More Than a Cowboy (The Carmody Brothers Book 3)

by Sarah Mayberry

  “What does your gut say?” she asked, her hand sliding onto his chest and coming to rest over his heart.

  “That we’re in trouble.” He wondered if she could feel the way his heart rate ratcheted up as he said the words.

  “What does Mae say?”

  “That we need to know what we’re dealing with before we start freaking out.”

  “She’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, so if she’s not freaking out yet, you shouldn’t either,” Sierra said.

  “Easier said than done. She said if they come after us, if they can prove kickbacks took place, Ron and my father could be looking at prison time. And the fines could cripple the business.”

  She was silent for a moment, her hand still and warm on his chest.

  “All that effort they put into building the business, and it might be the very thing that destroys it,” she said.

  “Yeah. The irony is not lost on me.”

  She shifted so she was lying on her side now, then pressed a kiss to his shoulder and rested her cheek there. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to slip his arm around her shoulders and hold her close. He loved the way her body fit alongside his, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip.

  “What’s your mom saying about all of this?” she asked.

  He shrugged uneasily. She pulled away so she could look him in the eye.

  “You haven’t told her?”

  “I was waiting for Mae to confirm my suspicions. Figured there was no point getting everyone worked up until they needed to be. Now . . .”

  “She needs to know.”

  “Yeah.” He sighed heavily, dreading the conversation that lay ahead.

  Sierra was silent for a long moment, her expression troubled. He could practically hear the wheels turning in her mind, and he suspected he knew what she was thinking.

  “Whatever it is you’re trying to be diplomatic about, just say it. God knows, I’d like for one part of my life to be honest, at least.”

  “She’s been married to him for decades. Surely there’s a strong chance she already knows about the slush fund. Isn’t there? I mean, she must know her own husband, how he operates. What he’s capable of. So maybe you’re trying to protect her from something she already knows.”

  “It’s a possibility.” One that had been lurking in the back of his mind for a few days now. “It’s just . . . hard to let go of the habit of looking out for her. Protecting her.”

  It wasn’t until the words were out of his mouth that he realized how they might be interpreted. Sure enough, Sierra frowned, her body tensing alongside his. “Protecting her from who? Not your father?”

  “Not in the way you’re thinking,” he reassured her quickly.

  Not surprisingly, she was still frowning. It was tempting to just say something generic and soothing and move the conversation on, but he’d meant what he’d said—he didn’t want to taint what was happening between them with lies and half-truths.

  If Sierra was going to be a part of his life, she needed to know the grubby secret he’d kept on his father’s behalf all these years. No one deserved the truth more—except maybe his mom.

  The thought of sharing his father’s shameful actions with Sierra made him go both hot and cold at the same time. He pushed himself higher against the pillows, pulling his arm from around her shoulders. He’d never told anyone the truth of that night, and of course it meant so much more to her. Because of her parents.

  “Garret?” she asked uncertainly.

  “There’s something I need to tell you. And it might be hard to hear. Not that it changes anything, but . . .” He realized he was building it up into something it wasn’t, and shook his head. “It’s about the night your parents died.”

  She blinked. Then she followed his lead and sat up so she was leaning against the headboard beside him, the duvet pulled over her breasts. “Okay.”

  For a moment he stalled, not sure where to start. Then he realized there was no point finessing the story. “My father wasn’t alone in the car when the accident happened. He had his office manager with him. Lucy.”

  Sierra cocked her head, confusion in her eyes. “But . . . that can’t be right. I’ve read the police report. He was alone, heading north on the state highway. My parents were heading south.”

  “That’s because he was alone by the time the ambulance and the police got there. After the accident, after he dialed 911, he called me. Told me to come to the nearest crossroad and pick Lucy up because he didn’t want Mom knowing he’d been with her.”

  The bitter taste of shame filled his mouth. His father’s actions had been so selfish and calculated. And Sierra’s parents had died that night.

  “Jesus Christ, Garret. Are you fucking kidding me?” Sierra said, her palm slamming down onto the bed between them emphatically. “How old were you? Sixteen? And he called you to cover up an affair? What the hell?”

  It said a lot about the sort of person Sierra was that her first thought was for him and the position his father had put him in. Later, he suspected she’d get to thinking about what kind of man was so self-interested, so self-preserving, that he could orchestrate a plan like that when there were two people—neighbors—crushed in their car nearby.

  “Lucy was pretty upset when I got there. Not a scratch on her, but bruised and cold. He’d made her walk a mile in the snow. She kept telling me she’d checked the other car to make sure there was nothing she could do to help before agreeing to walk to the crossroad. So I drove her to her place, then I went home and waited for Dad to come home and break the news of the accident, like I didn’t know about it already.” He stared at the backs of his hands, rubbing the spot over his left index knuckle where an old football scar dimpled the flesh. “He hadn’t thought about that part for himself. That was my contribution—the acting surprised part. As soon as I could get him alone, I told him he had to tell Mom. That I wouldn’t cover for him. That it was wrong.”

  “I bet that went over well,” Sierra said.

