by Tessa Layne
“Absolutely, and no rent. You can stay down at the lodge.”
Jamey bit her lip. Regret, shame, loss, and hope vied for space in her chest. Blowing out a sigh, she weighed the proposal.
Six weeks.
Tell her.
But if she took six weeks to prove to herself and everyone else that a gluten-free kitchen was as good as any other kitchen… Why worry them unnecessarily over a detail like gluten when they already liked her food? She’d never consent to serving anything that wasn’t delicious. Her conscience momentarily pricked at her. More for not confiding in Maddie again than the possibility of a gluten-free kitchen. Jamey knew she could deliver great gluten-free food. She just needed time to prove it. Might as well take the opportunity and run with it.
“Okay. Tell Blake I’ll come.”
Maddie squealed into the phone. “I’m thrilled Jamey. Your touch is just what the lodge needs to be successful.”
“So when do you need me down there?”
“How about tomorrow?”
CHAPTER 5
Two days later…
Jamey’s lips hovered over his cock, a wicked smile playing on her lips. “Ready, cowboy?” The heat in her emerald eyes scorched him.
His breath caught in his throat and he nodded, savoring the view. Her wild red hair tumbled every which way and he fought the urge to fist his hand through it. This was her gig.
Her tongue flicked out to circle the head already slicked with pre-come.
“Jesus, Jamey. You’re killing me.”
She laughed quietly. “Don’t die yet, cowboy, I’ve just started.”
He groaned, thrusting his hips in an attempt to relieve the agony building in his balls. She gave him a little squeeze and stroked up, her eyes never leaving his face. God, it was exquisite, this sensation. Killing him.
He was going to die in the throes of bliss.
He reached down and lightly caressed Jamey’s neck. Her breath caught in her throat, giving a little sound that made his balls vibrate. Good. She was enjoying this torture as much as he was.
And from the look in her eye, she was going to suck him like a Goddamned popsicle. Holy hell, he was going to blow his rocks off just looking at her, but he couldn’t look anywhere else. His cock twitched in anticipation.
“I’m ready for dessert,” she said breathlessly, giving him a wicked smile. She licked her lips slowly, dipping her head to take him fully in her mouth…
Ice-cold needles assaulted him, and her head twisted strangely.
“Wait, Jamey…”
A second wave of ice-cold hit him.
“JAMEY??”
Wait. What?
Pain stabbed behind his eyes as he opened them to the form of his brother, Ben, who stood beside the bed with a bucket. A dull throbbing started drumming in his temple and realization dawned that his bed was soaking wet. A dream. Pinching his temples, he tried to sit up. “What the fuck, Ben?”
“Jamey, huh?” Laughter laced Ben’s voice. “Maddie know you’re having wet dreams about her bestie?”
Brodie groaned and flopped back onto the soaked bed. “What time is it?”
“Time to drag your ass out of bed and down the hall before Blake comes in and loses it.”
Brodie could barely hear Ben over the roaring in his head. His mouth tasted like a shit pile. He screwed his eyebrows together trying to piece together the events of the previous evening.
“I’m not fucking around. Blake’s hot under the collar. I’ll hold him off, but you gotta get up, man.” Ben threw him a robe and left the room, not bothering to shut the door behind him.
Brodie sat up only to be assaulted by a wave of nausea.
Food.
He needed food. A nice Dottie’s Diner hangover breakfast and he’d be good as new.
He’d just have to figure out a way to postpone his conversation with Blake. That usually wasn’t too hard these days. Blake was so busy being married and overseeing the main ranch business, Brodie had pretty much been left to his own devices down here at the hunting lodge. He kind of liked it. Except for the fact he couldn’t seem to keep anyone in the kitchen. But he’d managed. There was cereal for the work crew, and Dottie’s down the road in town. They were all used to fending for themselves.
Blowing out a breath and wincing at the stabbing in his head, he began to untangle himself from the sheets. He ran a hand through his hair, and shook himself.
Fuck it.
