Cowboy Brave

by Carolyn Brown

  “Goodnight, Red.” His lips brushed softly against her cheek. His warm breath tickled her neck, and goose bumps peppered her skin.

  She sighed, and there was a slight tremor in her breath. She couldn’t be quite sure, though, if it was due to her heightened emotional state or the fact that she was still turned on just by the nearness of him.

  It was probably a combination of both.

  “We’ll be out there bright and early Monday morning,” she said.

  He nodded again. And then he was out the door.

  She stayed there, peering through the window as his truck backed out of the driveway and rolled away down the street.

  “I’m in big trouble,” she said aloud, then marched herself upstairs and straight to her bathroom, where she turned on her shower and waited for the water to get cold enough to make her body forget how much it wanted his.

  Her heart, though, that was another story.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I’m your buffer,” Jenna said, dunking her tea bag in her mug. “You know, in case things get awkward with Ava or Owen.”

  “She’s got a point,” Luke said, smacking Jack on the back of the head as he strode toward the fridge, where he grabbed what Jack had learned was his breakfast of choice, a Red Bull and a hard-boiled egg. “You were always the socially awkward one.”

  Because Luke was being Luke, opting for levity over gravity, Jack let the insult slide. His younger brother’s safety net was a hell of a lot safer than the way Walker dealt with things.

  “Things aren’t going to get awkward,” he insisted. Then he pointed at his aunt. “You’re here because you can’t stay the hell away, because even though we aren’t your burden to bear anymore, you can’t seem to shake the mom gene.” Jenna’s jaw fell open, but before she could misconstrue his words, Jack stepped toward her and kissed her on the cheek. “And we love you for that,” he said softly. “But I’ve got this under control.”

  He hoped. Or maybe he didn’t. Having Ava and Owen here was about getting to know his son. But wasn’t this also about getting to know her again? She wasn’t his eighteen-year-old first love. She wasn’t anyone he really knew anymore. But every day he was with her—every minute he was in her presence—he wanted more.

  “Talk about awkward,” Luke said, and then blew out a long whistle. “What the hell is that?”

  Jack turned to see his youngest brother rounding the corner from the front stairway, a towel around his neck to catch the water dripping from his hair. Walker was clean shaven and wearing what looked like an equally clean black T-shirt and jeans.

  Jack glanced at the clock on his smart phone, the only item indicative of the fast-paced life he’d been living just a couple of weeks ago—the one he’d been so eager to return to. True, work on a ranch was almost round the clock, but the pace of life in Oak Bluff was its own entity, a pace he’d been setting since he’d returned, rather than his firm and his clients setting it for him.

  This morning he’d woken early to take a ride on Cleo and tend to the cattle. It was only half past eight now that they were all gearing up for vineyard work, but he hadn’t counted on Walker being a part of anything before noon.

  “Are you okay?” he asked his youngest brother.

  Walker responded first with a glare. “’Course I’m okay,” he said. “Why the hell wouldn’t I be?”

  Jack shrugged. “Figured you were out well past midnight again.”

  “Yeah,” Luke said with a laugh. “I’m usually dragging your hungover ass out of bed. What’s with the whole getting up on your own lately? It’s like you’re responsible or something.”

  “Screw you,” Walker countered, stalking past them all and out onto the back porch.

  Jenna laid a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

  “I know,” he said. “I got this.”

  He followed his brother outside, where he stood against the wooden rail of the deck squinting toward the pasture. Jack hung back several feet to give Walker some space, his hands shoved in his pockets.

  “You clean up like this for Ava and Owen?” Jack asked.

  Walker’s shoulders rose and fell, but he kept his back to his brother. “I didn’t do a goddamn thing for anyone,” Walker insisted.

  Jack smiled anyway, since he knew his brother couldn’t see him. If he pushed too hard, he was likely to spook him. So instead he simply said, “I didn’t think so. But if you had?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “There’s fresh coffee,” Jack conceded, the only way he could think of to thank Walker. By including him in the day’s plan. “We’ll head out when they get here.”

