Cowboy Edition EBook

by Maree, Kay

  “You alright there?”

  I whirled around at the new voice and found a guy I hadn’t met before. His brown eyes danced with amusement that matched his wide smile.

  He stuck out his hand in my direction. “Wyatt, from the neighboring ranch.”

  I approached on tender footsteps and set my hand in his. “Louisiana.”

  Wyatt’s gaze dashed downward for a split second. “Everything okay?”

  With a snort that had his brows lifting, I pursed my lips then deadpanned, “Saddle burn.”

  “Ha!” he burst. “I would have thought Bran would have made you wear jeans before gettin’ in the saddle.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I exclaimed. “Don't you start too!”

  Wyatt threw his head back and roared with laughter that was made a hundred times worse when Brandon’s shout came from the kitchen.

  “She learned the hard way, man.”

  Filled with unjust resentment over them both making fun of me, I huffed and hurried upstairs to my room to soothe both my stinging thighs and smarting ego.

  Brandon

  Wyatt’s grin was in full swing when he entered the kitchen. “She seems nice.”

  I scrubbed a hand through my hair. "I think I've bitten off more than I can chew this time around," I openly admitted to my life-long best pal.

  He sniggered. “I can see how the dynamic could be… challenging. She's pretty,” he stated matter-of-factly.

  “Yeah, she is.” I moved closer and lowered my voice. “Fuck, Wyatt, I almost kissed her earlier! She’s got the lines between what’s up here and what’s down there blurring,” I hissed with a snappy point to my head, then my dick.

  Wyatt chuckled again and arched a brow. "Blond? Who knew? Thought brunettes were your-"

  “Apparently that’s not a fool-hardy assumption,” I cut in and ran a hand through my hair again.

  Wyatt studied me for a long moment, then shrugged. “I say go for it.”

  “Just like you told me to go for it with Rosie Monro?” A snort left my nose. “I don’t think so. Your advice has always been shit.”

  “Hey, you got laid though, right?”

  “We got caught by her dad!” I exclaimed and threw up my hands.

  Wyatt doubled over and laughed like he did whenever we reminisced. “Oh Lord, that story never gets old!”

  I slugged him on the arm and then halted when Louisiana appeared in the doorway. My heart lost its rhythm, and each beat felt cumbersome, lop-sided in my chest. Standing upright, I tried to breathe away the tightness.

  “Uh, how much of that did you hear?” I asked.

  A sly grin wove onto her lips, and she pointed to Wyatt. “Not enough, judging by his laughter.”

  “Ohh, I’d say more than enough,” I deadpanned, locking down a smile.

  I’d never been one to publicly announce who I slept with, but I wasn’t afraid of being honest when the game was up. Likewise, when I was with a woman in public, I let everyone know that she was with me. Call it a male pissing on his territory or old school chivalry—either way, I left no doubt that I had eyes for her only. Just like Ma and Pop, I believed that a relationship was to be cherished, and when I found the one for me, I intended on our marriage lasting a lifetime.

  Scanning over Louisiana’s body, I was both happy and disappointed to see that she had finally swapped out the tiny shorts for jeans. “How are the legs?”

  She grimaced. “Tender.”

  “They’ll sting in the shower later, so keep that cream I gave you and use it morning and night.”

  A blush hit her cheeks, and she dashed a glance at Wyatt.

  He smiled. “I’m glad I came over.”

  The comment reminded me of why he’d come over in the first place. “Wyatt, come and grab the welder.” I then turned to Louisiana. “Head out to the stable and see if Jake’s got anythin’ he needs a hand with.” I purposely left off calling her darlin’ in front of Wyatt. Although the endearment was common around these parts and normally meant nothing other than being friendly, it somehow meant a whole lot more when I said it to Louisiana.

  Her lips pursed, and while there was resistance in her eyes, she didn’t say a word. We all left the house together and Louisiana detoured to the chicken’s nesting coop as Wyatt and I headed for the workshop.

  I let her go; she would find her own way to the stables when she was good and ready. Blue trotted along beside me and Wyatt as we entered the dimly lit machinery barn.

