Kickin' Up Dust: Operation Cowboy, Book 1 (16 page)

Brodie chuckled at his friends’ antics. He tipped his hat to the Kents. One of the children ran up to give him a high-five. “I’ll come along for beer.”

His mother gasped, and his father roared. Brodie ruffled the boy’s hair. “That’s a deal—in about fifteen years. I’ll still be here.”

“Me too!”

Smiling, Brodie walked to the truck, hitched a boot on the bumper, and swung his leg over the tailgate. When he was barely seated, Garrett shot off, zooming through the empty town in a way Brodie hoped wouldn’t happen forever. He missed stopping at the few stoplights or for kids crossing the street.

As they bumped out of town and onto a rambling country road, Brodie scanned the world around him. Beautiful couldn’t begin to describe the landscape. When he twisted his head, he could see a portion of the fence he and Danica had worked so hard on.

His heart gave a tiny squeeze. After telling her that he and the guys were having a beer-and-cards night, he’d feared her reaction. He’d slyly moved her coffee mug away from her, not wanting his crotch doused with hot liquid.

But she’d leaned to kiss his cheek with a raspy, “Enjoy yourself.”

Things had gone from zero to eighty when he threaded his fingers in her hair and held her mouth to his. After that, she’d glided into his lap and moved her hips like a private dancer, which led to her sliding down his body and kneeling before him.

He shuddered at the memory of her sweet mouth wrapped around his cock.

The land rolled, the tips of the grasses glowing gold in the sinking sun. In the distance, a dirt road arched over a hillside that led down to the cave. Maybe he could take Danica there soon. She deserved much more fun than she got.

In the past few days things had really settled in her life. Her parents weren’t whole again by any means, but they had sparks of interest in life around them. Over time, they’d recover. And his parents adored her. A meal didn’t pass that his mother didn’t ask where Danica was. He ate better with her around. Slept better too. She was a good distraction.

The truck sputtered, and a God-awful grinding noise came from the engine. Brodie and Wydell exchanged a look of concern. When the truck jerked as the engine cut out completely, they were able to hear the argument coming from inside.

“Didn’t check the oil—”

“Are you kidding me? It’s been my damn job to check oil in trucks and machinery the past four years. It’s the first thing I checked.”

“This hunka junk isn’t any better than the Ford. At least she was running.”

Boyd and Garrett volleyed with each other a few more times before Garrett tried to start the truck again. The engine did nothing.

Exchanging a pointed look with Wydell, Brodie swung his leg over the tailgate. He dropped to the ground, and Wydell followed. Sticking his head in the passenger’s window, he said, “Put ’er in neutral.”

Garrett’s expression was resigned as he did. Then Wydell and Brodie pushed the truck off to the side of the road. Not that anybody would be coming this direction, but it was the best thing to do.

Slamming the driver’s door, Garrett said, “Guess we’re walkin’, boys.”

“No matter,” Brodie said, starting off on the mile trek to his ranch. “Weren’t we taught to never expect things to go right?”

There were noises of agreement as they headed down the road. As they walked, it was impossible for Brodie to keep some of the ghastly images of war out of his head. But the more he listened to their talk, the more he relaxed.

“This is so much like that camping trip in fourth grade. Remember?” Boyd squashed his hat lower against the fading sun.

Brodie elbowed his friend, and Boyd nudged him back. “Only difference is you don’t stink as much. Or maybe you do—I just haven’t gotten close enough.”

Boyd made a show of sniffing his underarm, which made them all hoot with laughter. “Nobody smelled worse than Matt. That man’s feet…” He shuddered.

Brodie barked a laugh. “Yeah, it still haunts me.”

Talking of Matt didn’t hurt as bad like this. No, this was where Matt belonged—between his best friends. A small smile of happiness spread in Brodie’s chest.

The mile passed quickly, but by the time they reached the ranch, he was ready for a cold one. The guys found the card table leaning against the wall and unfolded it. The chairs and barrels were pulled up and the six-pack settled between them.

“Why do I always get this barrel?” Boyd complained.

“You have the most padding on your ass,” Garrett replied without looking up from the cards he was dealing.

“What?” Boyd twisted.

“You can’t see your own ass, man. Now pick up your cards and stop bitchin’.” Garrett grinned at the others then made an exaggerated show of happiness when he looked at his cards.

“Shhiiit, man. We aren’t falling for that,” Brodie said. “You’ve got a whole hand of nothing.”

Garrett waggled his brows. “I fill my hand pretty well. Plenty of girls’ hands too.”

Laughter rippled around the table. “Is that so? Where are you finding plenty of girls when you’re putting in twelve- to sixteen-hour days on cleanup?” Brodie moved a few cards in his hand, pairing them up.

