by Sabrina York
“On the contrary,” he said with a slight smirk, because he felt the situation warranted a one. “Everyone warned me about you.”
“Guess you’re just a slow learner.” Ford began slowly, but deliberately, rolling up one sleeve and then the other.
“Guess so. Or . . .” He let the word lay there like a steaming pile of poop between them.
Ford’s lashes flickered. His muscles bunched. “Or what?”
“Or maybe I think Porsche’s worth it.”
The big hulking rancher fell silent and studied Brandon with a gimlet gaze. It was a long and painful moment, but Brandon steeled himself to take it. In fact, he stared right back, infusing his expression with the legendary Stewart stubbornness.
Ford McCoy might never have heard of it, but it was legendary.
After a decent interval, Ford tipped his head. “Walk with me.”
Hookay. “Walk with me” could be good. Or Ford could be leading Brandon to the slaughterhouse. Still, he fell in behind Porsche’s brother and together they headed toward the pasture. When they reached the fence, Ford stopped and tipped up his face and stared at the star-studded sky. The autumn breeze danced by. Crickets chirped.
Brandon held his tongue.
“Cade speaks well of you.”
Not what he’d expected Ford to say, but it was an opening that made Brandon relax. A little. “I think the world of him.”
“He says you saved your squad during an attack.”
“Couple times.” He shrugged. “You do what you have to do.”
“Purple Heart.”
“Yup.”
Together they stared out at the moon-swept plain, and then, unexpectedly, Ford gored him with a look. “All that doesn’t mean I’m gonna roll over and let you seduce my sister.”
“I wouldn’t expect it to. But I gotta be honest, Ford.”
“Yeah?”
“If she’s willing, ain’t nothing gonna stop me.”
Apparently, Ford didn’t appreciate this announcement. He growled a little in the back of his throat. Once he got control of his fury, he bit out, “What are your intentions?”
Ah. This was it. The crux of it. “I can see a future with her.”
Ford narrowed his eyes. “You realize, if you’re playing with her, I’ll pound you flat.”
“I’m not playing. I’ve never been so serious in my life.”
“You just met her.”
“I know.”
“How can you see a future with her when you don’t even know her?”
“I do know her. But not as well as I want to. And if I can’t spend more time with her, neither of us will know if it’s meant to be.”
Ford turned back to his perusal of the field with a grunt. “And this future you see with her?”
“Yeah?”
“What exactly do you bring to the table? I mean, Cade said you live in a camper parked in his driveway.”
“That’s temporary. After I got out of the service, I wanted to travel a bit. Find a place that felt like home.”
“And?”
“I like it here.”
“Enough to stay?”
“Maybe.”
“Not good enough. I won’t have you wooing my sister only to drag her all over the country in a crappy camper.”
“It’s not crappy.” Much. “But if Porsche and I decide to be together . . . it would be here.” Hell, he’d enjoyed the camaraderie this evening so much. It would be wonderful to have a group of friends like this in his life. He certainly had nothing else in any other town. Besides, it would be wrong to take her away from her family and friends. They were too much a part of who she was. She wouldn’t be happy anywhere else. He was sure of it.
“What about a job?”
“I was a combat specialist in the navy.”
“Not much call for that in a ranching town.”
Nope. Not unless rustlers invaded. “I have advanced computer training too.”
Ford’s expression made it clear what he thought of that. “Teats on a bull,” he muttered.
“Lots of jobs available online. I’m sure I can find something.” His answers seemed to annoy Ford, which was a plus. “Point being, I can support a wife—”
“Wife?”
“If and when I decided to take one.”
“Are you that serious about her?”
“I think I am. But . . .”
Ford’s attention snapped to his face. “But what?”
“She’s kind of got this thing for Cody.”
“Cody.” This he spat, which was a switch from the snorting. And also the first hint of warmth toward Brandon Ford had shown. “Don’t get me wrong. Cody Silver is one of my best friends, but he is not right for my sister, and he knows it.”
“But she likes him.”
Ford stared at him with that narrow-eyed gaze, the one that seemed to pierce his defenses. “Then why was she kissing you?”
“I think I made it clear, I was kissing her. But she was responding.”
His brow rumpled. “Have you kissed her before?”
“Yes, sir. This afternoon.”
Ford blanched and tightened his fingers into fists, but Brandon had the sense that it was merely an instinctual response, not a preparation for that smackdown he’d been expecting all night. “Did she kiss you back then?”
“Yes, sir. She did.”
“Hmm. Well, I know Porsche. I can’t see her kissing you if she didn’t want to.”
“Well, technically, we were kissing to make Cody jealous.”
Ford whipped around and glared.
“It was her idea. She asked me to be her pretend boyfriend.”
“Her what?”
“To make Cody notice her.”
His nostrils flared. “And you agreed?”
“Of course I agreed.”
Ford shook his head. His expression was one of extreme bemusement. “Whatever for?”
