Emily’s words had his stomach clenching. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be sure to take care of it.”
She visibly relaxed and brushed her hand along the top of his shoulder. “Promise?”
The feather-light stroking motion was doing crazy things to his insides. He covered her hand with his and pulled her up against him so her hands were trapped between them. “You’re gonna make it hard for me to sleep tonight.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
He bent his head until their lips were a breath apart. “Let me show you why.” She licked her lips, and he shuddered with need but held back. He didn’t want to scare her off. She was like a filly that needed gentling, coaxing.
Tyler brushed his lips across hers once, then twice, before settling them against her full lips. Her honey-sweet taste shot to his head like three fingers of his grandpa’s favorite Irish whiskey. He struggled against the need to devour and settled for a taste of her creamy skin, pressing his lips against her temple and the tip of her nose, before he finally pressed them to the top of her head.
Holding her against him was pure torture. He didn’t know how long he’d have to wait before convincing her he would be worth the time to get to know. One thing he did know was that he’d be locking lips with Miss Emily again… soon… real soon.
He eased back from their embrace, running his hands from her shoulders, along the surprisingly toned length of her arms, until he had her hands in his. It felt right.
“’Night, Emily.”
She tilted her head up to meet his gaze and softly smiled. “Goodnight, Tyler.”
Chapter 4
Unable to think of anything but the gentle kisses they’d shared, Emily watched Tyler leave the kitchen. She couldn’t remember ever being kissed as if she were fragile, yet something precious to be savored.
Setting the kitchen to rights, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. She couldn’t explain the reason why, but something about him just seemed right. Her past boyfriends had just been good to look at, but after getting to know them, she hadn’t been attracted to the person beneath their flashy surface, bright-white smiles, and fake suntans.
Despite his rough and tumble exterior, Tyler as a person attracted her. He was a gentleman… the real deal… she could tell by the way he treated Jolene, Gwen, Natalie, and Jennifer. The bonus, as far as she was concerned, was the fact that he was a man of his word and seemed deeply bothered that he’d nearly gone back on it.
She’d seen him struggle with his conscience and knew it had more to do with the circumstances surrounding the incident that had him ready to give up, but when he’d had a moment to get a hold of his emotions, he was ready to stick by his word. She’d love him for that alone.
“Whoa there,” she told herself, making her way upstairs to the bathroom. “No reason to toss good sense to the wayside. It’s way too early to start tossing around the L word.”
She enjoyed being in his company, and cooking for a man never bothered her. It didn’t matter if the person was male or female, cooking soothed her the same way baking did. What she hadn’t counted on was the way she’d been drawn to him. He seemed so lost when she’d wandered downstairs and found him talking to Jolene. And tonight after the show, he’d been exhausted. She’d fought the need to wrap her arms around him and tuck him into bed… her bed… finally deciding to coax him into the kitchen and feed him. They’d chatted as if they’d been friends forever.
She sighed, remembering how it felt to be held in his arms and kissed so tenderly. No way would she let him walk away from what they’d started. She needed to experience the pleasure of being held in his arms again, against the steady, strong beat of his heart. She sighed and brushed the hair out of her eyes so she could stare at her reflection in the mirror above the sink.
“You’re a liar if you think just being held by that tall, dark, handsome hunk of cowboy is going to satisfy the itch that’s twitching in your belly.” Her reflection shrugged back at her. She was only human.
Emily reached for her toothbrush and tube of toothpaste. Squeezing out a thin line along the bristles, she brushed her teeth while wondering if she was jumping the gun where Tyler was concerned. “He might just want to see if he can talk me into bed.”
Her reflection stared back at her as if silently asking: “So?” She grinned. “I’m already interested enough to jump at the chance. But what if it ends after one night?”
She ran her hands under the warm water and splashed her face before reaching for the apricot scrub, squeezing some onto her fingertips. Working the cleanser into her pores, she weighed the pros and cons of beginning a relationship that might only be short-term.