  Walker nodded, still facing the fields. “I’ll grab some in a few.”

  Jack took that as the closest he’d get to thank you and headed back inside only to find a chocolate Lab scrambling to get off a leash being held by a not-quite-strong-enough nine-year-old boy. Owen’s feet were having trouble finding purchase on the wood floor, and the corner of Jack’s mouth tilted into a crooked grin as he watched Scully drag the boy from the entryway toward the kitchen.

  Jenna was holding the front door open for Ava, so Jack simply turned to Owen and said, “It’s all right.”

  With that the boy unhooked the leash, and the dog came bounding toward him, barely halting before rising on his hind legs to rest his front paws on Jack’s shoulders.

  Jack stumbled back against the sliding glass door as Scully gave him an affectionate greeting. The dog had shown nothing but mild interest in him before now, which was why he couldn’t help but laugh—and laugh hard. Harder than he had in—well, he couldn’t exactly remember.

  “Someone’s getting lucky tonight,” he heard Luke say from his left. And then he caught sight of Ava practically sprinting toward them, her red hair wild and glowing as the sun streaming in from the front door backlit her as she moved.

  “Sorry!” she called. “Shit. Sorry about the dog! He’s a nervous traveler, and I think he’s happy to see a familiar face and not the vet!”

  “Mo-om,” Owen sing-songed with laughter in his tone. “Language?”

  “Shit!” Ava said again. “Down, Scully!”

  The dog gave Jack one final lap against his jaw before heeding Ava’s command. The second Scully relinquished his hold on him, Luke balled up a kitchen towel and lobbed it at his brother, nailing him in the chest.

  “Thought you might want to dry off after that unexpected shower.”

  Jack nodded his thanks, and—not that he wasn’t appreciative of such affection—took to wiping himself clean.

  Ava’s teeth were clamped together in a pained smile as Owen dropped to his knees to rub his dog’s belly. “This is a lot, right?” she asked. “All three of us? I think I just realized what a handful we are.”

  She laughed nervously, and Jenna spoke up from behind Jack’s visitors. “Sweetie, you’re hanging with the Everett brothers for a week, working for no pay, and putting up with all of them? I think we know who the bigger handful is.”

  Luke’s head tilted back as he downed his Red Bull. Then he crushed the can on the counter and slapped his palm dramatically against his heart.

  “Say what you want about Jack and Walker.” He looked pointedly at his aunt. “But a guy with my devilish good looks and charm?”

  Jenna pointed at her second youngest nephew. “Not thinking you’re a handful makes you the biggest handful of them all, no matter how damn charming you claim to be.”

  Owen laughed. “I like it here. You guys are funny. And loud. Our house gets kind of quiet sometimes.”

  Jack watched Ava’s expression falter before she painted a smile back on seconds later. It wasn’t an insult, what Owen had said. But he saw that flicker of loss, the same one he’d felt the first time he’d seen his son. It didn’t matter that he’d never thought he’d want what had been thrust upon him. Once it was there, he realized what he’d missed. And now Ava was seeing that, too.

  “Quiet’s good, sometimes,” Jack said, and Owen shrugged.
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  “But loud’s a helluva lot better.” Luke rounded the counter, heading toward the sliding glass door. “What do you say, Shortstop? Wanna see if your dog’ll give Walker the same greeting he gave Jack? I guarantee he’ll react with some loud words we can all enjoy.”

  Jenna gave Luke’s shoulder a playful push, and for a second Jack considered leaving his youngest brother in peace. But the brotherly thing to do was to give his siblings hell, so he let Luke open the back door and usher the dog outside to an unsuspecting Walker.

  “What the hell?” Walker yelled as Scully pounced. Jenna ran out after them. Owen and Luke were right behind her, laughing, so Jack trusted all was well and pulled the sliding door shut.

