by Susan Arden
Shit, was that what he was doing? Trampling on her dream? He gritted his teeth, the truth almost too hard to bear. “We’ll stay together, Mia. I won’t stand in your way.”
“How’s that supposed to work out, if I want to leave this part of the world, and you have roots that go down for miles and miles…years upon years?”
“Because I’m giving you my word.”
She shook her head. “I need more.”
*
They drove in silence to the church. Thankfully, there was valet parking and they didn’t have to fight to find a space along the street. He should have guessed that Stephen’s wedding would be off the charts. Do it once and do it big must have been the theme of the day. Inside the church he walked Mia to the front, a few pews back from the altar, and sat her down next to his aunt and his unmarried cousin. He nodded to his aunt, a stoic woman who was a hardcore Baptist and wouldn’t let any single man come near her daughter—or Mia, now seated by her.
He walked to the back of the church and looked for a cloud of black tuxes to know where his brother would be waiting.
“Stephen,” Brandon said, seeing the transformation of one rowdy Harley rider into a close-shaven and trimmed groom. “Shit, what happened to you?”
“It’s called matrimony. You ought to try it.”
“I’m not arguing against the cause.”
Stephen brows lifted. “Yeah? We all got a load of you and Mia over the last week around the ranch and at the rehearsal dinner. Dude…I don’t even know how to classify what I saw, except it was a side to you none of us have ever seen.”
“Could have said the same thing about you last summer.”
Stephen slapped him across the back. “Things change. People, too.”
“Not fast enough,” he muttered.
“What the heck does that mean?” Matt said, passing him a flask.
“Nothing.” He tipped the flask against his lips and just happened to glance down the aisle. A man stood over Mia, laughing at something while his aunt was red-faced. “Dammit. Take this.”
Without another word, he strode down the aisle until he came up to the dude. “Yes. Can I help you?” he demanded.
The young man looked up. “No. Just talking.”
“Not with this woman.” Brandon inhaled and met Mia’s eyes.
She smiled up at him, looking confused and rightfully so. “He’s talking with Rachel,” she whispered.
Brandon met the man’s jovial expression and understood this had been a friggin’ mistake to come down here.
“Didn’t mean any harm.” The young man nodded and turned his attention back to his cousin.
He gritted his teeth and leaned over. “Are you all right?”
“Sir, I am. How are you holding up?” Mia reached out and squeezed his hand, unleashing a wide grin complete with her killer dimples.
“Wipe that smile off your face, darlin’. You’re enjoying this way too much,” he spouted, holding back from hauling her out of the pew. Instead he straightened. “I’m done providing the pre-wedding entertainment. I’d better go take my place.”
“Not so fast, Brandon,” his aunt said, pressing her thin lips together and narrowing her eyes. “Be a dear and escort that young man by your side, far away from here. There’s no reason for him to be lurking at the end of the pew. Thank you.”
His aunt looked forward and tugged on Rachel, firmly holding her daughter’s arm. His cousin shot him a glance, rolling her eyes in his direction for help.
“Everything will be fine,” Mia whispered, letting go of his hand.
He glanced down the aisle and Rory flashed him the loser sign. He’d better wake the hell up. This nonsense didn’t even involve Mia. He shifted his focus to her beautiful face.
But that wouldn’t always be the case, a voice reminded him. In a few months, she’d be out of here and surrounded by a million guys and then what? He wasn’t going to be around. A strangle hold wouldn’t bind her to him, and he didn’t enjoy the feeling that he was always two clicks away from becoming unhinged. Shit, the sting of humiliation lit a fire under his ass.
Fine. He got it. He had crossed the line into the land of overbearing and overprotective for a woman who wasn’t ready to settle down. He wasn’t going to be pussy-whipped. Mia wanted to take off as fast as she could after graduation, and so far that hadn’t changed.
“See you after the service,” he whispered.
“I’ll find you,” she replied.
