Bad Boy's Bride

by Jessa James

  “Some smoky-voiced chick telling you all the ways she’s gonna suck your dick when you get back? Yeah, maybe close your windows next time you want to have some private time,” Colt said.

  “Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” Sawyer said.

  “Fuck off with that,” Colt said with a laugh.

  They rode on, Sawyer’s mind filled with dirty images. No specific girl in mind, though if he were honest he’d say that he was on a bit of a blonde streak just now.

  He put his phone away and adjusted in his saddle a number of times before giving up the brain-smut, since it was just serving to make him uncomfortable as all hell now.

  Walker slowed to ride beside Sawyer, nodding at the abandoned buildings as they passed.

  “We could get it up and running again,” he said.

  Sawyer glanced at Walker. “Bring tourists in, you mean?”

  “Yeah, maybe. I poked through some of the old financial records, and the ranch was never as successful as when Mom ran the dude ranch.”

  “Hmm,” Sawyer said. “We’d need a lot of help with that, though. Mom was all about Southern hospitality, something you and I don’t know a thing about.”

  Walker nodded, looking off into the distance. “Just an idea.”

  “Not a bad one. Just… difficult.”

  Colt glanced back at them. “Will you two hurry up? I’m getting old up here, waiting on y’all.”

  Sawyer looked at Walker, who cocked a brow. Sawyer nodded, and Walker urged his horse into a gallop. Sawyer and Walker overtook Colt, although he caught up to them quickly.

  Riding hard, calling encouragement to their mounts, they flew across the gently rolling hills. The land began to slope down, small trees and shrubs springing up around them as they rode toward the river.

  As they got closer, the opposite side of the valley turned from dirt to sugarcane, an indication that they were riding near River Farm. Sawyer couldn’t see the farmhouse from here, but they did ride by a rickety pump house and a few feeble lean-to sheds.

  At length, they reached the barbed wire fence and rode west along it, heading for some specific spot that Colt had in mind. The fence was supported here and there with heavy wood posts, some in better shape than others.

  Colt stopped at a post that had rotted halfway up, the top half loosely hanging against the barbed wire lines that ran through it.

  “How many of the posts look like this?” Sawyer asked as they dismounted, giving their horses free rein to graze.

  “‘Bout 20, I’d say,” Colt said. “But a lot more of them need replacing. I’d hate to see the day that we wake up to find a big break in the fence, half the cows ranging downstream.”

  “Or worse, across Cur Creek in the sugarcane fields,” Walker said. “Braxton River would lose his mind.”

  Colt produced work gloves, pliers, snips, and a few small lengths of wire. “We don’t have to worry about that today. If we keep the ranch, we’ll eventually rebuild most of this fence.”

  “We’re just cutting the post free and linking the wire, huh?” Sawyer asked.

  Colt nodded. “Don’t know why anyone would build these with wood, anyway.”

  “Same reason we rode out here,” Walker said, squinting against the ever-brightening sun. “No good roads to move a lot of heavy metal, so I expect most of these posts are cut from trees down by the creek.”

  He pointed at the taller trees growing on the marshy banks of Cur Creek.

  “You know, I think you’re right,” Sawyer said, impressed with Walker’s analysis.

  “We need to spread out, do a quarter mile or so at a time, then come back and move the horses,” Colt said.

  Sawyer and Walker nodded, easily falling into a system. They each took every third post, working seamlessly together. It reminded Sawyer a little of back when they were teenagers; if they stepped out of line, which they always did, The Colonel would punish all three of them. To prepare them for the military, Sawyer supposed.

  So inevitably Colt would stay out all night, or Walker would provoke his father’s temper, or Sawyer would sneak off from the church social early. As a result all three of them would end up mucking out stalls, or transporting bales of hay. Furious at each other and at their father, barely speaking, but working as efficiently as possible.

  This was like that, but without all the simmering tension and anger. Well, mostly.

  Walker was silent, intent on his work. Colt, on the other hand, seemed to tire fairly quickly. Not that he said anything, of course, but he started to favor one leg and grumble as he went.

