Cowboy to Command

by Sabrina York

  “So, you think it’s a good idea?”

  “If you do it right.”

  He frowned at her. Duh. “Everything’s a good idea if you do it right.”

  “Well, if it’s what you want, I will support you. And so will everyone else.”

  “Even Ford?” It was a joke. Or maybe not.

  Porsche laughed, a glorious trill. “The way you baste a steak? He’ll be hovering over your shoulder, drooling.”

  As they continued to drive, Brandon fell silent, ideas for this new venture swirling in his head. It would be unwise to buy a house and start a business at the same time, so he’d need to rent, and while he did have a nest egg, he’d need to be careful with every penny until he knew the restaurant would be a success.

  The thought of owning his own business, doing something he loved and being a success at it was invigorating. He remembered how he’d felt when he’d arrived here, rootless, wandering, and unsettled. The change in him was amazing, and it was all due to her.

  He studied Porsche as she took the turn off for I35 and his heart swelled.

  He hadn’t expected to fall in love when he’d decided to pursue her. He hadn’t dared hope she would feel the same. But now, with her by his side, he felt a sense of belonging he’d never known. It terrified him—because now he had something to lose—but at the same time, it made him feel strong, powerful, invincible.

  With her by his side, he could do anything.

  He should tell her that he loved her. Just come out and say it. But he worried he was rushing things. They’d only known each other for a week or so. Hard to believe, but it was true. He knew how he felt, he knew this was real, but if a woman he’d just met told him she was in love with him, he’d think she was a nut job.

  So though he wanted to bleat out his declaration, he did not.

  There was time for that.

  They had all the time in the world.

  Besides, the lights of the steakhouse came into view, which made the timing even worse.

  It was probably wrong of him to feel that rush of relief.

  • • •

  Mark and Penny were already seated when they arrived, but his brother shot to his feet when he saw them, ushering them over with a wave.

  “Mark,” Porsche said, extending a hand.

  He gestured to his girlfriend, a pretty blonde with a genuine smile. “This is Penny,” he said.

  After greetings and introductions all around, they sat and perused the menus and chatted about inconsequential things, like the weather. When that topic was exhausted, an awkward pause rose.

  “And where did the two of you meet?” Porsche asked, probably just to fill the conversational gap. Brandon had noticed that about her. She wasn’t comfortable with conversational gaps.

  In a paradoxical twist, an even heavier silence fell over the table at her query. Mark and Penny exchanged a glance. At long last, he gave a little nod, and she said, “He was in my ward.”

  Holy God. Brandon’s every muscle seized. “What?” His gaze snapped to his brother. “You were injured?”

  “Ironic, huh? No less than a month after you and I had our . . . little chat. Ker-blewey.” He exploded his hand. “I didn’t see it coming.”

  “What happened?”

  “I took a tumble.”

  Penny frowned. “He fell off a building.”

  “Technically, I was pushed.”

  “By the explosion,” Penny reminded him.

  “Yeah. I was pushed off the building by an explosion.” Unaccountably, he grinned. “Anyway, I ended up in Walter Reed with a spinal injury.”

  Brandon’s heart plummeted into his gut. “What?” He hadn’t known. He hadn’t had a clue. He’d cut his brother off without a thought and he’d been injured. Had to face it all alone. Oh God.

  “I was a plank.”

  “A plank?” Porsche shot Mark a confused look.

  “Paralyzed.”

  “Nonsense,” Penny said, patting him on the hand. “All you needed was a good woman to boss you around.”

  “Don’t they all,” Porsche murmured.

  “And trust me. She did.” Mark lifted his beer and waggled it. “Walk you bastard. Walk.”

  “I never called you a bastard.” She smirked. “At least, not to your face.

  “Thank God for small mercies.”

  “At any rate, Brandon, I realized I’d been a complete ass to you when you were struggling. Maybe it was karma, or something, but it’s different when it happens to you. I’m sorry I was an ass.”

  Penny sent Brandon a bright grin. “If I were you, I’d get that in writing.”

  Brandon couldn’t hold back his laugh and he realized, all of a sudden, he liked Penny. She was good for Mark. They were good for each other.

  “So,” he said. “Where do the two of you go from here?”

  “Seattle,” his brother said with a grin. “There’s a great military hospital for Penny, and I’ve been offered a job.”

  “A job?” He tried to look happy, but the news that his brother was moving a thousand miles away crushed him. He wasn’t sure why.

  “Lots of opportunities for guys with our training,” he said. “Seattle is a hotbed of computer tech.”

  “Right.”

  “You should come with us.”

  At his side, Porsche stiffened. It was as though he was attuned to her every corpuscle, which set him on edge too. “To Seattle?” he asked.

  “It’s beautiful. Green. It rains.”

  Porsche shifted impatiently.

  “I like Texas.”

  “Understood. But you could come up there with us. You know. Just to check it out.” He winked. “Think about it.”

  “Sure.”

