Branded

by Stacy Gail

What else didn’t he know?

  Eyes never leaving her, he knocked against the screen door’s frame and watched in satisfaction as she jumped.

  “We talked about this,” he said the moment her gaze slammed into his. Damn, even with those cute glasses on, those black magic eyes still knocked the breath right out of him. “When the sun goes down, you close the curtains. The door too, though I can’t believe I have to tell you that.”

  Much to his irritation, she didn’t move from her chair. “Screen door’s latched.”

  “That flimsy shit’s not going to stop anyone who really wants in.”

  “Like who?”

  “Like me.” He reached out and tested the screen door. Latched or not, it wouldn’t take much to get past it. “Want me to prove it? Or do you want to save me all that muscle-flexing trouble and let me in?”

  “These are my only choices?” With a noisy sigh she got up and padded to the door. In the short time it took for her to cross the room, he noted she wasn’t wearing a bra, and the low-riding black board shorts hanging off her delicate hip bones had sleeping pink and white sheep all over them. Desire sank its sharp teeth into him when he realized this was what she slept in. “I see another choice. How about I just shut the door?”

  The lack of warmth in her voice finally registered. “How about you open up and give me a proper welcome home?”

  She leaned against the doorjamb, looking like it would take a court order to make her move toward the locks. “Sorry, but I’m kind of busy. You probably should’ve come along sooner for that kind of thing. You know, like before you left to tell me that you were leaving, or like when you actually got home.”

  Aha. “I’m here now.”

  “If you’re waiting for applause, you’re going to be disappointed.”

  Sass. If only she knew how hot that was. “I don’t want applause. I want to be let in.” For starters, anyway.

  She shrugged. The doors stayed where they were. “We all have things we want in life. For example, I would’ve liked to have been remembered before now.”

  “I did more than remember you.” Keeping his eyes on hers, he reached for the screen door’s handle. One pull would probably do the trick. “I couldn’t stop myself from remembering everything about you, from your taste to your scent and everything in between. And you know what, darlin’? I think you had the same problem, and that’s why you’re pissed at me now.”

  “Who says I’m pissed?”

  “These doors. If you were missing me, why didn’t you call me?”

  “I’ve been too busy fielding job offers to miss you. I think the job offer up in Dallas is probably the best fit so far. At least that was the feeling I had after driving up there yesterday for a personal interview, and I got the impression Velni and Associates felt the same.”

  He went still. Des had reported only that he hadn’t seen Celia or her car around town, and that her best friend, Lucy Jax hadn’t mentioned seeing her around. Since she was actively looking for ways to move out of Bitterthorn, the job offer might be legit...

  “Open the door, Celia.”

  “Nah. I like the door as it is. Why don’t you go home and continue to forget about me? Life was so much more peaceful.”

  His jaw knotted. “Enough with the sass, and open the fucking door.”

  “I thought you liked sass.”

  “What I don’t like is the combination of sass and doors. One of them’s gotta go.”

  “Neither the sass nor the door is going anywhere, so it looks like you’re the one who’s going.”

  Fuck it. “You’re not overly attached to this screen door, are you? Because I’m about to blast through it. You might want to stand back.”

  She didn’t move. “That’d be breaking and entering.”

  “I’m aware.”

  A dark brow lifted. “Are you aware that it’s illegal?”

  “It’s like this, darlin’. Your nearest neighbor’s way the hell and gone and you’re here all by your little lonesome. Do the math. You have three seconds.”

  She scoffed. “You’re so full of bullshit.”

  “Glad you haven’t forgotten that I’m a bull. I can guarantee with a high level of authority that in the end, a bull always does whatever the fuck he wants. One.”

  “I told you, I’m busy, Ry.”

  “And I told you I’m getting through these doors. You know I can tear through this first one, and a Dutch door that’s half-open is nothing. Two.”

  “Oh. That’s a good point.”

  Slam.

  “Damn it.” Ry sucked in a sharp breath and held very still until the impulse to rip the screen door from its hinges slowly...slowly...faded. “Celia, open the door.”

  Her voice sounded from directly behind the heavy wood of the now-closed Dutch door’s upper half. “What part of I’m busy don’t you get?”

  “You want to hear about busy? I’ve got a cryogenic canister packed with about a million dollars’ worth of straws—that’s Angus bull seed—that busted somewhere between here and Houston, destroying its contents and the possibility that I’m going to see that money in my goddamn bank account. I’ve got a bunch of stupid-ass whiners at the insurance company pointing fingers at more stupid ass shipping employees who, yeah, probably fucked up in shipping the canister. But since that’s what shipping employees do, that’s why I bought the fucking insurance. Meanwhile I’ve got a highly influential rancher who’s pissed off because the cows and heifers he’d wanted to artificially inseminate have now gone out of estrus, so he’s going off like a fucking bomb online, screaming to anyone who’ll listen that Green Rock Ranch is a slip-shod business, no doubt losing us even more money. Yet here I am, standing outside your door instead of dealing with all that shit, because I can’t be anywhere else. When I should be thinking about taking care of my business, all I can do is think about you—how you taste, how you feel under my hands. How much more of you I need to discover. That’s that power of you, darlin’. Just the thought of you can erase every damn crisis I’ve got hanging fire.”