  He strode toward Ava and removed the large tote bag from her shoulder, setting it on the floor against the wall. “I’m gonna apologize ahead of time for any changes in Owen’s vocabulary by the end of this week,” he said, coaxing a genuine smile from her. Then he pulled her around the corner and out of view from the back door, pressing her against the closed guest bedroom door.

  She sucked in a sharp breath as he dipped his head but stopped short before his lips touched hers. “Red?” he said, his voice soft.

  She exhaled then, her warm breath tickling his lips. “Yeah?” she squeaked.

  “Are you going to spend the whole week thinking this is all too much for me to handle?” He rested his hands on her hips, the tips of his fingers pressing into the soft skin he knew rested beneath her clothes.

  He watched her throat bob as she swallowed. “Maybe,” she admitted and hooked one finger into the top of his jeans.

  “Maybe’s not gonna work for me.” Her eyes widened. “I need you to feel at home. Because handful or not—I want you here. All three of you. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, then licked her lips, and Jack was two seconds from losing it, but he wasn’t going to pressure her.

  “Anything that happens between you and me while you’re here is your call. But I need to make something clear. Me keeping my distance isn’t because I don’t want you.” His lips brushed hers. Not exactly a kiss, but not exactly innocent, either. “Because I can’t watch you walk into a room without wanting to touch you. You’re like the goddamn sun, and I’m the closest planet. Powerless against your gravity. But I am trying to do what’s right for Owen—what’s right for you so you don’t get hurt again.” This week meant everything because after this he’d have it all figured out. They’d been keeping the truth from Owen until they knew what the truth was—until Jack could tell his son what role he was going to play in his future. That was what this visit was really about, wasn’t it? Owen. The truth. Everything. But that didn’t change how much he wanted her. It didn’t change how hard he had to fight for restraint when he was this close. “So if at any second in any of the days you’re here you think that I’d rather be doing anything other than feeling your lips against mine, know that you could not be more wrong.”

  He started to back away, but she fisted her hand in his T-shirt.

  “Damn it, Jack Everett. You’re going to say all that and then not kiss me?” she said, her breathing shallow as she whisper-shouted the words.

  “Your call, Red.”

  Her breath hitched. “Every time you call me that, I feel like I’m eighteen again. Like we’re—us. You know?”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  His heart hammered beneath her fist, his chest rising and falling in deep breaths that were becoming less and less controlled. And he wasn’t running from it this time—the thought of losing control.

  “My call?” she asked.

  He nodded, and that was all it took. She yanked his T-shirt, pulling him to her, and he let the last of his resolve crumble as her mouth demanded his.

  His fingers dug into her hips as she parted her lips, encouraging him to do the same. Her tongue slipped past, mingling with his, and he could taste the hint of the morning coffee she’d probably drunk on the ride over, along with something both sweet and spicy—cinnamon. Maybe a mint.

  This made him grin, the thought of her popping an Altoid or something like that. Because maybe she’d anticipated this as much as he had.

  Her hand moved from his shirt, and seconds later, the door to the guest bedroom fell open, the two of them stumbling past the threshold and collapsing onto the bed he’d made for her the night before. The room also had a small couch with a pull-out bed. He’d bought new sheets for that one for Owen.

  Right now, though, all Jack could think about was Ava beneath him and how long she could stay there before any of the other four people—and one rambunctious Lab—would come looking for them. He rationalized that they’d hear the back door when the chaos decided to move inside. It wasn’t like either of them would let this go any further than some very heavy petting. At least not right now.

  “I can’t believe we weren’t doing this all week long,” she said, her voice breathless between each feverish kiss. She knew they were on borrowed time, too. But it was more than this day or the little snippets of time they’d have together this week.

  Jack didn’t know what the endgame was, but he hoped to hell that having Ava and Owen here for the next five days would give him the answers he needed—would help him figure out what was best for all of them.

  He was hard. Hell, this woman did things to him. But there wasn’t time for what he wanted to do to her. As if she was reading his thoughts, though, Ava tilted her pelvis, and he ground himself against her. She let out a soft cry, an even softer plea as she whispered, “More.”