  He glanced at her, saw the tight, angry look on her face. He refocused on his hands. He couldn’t get the rest of this story out while he looked at her. It was too fucking ugly.

  “He flat-out refused to come clean. Kept talking about the police report and causing trouble for Lucy and hurting Mom. When I threatened to tell Mom myself, he looked me in the eye and told me it would ruin her life. But if I wanted to be responsible for that, if I wanted to rip away her happiness and destroy our family, then I should go right ahead. So I decided I’d do it, because she deserved to know. But then I saw the way she fussed over him, telling him how lucky we’d all been that he’d survived the accident, how much she loved him . . .”

  “You couldn’t do it.”

  He shook his head. He still struggled with the shame of that moment—that he’d chosen cowardice over what his mother was owed.

  “Garret . . .” Sierra’s hand slid into his, warm and strong. “Your father put you in an impossible position.”

  “I know. I’ve had plenty of time to parse the situation from every conceivable angle and I know he made me responsible for his bad behavior. I know it was on him. Is on him. I didn’t want to be the keeper of his secret, but that’s what happened.” He shrugged. “It changed everything for me. I was so angry with him afterward. And I didn’t trust him.”

  “Of course you didn’t. You didn’t respect him anymore. How could you, after what he’d done, the position he’d put you in? That’s some serious shit to be dealing with when you’re sixteen.” Sierra pulled her knees up and twisted toward him. “That’s why you went to Seattle after college, isn’t it, instead of working for Tate?”

  “Pretty much. Up until then, I’d been all about joining the business. Dad and I had all these plans, like him wanting me to do a double major in business and marketing, so I could bring that expertise back into the business. But I didn’t want any of it, not after what he’d done. What he’d made me do. Then I found out that Lucy wasn’t even t
he first woman from Tate he’d had an affair with, and that sealed the deal for me.”

  Sierra squeezed his hand. “And then he had a stroke, and it felt like all bets were off because he might have died. So you stepped up to do whatever had to be done. And now he’s fucked you over again. You get to carry the can for his bullshit yet again.”

  It was ridiculous how grateful he felt that she’d connected the dots and understood so quickly. Just hearing someone else give voice to the frustrated outrage and anger that had been simmering inside him ever since he’d learned about the slush fund was a relief. “Yeah. That pretty much sums it up.”

  “You must be so angry,” she said. “How can you not be hulking out? There must be a part of you that just wants to dump it all in his lap and let him deal with the crap he’s created.”

  “Believe me, I’m angry. Getting angrier by the day. But it’s not just about me. It’s about my mom, and it’s about all the people who rely on Tate Transport to keep the lights on. My job right now is to find a way through this. And to hope like hell that the DA is going after someone else.”

  Sierra shook her head, her expression bleak. “You’re a better person than me.”

  “Oh, yeah, I’m a saint.” He was confused, stressed, frustrated and, yeah, scared. He didn’t feel better than anyone right now. He felt as though he was barely keeping his head above dark, murky water.

  “You didn’t ask to be put in this situation, Garret. And you definitely didn’t ask to be put in a position where you had to choose between two horrible options. Your father is an asshole. Honestly, I don’t think I could look him in the eye again without wanting to punch him in the dick.”

  She surprised a laugh out of him with her bold announcement, loosening the band of tension binding his chest and shoulders. Suddenly he felt lighter. Better than he had in days. Nothing had been resolved, but he felt understood. He felt known, and it was a little shocking how much that meant to him.

  “Come here,” he said, pulling her closer, and she slipped a leg over both of his and shifted so she was straddling him, her hands resting on his shoulders. “You’re an excellent listener.” He combed his fingers through the long length of hair that trailed over her shoulders.

  “When you live with a bunch of taciturn cowboys, you learn to pay attention when they finally open their mouths.”

  His gaze swept over her pretty face. Her mouth quirked into a small smile, and her eyes were warmly sympathetic as she watched him. Fuck, he liked her so much. “I feel like I owe you an apology for how much Tate family crap you’ve had to deal with since you took this job.”

  “Don’t apologize for things you can’t control. Save it for when you mess up on your own account. Because it’ll happen eventually, and trust me, you are going to want to keep your powder dry.”

  He laughed. “So pragmatic.”

  “Yep. Unapologetically so.”

  He laughed again at her play on words. “I see what you did there.”

  “Do you?” She smoothed her hand down his shoulder and along his arm until she was holding his hand. She lifted it to her breast, encouraging him to cup her there. “Do you see what I did here too?”

  Her breast was warm and heavy and smooth in his hand and they both watched as he ran his thumb across her nipple, back and forth, teasing it to hardness.

  “Hell, yes,” he said, lifting his other hand to cup her right breast.

  She took a deep, shuddery breath as he toyed with her, her breasts rising and falling in his hands, her eyes bright with renewed desire.

  “About how wet are you right now, do you think?” he asked conversationally, his cock growing harder by the second beneath the weight of her perfect ass.

  “I’d hate to say without checking first.”