He shoved his arms into the worn terry. If Blake wanted to talk now, bring it on. But he wouldn’t be coherent until he’d had a nice long shower. Maybe then, he could pick up where his dream had been so cruelly interrupted. Wiping the last of the fog from his eyes, he ambled down the hall to the great room that comprised the center of the hunting lodge they’d erected in record time late this spring. Blake was fully dressed and pacing in front of the fieldstone fireplace.
Brodie raised a hand in greeting, squinting against the early morning sun flooding the room. It was entirely too bright in here.
“’Sup, bro?”
Blake wheeled and stalked over, eyes sparking and a muscle in his cheek twitching. “Are you kidding me? What in the hell do you think you’re doing, Brodie?”
He took a small step back, but not too big of a step. He wasn’t going to let Blake push him around. Even if it was ungodly early. “Whaddya mean what do I think I’m doing? I’m trying to run the lodge like you told me.”
Blake’s mouth flattened and he crossed his arms. “Really? When does going on a bender and bedding a bar bunny constitute running the lodge?”
God, he hated when Blake got on his high horse. After all these years, Blake still managed to make him feel like a dumbass and a disappointment.
He frowned at his brother, still trying to shake the cobwebs from his head. “There was no bar bunny. Only Brenda, the cook. And I didn’t bed her.” He’d tried, but had sent her home.
Kissing Jamey O’Neill had ruined him for other women. His balls were blue. As evidenced by his nightly dreams about the red-haired minx.
Ben snorted behind him. “She was a cook? Looked like the only thing she was cooking was your pants.”
Goddammit. Now they were ganging up on him. “Shut up, Ben. Do you wanna be the cook?”
“Not if it means cooking your pants.”
That drew a half-smile from Blake. Leave it to Ben to soften the tension that still occasionally arose between him and Blake.
“Joking aside, we’ve burned too much daylight,” Blake continued.
“Wait.” Brodie scrubbed a hand over his cheek. “What time is it?”
Ben looked at his watch. “Ten thirty. You’ve slept the day away lazy-bones.”
Shit. Okay, maybe he’d overdone it just a bit last night. A flush started up the back of his neck. He scrubbed his hand over his face again. God, he felt like shit. No more half-bottles of scotch on a weeknight. He took a seat in his favorite oversized leather chair while Blake returned to pacing in front of the large stone fireplace.
Brodie caught a glance exchanged between his brothers. “What’s going on?”
Blake skewered him with a look – half angry, half concerned. “It’s time for you to man up, Brodie.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? So I got a little crazy last night.” He shrugged. “Big deal.”
Blake fisted his hand on the mantle. “Exactly. It is a big deal. When I put you in charge of the lodge two months ago, I expected you to step it up. Take responsibility and quit messing around. You’re twenty-eight for Chrissakes.”
That got his hackles up. Blake was his brother, not his Goddamned father. Not that Jake Sinclaire had been much of a father. He liked booze, brawling, and women. And not necessarily in that order. Jake had called Brodie a disappointment to the family name. Those words had cut like a knife twelve years ago. Hell, they still stung today.
Jake had put him in charge of the vaccination charts and he’d bungled the whole deal, causing some cattle to be
vaxxed twice, and others not at all. He’d never forget the beating he endured, not to mention the public shaming. In short order, the whole town had learned about his mistake, and it had taken years for the ribbing to subside.
“Now wait just a second,” Brodie sputtered. “You’re the one with the MBA. You’re the one who’s running the family business. Let me ride the fence lines and look after the herd with Ben.”
“Can’t do that,” Blake ground out. “Ben is working overtime on herd management because I’m front-loading my travel selling bison this fall. I need to be home when the baby comes. We can hire out fence repair. I won’t hire out the lodge. This is a family business. We need you to step up and pull your weight around here.” Blake shot a look over to Ben and sighed heavily. “I know how you hate spreadsheets, but they’re a necessary part of running an operation our size. You can’t hide out on the range forever.”
This burned. “Come on. I’m pulling my weight.”