  For a moment there was nothing but silence, and in that moment he thoroughly believed she’d wandered off and he’d been standing there talking to a door like a total fucking jackass. Then the sound of a lock turning hit his ears, the whole Dutch door swung open and she undid the hook from the screen door. But instead of stepping back to invite him in, she stood in the doorway, her arms braced against the doorjamb to block his way. “We can talk like this.”

  “The hell we can.” The image of her eyes widening in shock was something he was sure he’d never forget as he bent to lift her, one arm under her ass and the other across her lower back. This put her legs around him before she could do a thing about it, while it also put his face exactly where he wanted it to be—in the sweet smelling valley of her thinly veiled breasts.

  Hello, heaven.

  “Ry, put me down now.”

  “I will. Eventually.” Unable to help himself, he moved his cheek against the soft fullness of one breast, then groaned when the nipple beaded to a hard peak. If that wasn’t a demand for his mouth, he didn’t know what was. “You mad at me, darlin’?”

  “Seriously? You have to ask? Yes, I’m mad at you.”

  “Good.” Slow and deep, his cock began to throb and he nearly groaned again. “Means you missed me.”

  “You can’t be serious.” The arms that had automatically curled around his neck began to push away in a bid for distance. Like he was ever going to let that happen. “The last thing I did was miss you. In fact, it barely registered that you were gone.”

  “Really.” Satisfied, he grinned and set her back down on her feet, only to tighten his arms around her when she tried to move away. “You sure as hell missed me. Good. That’s exactly what I wanted.”

  That made her freeze in place. “What you wanted? What do you mean by t
hat?”

  “If you want it spelled out, fine.” He made sure her eyes were locked on his before continuing. “I was doing my damnedest to make you miss me. It worked, so even though you’re mad, I’m going to crow my ass off about it.”

  “Wow.” Her teeth snapped shut so sharply he heard them click. “Just...wow. Come to find out, you’re a game-playing dick. Who knew?”

  That wiped the smile off his face. “What I am is bound and determined to open up those gorgeous fucking eyes of yours so that you see a few pertinent truths you’ve got going on in your life. Truths you need to face.”

  “Like what?”

  “Truth number one—you did miss me, and that’s why you’re so angry. You’re also angry because I know what it means.”

  “I already said that I didn’t miss you. Do I need to repeat myself?”

  “It means,” he went on, ignoring her, “you prefer to have me where you can see me. But you would’ve taken your own sweet time getting around to facing that fact, and I’m not a patient man. So yeah, I made you miss me, and you now don’t have any choice but to accept that as fact. You. Missed. Me.”

  She scoffed even as her face flooded with color. “You’re crazy, you know that? Why would I miss someone I hate?”

  “Another fact—you don’t hate me. If you hate someone who’s fucking up your life, you don’t miss them when they’re gone. You turn cartwheels when you finally get rid of them and all their fucked-up shit. Believe me, I know.”

  That made her frown. “Why is it you sound like an expert on the subject?”

  “Maybe someday I’ll tell you all about it, but right now we’re focusing on you, not me.”

  “I’d rather not focus on anything except you leaving my house. I don’t like games, or people who play them. The sooner I see the back of you, the better.”

  “And there’s one more fact,” he went on grimly. “You’re a game player too, whether you want to admit it or not. Since you don’t like it when someone turns the tables on you, your answer is to stomp off in a damn snit.”

  She gasped. “What? I don’t play games.”

  “You keep your cards close to the vest, Celia. And you do it just to keep me guessing what the hell’s going on inside that head of yours. Hell yeah, I forced your hand to make you acknowledge what’s starting to light up between us, and I’m not going to apologize for that. I want to see all the cards you’re holding, and you can be damn sure I’ll play any trick in the book to do it.”

  She made a sound of frustration. “I cannot believe you. Being cautious is not playing games, Ry.”

  “It is in my book.”

  “In my book I call it being smart. Something I obviously need to be when you’re in the mood to turn me into a basket case.”

  Typical. Maybe he should get used to being the bad guy in her eyes. “If you were a basket case, why didn’t you just pick up the damn phone and call me?”

  That made her blink “What?”

  “You heard me. If you wanted to hear from me, why didn’t you pick up the phone and call me? I know you have my number, I made sure of that.”

  “Well, I...” For a moment she couldn’t seem to find the words. “Look, I wasn’t the one who left town. It should have been up to you to reach out, not me.”

  “So in other words, hell would have frozen over before you picked up the phone.” He shook his head. “And you think you don’t play games.”

  She stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “You make it sound like I was doing some kind of power play to make you bend first.”

  “Weren’t you?”

  “Don’t you dare try to turn this back around on me, pal. You’re the one who left town without telling me a word about it. You’re the one who made me so crazy I wound up dreaming about you every frigging night. You’re the one who should have called, but didn’t.”

  “And you’re the one who didn’t call, either.” When she made a sound of disgust and turned away, he caught her back up in his arms in the same position, ignoring her struggles to get free. “Did you really dream about me?”