  His limp got progressively worse, and he seemed frustrated. Several times, Colt’s fingers slipped while he was working. Not uncommon, because the snips were a little tricky. Still, he would react a little wildly, even throwing his hat on the ground at one point.

  “Colt, man, you want to call it a day? Or go get some lunch?” Sawyer asked.

  Colt turned to him, cold fury in his eyes. “You calling me lazy, brother?”

  “Whoa, no,” Sawyer said, raising his hands. He looked to Walker for support.

  “I’m pretty thirsty, myself,” Walker said.

  Colt looked between Sawyer and Walker, then shook his head and shot them a disgusted expression.

  “Don’t you dare pity me,” he spat.

  Striding to his horse, he mounted without waiting for Sawyer and Walker.

  “I’m going all the way down to the end. We don’t need to be this close,” he said.

  “Colt—” Walker said, but it was too late.

  Colt turned and nudged his horse into a trot, leaving them behind. Sawyer made a face at his brother’s retreating back.

  “He’ll never grow up,” he sighed.

  “Don’t do that,” Walker said, giving Sawyer a hard look. “Don’t infantilize him.”

  “He’s being a child. There’s nothing to psychoanalyze there, brainiac.”

  “I’m just pointing out the obvious, if you take a second to think about it. He’s reacting to you coming home,” Walker said, crossing his arms. “Well, to both of us.”

  “What, because he was injured?” Sawyer asked.

  “Colt’s competitive as all get-out. You don’t think he’s worked up about the fact that he was medically discharged from service? Or that he served less time than both his brothers or his father?”

  Sawyer crossed his own arms, mimicking Walker. He stared off into the distance, thinking. “I can see how he’d be in his own head about that.”

  “Yeah, not to mention that he’s got some physical limitations now,” Walker said. “You haven’t seen his leg, since this all happened while you were gone, but… it’s pretty bad.”

  “Scarred?”

  “Burned, scarred. He got hit with a spray of small IED shrapnel, and it took a good couple chunks out of his calf. His ankle is pretty busted up too, with burns and scars from where they put that steel rod in.”

  Sawyer gave a low whistle. “That’s tough.”

  “Yeah,” Walker said, shaking his head. “And he refuses to talk about it, won’t even acknowledge that it happened.”

  “PTSD?” Sawyer asked.

  Walker gave him a hard look. “Not like yours.”

  “Mmm,” Sawyer said, nodding. “Good for him.”

  They were both quiet for a minute, Sawyer lost in thoughts of Colt. He wished like anything that he could’ve come home when Colt was in the hospital, but The Colonel hadn’t even told Sawyer or Walker about it until after Colt had moved back home.

  “This tomcatting around thing he does, sleeping with any cute girl who’ll look his way,” Sawyer said after a moment. “You think that’s the same thing, him trying to compensate?”

  Walker arched a brow. “Now who’s the psychologist?”

  “Hey, I’m the oldest brother. That’s my thing. You’re the smart one, Colt’s the wild child. Let’s all just stick to our roles, huh?”

  Something dark flashed across Walker’s expression as he touched th
e brim of his hat.

  “I hope and pray every single day that we’re more than just our past,” he said.

  “Walker, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Sawyer said. “I didn’t even bring up—”

  “Let’s get moving, huh?” Walker said, cutting him off abruptly.

  Sawyer followed Walker back to the horses, letting silence reign. Apparently Colt wasn’t the only one who was working through some issues. Though Walker’s troubles were harder to see, since his scars were on his heart, rather than on his leg.

  “I’ll take the middle,” Walker said, riding off without another word.

  Sawyer rode east, decidedly happy for a bit of his own company. The day grew hotter and hotter, his body started to ache from riding, and his fingers sore from working the pliers and wire.

  Still, he savored it. His job in D.C. was satisfying in some ways, knowing he was making a difference in the lives of young soldiers. But it called for a lot of meetings, conferences, long days in offices where he hardly saw the sun.

  This kind of physical work brought out his innermost soldier. The part of him that loved a challenge, the part that pushed through the pain to achieve a goal.

