Brianna's Sinful Cowboys [Casanova Cowboys 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Rhea Regale

  “My god, man. It’s so good to see you again. It’s been ages,” Jackson said, releasing his luggage to give Rylan a hard hug and a firm clap on the back. Rylan laughed and mussed up Jackson’s spiked hair. “Hey. Still goin’ after the hair.”

  “Out to make a muck of all this pretty-boy shit.” Rylan stepped back. Jackson took the brief opportunity during Rylan’s perusal to steal one of his own. “A few months ain’t ages.”

  “You look a bit worn around the eyes, my friend,” Jackson joked. “Sheriff stuff beatin’ you down?”

  “Eh, been a rough couple of days. Carter got back into town after a tour in Afghanistan. Colt’s still dealin’ with that storm on the circuit after the death of that competitor that left him an unofficial suspect. Brody, Craig, and I finally got things settled with that Caroline chick after she tried blackmailin’ those brothers a couple months back.” Rylan chuckled, grabbing the handle on Jackson’s luggage, and started toward the sliding doors. “There was an accident earlier on Crosslane that fucked up my day. But enough about same ol’ me. You’ve been busy with that job of yours, travelin’ the nation, property gazin’ and all. How’s that goin’ for you? Ready to come back home to Ryder life?”

  Jackson’s heart tore for his good friend at the mention of Crosslane. A dark veil came down over Ry’s expression, dulling his hawklike amber-brown eyes and leaving his lips flat. The tragedy that took place on that infamous curve left its haunting mark on Rylan’s soul.

  “It’s good money, better opportunities. I had nothin’ here.” Jackson smoothed a hand over his neatly trimmed goatee, careful to skate around the happenings of Ry’s day. “I do miss it, though, especially when I’m battlin’ rush hour traffic or lookin’ for good, fresh produce. Ain’t nothin’ like home in that sense.”

  “That it ain’t.” Ry and Jackson shouldered by a small group of people hovering in the heated lobby space between the two sets of sliding doors and entered the bitter cold Kansas night. Ry pointed down the sidewalk toward a few curbside vehicles. “Your parents’ll be happy to have you home for the holidays. I pay them a visit every other week to see how your ma’s doing.”

  “She’s pulling through that surgery like a winner, ain’t she?” Jackson laughed and shook his head. “She’s a steel fort. Ain’t no one or nothin’ will bring her down. When she first found out about that tumor, you know what she said? She tells me, ‘It’s my body. I tell it what to do. It don’t tell me. I’ll show this bugger who’s in control, I will.’”

  “Sounds like your momma. She’s up and cookin’ again, despite what the docs told her about takin’ it easy until her neck heals.” Ry snickered. “Your pa has no control over that woman.”

  “Pa still loves her after all these years. She’s got him wrapped tight like bacon around her finger.” Jackson nudged Ry with his elbow. “Imagine that. Those two goin’ on somethin’ like forty years together and still lovin’ strong.”

  Ry licked his lips. “What about that gal you keep tellin’ me about? The one from your sister office? You two headin’ down a promisin’ road?”

  Jackson snorted. “We are, as long as her momma keeps her nose outta our business. The woman’s a wretched creature.” Jackson leaned close to Ry when his friend paused to cast him a short glance. “Bree’s a gorgeous one. We’ve only officially been an item for a few months because her ex’s a naggin’ crybaby. She’s career driven, which makes her even more appealin’. Don’t want a man takin’ care of her.”

  “You’re gonna have a hard time with that one. You’ve always wanted to be the one to support your woman and give her everythin’ you have.”

  “Doesn’t mean I still can’t give. I’ve got a ton to give a woman, much thanks to the likes of you and your cousins.” Jackson winked. “Things she can’t give herself.”

  Rylan rolled his eyes and shook his head, motioning to his black pickup parked along the curb. Jackson ran a hand over the edge of the jacked-up bed and whistled low, admiring the shiny chrome rims and mean tires. Ry hoisted his luggage over the tailgate and unlocked the cab doors.

  Jackson caught his friend’s curious gaze. “Damn, this is a nice stallion. When did you get’er?”

  “A few months back.”

  “She’s a beau.”