“Let’s go,” he said to the young man, who nodded. Brandon walked the guy down the aisle and pointed to an empty place in a pew near the back. “Rachel’s mother will have your hide and mine if you return. Wait until the reception.”
“Gotcha,” the young man said and took a seat
Brandon took his time rejoining his brothers. No doubt they would have something to say about his charging down the aisle.
His father stood with his brothers and was the first to offer advice, “This church isn’t in need of any bouncers.”
“Tell that to your sister,” he retorted dryly. “She’s on mother-hen overdrive.”
“Brandon,” Sarah McLemore huffed. “Let me pin on your boutonniere.”
“Saved.” Stephen grinned over at him and poked him in the ribs. “Where’s the dude who was the coolest of the cool?”
“You asking me? Sound an alarm if you find him.”
His mother rubbed the side of his jaw with her handkerchief. “Hold still. You have lipstick on your cheek.”
“Christ,” he swore. Could I appear anymore whipped? “The authorities are coming for my Man Card. Thank you.”
“Hush, Brandon,” she whispered. “You were always the easiest of my children.” For a long second his mother’s eyes searched his and he lowered his gaze.
He inhaled. Without saying another word, his mother squeezed his hand. Last week, she and his father had quickly recovered from their surprise that not only did he have a girlfriend, but that she’d come to live with him. When they found out Mia was Nat Santero’s daughter, it was as though a miracle from heaven had been delivered, that he’d found a girl who was born and bred on ranching. His parents had invited Mia and him to dinner during the last week, and then last weekend he had taken her to join in the family barbeque. They’d spent time with all of his brothers and their better halves. Everyone in his family seemed to be pleased as punch with Mia.
But he could never fool his mother, no matter how small the concern; she could read him like a book. “She’ll come ‘round. You just give her some room. Of all my sons, you know what to do,” she said with her usual confidence.
He lifted his gaze, unsure of what to say. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
“Just listen to your heart.” His mom blinked and then laughed, and wiped the corner of her eye. “Oh, my. Too soon to get emotional with a whole wedding before us.”
Seeing his mother teary-eyed, he remembered he owed Mia a promise. But how to get his handkerchief to her? He couldn’t walk back down the aisle in front of the whole church and cause a stir. This was his brother’s and Gillian’s moment, and he wasn’t about to upset the atmosphere by acting like an overprotective fool, or more so than he had already done.
The organ music began and Matt pointed to him and winked. Miller took the spot in front of him and Rory in back, and finally the Stephen.
Brandon stepped out of line, walking back to Stephen. “Dude, you’re a lucky man.”
“Thanks for always being there.” They hugged and he left his brother’s side.
Matt walked their mother down the aisle, then Miller. No going back now. When the wedding planner signaled to him, he strode down the aisle and reached into his pocket. He counted the pews until he’d come to Mia’s where he stopped and touched her shoulder.
“A promise,” he said, holding out the handkerchief.
She gazed up, her dark exotic eyes unwavering and she smiled. “You always come through. Thank you.”
Their fingers conn
ected, discharging an electrical jolt. The impact caused his heart to hammer in his chest. She must have felt the charge by the way her lashes fluttered.
“Mia,” he said low voice. He went to move away, unaware that she’d recaptured his hand. He felt her touch and turned back, then seeing Mia’s tender expression, the ache widened inside him. He blew her a kiss—he’d do anything to lengthen his time of being near her.
The photographer whispered, “Stellar.” And then his camera snapped rapidly.
At the front of the church, he stood next to his brothers, and the music changed again. A flutter of bridesmaids and his sister Cory waved from the procession. Then the church stood and everyone faced the back. Gillian appeared on the arm of her brother, Hayden. They were orphaned when they were younger and he hadn’t seen Hayden since the time the twins had been in rehab, after crashing into his car. Hayden was on tour in a rock band that had gone platinum famous, stopping over in Annona between tours. What was it, six months ago when he’d gotten out of rehab and back on tour? At least that, and he’d put on weight, looking like he’d finally gotten his act together.