  “What exactly is broken?” I asked.

  He was about to reply when a loud ruckus came from the chicken coop, then a high-pitched shriek. With Blue leading the way, Wyatt and I sprinted into the yard to find Louisiana running toward us with her hands cupped.

  “Christ! What’s going on?” I shouted, my heart hammering hard.

  Louisiana’s animated face was lit and intense. “Look, Brandon! Baby chickens!” she exclaimed with a beaming smile. “Isn’t it so cute!” She cooed and lifted it to her face for a closer look.

  I ran a hand down my face while Wyatt pissed himself laughing.

  “Louisiana,” I said once I found a steady tone, “you cannot take the chicks away from the momma hens. I’m surprised she didn’t attack you.”

  Guilt washed over her expression. “She did. Thank God I’m wearing jeans.”

  “Christ almighty give me strength,” I hissed under my breath while Wyatt continued to snort and snigger. "They need to be kept in the coop, darlin'. Otherwise, they get cold and die. Go put it back."

  I firmly sealed my mouth around the words ‘you wouldn’t like it if someone took away your baby’ before they slipped out and sliced into an irreparable wound.

  Louisiana’s face dropped like a child who’d been expecting praise but instead received an unexpected scolding. Guilt immediately washed through me for bursting her happy bubble. But this wasn’t a petting zoo—it was a goddamn cattle ranch!

  Once Louisiana started shuffling back towards the coop, Wyatt gave me a look that made me feel equally as shit.

  “What?” I snapped.

  “Way to take the wind out of her sails, Bran,” he drawled.

  Folding my arms over my chest, I faced him head-on. “And what did you do when Rory tried to save that piglet runt of yours?”

  Wyatt’s face darkened, and he pressed his lips together.

  “Exactly,” I deadpanned.

  We silently watched Louisiana head from the hatchery to the stables. She kept her head up and facing ahead without so much as a sideways glance in our direction. Annoyance niggled at me.

  “Great, now she’s pissed,” I mumbled.

  Wyatt clapped me on the shoulder. “She’ll get over it. Never had country experience. Am I right?”

  I hummed in agreement and followed him back to the machinery barn. Wyatt ended up with an armload of scrap metal as well as the welder that he came to borrow. After helping him lift it into the bed of his truck, we made plans to catch up on the weekend.

  “Speaking of catching up, are you goin’ to the barn party over at Anderson’s next weekend?” he asked.

  “Undecided. Feels like every time I see Jolene, she’s tryin’ to get her claws into me.”

  I’d dated Jolene Anderson for a while at high school, but things fizzled out fairly quickly—at my end, anyway. Whenever I bumped into her now, she was all fluttery eyelashes and pretty smiles, and she seemed to have an obsession with stroking my damn chest.

  “Y’all could do worse, Bran.” Wyatt’s eyes wandered towards the barn. “Besides, I can tell you’ve got eyes for a certain little lady at the moment.”

  “Am I that obvious?” Surely I wasn’t.

  His expression turned devilish. “Like a testosterone crazed stallion.”

  Growling at the absurdity of his statement, I dropped my voice low. “I can assure you that I’m not snorting and trying to mount her any chance I get.”

  Wyatt leaned a
n elbow on the deck of his pickup and laughed heartily.

  “Are you going to the dance?” I asked as a deflection.

  He shrugged. “Yeah, thought I might. Last year was fun.”

  Every year the Anderson’s host a barn dance in spring. It was a community affair with a massive feast, almost like Thanksgiving. By the time night falls, the beer is always well and truly flowing and the dance in full swing.

  “It was fun, aside from the rotten hangover. It took me a few days to recover from that one.”

  “Fuck it was a good night.” Wyatt grinned.

  He’d disappeared before I finished up for the night, and I woke up in the hayloft with one of the Anderson’s cats tucked under my arm. God only knows how I got up there in the first place, and I constantly thank my lucky stars that I hadn’t drunkenly stumbled off the high mezzanine floor. I still shuddered at the thought. Jolene had been hounding me that night, so I assumed that drunk me had headed for the loft as a safe place to sleep off the booze.

