whether he broke her heart.

  Yep. We men are pigs.

  “Here you go,” Liv said, handing him a fresh beer. He nearly jumped at the sound of her voice, unaware that he’d been carried off by his perverse sexual thoughts.

  “Uh…thanks.”

  “You all right there, Galven?” She removed his Stetson and straightened his hair before plopping it back on his head. “Long day at the McKinley ranch?”

  Brody cleared his throat, thankful she couldn’t read his mind. He reached up and readjusted his hat the way he preferred it. Only Liv could get away with touching it. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “Well, you sit back and enjoy your beer. I gotta sing in a few.”

  Liv dragged her fingertips along his arm and over his shoulder as she headed toward the stage in the back of the bar. He closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her touch for a few seconds while he tried to collect himself. As innocent as it might have been, that little brush of hers caused a whole cataclysm of sensations to run through his body. His groin tightened. His blood coursed through his veins. And his heart ached so deep in his chest, he thought it might burst.

  He didn’t know how much longer he could go through life just being her friend. He desired Liv more than anything, but it was too risky to tell her how he truly felt. Things would get awkward if he started sleeping with her. They always did when friends tried the benefits thing.

  And what if she didn’t feel the same in return? What if she didn’t want to share that kind of intimacy with him? Or worse…maybe she did. And because she loved him so damn much, she turned down her chance to go to Nashville when the call came?

  Brody’s lids shot open the moment he heard the strum of her guitar and the sweet angelic tenor of her voice in the microphone behind him. Chills ran over his body every time she opened her beautiful mouth to sing.

  Yeah…she’d be better off never knowing how he felt. She deserved to make it big and be happy. Besides, he knew one day she would get that call. And it’d be that much harder for him to say good-bye if he were sleeping with her.

  Chapter Two

  Taking a deep breath, Brody turned his chair around and faced the stage. He put on his happy face for Liv and drowned his aching heart with the rest of his cold beer. For the next few blessed minutes, he leaned back and enjoyed the acoustic one-woman show of Liv Langston, the only worthwhil
e entertainment offered at the Wagon Wheel—every hour on the hour.

  He scanned the room as she hit and held a high note. About ten people, all of them regulars save for the corner booth of fancy Nancies, had gathered to mingle and be merry. Some came to eat. Some came to drink a few with friends. And some sat in quiet retrospection, smoking their choice of tobacco. But as of right now, every eye was glued to the dark-haired beauty in cutoffs. She rolled into the familiar bridge of an old Patsy Cline number, then segued into a classic George Jones song. He sat proud, watching her strum that beat-up six-string and listening to her rekindle new life into so many great vintage tunes.

  As she brought her set to an end, a roar of cheers and applause erupted. Even a few piercing whistles split the joy and excitement of the meager crowd. Brody clapped as he watched Liv smile and bow in humble gratitude. It wouldn’t be long before she’d be singing in front of thousands of fans. He just knew it.

  Liv hung her guitar on the wall behind her and stepped off the platform to resume her waitress duties. Brody caught her attention and pointed to his empty bottle. One more, he mouthed.

  She gave him the thumbs-up and walked between tables, checking on customers and snagging empties as she went. Just like that, the atmosphere of the Wagon Wheel returned to its usual state. The local drunkard, Bob Walsh, plopped his forehead on his arm and took another snooze on the slick lacquered wood of the bar. Mr. Corinth sat beside him, puffing on his cigar and watching Denver kick Cleveland into the dirt. His wife ignored the game and the few Bronco fans who sat adjacent to her. Instead, she perched on her stool, crocheting the beginnings of a tricolored afghan. On the opposite end near the restrooms, Professor Shoemaucker hid behind his newspaper as he always did on Monday evenings.

  Everything was as it should be, save for the three guys in the corner booth. Brody kept refocusing his attention on them, waiting for one of the spoiled pretty boys to act out of line. He knew they would. He’d bet money on it. Especially the guy with the million-dollar smile and the thousand-dollar wristwatch. He had more flash than a vintage mid-century Kodak camera. Guys like that loved to be the center of attention and often went to extremes to acquire it.

  “You’re doing it again, Galven,” Liv interrupted, handing Brody a full one.

  “Doing what?”

  “Sizing them up. Finding justification for kicking their asses.” Liv seized his chin and drew his attention toward her. “Let it go. I mean it.”

  Though she stood no taller than five foot four, weighing in at a buck ten, Brody adored her confidence. She embodied self-assurance in the way she turned and sashayed down the aisle of empty tables. He held his beer to his lips as he watched her drop another bucket of beers at the corner booth. Her long, toned legs flexed as she leaned forward. Her shorts barely covered that spot where the curve of her bottom met the back of her thigh. If he wasn’t so suspicious of the guys at that table, he might have bought them another round just so he could watch Liv stretch and lean again.

  “Well, thank you, darlin’,” Brody heard one say. “That’s mighty kind of you.”

  For a moment, Brody thought perhaps he’d judged them prematurely. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d allowed his jealous tendencies to bring out the worst in him. The last time it happened, he’d ended up spending the night in jail for disorderly conduct. He’d never forget that awful night. He only wished the folks of Meeteetse would.

  No sooner had Brody given those boys the benefit of the doubt than one of them reached around and slapped her on the behind. When she scowled at him, the man laughed and pulled her onto his lap.

  Liv shrieked in surprise and writhed to escape him. Brody flipped his lid and lunged from his chair without hesitation. He gritted his teeth. Spots blurred his vision. He was going to kill that sonofabitch.