  “Don’t waste a hard-on droolin’ over my ride. Hop in.”

  Once settled in the cool leather seat and back on the road, Jackson inched over the line he didn’t want to cross in public. “How’re you doin’, Ry?”

  Ry spared him a lingering glance before turning his attention back to the road. Silence stretched, the methodic hum of rubber against asphalt melting with the masculine hum of the engine.

  At last, Ry murmured, “I have my days, but it’s gettin’…easier.” His shoulders stiffened, his fingers tight around the wheel. “I keep myself busy. Leaves little time to mull over things.”

  “I know you don’t want to hear it, but it might be time to start thinkin’ about movin’ on. You’re still young, Ry. You have your whole life ahead of you. Another woman will come. She may be nothin’ like Hailey, but she can offer you her own kind of love.”

  “It’s only been nine months. That ain’t happenin’ anytime soon.”

  “I never said soon. What I’m sayin’ is keep your eyes open.” Jackson sighed, glancing at the clock. “Don’t cheat yourself from what you deserve, Ry.”

  “I ain’t cheatin’. I was cheated.”

  Jackson watched his friend ring the steering wheel, his knuckles paling in the darkness. His jaw shifted, evidence of teeth grinding. Jackson rapped his fingertips against his knee, observing the tension in Ry’s face that thickened the air in the cab.

  “Ry, do you feel guilty about movin’ on?” Jackson finally asked, keeping his voice level. He narrowed his eyes on his friend. “Guilty about findin’ happiness with someone other than the woman you were goin’ to propose to?”

  “Are you tryin’ to pick my brain, Jax? ’Cause it ain’t gonna work. When I’m ready to move on, I will. I haven’t encountered anyone that’s struck me as worth my time.”

  The faint wave that disrupted Rylan’s expression was so subtle, Jackson believed it was a trick of a street light and shadows. The slight twitch of his finger against the steering wheel was the only other sign that Rylan was lying.

  He does have an interest.

  The man knew to a fault how to hide his true thoughts from the world, but Jackson learned the unspoken signs that most people missed and often misinterpreted as cold and unfriendly.

  Always hidin’ that big heart in a steel bunker.

  “Okay,” Jackson said, not pressing the subject that earned him a quirked brow from Rylan. Jackson smiled and winked, pulling his phone from his pocket. He dialed up Brianna and sighed when he went straight to voice mail. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was sleeping after the past couple days of intense meetings and lack of sleep. “Bree was flyin’ in this mornin’. You’ll get to meet her.”

  “Bringin’ your woman home to meet the parents so soon?”

  Jackson shrugged. “Here for a little business and pleasure.”

  “Oh?” Tension ebbed away from Rylan, curiosity relaxing his taut muscles and white-knuckled grip. “And what kinda business could you possibly be conductin’ in Ryder? Surely you ain’t gonna give a proposal for some luxury resort here.”

  The man had a knack for being in tune with everything around him. He always had that little step above everyone else, reading off the nonverbal vibes when people read from the verbal. “Boss man has his eye on prime property.”

  “Ryder land ain’t for sale, Jackson. I’m surprised you’d even come here with that notion.” Rylan pointed a finger at him. “Not even you can convince a soul in town to sell anythin’ worth your boss’s cash.”

  Jackson laughed, twisting to square himself to Rylan. Convincing Colt to sell part of Ryder Ranch would be tricky. Brianna’s promotion rode on the contract, and he would do whatever it took to help her achieve that goal.


  “Just out of curiosity, what land is your boss lookin’ to snag?” Rylan asked.

  “He vacationed here a few months back. Fell in love with the mountains that were the ranch’s backdrop. He’s ambitious, wantin’ a piece of Colt’s land,” Jackson said, keeping his voice light and conversational. The Ryder family was awfully protective of their property, their kin, and he would have to tread these trapped grounds carefully. He and Rylan may be closest of childhood friends, but when it came to blood, he held no weight.

  Rylan snickered and shook his head. “Christ, I would think you’re smarter than that. You’re wastin’ your time, Jackson. You know Colt ain’t sellin’. He won’t give anythin’ up, especially to a developer.”

  “Gotta give it a try,” Jackson said.

