Montana Moonshine (Montana Cowboys Book 1)

by Vi Summers

  I stepped beside him without argument, and for the briefest of seconds, our eyes snagged in a way that created a series of pangs in my chest. It had been far too long since I’d been with a man, and Brandon was driving my libido through the roof with nothing more than a lingering glance.

  “One, two, three,” he said huskily before boosting me up and into the saddle.

  “Thanks,” I murmured while my smile wavered.

  I had to hand it to him—his shirt really made all the difference, but the damage was already done. Even against the soft flannel, friction still irritated my sensitive flesh; the reminder of an ache that, had I followed the rules, I wouldn’t be sitting uncomfortably right now. The only bonus was Brandon’s muscular shoulders and arms fully on display.

  He looked up at me with an unreadable expression that made me hold my breath. I didn’t know what I was waiting for or what I was expecting, but I sure as hell felt the disappointment when he abruptly looked away.

  “Anytime,” he murmured, then turned Dottie for home.

  The return journey was filled with silence, tense enough to be seen in the line of his shoulders. The skin there was slightly less tanned than his forearms, but still hinted that he worked without a shirt on from time to time. His stance was straight, and strides were assertive, and he didn’t so much as chance a look behind him until we entered the yard.

  He tied Dottie to the fence, then adjusted his hat. “Want me to lift you down, Louisiana?”

  “Uh…” I looked down at the ground and gripped the saddle when Dottie shifted her weight. “Yes please, if you don’t mind.”

  Reaching up, his smile both settled my nerves yet set them on edge. “I got ya.”

  I leaned forward and welcomed the familiar strong hold that clamped around my torso. His biceps bunched under my palms, then relaxed as soon as my boots connected with the gravel.

  “Let me get you somethin’ for your thighs,” Brandon drawled as his gaze briefly dropped to my mouth. “For the saddle rash,” he added huskily.

  Warmth hit my cheeks, echoing the sweet ache between my legs that was becoming more frequent around Brandon.

  “Seems that my thighs are out of practice.” A nervous and entirely breathless giggle fell from my mouth. I would have been embarrassed from the unintentional innuendo if it wasn’t for a heated edge entering Brandon’s eyes.

  A second passed where I swore he leaned closer. Swore the lick of his lower lips wasn’t intentional, instead, filled with curiosity over what it would be like to kiss me.

  His lips briefly pursed before he coughed hard, then ran a hand over his face. I was pretty sure I heard him cuss under his breath, too. His piercing hazel eyes locked with mine.

  “House. Now.”

  Two strained words were all it took to take the ache between my legs and turn it into a pulsing need. I had never yearned for a man’s touch before now. Brandon had lit a desire within me that burned for him and him alone. The thought of his hands on my skin made my breath come short with anticipation.

  With Brandon already strides ahead of me, I quickly fell behind when the stinging pain zapping over my tender thighs reminded me of my stupidity. I thought I was proving a point by not changing into jeans, but all I did was prove the cowboy right.

  By the time I entered the kitchen, he had already found chafing cream and held it out to me.

  “Just rub it in…” He cleared his throat and diverted his eyes everywhere, apart from my legs.

  “Thank you. I should have listened.”

  Those beautiful hazel depths held humor when they locked on me again.

  “Damn right you should have listened. Had to learn the hard way, eh?”

  The teasing smile that accompanied his mild scold lightened the mood. I raised my brows, neither confirming nor denying my inability to learn the easy way.

  With the cream clutched in-hand, I headed for the stairs while trying my hardest not to waddle like I was wearing ten layers of underwear. Halfway along the hallway, the screen on the front door whipped open and a boisterous laugh filled the air.

  “You alright there?”

  I whirled around at the new voice to find a guy I hadn’t met before. His brown eyes danced with amusement that matched his wide smile.

  He extended his hand. “Wyatt, from the neighboring ranch.”

  I approached on tender footsteps and set my palm in his. “Louisiana.”

  Wyatt’s gaze dashed downward for a split second. “Everything okay?”