  She pushed against his chest. “Forget I said that. In fact, let’s just forget this entire conversation. Let me go and go away.”

  “Why would I want to forget about this when I’ve learned so much? For instance, it’s obvious to me that we need to make some rules around here.”

  “Are you deaf? I told you to let me go.”

  “Rule number one—whoever leaves town needs to call first to let whoever stayed home know that everything’s fine. Again, I’ll take that hit since I was the one who went out of town. Agreed?”

  “You’re out of your mind,” she muttered, though it didn’t escape him that she’d finally stopped pushing him away. “You can’t just pick me up whenever you feel like it.”

  “Okay, that’ll be rule number two. Make sure you adhere to that rule as well.”

  That made a reluctant smile tug at the corners of her mouth before she ruthlessly crushed it. “We don’t need rules to act civilly toward each other, Ry. I just don’t like being ignored. You don’t know how much I hate that.”

  There was something dark behind her words that made him hold her closer. “The one thing I could never do is ignore you, darlin’. That shit’s just not possible.”

  There was still no sign of her resurrected smile. “And the only reason I’m pissed is that you seem to be taking me for granted.”

  “Never.” He moved to a couch that seemed to be more pillows than actual furniture, and settled in with her straddling his lap. “How do you think I’m taking you for granted, darlin’?”

  “I know we’re not dating in any official way, but a call or text to let me know that you were back in town—hell, that you were out of town in the first place—would have been appreciated, if only so that I could tell you that I’ve made a decision on your proposed project.”

  There was so much in that statement that needed to be unpacked, but he zeroed in on what he saw as the most important facet. “What the hell are you talking about? We are dating. This is us dating, right now. Tell me what you need me to do to make you feel like it’s official, and I’ll do it.”

  “What you need is a reality check. Just because we happen to be in the same room together doesn’t mean we’re on a date. For crying out loud, I’m in my jammies.”

  Jammies. Holy fuck, his head would explode if she got any cuter. “You’re sitting on my lap, with these gorgeous legs of yours straddling me the way they were created to be, and I’ve got my hands on your thighs without you saying boo about it. If this isn’t a date, what the hell is it?”

  “It’s...” She groped around for the right word. “Happenstance.”

  He tilted his head, considering. “Do you know, I’ve lived thirty years on this planet, and I don’t think I’ve ever had the opportunity to use that word in conversation before. I’m impressed.”

  “My point is that while you didn’t think we were so involved you had to tell me you were leaving, or that you’d come back—which is fine, by the way—you still seem to think you have every right to drop in on me after ten at night and expect...” She again seemed at a loss for words. “Spontaneous lap-sitting.”

  He burst out laughing, crushing her close while the lust-filled hunger that had him twisted up inside deepened into something else—a sweetly painful ache that seeped into every part of him. “Darlin’, I don’t know if I was expecting spontaneous lap-sitting, but I’m sure as hell getting it, yeah? And I don’t see what the problem is, since you’re not fighting it.”

  That immediately had her shoving at his hands. “You assumed I’d be alone here, waiting for you like some dewy-eyed schmuck—”

  “Dewy-eyed schmuck?” That was almost as good as spontaneous lap-sitting.

  “—when it’s entirely possible I could’ve had some other man over, or
I could’ve been over at someone else’s place, or out on a date, or already asleep. That’s how you’re taking me for granted. No woman on earth is going to put up with that kind of crap.”

  At once, his humor died. “You’re not seeing anyone.”

  “See? That right there. You’re assuming we’re together because we’ve shared a couple kisses, but we’re not.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” He tangled a hand in her hair and forced her gaze to lock with his. “I’m saying I know you don’t have a man in your life because I’ve got eyes on you, and there’s no one. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  Her expression was torn between shock and outrage. “You’re spying on me?”

  “It’s not spying if I have my brother Des looking out for you in case you need help and I’m not around to be there for you.”

  “Unbelievable. You are so unbelievable.” Her voice ended on a dangerous growl. “How? I didn’t even see any of your brothers this past week, much less speak with them.”

  “Yeah, well, you wouldn’t,” he muttered, letting her hair go, “since I threatened them all with the beating of their lives if any of them ever chose to take you up on your bad case of Brody worship.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “What did you just say?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Brody...worship?” If he thought she’d been outraged before, it was nothing compared to the fury that darkened her features now. “Okay, you just went way too far. I don’t freaking worship any of you. Let me go, and get the hell out of my house.”

  “I’m not holding you, but I’m also not leaving.”

  In a flash she was on her feet. “I’m serious, Ry. I’m now officially no longer in the mood for company. Especially company that insults me to my face.”

  “Brody worship, especially the kind you used to lavish on me and my brothers, is an insult when you’re the target of it,” he nodded, determined to get through this now that it was out in the open. “For what it’s worth, that’s what my grandmother called it after spending a lifetime of enduring a cheating husband. She said it with so much hate that I’ve never forgotten it. It’s like hero worship, you know? Except it’s all twisted up and perverted, to the point where it makes people cast aside what they know is right. Honest to God, it’s like a curse.”