  Porsche glared at him. “Brandon is thinking of starting a restaurant here.”

  “Really?” Penny’s eyes lit up. “Do you cook?”

  Mark snorted. “Mac and cheese.”

  A riffle of annoyance walked up his spine at that familiar tone. Granted, that was the thing about family. They seemed to have a person locked into their sixteen-year-old identity. Brandon had traveled the world since he was sixteen. Lived too many lives and died too many deaths. “I’m not that same kid, Mark,” he said calmly.

  And honestly, he had no idea where the calmness came from, except for the desire to keep the peace. It would be way too easy to rail. Way too easy to fall into those old patterns that had caused contention between them their entire lives and eventually ripped them apart. Getting along with Mark would never be easy—they had baggage—but he owed it to himself to try.

  “He’s a really good cook,” Porsche said, covering his hand with hers. “You’d be surprised what a man can learn on the Internet.”

  His heart swelled.

  There she was, his Porsche, coming to his rescue.

  “Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, and then he kissed her.

  She always believed in him. She always supported him.

  She was his miracle.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  The dinner with Brandon and Mark went so well, the two brothers decided to spend some time together the next day and then Mark and Penny would make the move to the B&B that night.

  Everyone from Diane’s party had left—except Porsche, who was still sleeping in the room next to Claire’s . . . even though she spent most of the night in Brandon’s camper. Naturally, she slept in the next morning, because someone kept her awake all night.

  When she came down the stairs, Claire was seated at the kitchen table working on some orders for a coming party. She glanced up and forced a smile.

  It wasn’t like Claire to force a smile, certainly not at Porsche. She grabbed a cup of coffee and a scone from the platter on the counter and sat down across from Claire.

  “What’s
wrong?” They’d been friends too long to prevaricate.

  “Wrong? Whatever could be wrong?”

  Oh, crap. That tone. That sarcastic snort.

  “You look unhappy.”

  “Unhappy? Me? What on earth could possibly make me unhappy?”

  “Claire, please.”

  “It’s none of my business who you spend your time with.”

  “Wait. Are you . . . jealous of Brandon?” She had been practically living in his pocket. It was easy to see how Claire—who was used to all of her attention—might resent that.

  “Jealous? Hah!”

  “Okay . . . what is it then?” There was something bothering her. She was acting like a filly with a burr under her saddle, and she wouldn’t let up until they pulled it out and dissected it.

  Her expression was ferocious. “You’re spending way too much time with him. And I can tell . . . you’re not just pretending anymore.”

  No, not pretending at all. It was so real, it scared her. “And?”

  “What about Cody? What about being in love with Cody?”

  “Would it be so terrible if I fell in love with someone else?”

  “It would be a disaster.”

  Really?

  “We were supposed to be sisters.”

  “We can always be sisters. No matter what.”

  “You are supposed to marry Cody.”

  “But I’m not in love with Cody.”

  A silence fell between them, though it was a speaking one.

  Apparently it didn’t make its point, because Claire said, “What are you trying to say?”

  “I’m not in love with Cody.”

  “I heard you.”

  “Well then?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I’m not in love with him, Claire. I’m not going to marry him. I’m sorry. I know how much you wanted this but . . .”

  “But what?”

  Porsche shrugged. “I’m not in love with him.”

  “Stop saying that.” She clomped around the kitchen abusing the teakettle for a while and then she pinned Porsche with a sharp look. “It seems to me that you’re a bit too adamant.”

  “I am.” She was adamant. She’d said it several times. What about that didn’t reek adamant?

  “But you’ve loved Cody all your life. Why suddenly . . . stop?”

  “I didn’t stop. I realized.”

  “Realized? What?”

  “That I didn’t love him.” Should she write it in Sanskrit? Would that help?

  “You don’t just realize you don’t love a man.”

  “You do.”

  “Ford was right. You are a flibbertigibbet.”

  “I am not.”

  “You don’t just love a man one moment and then love another the next.”

  “That is not what happened.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Claire, I was five when I fell in love with Cody. Five. How could that ever be anything but a childish crush? I’ve been devoted to a man who never wanted me, my entire life, and what have I ever gotten back? Nothing. I never even contemplated another man because of him. And he never looked my way. Never.”

  “You had that boyfriend in Dallas.”

  “That was desperation.” And a disaster. “It hardly counts. And it’s beside the point.”

  “And the point is?”

  She wasn’t going to say it again. She wasn’t. So she let her expression speak for her.

  Claire blew out a frustrated breath. “See, that’s what I’m saying. You don’t just flip love on and off.”

  “Exactly.”

  For some reason, Claire glowered, even though Porsche was agreeing with her.

  “You are extremely aggravating.” Claire waggled her finger. Nearly waggled it off.

  “Thank you.”

  “Can you just explain to me what happened? That would help so much.”

  It was simple really. Just not simple to say. The feelings were far too raw. At length she said, “I met someone else.”