  With a snort that had his brows lifting, I deadpanned, “Saddle burn.”

  “Ha!” he burst. “I would’ve thought Bran would have made you wear jeans before gettin’ in the saddle.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I exclaimed. “Don’t you start, too!”

  Wyatt threw his head back and roared with laughter that was made a hundred times worse when Brandon’s shout came from the kitchen.

  “She learned the hard way, man.”

  Filled with unjust resentment over them both making fun of me, I huffed and hurried upstairs to my room to soothe both my stinging thighs and smarting ego.

  Chapter 11

  Brandon

  Wyatt’s grin was in full swing when he entered the kitchen. “She seems nice.”

  I scrubbed a hand through my hair and eyed my life-long pal. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew this time around, dude.”

  He sniggered. “I can see how the dynamic could be… challenging. She’s pretty,” he stated a-matter-of-factly.

  “Yeah, she is.” I moved closer and lowered my voice. “Fuck, Wy, I almost kissed her earlier! She’s got the lines between what’s up here and what’s down there blurring,” I hissed with a snappy point to my head, then my dick.

  He chuckled again and arched a brow. “Blonde? Who knew? Thought brunettes were your-”

  “Apparently that’s not a fool-proof assumption,” I cut in and ran a hand through my hair again.

  He studied me for a long moment, then shrugged. “I say go for it.”

  “Just like you told me to go for it with Rosie Monro?” A snort left my nose. “I don’t think so. Your advice has always been shit.”

  His loud laughter filled my kitchen. “Hey, you got laid though, right?”

  “We got caught by her dad!” I exclaimed and threw up my hands.

  Wyatt doubled over and laughed like he did whenever we reminisced. “Oh Lord, that story never gets old!”

  I slugged him on the arm and bit down on my laughter when Louisiana appeared in the doorway. My heart lost its rhythm. Each beat feeling cumbersome and lop-sided in my chest. Squaring my shoulders, I tried to breathe away the tightness.

  “Uh, how much of that did you hear?” I asked.

  A sly grin wove onto her lips, and she pointed to Wyatt. “Not enough, judging by his laughter.”

  “Oh, I’d say more than enough,” I deadpanned, locking down a smile.

  I’d never been one to publicly announce who I slept with, but I wasn’t a prude either. I just didn’t want Louisiana hearing about historic escapades—her knowing about them somehow bothered me. The girl sure was breaking the mold.

  “How are the legs?” Scanning Louisiana’s body, I was both happy and disappointed to see that she finally swapped out the tiny shorts for jeans.

  She grimaced. “Tender.”

  “They’ll sting in the shower later, so keep that cream I gave you and use it mornin’ and night.”

  Wyatt chuckled and received a scathing look from Louisiana.

  “It’s not funny—it’s sore,” she exclaimed, seemingly already at ease around my best mate.

  He snapped up his hands. “Hey, we’ve all been there, and learned from that mistake.”

  Louisiana grumbled under her breath while I turned to Wyatt.

  “Come and grab the welder, dude. And Louisiana? Head out to the stable and see if Jake’s got anythin’ he needs a hand with.”

  I purposely left off calling her darlin’ i
n front of Wyatt. Although the endearment was common around these parts and normally meant nothing other than being friendly, it somehow meant a whole lot more when I said it to Louisiana.

  Despite the resistance in her eyes, she didn’t say a word. We all left the house together and Louisiana detoured to the chicken nesting coop while Wyatt and I headed for the workshop.

  I let her go; she would find her own way to the stables when she was good and ready. Blue trotted alongside me and Wyatt as we entered the dimly lit machinery barn.

  “What exactly’s broken?” I asked.

  He was about to reply when a loud ruckus came from the chicken coop, then a high-pitched shriek. With Blue leading the way, Wyatt and I sprinted into the yard to find Louisiana running toward us with her hands cupped.

  “Louisiana, what’s going on?” I shouted, my heart hammering hard.

  Her animated face was lit with excitement. “Look, Brandon! Baby chickens!” she exclaimed with a beaming smile. “Isn’t it so cute!” she cooed, lifting the chick to her face for a closer look.