  Rylan guided the truck off the highway toward the edge of Ryder. The fields Jackson and the Ryders spent so much time running through were cropped for the winter, patches of old snow creating glowing dots among the darkness.

  “Try all you want. I’ll sit back and watch you return to your fancy office suite empty-handed.” Rylan paused at a stop sign and pinned Jackson with a serious glance. “Maybe all of that city glam made you forget what this town’s about. Think you need some remindin’ what Ryder’s built on.”

  “I know what Ryder’s built on,” Jackson reassured, holding Rylan’s probing gaze. “I know damn well what this town represents, but it doesn’t make any difference when it comes down to business.” He settled back into his seat and forced a smile, even as his frustration rose. Rylan was putting up a barricade before he even had a chance to make a move. “Let’s not discuss it now. I just got back and want a happy welcomin’. I want Bree to see where I come from.”

  “Before you try to sell it to the big time?” Rylan snorted and pulled ahead. “Good luck.”

  Resorting to resignation for the moment, he said with a touch of humor, “Thanks, man. I’m gonna need it.”

  Jackson shot Brianna a quick text, letting her know he arrived and would stop by Miss Bess’s tomorrow. Tonight, he’d be settling in at home with his parents, catching up on the past nine months in full detail, and trying to devise a strategy to get Brianna to fall in love with Ryder enough to never want to leave.

  Chapter Four

  “Gregory, I swear, I’m fine. Just don’t say anythin’ to Jackson. He’ll be worried sick if he finds out I’m in the hospital and not researching a couple things before returning to town.”

  “He’s been calling here for the past three days wonderin’ about you. This is the first time I’ve gotten through to you myself,” Gregory said in his matter-of-fact papa tone of voice. “And the only reason I got this far was because I got ahold of your mother. Brianna, if you need to postpone this assignment until you’ve recovered, tell me. Take the next couple of weeks to yourself. Enjoy the holidays. I’ll send someone out to meet with Jackson and go over the terms of the proposal.”

  “No!”

  The nurse at her bedside shot her a startled glance. Brianna slapped a hand over her mouth, her cheeks warming beneath the scrutinizing glance.

  “Sorry,” she whispered to the nurse. The woman rested a hand on her shoulder and continued to record her vital signs.

  “No. I’ve got this. They’re dischargin’ me tomorrow mornin’. I’ll be back on my feet in a couple of days like the accident never happened. Don’t give it to someone else. Please.”

  Gregory sighed. She could hear him tapping a pen on his desk, a habit he had when he was torn between decisions. “I know you’ve been waiting for this promotion, Bree, but you’ve got to take care of yourself first. There will be other opportunities.”

  Her heart sank. She wasn’t giving up her promotion over an accident. “Greg?”

  “Listen. Take a couple of days. Think about it. I have a prospective client in Washington state who is leaning toward a deal. That might be less stressful until you’re fully recovered.”

  Brianna fisted the blanket in her fingers and clenched her teeth. Five years of busting her ass for this opportunity, a chance to finally prove her worth to her mother and break free of her overbearing presence, and she was listening to her boss reel it away.

  “Brianna, relax,” the nurse said. Brianna tipped her head and glanced back at the monitor that flashed with an abnormal oxygen stat. She nodded, settling back against the bed, and sighed. She stirred her coffee, the corners of her mouth weighing down.

  “Gregory, please. I’m beggin’ you. Let me give this a shot. I know I can make the deal. I’ll take it easy. Jackson will make sure of it,” Brianna said. She couldn’t believe she resorted to begging. “Please.”

  Brianna glanced up when her mother returned to the room, carrying a Starbucks and a takeout bag from a local restaurant. Gregory’s pen tapped away, tempting her to start twitching in tune to the rhythm.

  “Brianna, I’m going to agree to this against my better judgment. I want updates every other day, either from you or Jackson. If this deal isn’t set in ink by Christmas Eve, I’m handing it to Nathan. Understood?” Gregory asked.

  She bit back her excitement to save herself from a pounding of questions and disagreement from her mother. As it was, her mother was eyeing her like an accusative detective. “Yes. I understand. Thank you.”

  “Call the office when you’re out of the hospital. Oh, and you’d better call your boyfriend and tell him the truth. Take care, Bree.”