“Shooters. You may remember a pretty little blonde bartender?” Garrett produced a bag of peanuts, and the guys fell on them like vultures on a roadkill.

“I remember her.” Not for the reasons the guys did, though. His memories of that night revolved around a certain tall, sexy brunette with a man she didn’t belong with.

That led to him considering his state of mind then. Believing he needed to keep his hands off her for Matt’s sake. Somehow along the way she—and her frayed shorts—had wiped the idea straight out of his skull.

As he stared broodingly at his cards, he heard his best buddy’s voice.

What are your intentions with my little sis, bro?

I…I don’t know. I like her.

Like? That’s all you got? She’s in love with you, right?

She hasn’t said.

Does she need to? It’s written all over her and echoes in her every action. Make sure if you’re doing it, you’re doing right by her.

What’s that supposed to mean, Matt?

Women need soft words and gestures. You give her any of those lately? If ever?

Shut up.

“Your play, Pup.” Wydell snapped his fingers in front of Brodie’s face. He considered his cards, his mind far away. Actually, he was still seeing the wildflowers Wayne had brought for Danica that day. If women liked such gestures, why had she turned away from him as if preferring a dusty truck seat and a trip to the feed store?

He pushed out a sigh.

“He’s going to fold. Go on and fold, Brodie,” Wydell teased.

“I’m not going to fold.” When the words came out, he realized he meant it for all aspects of his life.

He made his play. Banter continued, and this time Wydell was the center of the joke. He took it with his normal good nature, but lines of strain fitted around his mouth. Brodie had seen them plenty of times in the past, especially when they were in the thick of the fighting.

He tossed a peanut at Wydell, striking him in the jaw. It had the desired effect—Wydell’s mouth stretched in a grin and he swiped a large hand at Brodie’s head. “Why you little pup.”

“That’s enough, Hard-Ass. You’re going to upset the table,” Brodie said, ducking the cuffing he was about to receive.

“We’re making a run into town tomorrow. You need anything for the ranch, Brodie?” Garrett asked.

They settled back into their card game.

“Nah, Danica and I are good.”

That raised a lot of eyebrows around the table—six to be exact. All gazes locked on him.

“So you’re good good?” Wydell drawled.

“What the hell’s good good?” Brodie kept his voice even. He wasn’t ready to explain his relationship with Danica until he’d told her—or figured it out himself.

“We know it’s gooooood.” Wydell drew an hourglass figure in the air. “But is she your girl?”

“What the hell, are we in sixth grade again?” Talking to his buddies about his feelings for Matt’s little sister felt wrong on so many levels. Danica’s parents knowing was one thing—they loved her and Matt. But the guys…they worshipped Matt, and his wishes and commands sounded even from the grave.

But maybe Brodie had underestimated his friends. They wanted what was best for him—and Danica.

“When you gonna commit to her, Brodie? She’s worth fighting for. Besides, none of us care if you’re an old married codger. Just means more beer and women for us.”

Brodie shook his head, but the first twinges of a smile tugged at his lips.

“I just wondered because there’s talk in town.”

He jolted upright, lowering his cards enough that Boyd took a peek at his hand. He laid them flat on the table and glared at each of them. “Tell me what talk.”

“It’s that teacher again. Wally or—”

“Wayne,” he interjected, feeling his muscles tighten with the need to punch something. He didn’t like hearing that the guy was talking about her. “What’s he saying?”

“I guess he texts her and stuff.”

Brodie went dead still. His heart rate slowed as if he were about to take a clean shot. Except his crosshairs weren’t on his target—the asshole was miles away.

Part of him realized she was a free woman, able to text whomever she wished. But she was in his life—in his bed. Why talk to Wayne at all?

“Yeah, it’s good good,” Wydell said, getting a look at whatever was displayed on Brodie’s face. “You’re in deep, man.”

Fuck yeah, he was. But he wasn’t about to babble his feelings before Danica even knew. His urge to leave the game and cross the field to Danica burned. No, he wasn’t going to act tonight. There was plenty of time to raise the topic tomorrow. They were getting ready for branding.

Talk turned to other topics. He lost every damn hand he played, but his head wasn’t in the game either. It was on the Pope Ranch.

Was Danica really texting that asshole? She was alone right now. She might be watching TV with her parents or working on her college courses. But a niggling voice in his head said she could be communicating with Wayne too.

No, she wasn’t that type of girl. Besides, she was really into Brodie.

“Uh-oh, guys. Brodie’s got that look on his face again.”

At Wydell’s teasing tone Brodie snapped to attention. “What look?”

