Bound, Branded, & Brazen

by Burton, Jaci

  “Rough day?”

  Her shoulders tensed at Mason’s voice. She turned and managed a smile. “It wasn’t too bad.”

  “Sorry I wasn’t here. Bet you had to field a lot of questions about us.”

  “I managed.”

  Dirt smudged his face and rained off his jeans as he moved into the room, his boots tapping on the wood floor. God he looked good enough to . . . eat.

  It had been a long, long dry spell. The last man she’d been with had been . . . him.

  “You look tense.”

  She lifted her chin and dropped her shoulders. “I’m fine, really.”

  “I used to know you better than you knew yourself. You’re not fine. There are dark circles under your eyes. When was the last time you slept?”

  Years ago. “Don’t worry about me.”

  His lips quirked. “Old habits die hard.”

  He moved in, his fingertips brushing hers. The contact was electric, surprising.

  What they had was in the past. It should be dead, buried, along with any feeling she’d had for him. But the whoa of chemistry was still there, undeniably roaring to the forefront with the simple touch of fingers.

  It wasn’t fair that this was happening.

  His gaze shot to hers and she was lost in the darkness of his eyes. Memories swirled around her. Their first touch, first kiss, and so many moments after that, mingling together like a movie in fast forward. Despite the self-preserving need to run, her feet stayed rooted to the floor, curiosity and need swirling like a tornado inside her, around her.

  “Leave me alone, Mason.” She finally found the strength to take a step back.

  “Is that what you really want?”

  She’d taken his heart and stomped all over it. Why didn’t he hate her? Hadn’t he moved on? Why did he look at her with the same kind of heat he used to, the all-consuming kind that threatened to drop her to her knees?

  She knew she shouldn’t have come, that she wouldn’t be able to handle this. Handle him.

  Shuddering an inhale, she backed up another few steps, breaking the spell. “It’s exactly what I want.”

  The smile never left his face. “I don’t believe you.”

  She skirted around him, unable to meet his knowing look. He’d always known her better than anyone. “Start believing it.”

  But as she walked away on shaky legs, needing to grip the railing as she made her way up the stairs, even she didn’t believe it.

  The evidence was in her pounding heart, her trembling legs, her hard nipples. One look, one touch, and she was turned on, wanting him, needing him just as much now as she always had.

  She might have divorced him and walked away, but she’d never really left him.

  She could talk a good game, but when faced with the man she’d loved and left, she was toast.

  She couldn’t even convince herself she didn’t want him anymore. How was she going to convince Mason?

  mason tossed his gloves on the worn table in the main room of his small place just down the road from the main house. Only a few rooms and one bedroom, it suited him just fine. It gave him privacy, away from the hands after a long day.

  He left the lights off, needing the cool afternoon darkness of the house to quell the heat raging inside him. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and settled in on one of the old comfortable chairs in front of the fireplace, stretching out his legs so he could just breathe for a few minutes.

  How could touching Valerie spark such an inferno inside him? He’d have to get a handle on this and quick.

  Then again, he’d seen the fire light up in her eyes, the desire flame instant and hot just like it had been for him. It hadn’t been one-sided.

  He’d teased her last night in the barn, wanted to irritate her—anything to get some kind of reaction from her other than her usual polite, say-nothing conversation that drove him crazy. And earlier in her room . . . God, he hadn’t expected that wildcat, the woman she used to be. But she’d only given him a glimpse, and then as usual, she’d pulled back, locked herself up tight and wouldn’t let him in.

  So he’d done what he normally did when she drew back from him—he’d pissed her off. She’d always had spirit, but she banked it. He’d seen plenty of that spirit, that lust for life, when they were together, when things had been hot and heavy and good between them.

  He hadn’t been the one to give up, to run. That had been all her doing. And maybe he should man up and walk away, just let this thing between them die once and for all. But he was also old enough and smart enough to read a cry for help, and Val was screaming loud inside.