  Claire dropped into a chair as though her knees had failed her and stared at Porsche; her expression was desolate. “Who?” Though the question was sharp, pointed even, it was clear she knew the answer. She’d have to be living in a cave not to know the answer. No doubt, she required an all-out confession for the truth to percolate. Claire was like that with things she didn’t want to accept. Like a brick wall that needed to be battered down. Over and over and over again.

  “You know. It’s Brandon.”

  Claire buried her head in her arms. “Brandon. We should never have asked him to help you.”

  “I am glad we did.” And technically, Claire had had nothing to do with it. The idea had been Porsche’s alone, but she felt it would be adding insult to injury to mention as much. At least at the moment. “He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Claire.”

  Something in her tone caught her friend’s attention. She lifted her head and studied Porsche’s face as though seeking the secrets of the universe. “You love him?”

  “I do.” It was thrilling to say. Scary, but thrilling all the same.

  “And how does he feel about you?”

  “I’m working on that.”

  Claire fell silent and stared moodily at the tabletop. “I thought we would be sisters,” she muttered.

  “We are, silly.” Porsche covered her hand with hers once more. “We always will be.”

  It was hard to say if she’d reached Claire. If she’d been able to comfort her in any way. What she needed now was time to process this shift in her own personal universe, so Porsche left her then and headed to her room to pack.

  It was time to go home.

  She hoped her change of heart wouldn’t ruin her relationship with her best friend, but honestly, she had to make the choice that was best for her, and she was convinced that Brandon was.

  She was just finishing up and closing her suitcase, when a knock came on the doorframe. She glanced up and blinked in surprise to see Cody standing there. “Um, yes?”

  He looked uncomfortable, but somehow still more handsome than hell. He really was a beautiful specimen. It was funny how he didn’t stir her pulse at all. “Can we talk?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  To her surprise, he stepped inside and closed the door. Then he raked his hair with his fingers. “I wasn’t eavesdropping,” he said.

  “Um, okay?”

  “But I overheard some of that conversation you just had with Claire.”

  Crap. “Which part?”

  “The bit about you being in love with me your whole life.” His ears went pink. “Is that true?”

  “It was. But it was only a crush. Don’t worry, Cody. I’m over you.” How mortifying to admit she’d ever drooled over him.

  “You said you never even considered another man because of me.”

  She forced a smile. “What can I say? I was an idiot.”

  He flinched. “You said I never looked your way. Never noticed you.”

  “I did.”

  “That’s not true.”

  Her mouth fell open and she gaped at him.

  “You’re beautiful, Porsche. But I always kept away because of Ford. He’s my friend.”

  “I know that.”

  “He made it clear I was to keep my distance. It doesn’t mean I was never attracted to you. I, ah, just wanted you to know that.”

  “Well, thank you. I appreciate that.” She picked up her suitcase, but he took it from her and set it on the floor.

  “I’ve always wondered . . .”

  “What?”

  “What it would be like to kiss you.”

  Her heart stammered, but only from shock. Those were words she would have killed or
died to hear at one point, but now, she felt no elation, no joy. Only a vague sense of regret for that girl who had wasted so many years wanting something she couldn’t have.

  “I imagine it would be much like kissing all the other girls you kiss.”

  He flinched again. “I’m not a philanderer. Not like Ford says. I’m just trying to find the real thing, just like everybody else. And now . . . I really need to know if I blew my one chance at happiness.”

  “Cody, don’t be silly—”

  He ignored her. He stepped closer and pulled her into his arms. She didn’t fight it, because a part of her wanted this, needed to know too. Needed validation that her feelings for Cody were stone-cold dead.

  When his lips touched hers, she remained quiescent, letting him explore. When he deepened the kiss, she tasted a hint of desperation. She allowed him to continue, though she already had her answer.

  He lifted his head and sighed, and then leaned his forehead against hers. “Anything?” he asked.

  She gave a slight shake of her head. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m the one who should be sorry.” He stepped away and moved toward the door.

  “I do hope you find what you’re looking for, Cody,” she said softly. “And I do love you . . . just not in that way.”

  “I . . . understand. And, thanks.”

  When he left, she turned to the window with a smile and hugged herself.

  It was so clear.

  She felt nothing for Cody Silver.

  Nothing at all.

  She was finally free.

  Her gaze snagged on a movement in the yard and when her mind processed who and what it was, her blood went cold.

  Brandon stood there with his arms by his sides, staring up at her window with shock and anguish in his eyes.

  He’d seen the kiss. She knew it at once.

  No! Porsche’s soul wailed. No!

  She flew down the stairs and ran into the yard, but by the time she got there, Brandon, and his camper, were gone.

  • • •

  Funny how some days could be like heaven on earth, and others were chock full of heartache—with little but a couple of hours between them.

  Brandon had awoken in a wonderful mood. He and his brother were making strides on repairing their relationship, Dougal was on the mend, and he and Porsche had what was almost an understanding. He felt as though his future was set. He’d just begun to relax . . . and then disaster had crashed in on his head.