“The one you had before you got up and followed Danica out of the barn. After she dumped the beer and whiskey on your crotch.”

Hoots of laughter followed, but he ignored them.

“You never did come back, man.”

“So?” His voice was raw and carried a bark that sounded like a command.

They guys sat up straighter but nobody was about to heed his warnings now—they were civilians. Friends, not soldiers following him.

“So why don’t you just admit to us that you’re head over boots for Matt’s baby sister?” Wydell’s question silenced all.

He looked from face to face. These were his buddies. He’d fought wars with them. Hell, he’d fight wars
for
them. And they’d do the same for him. Time to ’fess up. They all were too damn good at keeping secrets. None of them would slip to Danica before Brodie could tell her how he felt about her.

“All right,” he said slowly, “it’s true. Things are getting deep with Danica. As if you didn’t know.”

A couple beers were cracked open, and suddenly Brodie’s mouth was parched. He opened a cold one and brought it to his lips.

“Maybe we’d better find this Wayne guy and shut him up.”

He lowered his beer. “Why would you shut him up?”

“Well if she’s your girl then this guy needs to move on. Right? He shouldn’t be telling people they text.”

The unspoken words fell between them.
He shouldn’t be texting her at all.

Brodie finished off his beer and sat staring for long minutes while the guys played another hand. He wasn’t a jealous type—at least until Danica had sashayed into his life. And goddamn if owning her in the bedroom wasn’t spilling into his daily thoughts. She was his, dammit. And he wasn’t going to share, not even a few texts.

There was only one thing to do, and it didn’t involve hog-tying Wayne and teaching him a lesson—yet.

He needed to confess his feelings to Danica and bind her heart to him. Surely it would be as easy as knotting a rope around her wrists?

Chapter Eleven

Danica hunched over the desk, staring at the books. She’d peered at the numbers until her eyes were crossing, but still she wasn’t able to squeeze another drop into the bucket.

She’d run figures several ways—paying this bill or that first. Then ignoring others altogether. Still, she couldn’t wring blood from stone, could she? Maybe they should have kept the hay money for the ranch instead of Matt’s memorial. Guilt filled her. No, they’d done right by Matt—and her parents. They’d just need to make the money stretch a little further until they started calving and making more.

Frustration tightened the small muscles at her temples, and she rubbed them lightly.

A light tap on the door made her look up. Her gaze scraped over dusty boots and worn jeans, and settled on the belt he’d tormented her with. Her heart flipped. She skimmed her attention over his broad chest covered in a denim shirt. Then settled on his handsome face.

His expression sent a thrill through her. He crossed the room in a few long strides. As he braced a hand on the desk and leaned over her, she tilted her head back for a kiss. The instant their lips brushed, she started to melt.

He broke the kiss too soon, and she felt a mewl of disappointment rise in her throat. His dark eyes burned as he looked down at her. “You’re hard at work. I expected you to be outside where cowgirls roam free.”

She pushed out a sigh. “Cowgirls might roam free outdoors but ranchers have to look at the books sometimes.”

“I can hear in your tone it’s not good.”

“There’s just enough.”

“What’s the problem then?” He ran a finger over the column of numbers she’d jotted.

“I’m trying to stretch the money.”

“Might not be feasible.” He tipped his hat back to take a closer look.

“But there’s something I want.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward. “What do you want, darlin’?”

Heat trickled low into her belly. “I know somebody who has a pair of miniature longhorns. A good breeding pair.”

“Wait—miniature?”

“Yes, they take up less space, which means less erosion of pastures and they’re still good beef cattle.”

He smiled widely. “You’re serious?”

“Well, I thought we could just start with a pair. See if we can breed them and add to a smaller herd. We can put them on the north corner of the ranch. We don’t need six-foot fences because they’re so short, which is less cost to us.”

“Hmm.” He leaned over the books and picked up her pencil. Then he nudged her aside. And finally she was pushed so far to the side that her shoulder was crammed against the wall.

Pressing him away enough to stand, she said, “By all means, have a seat, Brodie.”

“Oh thanks,” he said absently and plopped into the chair she’d vacated. As she rounded the desk, her phone vibrated on the surface.

Brodie snapped to alertness and clapped a hand over her cell, as quick as a venomous snake striking. With her cell trapped beneath his big hand, he dragged it toward him then lifted a hand as if peeking at a coin he’d just flipped.

His face transformed, and she knew exactly what he was looking at—a text from Wayne.

Fucking hell.
The guy wouldn’t stop, no matter how many times she’d ignored or turned down his offers.