“Not in the way we need. Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on down here. You’ve already run us into the red, and we can’t afford that.”
“What the hell, now you’re checking up on me?” That chapped his hide. He knew he was the family fuck-up, but he was honestly trying his best.
The cold hard reality of that churned his gut worse than the leftover liquor still sitting there. Things had been better recently with Blake. Since he’d married Maddie, Blake had been… gentler. He supposed it had something to do with their young half-brother, Simon, who was now spending half his time on the ranch. So experiencing the ‘old’ Blake – particularly when his head was pounding – hurt.
“Yes. And it’s a damned good thing, too. You’ve gone through every cook in a hundred mile radius and your crew is starving and ready to quit. I can’t have Mrs. Sanchez keep cooking them meals when you’re supposed to be running the show down here.”
Brodie scrubbed his face again, squinting to focus through the spiky pain in his forehead. Every time he moved his head, the stabbing intensified, adding to his general irritation. He blew out a breath. There was no way he could avoid taking his lumps this morning. Best to just take them, pop a few Advil, and go back to bed.
“Fine. I’ve fucked up. Sorry.” He glared at Blake. “I’ll find another cook.”
Blake grunted, threading his hand through his hair and pacing again. “That’s what you don’t get. I can’t afford any more weeks like this. You’re breaking the bank, and that affects all of us. Me, you, Ben… Simon.”
Brodie’s heart twisted at the mention of Simon. He’d only found out that Simon was his half-brother this spring. Calling his reaction at the time ‘a shock’, was an understatement. Especially when he learned that Simon’s mom was his ex-girlfriend, Kylee Ross. But Simon was a good kid. He genuinely enjoyed spending time with him.
Blake stopped and aimed weighted stare his direction. After a moment, he resumed pacing. “This is serious, Brodie. We’ve leveraged a lot to develop a hunting lodge as a second source of income. If you drive it into the ground before it gets off the ground, I’ll have to sell the property back to Warren Hansen. And I’ll be damned if I give that man the satisfaction of saving our asses twice.”
“What do you want me to do?”
Blake paused midstep, and leaned on the heavy oak mantle above the fireplace. A pained look crossed his face. “I want you to grow the fuck up. I want you to stop carousing and letting everyone else do the hard work of running the ranch. I want you to think about the example you’re giving Simon.” Blake’s eyes bored into him. “It’s time to man up, Brodie.”
Ouch.
He scowled back at his brother. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Man up?”
“It means just that. It means step up and do the work necessary to make this place a success.”
“I was doing that.”
“You’re failing. Do better.”
He shot out of his chair. “Fuck you, asshole.”
Blake crossed the room in two steps, standing toe to toe with him, eyes blazing. “Do I need to remind you that I was supporting two families at your age? And had been for eight years? And I’d just finished my MBA? I know Jake was tougher on you than the rest of us, but you have to let that shit go. You are capable of more. We need you to do more. It’s time to drop the perpetual chip on the shoulder you carry around. I can’t let your failures pull us all under. You go down, you go down alone. Understand?”
“Better spell it out so it gets through my thick skull,” he snarled back. There were times he hated his older brother. This was definitely one of those times.
“You have six weeks to get this lodge working in the black again. Got it? Six weeks. I don’t give a shit if you do it yourself or you hire a business manager to tell you what to do. But I can’t keep babysitting you. Whatever you do will be above board and you will turn around the mess you made.”
“Or what?” The cobwebs were completely gone from his head now. Although his head was still in a vice, it somehow helped him focus.
“Or. You’re. Out.”
Brodie’s hand involuntarily clenched and he consciously relaxed it. “What do you mean ‘out’?”
Sweat beaded under Blake’s nose, and his pulse throbbed wildly at his temple.
Shit.
He’d never seen his brother this mad.
“Out. As in off the ranch.”
He jerked back as if he’d been punched in the gut. No way. He’d never do it. Blake wasn’t that much of an asshole. “I don’t believe you.”