  When he’d done several miles of posts, the sun passing its zenith and starting to slide downward, he decided to head back to the main house. The ride was a little uncomfortable, his back and butt less than appreciative of Pericles’ bouncing gait, but it was good to be back in the saddle.

  After brushing down his horse and putting his tack away, he headed straight for the shower in his apartment. By the time he got into the main house, he found Walker and Colt chatting and grilling on the back porch.

  The back porch was little more than a bunch of weathered planks nailed together, a gas grill and a small patio table the only fixtures.

  Colt seemed at ease, as though his flare of temper had never happened. Walker glanced at Sawyer when he walked in, giving his head a subtle shake as if to tell Sawyer not to press the matter.

  “There you are,” Colt said to Sawyer. “We were starting to wonder.”

  “Got caught up in it,” Sawyer said with a shrug.

  “Lot of memories out there,” Colt said, turning back to the grill. “Lucky for us, there are also burgers. Grab a beer, you’re right on time.”

  Sawyer went inside and brought three cold beers from the fridge, then returned to find a plate already waiting for him. A burger, some potatoes, and a few spears of asparagus, all steaming and grill-marked.

  “Amazing,” Sawyer said. He opened his beer and then fell onto the food, not bothering to try to keep up conversation until he was done eating.

  He did check his texts again, but didn’t respond to any of them. For some reason, being out here kept putting his life in D.C. on hold. It was never quite a good time to catch up with work contacts or girls, it seemed.

  When he pushed his plate away, sated, he looked around at the sunset-dappled backyard. “I can’t remember the last time I ate out here.”

  “Sure beats that kitchen,” Walker grunted, finishing the last bite of his own burger.

  “Yeah, it’s a personality-free zone,” Colt joked.

  “We should label the cupboards,” Walker said, shaking his head. “All I can ever remember is where things used to be, back when it was Mom’s domain.”

  Sawyer bowed his head, uninterested in opening that particular can of worms. As he was starting to find out, he and his brothers were fickle and touchy adults. No need to poke the bear tonight, after this afternoon’s near-arguments.

  “I was thinking about going into town later,” Colt said, changing the subject.

  “You mean, going to knock boots with a married chick?” Walker asked, folding his arms across his chest.

  Colt rolled his eyes. “You’re just worried I’m gonna get with Shelby River.”

  Walker’s mouth tightened. “That’s not true.”

  “Wait, what’s this about Shelby?” Sawyer asked. He pictured Remy’s younger sister, a cute lookalike blonde with a big personality.

  “He’s totally into her, can’t say a word around her, he’s tongue-tied so bad,” Colt crowed.

  “Is that right?” Sawyer asked, unable to fight a grin.

  “No, it’s not,” Walker said, placid. “Not to mention, none of the River girls will come within a mile of us if they can help it.”

  Colt’s smile fell, and he glanced at Sawyer. “That’s not really true…”

  “It’s funny you say that,” Sawyer said, giving both his brothers a hard look. “I went back last night to talk to Remy, and she wouldn’t even look at me. Except to say that she wasn’t mad about me leaving on deployment, that is. So that’s got me wondering. Is she lying, or is there something that I’m missing?”

  Colt and Walker were both suddenly busy sipping their beers, casting thoughtful glances anywhere but in Sawyer’s direction.

  “Seriously?” he asked. “Colt. What’s the deal?”

  “It’s nothing, man. She’s just moved on with her life, and… you know, I think maybe The Colonel got into it with her father at some point, and… that’s it.”

  Colt couldn’t meet Sawyer’s gaze, though nothing in his statement was at all improbable. The Colonel got into it with darn near everyone in his line of sight.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” Walker said, clearing his throat.

  “Yeah,” Colt agreed. “Just move on, like she has. If you’re going to stay here, you’re gonna see her here and there. Don’t want some kind of crazy tension every time you’re within a hundred feet of each other, huh?”

  “He’s got the right idea,” Walker said with a nod.

  “You two remember that I really hate being lied to, right?” Sawyer asked.

  Colt heaved a sigh.

  “Listen, we got other things to talk about than the River girls,” he said. “I was hoping that you two had some time to think over what the scenario might be like if we keep the ranch. Would you live here, would you keep an outside job? All of that.”