  Liv saw Brody stalking forward. She froze. She looked more frightened than the two guys who tried to warn their friend. Upping the effort, she threw an elbow into the man’s chest and slipped from his grasp. “Galven, wait!” she said, throwing herself at Brody. “Listen to me. He isn’t worth it.” She frantically pointed toward the bar behind him. “See, Jethro’s coming. He’ll throw them out, and they won’t be allowed back. Please, Brody, listen to me. Don’t do this.”

  Brody could hear Liv pleading, but nothing registered. He moved her aside and barreled forward. All three guys had squeezed out of the booth, securing their spot in a defensive triangle. The biggest of the three stood in the front.

  Brody scoffed, unimpressed with any of them. “I don’t know where you’re from, but around here, we treat women with respect.”

  The entire bar fell silent. No one dared to move a muscle with Brody cocked and loaded.

  “You don’t want to mess with me,” the stranger stated, crossing his arms. “I’ll have you know my father is the—”

  “I don’t care who your sperm donor is,” Brody interrupted. “Apologize to her.”

  Brody felt Liv’s hand on his shoulder. “It—it’s okay.”

  “No, it isn’t.” Brody stared the man down. “Apologize. Now.”

  One of the three muttered to the guy in front, “Apologize already so we can get the hell out of here, Carlton.”

  “Your friend’s a smart man,” Brody added. “You should listen to him.”

  Carlton shook his head. “I don’t have to listen to you or anybody in this Podunk town. And I sure as hell don’t need to apologize to a waitress. It’s her job to serve me. Besides, I think she liked having a real man’s arms around her for a change.” He leaned forward and looked Brody in the eyes. “What do you think about that? Hillbilly.”

  Brody reared back and threw the first punch, knocking Carlton and his high-dollar hat into next Sunday. His two friends caught and steadied him, aghast at the blood spewing from Carlton’s nose. Carlton shook the dizziness from his brain and sprang forward only to find himself in Brody’s clutches again. From there, Brody tossed him headfirst across the table, knocking beer bottles and aluminum buckets on the floor. Glass shattered at his feet as he took hold of Carlton’s shirt collar and lifted him upright for another go-round.

  A horrendous commotion filled the bar as every able man jumped in to pull them apart.

  “Hey, hey, hey, bro! That’s enough!”

  Brody heard Rod’s voice amid all the chaos and felt a multitude of hands clutching his shoulders and arms. He looked in the eyes of his older brother, huffing like a freight train.

  Clouded by rage, he had a difficult time understanding how Rod had come to be there in the first place. He glared at his brother, then at the many hands upon him.

  “Calm down, bro,” Rod said, righting Brody’s hat, which had shifted off-center. He gave his left cheek a brotherly pat. “You’re good. You got this.”

  Brody shook everyone off and shoved Rod backward. “Get the fuck off me!”

  Rod stepped forward and didn’t back down. “Enough. You’re scaring the good people of Meeteetse here. Come on, now. Settle down. Take a breath. Get your bearings. It’s over.”

  Brody drew in a long, steady breath and blew it out, glowering at Rod for getting involved. This wasn’t his fight, nor did he have a clue what had gone on.

  “Stay out of this, Rod.”

  “I can’t do that, and you know it. You’re my brother, and I’m not going to let you do something you’ll regret later.”

  “Regret?” Brody almost laughed. “The only thing I regret is that I didn’t throw this lowlife out the minute he sat down.”

  “Actually, it’s not your decision who stays or goes, Brody. That would be my say.”

  Slowly and very meticulously, Brody turned his head until he found Jethro, the person who’d tossed out the little technicality for everyone to hear. He knew even before he laid eyes on him that the bar owner had made the comment. He was the one who’d pressed charges against Brody years ago for a fight he didn’t start. “Are you taking up for this asshole too? Did you not see what he did to Ms. Langston?”


  Jethro splayed his hands in front of him and swallowed hard. “All I know is, I got one hell of a mess to clean up because you decided to take matters into your own hands. Again.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t see you doing anything to help her. Is that how you treat your female employees? Turn a blind eye to gross sexual assault?”

  To everyone’s surprise, Carlton finally spoke up in his defense. “Hey, hey, look, I didn’t sexually assault anyone. All I did was have a little fun with her. Right, doll?”

  Brody swiveled around and pointed over Rod’s shoulder. “You shut your damn mouth!”

  “Brody, cool it,” Rod cautioned.

  “Not until he apologizes to Liv.”

  “Like I said,” Carlton piped up again, making sure to wipe the blood from his nose onto his sleeve for evidence. “I’m not apologizing to anyone. Unless you want to defend your own assault charge, Hillbilly, you might want to apologize to me.”

  “Why, you no good, motherfu—”

  This time, Rod had to use all his strength to hold Brody back. Carlton staggered backward, clearly fearing for his life. Jethro stepped in, probably fearing a lawsuit. “Rod, get your brother out of here before he gets me sued.”

  Chapter Three

  Brody stumbled out the door and into the parking lot with his brother on his heels. Rod shoved him with each step, ushering him farther from the bar until they reached Brody’s vehicle.

  “You want to explain what the hell happened in there?”

  Brody finally pushed back and spun to face the side of his truck. He leaned his forearms on the bed and caught his breath. He couldn’t blame his brother for throwing him out of the Wagon Wheel. He knew Rod only wanted what was best for him and didn’t want to see him in trouble with the law.