Blake’s eyes looked bleak. “Don’t try me. I’m done with your bullshit, Brodie. We have too much at stake. You step up or you can go waste your life on someone else’s ranch.”
A wave of nausea rolled through him, whether from the leftover liquor or the understanding that his brother wouldn’t hesitate to kick him off the only home he’d ever known. He clenched his jaw so hard his teeth ground. He fisted his hand, not because he was in danger of losing control. He wasn’t. He was in danger of breaking down, and he’d be damned if anyone, especially Blake, saw him give into despair.
Blake’s eyes softened. “Against my better judgment, I’m throwing you a bone. Consider it your final bailout.”
“I don’t need a fucking bailout.” He bit the words out.
“Don’t be a fool. You’re in so far over your head, you don’t know what’s down or up.”
He snorted, crossing his arms.
Blake continued. “I hired someone reliable to run the kitchen. One less thing you’ll have to deal with over the next six weeks. The only things you’ll have to worry about are supervising the crew in finishing clearing the cedars in the bottomland, and booking guests.”
The tightness in his gut eased a fraction.
“You’ll need to keep clean books so I can track your progress. Understand?”
God, this sucked. But even he had to admit, he deserved it this time. He skated through life just like he’d skated through school as a kid. He relied on his charm and his easygoing personality while his older brothers shouldered the heavier burdens. And he’d let them. He’d never thought of it as taking advantage, it had just been… easier. Brodie nodded. “I can do that.” Liar.
Blake clapped him on the shoulder. “I know you can. We’re counting on you. We. Can’t. Fail.”
Shit. Then why were they counting on him? He could count his successes in life on less than one hand.
“One last thing…” There was still fire in Blake’s eyes.
“What.”
“Better get yourself cleaned up and out there with your crew. The new chef will be here for dinner.” Blake stepped aside and over to Ben.
Ben gave Brodie an encouraging smile and a cuff on the shoulder. “You’ve got this. I know you do. Just dig deep. It’s in times of crisis you discover your true self.”
His brothers left without saying another word, leaving him standing in the middle of the great room.
He sat down as the breath
whooshed out of him.
Well damn.
Who do you think you’re fooling? You can’t run a ranch.
He shut out the voice of doubt hammering at him. He was nothing if not resourceful. He’d figure it out. Come hell or high water.
CHAPTER 6
Jamey stepped off the plane and into the hot, muggy air that was the Flint Hills in August. Maddie had agreed to meet her at baggage claim since she’d had to check the bag with her chef’s knives. Not that it mattered. The airport in Manhattan, Kansas, was so small that the waiting area and baggage claim were essentially the same space.
Jamey easily spotted Maddie’s bright hair and hurried over, wrapping her in a huge hug. “Look at this bump.” She couldn’t help grinning as she reached out to feel Maddie’s protruding belly.
Maddie positively glowed. No doubt that marriage agreed with her. Jamey’s heart squeezed a little and she shoved her own thoughts of longing to the back of her brain. She hadn’t been dealt those cards, so best move on and look at these next six weeks as a reset. After this, she could go anywhere she liked. Maybe California. The emphasis on healthy gourmet might mean a better fit for her. Certainly it would be better for her health. She’d read there were a handful of dedicated gluten-free bakeries in the Bay Area. A far cry from running her own place, but at least she wouldn’t get sick on the job.
Maddie took a step back and narrowed her eyes. Concern peppered her features. “Jamey? Have you been sick? You look like you’ve dropped a lot of weight, and you didn’t have much on you to begin with. Everything okay?”
Leave it to Maddie to not miss the details. Another pang of guilt pushed at her. “Yeah. I’m okay. I haven’t been feeling well, but the doctor said it’s manageable.”
Relief flickered in Maddie’s eyes. “So you’ve been to the doctor. Good. Well some good food and a few of Dottie’s country breakfasts and you’ll be back to yourself in no time.
She wrinkled her nose. “Not for me. I’m staying away from those grease bombs you call country breakfast.” She reached down and grabbed her suitcase off the conveyer.