  “Is Rory coming?” Wyatt asked casually.

  I snorted. “What do you think? When has she ever missed a party?”

  We shared a chuckle until Wy’s question threw ice on mine. “Is Louisiana?”

  “Why?”

  His eyes flashed from under the brim on his Stetson. “Curious.”

  Movement inside the barn pulled my attention to Jake and Louisiana cleaning down the riding gear. A heaviness congregated in my chest while my heart raced hard and out of control like a herd of wild mustangs. The reaction occurred each time I so much as glanced in Louisiana’s direction, and it left me damn near gasping for breath.

  Wyatt’s words blurred and failed to register as I continued to follow Jake and Louisiana’s inaudible conversation. It warmed me to see how relaxed she looked in his presence. Maybe I should ask her to the dance—after all, I couldn’t leave her here by herself while we both went out.

  Brandon

  It poured with rain a few nights later, and I’d bet my best breeding bull that Louisiana wasn’t in her bed—just like every other night thus far.

  Every heavy rain droplet landed on the iron roof as if it was the size of a walnut, and the noise was comparable. I liked the rain—not only did it water my pastures and filled the dam, but it reminded me that I had a roof over my head and a cozy bed to sink into after a long, strenuous day.

  Despite that, I slipped out of bed, tugged on a pair of jeans and a tank. Light from Louisiana’s bedside lamp crept under the almost-closed door. My soft knock was met with silence from within. Cautiously pushing the door confirmed my assumptions—her bed was vacant.

  Grabbing a thick blanket from the linen cupboard downstairs, I quietly made my way to the front door. The porch light illuminated Louisiana at the far end and as soon as my gaze fell upon her sitting in the hanging porch chair with her head back and eyes closed, my throat closed.

  Christ, she was a vision; blond hair hanging over the back of the swinging chair and her mouth slightly parted.

  The downpour masked my footsteps until I was almost within touching distance. Louisiana lifted her head and startled. Her wide eyes locked onto me as she pressed a hand to her rising chest.

  “Jesus fuck you scared me!”

  Tightness dropped from my throat and settled around my lungs. It wasn’t like me to stutter from the effect of a woman, but I damn near forgot how to draw breath while looking into her night-darkened eyes.

  “Sorry. I brought you a blanket but I see you’ve already got one,” I said, pointing to the one wrapped snugly around her. It was a lame excuse, and we both knew it.

  Without a word, Louisiana shuffled to the side and sent me a welcoming smile. I settled and draped the blanket over my knee, then set my hands behind my head. The smell that was only present during wet weather seemed heightened by the night, and I inhaled deeply then rolled my head Louisiana’s way.

  “What are you doin’ out here, darlin’?”

  “It’s soothing,” she whispered. “Cleansing.”

  I hummed in agreement but otherwise kept quiet; she appeared to have more on her mind. After fidgeting under the blanket, she added, “I like the rain and missed it so much on the inside.”

  “You wanna talk about it?” I offered.

  Louisiana's snort accompanied the humorless tilt of her lips that seemed more like a sneer. "The rain or jail?”

  I shrugged. “Whatever you’d like. I’m a good listener.” To be honest, I was more than happy just to sit out here with her, conversation or not.

  Curiosity rose in her voice. “Is that so? Say’s who?”

  “My momma.” I grinned. “She always said that a good man listened to his woman, even when he thought she was wrong.”

  “There’s only one problem with that,” Louisiana said shortly.

  “And what’s that?”

  Her eyes locked with mine and her words made my gut bottom-out. “I’m not your woman.”

  I ran a heavy hand down my face. “That sounded different in my head.”

  The downpour engulfed our awkward silence. My jaw worked overtime as I dug deep for a way to make up for being an idiot.

  “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through, being in jail,” Louisiana whispered, barely audible above the rain. She snapped her head my way with a look of sheer anger that took me off-guard. “I did it, you know. Unlawfully entered my ex’s place with the intent to commit larceny.”

  The thumping in my chest beat heavier with every moment her ghostly stare remained unblinking.