“There’s the benefit of having a tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed hunk in my bed.” She rinsed her face and reached for the hand towel hanging by the sink. “He looks like he’d be the devil in bed… but he kisses like an angel.”
Hanging the towel back on the hook, she sighed. “Lord, that is one complex man: in-your-face sexy on the outside, but shy, sweet, and honorable on the inside.” She shut off the light and headed down the hall to her bedroom. “I think I’ll have to take my time getting to know him.”
Getting undressed for bed, she decided. “Whatever is going to happen will happen no matter how much I stress over it. Fate and destiny can be truly evil bitches sometimes.”
Under the covers, she rolled over onto her side. “I’m willing to get to know him better and take the chance that he might want the same thing.”
Closing her eyes, she prayed, “Lord, please let him have as much trouble sleeping tonight as me.”
***
“Ty?” a deep voice called, rousing him partway from an exhausted sleep.
“Five more minutes, Grandpa,” he struggled to open one eye, knowing the irascible old man would be standing at the foot of his bed with either a glass of cold water or a cup of fragrant fresh brewed coffee, depending on his grandfather’s mood.
“Did he just call you Grandpa?”
“Yeah, he did. Must have been a rough night at The Lucky Star if he’s seeing Grandpa.”
Too tired to open both eyes, Tyler forced his one eye to focus and then moaned. “Musta been dreaming.”
The two men standing on either side of his bed grinned simultaneously. Alike enough in looks to be taken for twins, even though they hadn’t shared a womb at the same time, his brothers were different enough in personalities to drive a saint crazy. And Lord knows neither the man he’d been dreaming about, who helped to raise them, nor either of his brothers would ever qualify for sainthood.
“Bro,” Dylan ground out, “if you’re dreaming about Grandpa and this ranch you need to get out more.”
“Yeah,” Jesse added, “and find yourself a fine-looking female.”
“Hell, Jess,” Dylan snorted. “Any female, at this point, would do. I think our big brother’s in dire need of a woman with quick hands and a soft heart.”
A redhead with a huge splat of chocolate in the middle of her T-shirt came to mind. Her beautiful face settled in his mind and stuck. Emily. She was a woman worth the time to get to know. Her beauty had hit him between the eyes and stunned him, her curves had his libido and imagination working double time, but the woman beneath the surface was what counted. And he had a bone-deep feeling she was a woman worth knowing. But would she want to get to know him too?
He scrubbed his hands over his face and moaned, “Is that coffee fresh?”
Dylan lifted the mug to his mouth and grinned. “Was about two hours ago.” He sipped and Tyler groaned.
“I’m up, damn it.” Tyler pushed himself up against the headboard and held out his hand toward the mug.
Dylan shook his head. “You’re still in bed.” He smiled and lifted the cup to drink. Swallowing a mouthful, he licked his lips. “Hot and sweet, just like I like my women.”
“Coffee,” Tyler ground out.
His brothers shared a look and backed up.
“Nothing doing. Not until you’r
e on your feet, or else you’ll drink it and fall right back to sleep.” Jesse stared at the middle of Tyler and frowned. “You lose a fight with a cat last night?”
The image of a blonde with dark roots and nasty claws came to mind. “No. Why?” The lie came just a bit too easily to his lips.
Jesse lifted one of the steaming cups he held and pointed at Tyler’s stomach. “You’ve got a couple of serious scratch marks there.”
Emily had been worried about the possibility of infection. The little redhead had kept him tossing and turning most of the night, remembering her soft laughter, cheerful smile, and captivating demeanor. She’d cooked him breakfast and kept him company while he ate. Talking to her had been a pleasure—like they were old friends. The gentle kisses they’d shared had been achingly sweet and whet his whistle for more. Holding her against him had been pure torture. He’d had a taste, and he craved more.
“You want to tell us about it?” Dylan leaned toward the bed and waited.
Shaking his head to clear it, Tyler focused his thoughts where they needed to be—the present—and that cup of coffee he wanted. Unwilling to own up to the truth of what happened, he shrugged. “Must have been a staple from one of the boxes.” Tyler needed caffeine if he was going to stay one step ahead of his brothers—make that one lie ahead. He threw the covers off, got out of bed, and stalked toward his brother. “Now, gimme that cup!”