Brodie’s shoulders were lumps of granite as he slowly gained his feet and glared at her. “You wanna tell me about this?”

His tone sparked an instant anger inside her. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from spewing it, but he pushed on.

“I heard you’ve been texting this guy. Why, Danica?”

If his voice had held a hint of hurt, she wouldn’t have the urge to lunge across the desk and slap his handsome face. But his voice rang with accusation.

She set her hand on a hip. “Are you saying you don’t trust me, Brodie Bell?”

“I’m saying I don’t understand why you’re spending your days and nights with me, yet you’re responding to this guy.”

“Who says I’m responding to him?”

“C’mon, Danica. No man’s going to keep texting if you’re ignoring him. Should I flip back through your messages?”

She gasped. “You wouldn’t! What reason do you have to suspect me of cheating on you? Besides, what am I cheating on? Orgasms and dirty words?” Until that minute she hadn’t realized how much she needed sweet words. Love words. Angry tears pricked her eyes.

He tossed her phone across the desk and it slid to the floor. “Why don’t you reply to your teacher boyfriend? He’s waiting.”

She swiped her phone off the floor.

“Go on. I’ll take care of the books and chores while you make your plans with Wayne.”

Hurt mingled with anger. She worked to find words but nothing was anywhere near what she wanted to say. She tightened her lips, on the verge of bursting into tears.

Brodie gave her a cold, hard stare.

She whirled toward the door and then turned back to grab her cell.

“I knew I shouldn’t have messed with Matt’s little sister.”

She stopped dead, heart thumping with the adrenaline in her system. When she shot him a thunderous glare, at least he had the grace to flinch. “I’m sorry you feel that way. At least you don’t have to mess with his little sister anymore.”

The door slammed behind her.

Seconds after she walked out, Brodie’s emotions finally caught up to his mouth. He went to call her back, but the front door slammed. He rushed to the window in time to see her stalking across the yard, long legs carrying her away.

When she climbed into her truck and peeled out of the driveway, his heart ached. After hearing that Wayne was rumored to be texting Danica…then seeing the proof for himself…

He tore off his hat and shoved his fingers into his hair. Dammit. He hadn’t meant to lose his cool with her, yet he’d seen red in the blink of an eye. He could still see those words, bright on her screen.

How’s my favorite cowgirl?

Brodie’s need to pound the man couldn’t be realized so he did the only thing he could—he had a mental fight.

She’s not your cowgirl. She’s mine, goddammit.

Then why’s she texting me?

He couldn’t answer that question, even in his imagination. He stomped back to the desk and threw himself into the chair. Blankly he stared at the figures for five minutes, ten, before he slammed the book shut and dropped his face into his hands.

Danica wasn’t the type of woman to play two men. She must have had a reason for her actions—like being too nice to just give the guy the finger and tell him to get lost.

Brodie gnawed his lip and kneaded his eyes where a dull ache had begun. Matt’s voice echoed inside his skull, and he jolted, cracking his knee off the desk hard.

Through a haze of pain, he fought to listen to the words of his best friend, even if they were conjured by his imagination.

I thought you loved her.

I fucking do, man.

So you’re going to let her walk out and not go fight for her?

Brodie stood. Sat down again. What the hell was he to do? He didn’t have a clue where to find her. If he drove fast, he might be able to catch up with her.

I can call her. Text her too.

No. She’d ignore him. He had visions of her tossing her phone out the window just to escape him. Dammit, he’d hurt her. He’d seen it cross her beautiful features and immediately hated himself.

If he’d driven her into Wayne’s arms, he’d never forgive himself. Aching and hollow, he left the Popes’ house. Chores weren’t something he could ignore, not when animals depended on him.

Unfortunately, he had many hours ahead of him. Working the ranch alone left him miserable. He kept expecting to see Danica at his side, ready to assist with whatever job needed done. But she wasn’t there.

He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. At the far side of the barn her favored mare stomped and brushed the sides of the stall.

Brodie walked up and reached over the door. The horse pushed her nose into his hand for a treat he didn’t have. “You miss her, don’t you? You need a good gallop. She’ll be home soon.”

That was one thing he could count on—she wouldn’t stay away forever. But the state of their relationship from here on was questionable.

And Wayne could be kissing her right now.

Brodie whirled and slammed the heel of his hand off the nearest barn support post. Dust clogged the air, and Danica’s mare snorted in protest. How was it her horse could echo the woman’s derisive sounds so easily?

He went to find her an apple and treated the rest of the horses. Then he went out of the barn and started walking through the fields toward the treehouse. His feelings went far beyond partners or even fuck buddies, so why hadn’t he told her?