The minister began spouting off about the sacred act of marriage and he closed his eyes, fighting to stop from hearing the words. He tried to think of Rebellion and the other horses that needed his attention. Anything except the voices of his brother and Gillian. He couldn’t do that. He opened his eyes and focused on the service, hearing every word spoken between the bride and groom along with what the preacher said. Took in and absorbed the expression on his parents’ faces, as well as the sighs and sniffles—signs that this wasn’t a solitary decision, but one which his whole family witnessed and supported.
Suddenly, his suit felt a size too small. He pulled at the collar and the bow tie that was strangling him. He brushed his fingers over the skin at his temples, wiping away the beads of sweat. Mia—one woman. He wanted her so completely he was drowning at the thought she’d be gone soon.
Glancing around, the realization stabbed him: this would not be where he and Mia would end up. He lifted his eyes and sought hers. Mia blinked but held his gaze, dabbing at the corner of her eye, and his chest felt like it was being ripped open incrementally with a spoon. Seeing Mia try to hide her tears made his need to get to her that much more urgent. Yeah, yeah, yeah, come on, buddy! He mentally hurried the minister in the final reading. Mia, he silently moaned her name a hundred times as they watched each other across the church.
All at once there was laughter and he noticed Stephen lip-locked with Gillian. They looked so happy. Sure, he shared in the joy for his brother and new sister-in-law. Those two had persevered over an uncertain destiny. Simply put, his stubborn brother had held on. Same thing with Brandon’s other brothers, Matt and Miller. All McLemores, and he clenched his jaw. It was in their DNA to obstinately fight for what they desired. Well, dammit, he wasn’t about to give up his Man Card anytime soon. And come hell or high water, he’d find a way to convince this woman, who owned his heart, that they were right together.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“My calves ache,” Mia murmured, rubbing her leg across Brandon’s under the table.
“We’ve stayed long enough,” he whispered into her ear.
He must have glimpsed Stephen and Gillian returning to the wedding party table. They were done making their rounds, saying goodbye before they’d leave on their two-week honeymoon.
“Mmm, does that mean you’re ready to go home?” she asked.
He released a wicked grin and nodded, tracing his hand down her arm. “To bed.”
“We’re taking off,” Stephen announced, coming up to the table holding hands with his wife.
Gillian waved to her. “Mia, promise you’ll call me. We have a girls’ lunch once a month. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll track you down.”
“Hey, Gill,” Brandon stretched, getting out of his seat. He hugged his sister-in-law. “You caught a live one. You’re the only one who could have done it.”
“Brandon, stay cool,” Gillian replied, patting him on the shoulder.
Stephen went in for a man-hug, thumping Brandon on the back. “Take care of the place.”
Brandon replied. “I’ll cover your crew. Not a thing to think about except the sun and the sand. Call us when you get back,”
Brandon held her arm, and helped her from the seat, letting his fingers drift down to her hip.
“Mia,” Stephen held out his hand. “We’ll be seeing you soon.”
“Looking forward to hearing about your honeymoon. Enjoy!” she said, her arm jiggling from Stephen’s handshake. Mia leaned over with arms open to Gillian, who hugged her back.
The McLemore family wedding experience was heady, dizzying, and Mia wobbled slightly on her heels. Brandon took hold of her by the waist before she had a chance to sit again. “We’re next to take off. If you’re ready?” he asked, his eyes darkening.
“Should we say goodbye?” she asked. All around the ballroom were members of his family. Eyes were on them, of course, standing next to the bride and groom.
“This is how we take care of that.” He raised his hand and waved. Immediately, other hands shot up and waved back. Then more and more. He waved back, but didn’t seem to pay much attention to anyone as his sapphire eyes remained locked with hers.