Jesse shoved the chipped stoneware cup at him, sloshing coffee over the rim. Tyler grabbed the cup, switched hands, and using his brother’s shirt like a towel, wiped his wet hand on the front of Jesse’s clean white T-shirt. Slipping his fingers through the handle, Tyler tilted his head back and took a long slug of coffee.
Swallowing a moan of pure caffeine-induced pleasure, he looked over at his brother and admitted, “God, I’d have had to hurt you if you didn’t hand that cup over.”
Jesse glanced down at the wet spot on his shirt and held up his hands. “Yeah, I’m shaking in my boots, Ty.”
“Come on,” Dylan urged. “We’re burning daylight.”
Tyler gulped down more of the coffee. “I’m coming.” He started to follow his brothers out of his bedroom, but Dylan put a hand to the middle of Tyler’s chest and grinned at him. “You might want to put pants on first.”
At his suggestion, Tyler looked down. “Hell.” He was too tired to put pants on. “Why should you care if I eat breakfast in my boxers or not?” he demanded, following close on his brothers’ heels.
“Because Lori’s in the kitchen making you breakfast,” Dylan bit out.
“Yeah,” Jesse added. “You know Grandpa’s rule, when it’s just us men… anything goes… but if there’s a woman in the house, we wear our damned pants to breakfast.”
Taking another swig of coffee, Tyler wondered if there was more to Jesse wanting him to put on his pants. They’d all grown up together—Jesse still didn’t have a thing for Lori, did he?
Time to test the waters and find out. “She’s seen me in less—” he began only to find himself pinned to the wall just outside his bedroom door with his little brother’s arm wedged up against his throat.
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Jesse pressed harder, cutting off Tyler’s air.
Just when the room started to fade to gray, the weight lifted and he dragged in a much-needed breath of air. Rounding on his brother, hands curled into fists at his sides, Tyler rasped, “What the hell is your problem?”
Dylan reached past him and dragged their younger brother down the hall. “You two can fight later. We’ve got chores. Come on, Jess.”
“He’s got no call to be talkin’—”
The rest of what Jesse was going to say was cut off by a sweet, soft voice calling out that breakfast was ready.
Tyler stubbed his toe on something cool and hard. Shaking his head to clear the last of the fuzziness away, he reached down and picked up the coffee mug where it had fallen in the scuffle.
“Wasn’t even worth calling a fight,” he mumbled rubbing at his throat. “Damn… that hurts.” Looking down, he swore. He’d be inciting a riot and asking for round two if he showed up in the kitchen in his form-fitting boxers. Hell, it wasn’t the style of them that might offend the woman his brothers must have coerced into cooking for them while Tyler worked nights. When a woman was in your damned house, you had to dress for breakfast… no more showing up naked or in your boxers. Grandpa’s rule had been handed down generation to generation, and as people said, “If it ain’t broke…”
Growing up, his mom had been strict about it. After she died, Grandpa had stepped in, doing double-duty as their only parent and the ranch’s owner and, therefore, their boss. The old man hadn’t been too particular about briefs or boxers at the breakfast table, as long as the three of them hustled their butts and got the animals fed and watered on schedule.
Retracing his steps, he wondered how serious it was between Lori and Jesse. They sure as shit couldn’t afford to pay Lori, so why would she… And then it hit him right between the eyes and he grinned. Jesse must have sweet-talked her into doing it.
The youngest of the trio had inherited their grandfather’s Irish charm. Far as he could tell, Jesse had all of the charm, since Tyler and Dylan pretty much communicated with as few words as possible to as few people as possible… well, unless the situation warranted it.
He was grinning to himself as he turned around to grab the pair of jeans he’d left on the floor where he’d shucked them off last night. Stepping into them, he pulled them up his legs, fastened the button, and brushed against the raw abrasion low on his belly.