  “Christ.” I ran a hand over my mouth and chin while Wyatt pissed himself laughing.

  “Louisiana,” I said once I found a steady tone. “You cannot take the chicks away from the momma hens. I’m surprised she didn’t peck you.”

  Guilt washed over her expression. “She did. Thank God I’m wearing jeans.”

  “Christ almighty, give me strength,” I hissed under my breath while Wyatt continued to snort and snigger. “They need to be kept in the coop, darlin’. Otherwise, they get cold and die. Go put it back.”

  I firmly sealed my mouth around the words ‘you wouldn’t like it if someone took away your baby’ before they slipped out and sliced into an already irreparable wound.

  Louisiana’s face dropped like a child who’d been expecting praise but instead received an unexpected scolding. Guilt immediately washed through me for bursting her happy bubble. But this wasn’t a petting zoo—it was a goddamn cattle ranch. My livelihood.

  As she shuffled back toward the coop, Wyatt gave me a look that made me feel equally as shit.

  “What?” I snapped.

  “Way to take the wind out of her sails, Bran,” he drawled.

  Folding my arms over my chest, I faced him head-on. “And what did you do when Rory tried to save that piglet runt of yours?”

  Wyatt’s face darkened, and he mashed his lips together.

  “Exactly,” I deadpanned.

  We silently watched Louisiana head from the hatchery to the stables. She kept her chin up and didn’t so much as glance sideways in our direction.

  “Great, now she’s pissed,” I mumbled.

  Wyatt clapped me on the shoulder. “She’ll get over it. Never had country experience, am I right?”

  “It’s obvious, huh?”

  “Like a cock crowing in the mornin’.”

  I snorted and followed him back to the machinery shed. Wyatt ended up with an armload of scrap metal as well as the welder that he came to borrow. After helping him lift it into the bed of his truck, we made plans to catch up on the weekend.

  “Speaking of catching up, are you goin’ to the barn party over at Anderson’s next weekend?” he asked.

  I hummed. “Undecided. Feels like every time I see Jolene, she’s tryin’ to get her claws into me.”

  I’d dated Jolene Anderson for a while at high school, but things fizzled out fairly quickly—at my end, anyway. Whenever I bumped into her now, she was all fluttery eyelashes and pretty smiles, and she seemed to have an obsession with stroking my damn chest.

  “You’n I both know you won’t be going back there.” Wyatt’s eyes drifted toward the barn. “Besides, I can tell you’ve only got eyes for a certain little lady at the moment.”

  “Oh, give me a break, man.”

  His expression turned devilish. “You’re like a testosterone crazed stallion, all horny and shit. I can see it on your face as clear as day.”

  Growling at the absurdity of his statement, I dropped my voice. “I can assure you that I’m not snorting and trying to mount her any chance I get. And what the fuck is up with the animal comparisons?”

  Wyatt leaned an elbow on the tailgate of his pickup and laughed heartily. “Dude, are you coming to the dance or not?”

  “Are you going?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, thought I might. Last year was fun.”

  Every year the Anderson’s host a barn dance in spring. It was a community affair with a massive feast, almost like Thanksgiving. By the time night falls, the beer is always well and truly flowing and the dance in full swing.

  “It was fun,” I agreed. “Aside from the rotten hangover. It took me a few days to recover from that one.”

  Wyatt grinned and shook his head. “Fuck, it was a good night.”

  He had disappeared before the party ended, and in the morning, I woke in the hayloft with one of the Anderson’s cats tucked under my arm. God only knows how I got up there in the first place, and I constantly thank my lucky stars I hadn’t drunkenly stumbled off the high mezzanine floor. I still shuddered at the thought. Jolene had been hounding me that night, so I could only assume that drunk me had headed for the loft as a safe place to sleep off the booze.

  “Is Rory coming?” Wyatt asked casually, inspecting a cut on his knuckle.

  I snorted. “What do you think? When has she ever missed a party?”

  We shared a snigger until his next question threw ice on mine. “Is Louisiana?”