  “I read your file, Louisiana. I know all this.”

  She shook her head and tears began to glisten in her eyes. “But you don’t know why.”

  Before I took the breath to say that I had a fair idea, she turned back to the rain and poured it all out as if the words would never be heard by anyone other than herself.

  “Will and I had a terrible breakup, and I ended up taking out a restraining order on him. He broke into my house when I was at work one day. I know it was him but couldn’t prove it, so I didn’t have a leg to stand on when I reported it to the cops. Their lack of care and willingness to help had me so frustrated that I decided to take matters into my own hands. So, I broke into his place. I got caught. He had hidden cameras set up as if his sole intention was to bait me into fucking up. Anyway, I took back what was mine, and then a couple of other things to cover what he owed in ch- …To cover what he owed me,” she hastily corrected herself. “Long story short, they got me on misdemeanor charges of breaking and entering, theft and damage to property, slapping me with a sentence of eleven months plus a couple of thousand dollars for reparation. I lost everything because of him. And the worst part was that he didn’t even step up and take care of-” Louisiana cut off and pressed her palms into her eyes, exhaling a shuddering breath. “Eight months has been a very long time. Only three to go.”

  I lifted my arm and gently pulled her against my side. Without resistance, Louisiana set her head on my shoulder and cuddled into the blanket once more, silently dashing away tears when needed. At least she got to ride out the remaining three months out here on the ranch instead of behind bars.

  “I understand,” I murmured against her head.

  She lifted her sorrow-filled face and shook her head. “You think you do, but you don’t.”

  “I do,” I stated vehemently to make her see the hidden meaning behind my words.

  I knew her secret, and my heart felt like it was breaking while witnessing it tear her apart. Heartbreak wasn't something I would wish upon anyone, let alone a mother.

  As if sensing her need for comfort, the rain beat down harder in a deafening roar on the iron porch roof. Louisiana burrowed deeper under my arm and I held her tighter as if it would shield her from everything she’d been through.

  Too little, too late, Bran.

  I fell under the spell cast from her freshly showered scent. I recognized the shampoo—it was t
he one I’d put in the ensuite bathroom on the off-chance she didn't have her own toiletries when she arrived. The longer we stayed listening to the rain, the more I felt her relax against me until I thought she had fallen asleep. Eventually, the downpour began to ease into a more leisurely spring shower.

  Deep in a relaxed trance, I jolted when Louisiana sat bolt upright and threw back her cover.

  “Oh, what the hell. I’m only going to live once,” she declared, then strode across the porch with newfound purpose.

  I stood and gaped when she picked her way down the porch steps and out into the rain, arms outspread and face tipped to the black sky. She walked until she was no longer touched by the porch light, and I could only just make out her silhouette standing still in the dark like a willing sacrifice to the night.

  “Woman, have you lost your goddamn mind?” I called gobsmacked by what she was doing. Sure, I didn’t know her well, but this seemed completely out of character.

  Louisiana’s light and almost eerie giggle flowed back. “It’s so invigorating!”

  “I’ll take your word for it, darlin’.” I couldn’t help but smile—her joy was contagious, even if going out into the rain wasn’t a smart idea. She would end up catching a chill then-

  “Come out, Brandon! When was the last time you stood in the rain for fun?”

  “No working man stands in the rain for fun, Louisiana,” I deadpanned.

  “I feel so alive!”

  Laughing under my breath, I stared harder into the night to try and catch another glimpse of her silhouette.

  “Come out.” Her voice was lifted and breathy, as if she was overwhelmed.

  I straight-up denied her ass, complete with a needless headshake. “Don’t think so, darlin’.”

  "I dare you, scaredy-cat."

  She gasped when I let out a dare-induced growl, then her unbridled laughter filled the night.

  “Damnit, woman, you cannot dare me on my own property!”

  “Just did,” she called as the rain fell harder. “You’re such a pussy, Brandon.”

  The taunt was designed to spur me into action, and goddamnit it had the desired effect. Grumbling and cursing under my breath, I descended the steps, then gingerly walked barefoot across the gravel yard in the pissing rain.