by Leslie North
As she gathered tack and pondered which horse to ride, her mind wandered to Nathan and the months that had passed since his death. At first, she’d been so overwhelmed by the details of funeral and burial, trying to comfort his family, trying to reassure her family she was okay, and managing the most basic things—laundry, grocery shopping, childcare—she’d barely had time to miss him.
But after those first couple of months, she’d woken one day and found herself in an apartment that was tolerably clean, with some groceries in the refrigerator, a three-year-old who’d slept past seven a.m., and no husband. She could still remember the deep pain that had ripped through her that Sunday morning as she realized that Nathan wasn’t ever coming back.
But there had been something else there as well, a realization that even in their young marriage, they’d already become so entrenched in the routines of daily life, they’d stopped nurturing their relationship. The day she realized Nathan was gone was also the day she realized she couldn’t remember the last time they’d made love, or talked about anything other than Cam, what to make for dinner, and whose turn it was to pay the bills. Part of what broke Ava’s heart that day was having to face the hard truth that she and Nathan had let go of something in their relationship long before he died.
Maybe that was why Ava had been so willing to kiss Bran, why she couldn’t stop thinking about him and the way his hands felt as he explored her body. She ought to feel guilty—she did feel guilty—but she also felt real and full and alive for the first time in so long, she couldn’t remember. As much as Ava missed Nathan, she missed being whole even more.
She was cinching the girth on a placid buckskin when she heard a muttered curse that interrupted her thoughts. Glancing around, she found an uncomfortable-looking Bran behind her.
“Hey,” she said, turning back to the horse and finishing by tucking the strap into the knot she’d formed with the girth.
“You riding for work or fun?” Bran asked, opening the door to his horse’s stall.
“Just a little early-morning ride before I go to the infirmary,” she answered, watching him warily.
He led Chief, his big Appaloosa, into the barn aisle and went to grab Chief’s blanket, saddle, and hackamore.
Ava gave her horse a stroke on the nose and took the reins, ready to lead the mare outside.
“I always take the trail to the east acreage,” Bran said, spreading the saddle blanket on Chief.
Ava just looked at him.
He cleared his throat subtly. “I can show you, if you’d like. It’s a beautiful ride this time of day.”
She raised one eyebrow in disbelief. “I thought we were supposed to steer clear of one another.”
He had the good sense to look abashed. “Just because I don’t think we should sleep together doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”
Friends. Ava thought about it for a moment. One thing she’d lost for sure when she lost Nathan—her best friend. She could probably do with some more friends.
She gave a determined nod. “I’d like to be friends.”
He gave her a grin that sent her poor heart flip-flopping in her chest.
“Friends share coffee, you know,” he said as he gestured for her to lead the way out of the barn.
“Really,” she deadpanned.
“Oh, yeah. Especially when one friend is going to show the other the ranch’s best early-morning trail.”
She swung up onto her horse a split second before he mounted.
“How about racing?” she asked, pointing the mare’s nose toward the trail that led into the rising sun. “Do friends race each other? Because I used to beat you weekly, and I bet I still can.”
“Friends not only race,” he said, pulling up on the reins as Chief did a little dance of excitement, “they kick your ass.” Bran gave Chief a quick jab with his heels, and they took off.
It took Ava only a second to realize what he’d done, and then she was hot on his tail, dust flying as fast as her laughter.
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up under a grove of live oaks. Both dismounted, and Ava removed the mare’s bit to allow her to join Bran’s Appaloosa drinking from the trough that was installed at the little rest stop.
“You haven’t gotten any less competitive,” Bran said, taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair.
“For all the good it did me,” Ava complained. She wanted to stamp a foot and pout, but she knew she was being ridiculous. Chief was several hands taller than her horse, and Bran worked him daily. The sweet buckskin was lucky if someone saddled her twice a week.
“Rosy hasn’t moved that fast in years,” Bran said laughing. “She wouldn’t have done it for anyone but you.”
Ava watched as he leaned against the trunk of one of the trees, his muscular legs stretching the faded denim and flexing as he adjusted to find the best spot to rest.
“Rosy’s a good girl,” Ava acknowledged, patting the mare on her hindquarters. “But next time, I want Chief.”
Bran laughed and shook his head. The breeze softly rustled the tree leaves overhead, and Ava’s gaze locked with Bran’s. She hadn’t meant to, she wasn’t trying to make things awkward, but before she knew it, the air was charged with something electrical, and she was helpless to look away from the man who’d haunted her dreams, not just all last night but as a teenage girl.
“You going to share that coffee?” Bran asked, his voice husky and low.
She managed a smile and moved to pull the thermos from the saddlebag. They both sat on the ground, leaning their backs against the big oak.
“There’s only one cup,” she told him as she poured steaming hot goodness into the small stainless-steel lid.
“Well, we’ve already swapped spit, so…”
She burst out laughing and took a sip before handing the cup to him.
“It was good,” she ventured, hoping he wouldn’t give her another speech about how wrong it had been…how wrong they were. “Good spit-swapping, I mean.”
Bran huffed out a breath as he smiled in that way that was private and suggestive at the same time.