  He knew Valerie better than anyone ever had. He knew her pain, knew her fear. What he’d told her today was true—he knew her better than she knew herself.

  Maybe he’d let go too easily before. Maybe he hadn’t given her what she’d been really been asking for two years ago.

  Maybe it was time he did.

  “so what’s going on tonight, guys?”

  Twenty pairs of shocked eyes gaped up at her. Valerie stared the cowboys down, having marched to the bunkhouse in an effort to prove once and for all that she did not, in fact, need Mason in her life anymore. She figured the best way to do that was to actually get a life.

  “Uh, we’re headin’ into town for some pool and beer, Miss Valerie.”

  Bobby, one of the younger hands, nearly knocked over the chair at the long table where a bunch of the guys had been playing poker.

  “That sounds like fun. Can I catch a ride with you?”

  They all looked at one another. Not at her—at one another.

  “Um. We’ll check in with Mason first, see if that’s all right with him.”

  Her blood pressure ticked up a notch, but she kept the smile plastered to her face. “Oh, you don’t need to do that.”

  “Uh, yes, ma’am, we sure do. You’re his wife.”

  “Ex-wife.”

  “Don’t matter. We wouldn’t dare take you anywhere without askin’ him first.”

  They had all started to back away from her as if she was some kind of pariah with leprosy.

  What a bunch of pussies. Could they take a piss without Mason’s permission?

  “Fine,” she said, clenching her jaw. “I’ll just take the truck into town.”

  Imbeciles. Were they children or grown men? She stormed back into the house and stomped up the stairs, threw open her closet and glared at her clothes.

  “What bug crawled up your ass?”

  She ignored Jolene. Which, of course, meant Jolene came in and threw herself on Valerie’s bed.

  “Got a date?”

  “Hardly.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Into town. Some of the hands are hitting the bar for drinks and pool.”

  “Sounds great. I’m in.”

  “In for what?” Brea had come in, too. Of course. God forbid her sisters stay out of her business.

  “Town. Bar. Drinks. Pool.”

  “Ooh,” Brea said. “Awesome. Let me go change.”

  “Wait for us,” Jo said, sliding off the bed and hurrying out the door.

  She was about to object, but it would actually be fun to unwind a bit with her sisters. She needed something—anything—to get her mind off Mason. A little drinking and dancing should do the trick.

  An hour and a half later they pulled up in front of Dirk’s Downtown Dive, a misnomer since downtown was pretty much the actual town itself. The small municipality about forty minutes south of the ranch was the only town around other than Tulsa. And it was the only place to go if you didn’t want to take the two-hour drive into the city. So Dirk’s it was. And it was hopping tonight. The parking lot was full and the sometimes-worked-sometimes-didn’t neon sign was actually working tonight. A cloud of dust flew up as Jolene slid the truck into one of the last available spots in the dirt and gravel parking lot. Which meant the next customer would be parking on the grass.

  They climbed out of the truck and Valerie smoothe
d her shirt down over her jeans, getting used to the feel of cowboy boots again.

  Even Brea had changed out of those hideous gypsy skirts and put on a pair of jeans and boots tonight. Jolene had convinced Brea to pull her hair back in a ponytail, which had done wonders for her appearance. At least Valerie could see Brea’s face now.

  “You look like a different person,” Valerie said. “Beautiful.”

  Brea looked down at the ground. “Thanks. Maybe I’ve been neglecting myself a bit. I need to do something about that.”

  “A bit?” Jolene said, a look of shock on her face. “Christ, Brea, you look like you’ve been living in a fucking cave or something. Tomorrow’s Saturday and I’m taking you into Tulsa for a makeover. Hair, nails, pedicure, the works.”

  Brea grinned. “That might be fun.”

  Valerie elbowed Brea. “You just want to look hot for Gage.”

  Her sister blushed under the neon lights. “Dear God, Val. I do not.”