  Walker nodded, like Colt had just said something particularly sage. Sawyer wasn’t fooled by their topic switching at all, but he let it slide.

  “Walker, what about you?” he asked.

  “Like I said, my job’s already remote. I’d keep my stake and my apartment, but I wouldn’t always be here. I’d probably travel a good bit, doing recruiting work.”

  Sawyer nodded. “I thought about that, too. My firm likes me, so I think if I asked to be based here, they’d make it happen. I’d have to travel too, I’m sure, but probably not that much.”

  They both looked at Colt, who shrugged.

  “I want to run the ranch. I don’t want to keep an outside job, unless we need it for funding.”

  Walker snorted. “Not likely. Sawyer has his share of the family trust, and the two of us are coming right up on 30.”

  “That’s true,” Sawyer said. “It’s not enough to keep the ranch running indefinitely, but it would get us off the ground.”

  “So… we could make it work, if we wanted,” Colt said slowly.

  Sawyer and Walker nodded.

  Colt opened his mouth to say more, but the crunch of tires on gravel distracted him.

  “What time is it? Micah’s early, maybe,” Colt grumbled, fishing his phone out of his pants pocket as he stood up.

  “What, he’s going out tomcatting with you?” Walker asked.

  “Wait, Micah River?” Sawyer asked.

  “Yeah,” Colt said, busying himself stacking plates. “Grab the empty beer bottles, will you? And the grill tongs.”

  Colt went inside, leaving Sawyer and Walker to follow.

  “Look, just leave everything and I’ll do it when I get home,” Colt said.

  Walker shook his head and started running the water in the sink. “You cooked, I’ll clean tonight.”

  “Cool, thanks,” Colt said. “Gotta run.”

  He was out the front door in a flash. Sawyer followed him, curious to see Micah. The
farmer was leaning against his rusty pickup truck, his blond hair damp from a shower, his jeans and t-shirt still dusty somehow.

  Micah smiled at Colt. “Hey, man. Let’s go! I’m gonna take Janey home—”

  He stopped mid-sentence when he saw Sawyer, his expression turning into a scowl.

  “Micah,” Sawyer said, inclining his head.

  Colt ignored Sawyer, clattering down the stairs to greet Micah with a clasp of their hands. “Let’s head out, man.”

  “You planning on sticking around?” Micah asked, glaring at Sawyer.

  “Not sure,” Sawyer said. “My homecoming hasn’t been as welcoming as I expected.”

  Micah pushed off the truck to stand up straight, tensing like he was ready to fight. “Is that right?”

  Sawyer stared at him. He and Micah weren’t exactly close or anything, but they’d hung out a little in high school. Now he was seeing the same anger as Remy’s father had shown. The thing was, Micah didn’t seem to have a problem with Colt…

  “Hey, let’s just go,” Colt said, clapping Micah on the shoulder.

  Micah shrugged out of Colt’s touch, shaking his head. “Nah. I changed my mind. I should go home, see my sisters.”

  “Awww, no. You don’t have to do that,” Colt protested.

  Micah glanced between Sawyer and Colt. “I don’t want any trouble.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Colt said, shaking his head. “He doesn’t want any trouble either, right Sawyer?”

  “Why the hell would there be trouble?” Sawyer asked, his fists clenching. “I don’t understand—”

  “Later, Sawyer!” Colt said, pushing Micah toward the driver’s side door.

  Micah climbed in the truck and started the engine while Colt got in. Rolling down his window, Micah stuck his head out and gave Sawyer one final glare.

  “Stay away from my sisters, Sawyer. Like I said, I don’t want trouble.”

  Sawyer frowned, but he had no answer to that. With every single word out of Micah’s mouth, the mystery of it all just grew by leaps and bounds.

  As Micah drove off, Sawyer headed back inside, his mind full of questions. Clearly Colt’s explanation about The Colonel causing a feud between the Romans and the Rivers was crap.

  Otherwise, how would Micah justify hanging out with Colt, but still hate Sawyer? Colt was charming, but not that charming.