“Don’t remind me,” he muttered.
“What’s that mean?”
He shifted to look at her. “I mean it was the hottest kiss I’ve had in a very long time. Maybe ever.”
“Yet you don’t want a repeat,” she quipped, taking the cup from him and refilling it before taking a few bracing sips herself.
“I didn’t say I didn’t want more, just that it’s probably not a good idea.”
Neither spoke for a few moments, silently passing the coffee back and forth, listening to the prairie around them coming to life as the sun worked its way higher into the pale Texas sky.
“And I’m not fragile, you know,” she said calmly. “I won’t break if we have some…moments…”
Bran leaned his head back against the rough bark and shut his eyes. “There’s no way anyone who knows what you’ve been through could think you’re fragile, A.”
Something inside of Ava expanded with warmth and pride. Damn straight.
Bran slid away from the tree so he could face her, one arm resting on his bent knee. He extended his other hand to cup her jaw lightly. “What you are is amazing,” he said softly. “You’re strong and brave…and kind of intimidating. But I’m your boss, and I’m asking your brother for money.”
He paused, letting his hand drop away. She missed the warmth immediately.
She let him sit with that for a moment while she organized her own thoughts, because she might be younger, but she was wiser.
“After Nathan died,” she began, “I spent the first few weeks just trying to remember to eat and sleep. I managed to keep Cam on track, but when it came to myself, it was harder.”
Bran took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb lightly across her fingers. The feel of his calloused skin and strong bones was somehow soothing and protective.
“I had a full-time job and a toddler. I sometimes went weeks
without a moment to mourn, you know?”
He nodded, and she knew he understood, at least somewhat. No one lost both parents within a year at the age of twenty-four without learning something about grief.
She stared into the brightening sky as her words took her into the past. “Then I got invited to this group—the spouses of firefighters and police who’ve been killed on duty. I went to the first meeting just to be polite, right? I thought I didn’t have time for it, I thought I couldn’t learn anything because Nathan was dead, and nothing was going to change that.”
“But you did learn something.” Bran’s caress moved up to her wrist and back down to her palm as he watched her.
“Yeah,” she gave him a gentle smile. “I learned that Nathan was dead, but I wasn’t. I learned that while he took more risks than most people because of his job, it could still happen to you or to me or to anyone we know, any day, with no warning.”
“That’s cheery.”
“Actually, it’s freeing. Because when you understand that, you realize you can’t wait to do the things you want. You realize you have to go after every single thing that matters in your life like you won’t have tomorrow—because you might not.”
He smiled, a self-effacing, shy grin. “So carpe diem?”
“Absolutely.”
“You’re trouble, A.”
Yes, she was. She was also hot and bothered by the man in front of her, and she was not about to lose out on the chance to explore the possibilities with him. Nathan was dead, but she was alive, and she was beginning to piece her life back together. She wanted this, she wanted Bran, she wanted to let go and live to the fullest for a few moments.
As if he could read her thoughts, Bran reached out and yanked her toward him. They both toppled onto the grass, Ava partly on top of him, giggling like she was that teenager again.
He growled and rolled with her until they’d reversed positions. “You’re also sexy as hell,” he murmured, running his lips across her jaw. “And very convincing.”
Bran planted hot open-mouthed kisses along Ava’s neck and down the V of her t-shirt, licking the tops of her breasts, his hands skating up beneath the thin cotton at the same time. She arched into his touch and threw her arms over her head, reveling in the feel of his weight and his desire.
“Jesus,” he rasped as he gently took one of her hardened nipples between his teeth. Even through her shirt, she could feel the heat of his breath, and her core ached with need.
Before she knew it, he’d tugged her t-shirt over her head and dipped his mouth to her bare belly, licking and suckling until her hips were bucking and she was moaning in frustration.
She clutched at his hair as he moved his face lower and took a tiny corner of her jeans waistband between his teeth, tugging until the snap popped open.
“Who knew you were so talented?” she gasped as he pulled her zipper down and slid his hand along until he’d parted silk from skin and found the slick heat between her thighs.
As his fingers began to slide in and out of her, Bran kissed his way back to her mouth. Her arousal became tighter and tighter, like a rubber band being stretched until it had to break to release the tension.
She clawed at his back, moaning and flexing her hips in time with his hand.
“I want to make you come like this,” he whispered in her ear, and Ava fell to pieces. She cried out, the sound swallowed by the vast empty land around them as wave after wave of hot sweet pleasure rolled through her. All she could think as it happened was that teenage Ava might not have been able to handle Branson Beckett.
Bran slid his fingers out of her body slowly, almost as if he didn’t want to leave, and Ava sighed softly. He rolled to his back, and she moved onto her side, propping her head on her bent arm so she could look down at him.
“Carpe damn diem,” she said, leaning down and following up with a steaming kiss.
He chuckled, and she moved her hand to the very apparent erection that bulged in his jeans.
“Would you like some help with that?” she asked. “You can carpe diem, too.”
Bran laughed harder and gazed up at her. “You’re a hellcat, you know that?”