  “Liar,” Jolene said, pulling the heavy wooden door open. “Now, let’s party.”

  The bar was noisy, smoky, and crowded as hell. With lots of cowboys and very few women.

  Perfect.

  Of course Jolene knew everyone and shouted out greetings as they wound their way to the bar. She ordered beers while Valerie rustled up a table, which wasn’t difficult since most of the guys were off playing pool or standing around talking to one another. A few were dancing with some of the women, but so far the small dance floor remained sadly uncrowded.

  Valerie aimed to change that. There were a lot of men present, and she intended to dance with as many of them as she could.

  They took seats at the table and Valerie surveyed the scene. Not much had changed at Dirk’s since she’d last been here. The scarred wood floor was still covered in sawdust and discarded peanut shells. The long bar was littered with beer bottles, some filled, some empty. Raucous country music played—no, that wasn’t quite right—it blared loud and hard, the heavy bass thumping with a wham wham wham she felt in her chest. The thwack of pool balls could be heard above the noise since several games were going on, followed by either a loud groan or a hoop and a holler when someone sank a shot.

  And it was still early. The real action wouldn’t happen before ten P.M.

  “This place is hoppin’ already.” Jolene scooted her butt onto a stool and slid the beers onto the table. “Great idea, Val.”

  Valerie took a long drink and nodded. “I figured we could all stand to get out of that house.” Or at least she could. Two days and she was already suffocating in there. Being at Dirk’s was easy. She could blend in, wasn’t the center of attention.

  Not until the door opened and Mason walked in with a bunch of the guys from the ranch. And everyone in the place smiled and waved at him.

  Then all eyes turned to her.

  In an instant, whether she liked it or not, they’d all made the connection.

  In their eyes, she still belonged with Mason. To Mason.

  She’d see about that, would show them she belonged to no man. She downed the first bottle of beer in three swallows, slid off the stool and, ignoring Mason, marched her way to the bar and ordered another round.

  “You’d better keep them coming,” she told Sandy, the bartender. “It’s going to be a long night.”

  Beers in hand, she went back to the table, keeping her focus on her sisters, who both gazed at her with much amusement.

  “Fuck off,” she said as she took her seat.

  “The whole place is looking at you,” Jolene said with a smirk as she continued to sip from her first bottle of beer.

  Valerie shrugged. “Let them. Nothing to see here.” And she still hadn’t looked at Mason, had no idea where he even was. Hopefully he’d spotted her and left.

  No such luck. As soon as she scanned the pool area, there he was, shooting a game of eight ball with Gage, Walker and Sporty. He wasn’t watching her.

  Good. Because she had every intention of pretending he wasn’t there. He had his life, and she had hers. The two of them were completely separate now. And it was about damn time everyone came to grips with that fact.

  “You know, for someone who claims to have no interest in Mason, you sure are watching him a lot.”

  Valerie’s gaze shot to Brea. “I am not. I just want to make sure he doesn’t come over here.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Valerie downed her second beer. Just in time, too, because Sandy sent over another one. Valerie unscrewed the top and began to drink.

  “You keep guzzling them like that and we’ll have to pour you into the truck,” Jolene said.

  Valerie rolled her eyes. “Please. I can drink both of you under the table.”

  “Is that right?” Jolene signaled for Sandy and held up three fingers. In short order, the bartender appeared with a tray and three shot glasses filled to the rim with amber liquid.

  Valerie glared at Jolene. “You did not.”

  “Let’s see you drink me under the table with beer and shooters.”

  “Bitch.”

  Jolene laughed. “Quit whining and knock it down.”

  She did. An hour, two more shots and four beers later, she was feeling free and giddy and ready to dance. The bar was packed solid and she was damn sure there’d be at least one if not a dozen cowboys eager to take her up on her offer to sweat some of this alcohol out of her system on the dance floor.

  “I’m off to pick up a man.”

  “You sure you’re gonna make it?” Jolene asked.