  Brianna placed the room phone on the side table and took a sip of her coffee, allowing the nurse to remove the blood pressure cuff from her arm. She placed her coffee on the table, eyeing her cell before snatching it up. She hesitated, thumb hovering over the button to call Jackson.

  “Is there anything I can get for you? Fresh coffee?” the nurse asked. Brianna shook her head, staring at the number on her phone.

  “No. Thank you, though,” Brianna said. She flashed the nurse a quick smile then called Jackson before her uncertainty caused her to drop the call.

  “Bree? Honey, where are you? I’m gettin’ worried—”

  “Jackson, calm down. I just got off the phone with Gregory.” Brianna bit her lower lip, keeping her eyes averted from her mother. “I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier. I had a little fender bender that put me behind.”

  “Christ, Brianna.” Jackson’s exasperated breath hit her ear. She could picture him pacing, maybe even combing a hand through his hair, something she loved to do. “Why the hell didn’t you call me? I’ve been worried sick over you. Miss Bess said you’d checked in at her bed-and-breakfast Monday mornin’ but she hasn’t seen you since. We were gettin’ ready to put a search party together.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t do that.”

  “You should be. Friends and family here don’t take missin’ persons lightly, baby. This town would put an FBI search to shame. The only reason I didn’t do it was ’cause I’d spoken with you and your mother decided to answer one of my calls to her. Told me you were fine. She also told me to stop harassin’ her.” Jackson chuckled. Brianna seethed inwardly, casting a shaded glance at her mother. “Are you okay, honey? What happened? Where are you?”

  Jackson’s rapid-fire questioning won over the irritation toward her mother. She smiled, her face warming by his concern. She hadn’t gotten over her ex’s overbearing presence before she called off their engagement. Unfortunately, that resentment was one of the main reasons she hesitated to call Jackson right after the accident, even though she knew his concern was rooted in his heart, not in the need to control her.

  “Well”—she glanced at the whiteboard—“I’m at Westfield Medical. Everythin’s okay. I’m fine. They’ve kept me in for observation, but I’ll be leavin’ tomorrow mornin’.”

  “I’m comin’ over.” Jackson groaned, a ruffling filling the phone. “Woman, I can’t believe you didn’t call me sooner. We’re gonna have to have a little talk about these ‘I’m okay’ incidents. I ain’t that ex of yours.”

  The nail she was waiting for. “I
know, Jackson. I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, don’t you dare apologize for how he was, or the shit your mother put him up to do.” The jingle of keys hit her ear. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

  “Through speaking on the phone, Brianna?” Mrs. Cabot asked, taking up the single chair pushed into the counter. She crossed her ankles, her back impeccably straight, her shoulders back, and pinned Brianna with her disapproving glare. “That Jackson character you are so fond of has no respect for a person’s privacy.”

  “Mother, I’d stop now if I were you,” Brianna warned, pointing her phone at Mrs. Cabot. The woman raised one perfectly waxed brow. “You know exactly why, so don’t give me that look.”

  “Why, darling, I haven’t the slightest idea what you are talking about. I find it extremely rude of a person to call insistently without allowing me to return the call when I have the opportunity.” Mrs. Cabot shrugged one slender shoulder and took a dainty sip of her coffee. “Sean had manners—”

  Brianna snorted, pushing the bedside table away.

  “He knew where you were and if anything happened to you—”

  She threw back the covers, slid her feet into her slippers, and stood up. Her sore midsection protested her brash movement, a dull wave of pain sweeping over her from the laparoscopic incision sites. She swallowed back the urge to wince and shuffled to the bathroom.

  “But you insist on traipsing after a man who has no direction…”

  Brianna shot her mother a cold glance and closed the bathroom door. To her disgruntlement, the woman continued to ramble about the perceived poor choices her sadly misguided daughter had been making.

  She opened the faucet in the sink and let the water rush out, drowning the persistent nonsense her mother went on about. Her hands trembled with pent-up frustration. She had to press the toothpaste tube onto the brush to keep from squeezing the paste onto the sink.

  God, she couldn’t wait for Jackson to get here. Anything to make her mother turn her nose up and huff away, leaving her in peace.