She leaned down and nibbled on his earlobe. “You have no idea,” she whispered as she flicked open the top button on his fly.
Then she showed him how she could seize the day with her lips, and her tongue, and her teeth.
9
Bran had done nothing but work for a solid week. Since their morning ride, he’d done everything he could to avoid Ava because dammit, she was reckless, and he couldn’t let her tempt him into that kind of thing again. He had to remember she was his employee, Hoyt’s sister, and a disaster waiting to happen.
She was also unbelievably sexy, and it was taking every ounce of self-control he had to keep from finding her and begging for a repeat of that morning ride.
His work marathon meant all the paperwork for the entire month was already done, the feed orders were up to date, the auction listings had been submitted…hell, he’d even fixed the leaking kitchen faucet for Mary Beth. Now as he stood in the middle of his office, desperate for something to keep his mind off his sexy ranch hand, he heard a shuffling sound overhead.
The barn apartment. He hadn’t thought about it since the day he’d shown it to Ava and Cam, filled to the brim with items he hadn’t even known existed on his ranch. He wondered why all the junk was in there, and who’d put it there in the first place? One of his hired hands must be upstairs stuffing it full of more crap right now. This was the perfect thing to occupy his day, obviously something that needed to be dealt with. He pulled his phone from his pocket and texted Rick to get a few guys together and bring them over ASAP, and then he tromped upstairs, determined to work until he’d banished every last memory of Ava Pearson from his head, his heart, and his body.
“Hey, Carlos,” Ava said as she approached the barn, on a break for her lunch hour. “What’s going on?” It was obvious that the normal daily routine had been disrupted. Random pieces of furniture littered the driveway, men shouted from the attic above the barn, and Carlos was hunkered down with his back against the outside of the barn doors, a dazed look on his face.
“Hola,” he answered flatly. “Trust me, even with your reporter’s curiosity, you don’t want to know what this is all about.” He shook his head, somber and tired.
Ava sat on the ground next to him, heedless of the dust, and leaned back against the same wall, her ponytail, sticking out the back of a baseball cap, scraping the metal siding of the big building.
“Give me a shot. Maybe I won’t be a reporter, just a co-worker.” She smiled at him, and he flashed some teeth in response before taking a swig of the Gatorade at his side.
“The boss decided to clean house—or barn, I guess. He pulled four of us off branding—which is supposed to be done by dark tonight—so that we can sort through the crap that’s been piling up in that attic for at least the last five years. Maybe more.”
“What is all that stuff?” she asked, wincing as a particularly virulent string of profanity echoed from the attic window above them.
“It’s all the things that no one on the ranch has known what to do with. A few years back, the boss closed up the landfill we kept out on the far acreage. Said it was too expensive to continue running our own disposal site.”
He pulled a pack of gum from his front shirt pocket and offered a piece to Ava. She declined, but he folded a piece into his own mouth, giving it a quick chomp before continuing.
“So we have commercial pickup for all the standard waste, but they don’t take certain things that are hazardous—big truck batteries, gasoline drums, that kind of stuff. For a while Richard and me were taking turns driving that stuff to the site in Arlington twice a month, but then it got to be too much time.”
“So you have hazardous waste in the attic over the barn?” All Ava could think of was the fire hazard.
“Naw, we ain’t that dumb,” Carlos chuckled. “Bu
t we’ve been storing the hazardous stuff in the warehouses on the property, which means the surplus equipment and furniture and things went here.”
Ava shook her head in disbelief. “Why didn’t you guys explain all this to Bran?”
Carlos glanced at her. “He’s awful busy…” he answered diplomatically.
“He wouldn’t listen to you?”
“He just said we’d deal with it later. I guess it’s later now, but this wasn’t planned, and if the cows aren’t branded today, they can’t go to auction tomorrow, then everything is thrown off—the feed orders, grazing rotations, the breeding. It’s a chain of dominos, amiga, and the boss just pushed the first one over.”
Carlos took one more swig of his Gatorade and then stood and stretched. “Break’s over,” he said. “Back I go to wrestle with el diablo.”
“Vaya con Dios,” Ava joked in response.
But the joke turned out not to be so funny when, one by one, the men Bran had working on the mess in the barn attic filtered down for breaks. Each told Ava the same story: things were out of control. The reporter in her couldn’t help asking questions, and the picture they were painting of Bran wasn’t good. He was stubborn, he didn’t listen to his hands, he didn’t think ahead, and then he impulsively attacked projects like the barn cleanup with too little thought to the other work that his ranch hands needed to get done.
Bran’s hired hands were unhappy, and not for the first time.
Finally, Carlos came back down, heading for one of the ranch trucks parked nearby.
“You going back to the branding shed?” she asked.
“Yeah, boss wants more guys up here for this. We’re going to have to pull all the waste materials out of one of the warehouses and take it to Arlington, then move this surplus furniture back into the warehouse until an auction company can come inventory it to sell it off.”
Ava’s eyes widened in shock. “So you’re going to have to move everything back to where it started—and drive several truckloads to the dump in Arlington? It’s already after one! You can’t get all that done today.”