  That’s when the scrabble of excited paws snapped them both back into the moment, and Jack sprang to his feet as Scully came bounding through the door and dropped a baseball at his feet. The dog sat panting, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, and tail wagging expectantly.

  Ava was up and smoothing out her hair by the time Owen caught up to his dog.

  “I think Scully wants to play catch with you, Ja—” But the boy stopped short when he laid eyes on the room, the one Jack hadn’t officially shown Ava yet.

  “Whoa,” Owen said. “This is like someplace a real cowboy would live.”

  Relieved not to have been found dry-humping his son’s mom on the guest bed, Jack laughed. He ran a hand along the knotted pine panel on the wall, one of ten that ran horizontally from doorframe to corner, stacked from floor to ceiling.

  “Our father built this room for our mom,” Jack said, allowing flashes of a happier time to invade his memories. “She missed her friends and family from Texas, so Jack Senior—with the help of the Callahans, some family friends who ran a contracting business—put an addition on the house that included this room. And you want to know what?”

  “What?” Owen asked with an eager grin. Ava, not having heard the story before, either, said the same.

  “He designed this room to look like the one our mom and Jenna loved at their grandparents’ ranch back in Texas, so there’d always be a bit of home here in California.”

  Owen’s fingers trailed Jack’s across the wall and then to the queen bed, covered now with a semi-rumpled quilt.

  “She made that, you know.” Jenna’s voice came from behind him, and Jack spun to find her standing in the doorframe. “She hated every second of it—claimed she was meant for the labor of the ranch and not for something with painstaking detail like crafting a quilt. But our nan made the one in the bedroom we always stayed in at their ranch, so Clare made sure this room had the same.”

  Jack ran a palm across the quilt, straightening it, and cleared his throat. “I thought this was something they bought.”

  Jenna shook her head. “You were probably too young to remember or too busy with baseball to notice her working on it. But that was her contribution to the room.” Jenna laughed. “She probably did it to spite your daddy so he wouldn’t be able to take full credit for the space. They were both so competitive. And so damn stubborn sometimes.”

  “Please don’t, Jenna,” Jack said.

  Her e
yes narrowed. “Please don’t what? Remind you that they were happy? That despite the man Jackson Senior turned into, he did right by your mama and she by him? I’m not apologizing for what he did…”

  Jack’s hands fisted at his sides, and he tried to take a controlling breath. But control in the face of what he did was impossible.

  “You don’t get it,” he snapped. “It doesn’t matter what happened before she died when all I can seem to recall is what he did after. I’m happy as hell he took such great care of her when she was alive, but what about her children, Jenna? What about his sons?”

  This was a mistake—this little trip down memory lane. Especially in front of Owen.

  “Jack—”

  But he wasn’t waiting around to hear more.

  “Enough,” he said, then strode past Jenna and out of the room, calling over his shoulder, “We should get to work.”

  Because he wasn’t about to listen to his aunt get all wistful and sentimental about his parents. Whatever Clare and Jackson Everett Senior had been before his mother died—that was fiction. The reality was that he and his brothers lost two parents and a good part of their childhoods. He was wrong for even entertaining the thought that good memories could override the bad. Good memories had no place here.

  Walker and Luke stood waiting in the kitchen, and Jack nodded to them and then headed toward the front door.

  He needed out of this house. Fresh air would do him some good. Clear his head. Sure, he was being a dick, especially to Jenna, but she at least understood him, how he operated. He’d apologize later, and she’d give him hell for treating her like that in the first place, but she’d know he loved her and needed to let off some steam. This was their routine.

  Thankfully, everyone followed him outside without so much as a What the hell? Not even Walker.

  “We need to finish pruning by lunch,” Jack said once everyone was assembled. Even the damned dog. “Then we’ll eat, regroup, and check on the cover crop the previous owner planted, see if that grass needs to be tilled or torn out and replanted altogether. Bottom line is we can’t have weeds. If we get this place on the path to producing a crop next year, we don’t want to fall on our faces because of some damned weeds.”