“Because,” Brandon said baldly and from the heart, “it was an opportunity to be close to her. To get to know her better and to give her a chance to get to know me better.”
“Lemme guess. You’re betting she’ll fall in love with you and forget about Cody?”
“I’m hoping it works out that way.”
“Jesus.” He turned around and leaned against the fence, staring back at the house. “You really do go all in, don’t you?”
“When there’s something I need. Yes, sir, I do.”
Ford pinned him with an intense look. “Need?”
“Yes, sir.” Because he did. He needed her.
To his surprise, Ford did hit him then. It was only a clap to his shoulder, but it had enough power to propel him forward a few feet. “Well, son, good luck to you. I suppose it goes without saying that if you hurt her I’ll pound you flat.”
“I believe you already said it.”
“Right. Well, we should get back in. We’re missing the game.” He stopped short and whirled around. “But I better not catch you kissing my sister in the shadows again.”
“Yes, sir.” Got it. No shadows.
“And speaking of which, if she was only kissing you to make Cody jealous, why were you kissing where no one else could see?” This was a rhetorical question—probably. Regardless, Brandon was pretty damn sure Ford didn’t want to know the answer.
As they headed back to the ranch house, the conversation turned to the cultural delights of the small town of Snake Gully and Brandon had the distinct sense that he’d passed some kind of test. Or dodged a bullet. Whatever.
He and Ford were almost-friends and it felt great.
He couldn’t wipe the triumphant grin from his face if he tried.
Chapter Eleven
Porsche woke up late the next morning because she’d lain awake all night
, reliving that kiss over and over. And then she snugged deeper into her covers and thought about it some more.
It really had been spectacular. His taste, his scent, the feel of his mouth moving over hers. She’d never been swept away like that—though she’d kissed a boy here or there. She’d even had a real live boyfriend in Dallas, but that hadn’t lasted long because, well, he just wasn’t Cody.
Brandon wasn’t Cody either, but she had to admit, she didn’t mind so much. In fact, she kind of liked that he was different. Like, on a cellular level. Brandon wasn’t a man a woman would describe as pretty. But he was handsome, astoundingly handsome. His face had hard planes and was beautifully symmetrical, as though it had been carved by a master from granite. His body was heavily muscled and warm and, when he held her, a perfect fit.
The other thing she liked about Brandon was that he was—unlike Cody—cooperative. He’d been more than willing to step right up and accept her proposition. In fact, she had the sense he would accede to her every command.
She made a mental note to test this hypothesis the next time she saw him.
Brandon was funny as well. And easygoing. He didn’t seem to have a care in the world, and she liked that about him. He lived in a camper, like a Bohemian, and could just pick up stakes and leave at any time—
Her thoughts stalled.
Oh, she didn’t like that idea.
She wasn’t sure why it hit her so hard, but the prospect of Brandon leaving Snake Gully, and taking Dougal, was disturbing. It made something in her belly heave.
Or maybe that was just hunger.
She pushed that unpleasant thought away, tossed off the covers, and sat up. She planned to see him again today, though they hadn’t made firm arrangements. It would behoove her to get dressed. She had no idea why she stood before her closet and stared at her outfits, rejecting one after the other. She was only going to work with Dougal after all.
Right?
Of course she would have to see Brandon too—
She froze as a strange realization occurred to her.
She hadn’t thought about Cody once this morning, except to compare him, less than favorably, with Brandon. How odd. Last night, she hadn’t noticed Cody much at all either. And when she’d returned to the house after that breathtaking kiss, she’d been in such a daze, and so worried for Brandon, she hadn’t noticed much of anything until Ford and Brandon walked through the door.
She’d been in such a wad by then, when Brandon sent her a reassuring smile, she’d nearly fainted. Her gaze had shot to Ford, studying him for any lingering animosity, but there was none. In fact, he’d looked . . . satisfied.
She had no idea what they’d talked about, but both men seemed at ease with each other, which was a miracle.
Of course she was dying to know what they’d talked about. This was probably the reason she grabbed a random outfit, dressed, and sprinted downstairs.
Thankfully, Ford was still at the table. He’d long finished breakfast, but was going through his mail with a large cup of coffee close at hand. Thankfully, there were some pancakes left, so Porsche popped them in the microwave to warm them up.
“Good morning,” she said, as brightly as she could.
His response was a grunt, but he did at least look up.
“I take it the Cowboys lost last night?” Was it wrong to grin so cheerfully?
“They got slammed. The damn defense just couldn’t seem to get on point and—”
“Oh. I wasn’t asking for an analysis. I was just making a reference to your grouchy mood.”
And yeah, his mood got grouchier. “I’m not a grouch.”
“You kind of are.” She shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m used to it.” She batted her lashes. “I love you anyway.” She buttered her pancakes and slathered them with syrup and carried her plate to the table. She was dying to ask Ford what he and Brandon had talked about last night, but she knew if she came at it head-on, he’d clam up. He was difficult like that.
“So what are your plans for the day?” he asked.