Hours passed while he thrashed himself. The treehouse was too hot to even poke his head in the trapdoor for long, so he sat at the base, picking apart stems and talking to Matt.

If his buddy had gotten a chance at love, he would have grabbed the reins with both hands. He would have grasped the moment and held tight. Brodie had to do the same.

Trouble was, he might have driven Danica away forever.

Finishing evening chores with a deep pain in his heart was no party. He hung around the Popes’ place until darkness fell and he had no more excuses. Then he walked home, burning to have Danica back where she belonged—with him.

* * * * *

Danica could hardly move her neck from side to side after spending all night in her truck. She’d slept with her head against the back of the seat but sometime during the wee hours of morning her head had tilted against the window at a bad angle.

Rubbing the sore spot, she groaned. Then her eyes flew open and jerked to her phone on the passenger’s seat.

Brodie hadn’t contacted her. And thank God Wayne hadn’t either. After agreeing to meet him, she realized it was best to let him down face-to-face. He wasn’t taking her not-so-subtle hints that she didn’t want to date him. Not telling him no in the first place had made a mess of things. Then he’d continued texting and calling, taking her evasion as being too busy to see him, not that she didn’t
want
to. Finally, she’d set him straight.

Her actions had gotten her in deep with the man she really wanted. No, needed. But she couldn’t be with a man who treated her that way. He’d actually accused her of sleeping with him while sweet-talking Wayne.

Ugh.
She sat up straighter and ran her hands through her disheveled hair. When she glanced in the rearview mirror she noted evidence of unhappiness around her lips and eyes. How long before they faded?

She drove across the empty parking lot. Once the lot had been overflowing with faculty cars and even Matt’s old Rambler had been parked here. He hadn’t been happy about driving his little sister to school, but he had.

Swallowing against tears that rose in her throat at his loss, she considered all she’d gained in the short time since Brodie had returned. Her ranch wasn’t in the red even if she didn’t have money to buy the pair of miniature longhorns right now. And he’d brought more than ideas to her and the community—he’d brought hope.

God, how was she going to face him again? Working with him day in and out while pretending she wasn’t in love with him would be impossible. And avoiding him entirely wouldn’t help either of their ranches.

She took her time navigating the back roads home. At each turn memories loomed. As her driveway came into view, she let off the gas. Her truck rolled like a turtle trudging uphill through peanut butter. But she was in no hurry to face Brodie, and he’d surely be in the barn at this time of day.

Steeling herself, she stepped on the gas. She parked her truck haphazardly, jumped out and ran into the house without looking around for the man who’d hurt her. Once she stood in the quiet retreat of her bedroom, she started stripping off her clothes and went into the adjoining bathroom, leaving a trail of stale clothes behind her.

The door exploded inward and bashed off the wall. With a little scream, she ran into her room to see a six-foot tall angry cowboy standing in her bedroom.

His gaze dipped over her mostly bare form and something rippled over his features. “Danica,” he grated out.

She settled her hands on her hips, ignoring the pinch of her nipples when his gaze lingered on them. “Get the hell out of my room, Brodie.”

“Like hell.” He slammed her door shut. She quivered as he took a step toward her.

She threw up her hands to ward him off. “My parents will know you’re in here,” she whispered.

“They aren’t home. They’re over at Garrett’s place helping out.”

Surprise gave her pause. “With what?”

“The guys did some work to clear the broken structure and they’re all rebuilding today.”

“Really?” She should be there too. Everyone in this town needed help. Wait, what was she thinking? She needed to get Brodie out of her room before he touched her. Then Lord help her, she wouldn’t be able to form a coherent thought.

When Brodie got within arms’ distance, she put the brakes on. “Look, Brodie, what you said yesterday—”

“Was stupid. I was an asshole, Danica.”

No, no, no. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Her heart was already turning to mush.

“I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I don’t have any right.”

“Exactly, you don’t!” Her ire was back in spades.

His voice pitched low with intensity. “I didn’t have any right then, because I didn’t tell you how I felt. No wonder you viewed our relationship as only sex.”

She winced, her heart hammering.

“I never declared my feelings for you.”

She wrapped her arms around her bare chest, wishing a hole would open in the floor and she could disappear. She didn’t want him to come anywhere close to her heart right now. She was too pissed off.

“Brodie, don’t.”

He grabbed her waist, swaying her closer. She dug in her heels. “I love you, Danica. I’m so fucking in love with you that I don’t know what to do without you.”

Her eyelids fluttered at his words. Sweet words—the kind that would play over and over in her mind for the rest of her days. If she decided to forgive him, those words would be shared with her own daughter someday maybe. If they parted, she’d play them on a loop of what might have been.