  Holding his gaze, she made a show of gliding her hand down her belly and between her legs to where she was spread wide across his lap. He watched as she stroked herself as though she had all the time in the world before slipping a finger inside her pussy.

  “Feel good?” he asked.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “I can make you feel better.”

  Holding her hips, he urged her up on to her knees as he shifted down in the bed. She gave a shaky sigh as he encouraged her to settle over his mouth, and when he licked along the seam of her sex she reached out and gripped the top of the headboard, as if she understood she was going to need support to survive what came next.

  He lost track of time as he feasted on her most delicate flesh, pulling her clit into his mouth to trill it with his tongue and then shocking her by sucking on it until her hips started to buck and shake. Pulling back, he soothed her with long, luscious licks, toying with her inner lips before making his way back to that sensitive little bud where he knew she needed him the most. She was quivering, her breath coming in desperate pants now, and he smiled against her pussy as she pleaded with him to give her what she wanted.

  “Patience, baby,” he murmured, then he set about torturing her some more.

  She came minutes later, her body arching above him as she gripped the headboard, riding out the storm he’d created inside her.

  It was the sexiest thing he’d seen in his entire life and all he could think about was being inside her again as quickly as was humanly possible. As if she’d read his mind, Sierra shifted backward, reaching for his already-straining cock. Then she was lowering herself onto him, and the heat and tightness was almost too much.

  “Baby, you feel so fucking good,” he said.

  “You feel good. Oh my god, your cock is so fucking hot. I can’t stand it.”

  She started to move, her top lip curling with pleasure-pain as she rode him. Everything about her pressed his buttons, from her rounded hard-nippled breasts to the quivering muscles in her belly to the way her hair swished across her shoulders as she stroked him with her body.

  “So . . . fucking . . . amazing,” he gasped, and then he was beyond words, his climax squeezing his balls in a pleasurable vise as he lost track of the world for a few glorious seconds.

  He felt her climax again seconds later, then she was a rag doll in his arms, flopping onto his chest, panting and damp and lax. He wrapped his arms around her and curved a hand around the back of her head, holding her close, not wanting to let go of this moment of unity and connection.

  No other woman had ever rocked his world the way she did. No other woman had ever inspired him to be so honest, to share so much, to want so much. His life might be a dumpster fire right now, but Sierra was the one good thing that made all of it worthwhile. If he could survive the next few weeks and months and come out of this mess with her still by his side, in his bed, a part of his life . . . Right this second, it felt like it was the only thing that mattered. Everything else could go fuck itself, as long as he got to have her in his life.

  She stirred, sliding off him, and it wasn’t until she was curling into his side that he realized they’d forgotten to use a condom in the heat of the moment.

  “Whoa,” he said quietly, his eyes popping open.

  “Relax,” Sierra said, her hand patting his chest reassuringly. “I’m on the pill. So we don’t have to worry about that.”

  He heard the unasked part of her question and was quick to reassure her.

  “I’m always careful. And I had a checkup recently.”

  “Me too,” she said. “So I guess that means no more interruptions. Hallelujah.”

  Her head was on his shoulder and he couldn’t see her face, but he knew she was smiling. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then pulled the duvet up to cover both of them. “Get some sleep. We’ve got an early start.”

  “Do you still need to—oh.”

  “Exactly. I don’t like to be rushed in the morning,” he said, reaching out to turn off the light.

  “Well, then. I guess we’d better make sure we leave ourselves plenty of time,” she said, her voice a suggestive husk in the dark.

  His body felt warm and heavy and satisfi
ed and he closed his eyes, giving himself up to sleep. No way had he imagined that such a shitty day could end this well.

  But Sierra made everything better. He was starting to understand that now.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sierra couldn’t remember the last time she’d shared a bed overnight with a man. It had been a while, she knew that for certain, and she’d forgotten what it was like to wake up with a hard male body pressed against her own. She’d forgotten the warmth of it, the quiet companionship of it.

  And she’d forgotten how freaking hot it could be, two sleepy bodies exploring each other under the covers until suddenly everything was urgent and necessary and unstoppable.

  Afterward, she shared the shower with Garret, groaning with pleasure as he massaged first shampoo then conditioner through her hair.

  “I love your hair,” he said as he helped her rinse it off. “I love the way it covers your pretty tits when we’re fucking. I love feeling it on my chest when you’re on top.”

  “Well, now you’ve gone and done it, haven’t you?” she told him. Reaching out to flick off the water, she led him back into the bedroom and had her wicked way with him yet again.

  Somehow they managed to keep their hands off each other long enough to get dressed and make it to the kitchen. There, Garret unearthed some bread from the freezer and put it on to toast before making her a coffee with a complicated-looking machine hidden behind one of the many cupboards.

  “Wow. I didn’t know this was here. Not that I would know what to do with it, but still.”

  “I’ll show you,” he said, smiling at her briefly before concentrating on pouring expertly steamed milk into a mug.

  When he passed it to her, she saw he’d created a little smiley face in the foam.

  “Look at you, with your fancy foam art,” she said. “Are these your beans?”

  “Nothing but the best. Stick with me, and I’ll hook you up with the good stuff.”