As good an opening as any. “I’m going over to the Silvers’.”
Oooh. That made Ford pucker up.
“Why?”
She stabbed a bite of pancake and twirled it in a syrupy sea. “I’m helping Brandon train his puppy.”
Ford blinked. “You?”
“Yes, me.” She frowned. “Why do you say it like that?”
“Because you’re not patient enough to train a puppy.”
Why did everyone keep saying that? “I am extraordinarily patient!” Ford shot her a disbelieving look, so she added, “I taught Dougal to sit.”
“Congratulations.”
“Today we’re going to work on going potty outside.”
“Always a good trick.”
“Don’t be sarcastic, Ford. It doesn’t look good on you.”
“I’m not being sarcastic. I’m all in favor of dogs going potty outside.” His smile was something of a smirk. But then it sobered. The entire mood around him changed. “So tell me . . .”
Uh-oh. She knew that tone.
Ford cleared his throat. “What do you think about Brandon?”
Porsche blinked. What a question to ask over pancakes. She focused on her plate. “He’s . . . nice.”
“Nice?” Did he need to spear her with that officious look?
“I like him. A lot.”
“Enough to kiss him at least.”
She’d been expecting this inquisition. She steeled herself for the torture to come. “Apparently.”
“I understand he was in Iraq.”
Not what she’d been expecting. “Yes. He had a couple tours.”
“He’s thinking of settling down. Here.” Ford tracked her every move like a raptor tracking a titmouse. Still, try as she might, she couldn’t hold back her delight in the news.
“Is he?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“Is that what you talked about last night?”
Ford grinned. Damn, she tipped her hand too early. “That, and other things.”
“What other things?”
“It was a private conversation.”
Porsche narrowed her eyes. “I deserve to know.”
“Really? Why?”
Oooh. He was so aggravating! “Because.”
“Because ain’t good enough, sister. Tell me.” He leaned closer, pinning her with his basilisk stare. “Why do you deserve to know what Brandon and I talked about?”
“Be. Cause.”
“Is there something going on between the two of you I should know about?”
She hated when heat walked up her cheeks. It almost always gave her away. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“That was a pretty passionate kiss.”
Oh lord. It had been. And Ford had witnessed it. How mortifying. “I am a grown—”
“I know, Porsche. You’re a grown woman. You’ve said it a hundred times. But you will always be my baby sister. I will always be looking out for you. And, for the record, if I see you kissing a man I don’t know in the shadows—when by rights he should be in the house watching a football game like everybody else—you better believe I am going to pull him aside and . . . chat.”
Oh, what a heinous word. “What did you say to him?”
Ford leaned back in his chair and proffered a smirk. “The things a brother might say to a man he caught in a clinch with his baby sister.”
She wasn’t a baby, but it seemed pointless to belabor semantics. “And?”
“And what?”
“And how did the conversation go?”
Ford took another sip of his coffee and set down his cup. He met her gaze, although she couldn’t quite interpret his expression. “I liked him.”
Wait. What? Surely she’d misheard him. “You .
. . ?”
“He’s a stand-up guy. Mature, thoughtful and . . .” His expression firmed. “He really likes you.”
A ripple of delight washed through her. “He does?”
“Be careful with him, Porsche.” There was a dark thread in his tone. One she’d never heard before.
“Don’t worry,” she said with a blithe smile. “He won’t break my heart.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Ford stood and pushed his chair beneath the table. “I’m worried you might break his,” he said in a growl. “Be careful with him.”
As warnings went, it was the most ominous she’d ever heard from Ford’s lips. And she’d heard a lot of them.
After he left, she sat at the table staring at her congealing syrup, trying to make sense of the emotions swirling through her heart and soul.
Sadly, her appetite had escaped her.
• • •
When Porsche got to the ranch, she was disappointed that Brandon didn’t answer her knock on the camper door. She hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted to see him. Desultorily, she headed for the ranch house, hoping to find him there, but no one seemed to be around. At a loss, she proceeded to the large ballroom in the west wing they used for their performances. From the pumping music and the muffled conversations, she could tell there was a rehearsal going on.
She slipped into the shadows of the darkened room and huddled by the door. If Claire caught her peeking, there would probably be a lecture. Claire was the self-appointed Guardian of the Gate and she took her responsibilities far too seriously.
The large stage on the far side of the room was lit up and there were several men milling around on the floor, all dressed in some kind of costume. There was the obligatory hot cop, the Roman gladiator, the fireman, all waiting for their turn to dance.
Over the loudspeaker, Cody’s voice boomed, “Okay let’s try it again,” and the music restarted. A blast of fog encompassed the stage, swirling in sinuous trails.
A man dressed as an old-time cowboy appeared through the cloud and began to move. He started slowly, fluidly, but then, as the beat picked up, he launched into a jaw-dropping striptease. He lost his coat first, a duster, and then he began making love to his suspenders. Porsche watched in awe as he worked them down.