  “Please. I’m barely warmed up.” She hitched herself off the bar stool and made a slow trek through the throng of hot bodies now crowding the dance floor, though she didn’t do it in a straight line. Damn whiskey.

  When she reached the other side, she kept herself from licking her lips at the slabs of male flesh occupying the game area.

  Was there anything sexier than hot cowboys in Stetsons, boots, T-shirts and blue jeans? She didn’t think so. Now she just had to zero in on one available guy, grab him and take a twirl.

  Deciding steering clear of the guys from the Bar M would be the wisest choice, she chose one leaning against the far wall. He wasn’t playing pool, just drinking a beer and watching the action. He watched her approach with definite interest in his eyes.

  Oh yeah. He would definitely do. She made sure to use her sexiest saunter to keep that interest. His smile lit up when she stopped in front of him.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey yourself, darlin’. What are you up to tonight?”

  She hooked her thumbs in her belt hoops, realizing how rusty she was at this flirting thing. “Just kicking back and relaxing. How about you?”

  “Same.” He laid his beer on a nearby table and held out his hand. “I’m Cody.”

  “Valerie. Nice to meet you, Cody.”

  “You’re not from around here, are you?”

  “No,” she lied. “I have family here that I’m visiting. I live in Dallas.”

  He nodded. “The big city.”

  She laughed. He was gorgeous. Broad shoulders, killer dimples. “So, Cody, would you like to dance?”

  Before he had a chance to answer, some guy came up and whispered in his ear. Cody went pale, turned back to Valerie and tipped his hat.

  “Some other time, ma’am.”

  He backed away from her as if she had some kind of communicable disease.

  What the hell was that about? Did the guy remind Cody he had a wife back home or something? If so, then it was a good thing he’d declined, because if she found out he was married she just might have to kill him.

  Fine. He wasn’t the only guy in the place. She turned and hit on another, who politely declined. So did another. And another. And she saw a round of hands cupped to ears and whispers and fingers pointing to her.

  Irritation set her foot tapping, and it wasn’t in time to the hard-driving beat of the music.

  She faced all the guys leaning against the wall, her hands on her
hips. “Okay, look. I’m a reasonably attractive woman who can hold a decent conversation. And trust me, I’m a great dancer. So what the hell is so wrong with me that has you all running in the opposite direction whenever I come near?”

  “They think you belong to me.”

  Oh. Now it all made sense.

  She turned to face her ex-husband with murder on her mind.

  five

  mason fought a smile as valerie leveled a murderous expression in his direction. Oh yeah, she was pissed. He’d seen it coming as one guy after another shot her down.

  But hey, it wasn’t his fault that nearly every cowboy in town still thought of her as his wife. And to the cowboy code of honor, that meant hands off. They weren’t going to step in his territory.

  “You did this on purpose.”

  He shook his head. “I had nothing to do with it.”

  “Tell them it’s not true.”

  “What’s not true?”

  “I’m not your wife anymore. We don’t have a connection.”

  “Don’t we?”

  Her gaze narrowed. “Mason.”

  “Valerie.”

  She poked his chest. “Now you’re deliberately trying to piss me off.”

  “Would I do that?” He turned and walked away, and even over the deafening noise and music he heard her squeal of outrage. He grinned and picked up a pool cue, leaned over the table and took his shot, then grabbed his bottle of beer and took a long swallow

  “She’s pissed at you.”

  Mason slanted his gaze to Walker Morgan, one of his best friends. “Yeah.”

  “You intending to do something about it?”

  “Nope.”

  “Man, that’s a hornet’s nest you’re stepping into.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Speaking of hornets,” Walker said, motioning behind Mason.

  Someone tapped Mason on the shoulder. He turned, already knowing who it was. Valerie never was one to back down.

  “If none of these other guys have the balls”—and she’d said “balls” loud enough for every person in Dirk’s to hear it—“to dance with me, then you’re going to have to do it.”