At the entrance to the hotel, he stopped. “Wait here. I’ll arrange the car.”
Her brows drew together. “Why?”
“It’s cold outside. Don’t argue. Trust me, there are bigger fish to fry.”
On the drive to his house, they sat next to each other in the darkened cab of his truck, listening to the music; it felt so natural. His arm around her, he sang a couple of bars from the song, and she leaned into his warm body. Where had she come up with this plan to get away from Paris? She struggled to keep from changing her goals—yet she herself had changed and now she felt confused, not knowing if she’d diverted her life’s course. What was the point in making plans if life changed? She let out a frustrated breath.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, stroking a finger along her shoulder.
She picked at the hem of her dress. “You ever wonder what the point of having goals is?”
“Sometimes I consider the goals that I set in the past. Generally, I don’t question the reason why. It was a point in time and a place I thought I needed to get to.” He inhaled and turned down the music. “Sounds like you’re questioning yours.”
“You know I have plans…” Her voice trailed off. She flicked at an imaginary piece of lint, struggling to talk with the person who had her questioning her whole life. Probably not the right person to speak to, but she trusted Brandon.
“Everyone does, baby,” he said softly.
Somewhere between fucking, they’d become friends, and she valued and respected his opinion. She could talk to him about anything, and he didn’t jump down her throat, no matter what she said. He wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met, or probably would ever meet. An unlikely expression of domination, but it all centered on what she needed. When she’d started researching the lifestyle Brandon lived, she had basically scoffed at the idea of domination and how women lost themselves. She hadn’t realized that to find and meld the authentic parts of her personality, she had to be willing to let go—get lost, in a way. Now, wearing his collar, she was more than neck-deep involved with Brandon. They were involved, heart and soul deep, together. How foolish she’d been to scoff at the idea that a Dom could ever be capable of knowing what his sub required.
Brandon had said she had all the power, and it was a hard equation to understand without letting go and trusting. She had, and he had, and now she couldn’t imagine life without him.
This was just perfect. She’d trapped herself, and was in too deep to know if this was a good thing or a temporary thing.
“But mine didn’t include hanging around North Texas,” she finally replied.
“So what’s changed?”
She sighed. “Feels like ever
ything.”
He gripped the steering wheel, and she could tell he was struggling with something as well.
“Maybe you need to take some time to think about why you came up with your original plans, and how well they mesh with your life. I mean, your current life. The only constant we’ve got is expecting that life doesn’t follow a straight path. Learning to adjust and bend, that’s the mark of strength, darlin’.”
“I can’t just give in,” she huffed, as he softly kissed the side of her head.
“Sugar, you can. If you’re willing to relax that nature of yours to fight like a samurai.”
“This isn’t just me being intractable.”
“Mia,” he whispered, drawing out each syllable. Her name spilling from his lips spoke to her. Deeply.
She stared back at him and could tell from his lopsided smile that he didn’t completely buy into her assertion. Did she?
“Yes, Sir,” she murmured in response, running her hands over his muscular thigh.
“See those trees?” He pointed to the ones off the road, dotting across Evermore land, and visible in the moonlight.
“I do,” she said, brushing her cheek against his shoulder.
“Every so often a tornado tears through this place. Each time an oak or ash encounters a twister it’s a test. Those are still standing. Know why?”
“Luck?”
“Not really. We’ve hauled away plenty, a real mess, and they end up as firewood. My point is, if they can’t bend with the wind, those are the ones that crack and splinter. Get my drift?”
“I think. What’s the point in all that rigid strength, if it ends up destroying itself?”
He smiled and nodded over to her. “I have learned a lesson or two about that myself. Whether it’s ranch work or people…things have a way of shifting, and it doesn’t matter what we originally thought. Darlin’, we’re not always in the driver’s seat.”
“You’re saying I need to be flexible. I should listen to you, considering it’s what I tell patients.” She laid her hand on his steel-hard forearm and squeezed.