  “Why?”

  His eyes flashed under the brim on his Stetson. “Just curious.”

  Movement inside the barn pulled my attention to Jake and Louisiana cleaning down the riding gear. A heaviness hit me square in the chest. The kind that made my heart race like a herd of wild mustangs. The reaction happened each time I so much as glanced in Louisiana’s direction, and it left me damn near gasping for air.

  Wyatt’s continued conversation failed to register as I continued to follow Jake and Louisiana’s inaudible conversation. It warmed me to see how relaxed she appeared in his presence. Maybe I should ask her to the dance—after all, I couldn’t leave her here by herself while we both went out.

  Chapter 12

  Brandon

  It poured with rain a few nights later, and I’d bet my best breeding bull that Louisiana wasn’t in her bed—just like every other night thus far.

  Every heavy rain droplet landed on the iron roof as if it was the size of a walnut, and the noise was comparable. I liked the rain—not only did it water my pastures and fill the dam, but it reminded me I had a roof over my head and a cozy bed to sink into after a long, hard day’s work.

  Despite that, I slid out from under the covers and tugged on a pair of sweats and a tank. Light from Louisiana’s bedside lamp crept under the almost-closed door. My soft knock was met with silence from within. Cautiously pushing the door confirmed my assumption; her bed was vacant.

  Grabbing a thick blanket from the linen cupboard downstairs, I quietly made my way to the front door. As soon as my gaze fell upon her in the hazy light, sitting in the hanging porch chair with her head back and eyes closed, my throat closed.

  Christ, she was a vision with her mouth slightly parted and the silhouette of her throat perfectly elongated for kissing.

  The downpour masked my footsteps until I was almost within touching distance. Louisiana startled and lifted her head. Her wide eyes locked onto me as she pressed a hand to her rising chest.

  “Fuck, you scared me!”

  Tightness dropped from my throat to settle throughout my chest. It wasn’t like me to stutter from the effect of a woman, but I damn near forgot how to breathe while looking into her night-darkened eyes.

  “Sorry. I brought you a blanket, but I see you’ve already got one,” I said, pointing to the one wrapped snugly around her.

  Without a word, Louisiana shuffled to the side and sent me a welcoming smile. I settled and draped the blanket over my knee, then set my hands behind my he
ad. The smell of the rain-soaked soil seemed heightened by the night, and I inhaled deeply, then rolled my head Louisiana’s way.

  “What are you doin’ out here, darlin’?”

  “Same as always. It’s soothing,” she whispered. “Cleansing.”

  I hummed in agreement but otherwise kept quiet. She appeared to have more on her mind. After fidgeting under the blanket, she added, “I like the rain and missed it so much on the inside.”

  “You wanna talk about it?” I offered.

  Louisiana’s snort sounded above the downpour. “The rain or jail?”

  I shrugged. “Whatever you’d like. I’m a good listener.”

  Truth be told, I just wanted to sit out here with her—conversation or not.

  Curiosity rose in her voice. “Is that so? Says who?”

  “My momma.” I grinned. “She always said that a good man listened to his woman, even when he thought she was wrong.”

  “There’s only one problem with that,” Louisiana said shortly.

  “Which is?”

  Her eyes locked with mine and her words made my gut bottom-out. “I’m not your woman.”

  I ran a heavy hand down my face. “That sounded different in my head.”

  The deluge engulfed our awkward silence, and my jaw worked overtime as I searched for a way to make things right.

  “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through; being in jail,” Louisiana murmured, barely audible above the rain.

  She snapped her head my way with a look of sheer anger that took me off-guard. “I did it, you know. Unlawfully entered my ex’s place with the intent to commit larceny.”

  The thumping in my chest beat heavier with every moment. Her intense stare remained unblinking.

  “I read your file, Louisiana. I know all this.”

  She shook her head and tears began to glisten in her eyes. “But you don’t know why.”

  Before I took a breath to say that I had a fair idea, she turned back to the rain and poured it all out as if the words would never be heard by anyone other than herself.