He drew in a breath and remembered Emily’s concern-filled warning. Stopping in the bathroom, he checked for signs of infection. Worried enough about his working parts to take extra care, he rummaged in the medicine cabinet and found cotton balls and some antiseptic.
“Shit!” Sucking in air between his teeth, ignoring the cold stinging sensation along his now semi-erect shaft, he dabbed on some first aid ointment and pulled his boxers and jeans back on.
His mood grim, Tyler stormed into the kitchen, ready to tear ass.
“Morning, Ty.”
The petite blonde holding a steaming cup of coffee out so he could grab it smiled at him and half of his mad just melted away. Not sure he could trust himself not to say something that would get his brother riled again, he nodded and accepted the offering. He blew across the surface of the liquid then sipped. Perfect temperature. He swallowed a mouthful and eyed his brother, gauging his mood before saying, “Thanks.”
“Don’t mind him, Lori.” Jesse eyed him like he was an opponent, rather than one-third of the reason Tyler’d sold his integrity last night—for more than he’d hoped to earn but still a hell of a lot less than they really needed.
Her smile was sugar-sweet. “A good-looking, grumpy man like your big brother just needs something to line the ache in his empty belly.”
She turned around and reached for the plate she’d left on the countertop. Filling it with steak, scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, and toast, she laid a hand on Jesse’s shoulder and reached past him to give Tyler the plate.
Tyler looked right at his brother and grinned. “You can cook for me anytime, Lori.”
Lori’s smile broadened. “That’s the plan. At least until you’re ready to quit working nights.” She placed a plate of crisply fried bacon in the middle of the table, totally at ease in the Garahan kitchen. Bustling about topping off coffee cups, her gaze flicked from where his brother still sat and then back.
Tyler looked at his brothers and wondered just how much Lori knew about their financial situation. Probably a lot more than he’d be comfortable with and not a topic he wanted to discuss over breakfast.
“Since neither one of my brothers can boil water without melting the pot handle—”
“Hey!” Jesse grumbled. “It wasn’t my fault that I got distracted.”
Dylan nodded at their brother and said, “That’s his story and he’s sticking to it.”
Jesse reached across the table to grab at Dylan, but Dylan gave him a brotherly shove, pushing him back in his chair. Tyler shook his head at their usual morning routine. One out of the three of them usually woke up in a bad mood and took it out on the other two. Good thing they didn’t do it all at the same time, or they’d never get anything done.
“You’re always welcome, Lori.” He slid his chair away from the table and got to his feet. “The cooking is definitely a bonus.”
“If y’all are finished, I’ll just clean up.” Picking up empty plates and stacking them with the silverware piled on top, she set them in the sink to rinse before loading the dishwasher.
Not used to having someone serve them with a smile—heck, his brothers would have just as soon punched him good morning as hand him a mug of hot coffee—Tyler handed her his empty mug and said, “Thanks for breakfast. Tastes better when you don’t have to cook it too.”
She didn’t turn around when she answered him. “My pleasure, Tyler.”
Dylan grabbed him by the arm and tugged him toward the back door. “We’re burning daylight, bro.”
He noticed that their younger brother took his time leaving their blue-eyed cook. The door slammed behind them, but Tyler was too focused on getting through the morning without falling down to bother picking a fight with the youngest Garahan—a sure sign he was not himself this morning. He’d make up for it and razz Jesse later.
Outside, Tyler asked, “Do you think he’s serious about Lori?”
Dylan shrugged. “Don’t know. Might be.”
“I heard there was a lot of kicking and screaming before the ink was dry on her divorce decree.”
Dylan shook his head. “Man, and all of it wasted on that pisspoor excuse for an ex-husband of hers.”
They walked into the barn, gathered what they needed, and saddled their horses. Tyler’s first chore of the day was to ride fences with his brother and repair any breaches so none of their cattle would wander off their ranch. The routine chore would let him work up a sweat and forget about money and a certain redhead with whiskey-colored eyes for a while.
Tyler Page 4
