Bad Bride Good Cowboys
Page 6
“Oh! Fuck!” Mickey roared and buried himself to the hilt. Hot ribbons squirted deep inside Brady’s ass while his own release pumped out in scorching spurts to the tiled shower floor. He struggled to remain standing and forced his lungs to take in air.
Mickey’s hand slipped off Brady’s now oversensitive shaft and his spent body relaxed against him. That was insane. His lover’s short, ragged breaths echoed his own, but as incredible as sex was together, tonight had been different, more urgent and carnal—bordering on off the chart.
He finally got control over his breathing as Mickey slid out of him. Brady turned and leaned his back against the wall. He hoped they hadn’t made enough noise to wake Felicia. His thoughts shifted to the tired beauty. He could only imagined how the wedding plans, Paul’s infidelity, not to mention the pressure of her mother and her feelings for the two men she had thought out of her reach, must have weighed on her.
Mickey lightly kissed his lips, then eased back and met Brady’s gaze. “You and I are better than okay?”
“We are.” He meant the words, though deep in his heart there was still the hurt over Mickey never telling him about his night with Felicia. “I worry about the doll.”
“She’ll be okay.”
Fatigue worked down Brady’s neck and shoulders then into the rest of his muscles. “I hope so.”
For all our sakes.
“Are you still sure about this?” Brady asked turning from the bacon and hash browns on the stove.
Mickey couldn’t control the grin. “The sex was always good; last night was off the chart and after the doll decided to let loose with every last thing bothering her for the last six or seven years, I would say I’m more than sure.” He hesitated a minute and weighed his next question. “Are you?”
“Yeah.” Doubt lingered in his words. “After my parents died and my aunt got saddled with a teenager, I spent more time here than I did at her place. Clarissa was like a mom, her parents like grandparents. This was home. Like you and the doll, they were family and now we risk…”
He could tell by his friend’s expression he was thinking of Collin and the Morgan Matriarch. “Forget about Collin for now. Let’s just see how it goes with the doll. If we are what she wants, maybe it won’t go as badly as we think.”
Brady nodded as soft, bare footsteps echoed from the stairs, then across the hardwood hall and into the kitchen.
Both men turned to the woman in question. She was wearing a worn and faded denim shirt three sizes too big and her designer sunglasses. For the love of God and his own sanity, Mickey hoped she had underwear on and more than the scrap of lace, she usually wore. He couldn’t fight the grin. “How are you doing, doll?”
Her full mouth curled into a grin. “Pretty good considering I woke up in the dress I wore last night and have a minor aversion to sunlight at the moment.”
Brady raked an appreciative gaze over Felicia. “You’re in my shirt.”
She nodded then stepped deeper into the kitchen and closer. “It was in my closet.”
Mickey turned and reached into the cupboard to grab mugs for coffee.
“Well that certainly explains why I smell like you.” She paused and Mickey turned.
Felicia lifted her forearm smelling the smooth tanned skin. “However, it doesn’t explain why I smell like Mickey.”
He stood there stunned and blinked at the beauty. “You know my cologne?”
She slid the designer shades down her nose and glared at him over the frames before rolling her eyes and removing the sunglasses. “Of course I do, don’t ask dumb questions and just get me some coffee…please.” She tossed the glasses on the table then glanced back to where the two cowboys stood.
Mickey exchanged a look with Brady as he poured them coffee and before Brady turned back to the food cooking on the stove. He then turned to Felicia and passed her a mug of coffee. “There is a very good reason you smell me on your body.”
Her long lashes blinked at Mickey from over the rim of the mug as she sipped. It wasn’t hard to miss the doubt and confusion in her dark eyes.
Brady chuckled. “Oh yeah, a very good reason.” He laughed again. “You were out of control last night.”
She lowered her coffee and her eyes widened as horror etched across her pretty face. Felicia’s lashes blinked again then gaped at Brady. “Omigod!”
Mickey reveled in the moment as she and Brady stared each other down. Teasing Felicia had always been a fun past time, but this morning he was taking great joy in the situation.
Felicia shook her head but her gaze never wavered from the cowboy. “Oh, God, please don’t tell me I was so drunk I tried making out with your husband.”
Not the words Mickey was expecting to leave her mouth.
What the hell has gotten into her?
He turned to the sink and spit out the coffee he had just sipped, then spun around and focused on the out of control beauty. His brain registered her words. He glanced over to Brady who met his gaze with an amused sparkle in his blue eyes.
Brady turned his attention back to Felicia, tilted his head to the side and laughed. “Now doll why would you even say something like that?”
Felicia winced and scrunched her nose and blinked at the cowboy. “Because Mickey is hot and I was beyond drunk.”
“Actually, you were disappointed that you didn’t kiss me.”
His friend reveled and the doll became more traumatized. Mickey wanted to laugh.
Felicia frowned and slapped Brady’s chest. “This is your fault, because you listened in on my conversation with Jen yesterday.”
Mickey carefully lifted the mug from her hand to avoid her using it as a weapon. The doll was over her head and the harder Brady laughed the more infuriated she became. Mickey’s heart started to race faster and there was no denying he loved both the cowboy and the brunette giving Brady hell.
This morning wasn’t any different from a hundred others, except this morning he saw the attraction in her eyes, and the desire she experienced for them both with every bat of long black lashes.
Brady crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Oh yes, doll, I heard every word and with the number of prize winning horses on this ranch, Mickey and I appreciate you wanting to save them all and are more than happy to help you in any way we can.”
Shock ricocheted across Felicia’s pretty face and her full lips parted in disbelief. She darted a glance at Mickey. The lighthearted teasing mood had shifted and sexual tension radiated off her like coolant on a hot radiator and spiking the temperature of the kitchen.
“Felicia…” Where the hell did he even begin?
Confusion clouded her dark gaze and she shot a quick glance at Brady. Her lips opened and closed as if wanting to speak but no words left her mouth.
Brady stepped toward her when he heard tires crunching gravel outside the kitchen window. Both he and Mickey stared out the window as the older Mercedes came to a stop next to Felicia’s silver Lexus.
How bad could their luck get?
Felicia’s curvy body wedged between the two men and she gasped. “Omigod hide me.”
Her softness fell against Brady’s back and he turned to wrap an arm around her protectively. “Too late doll,” he whispered. “She knows you’re here.”
Not only did the door of the driver side open, but also the passenger door. Mickey’s heart sank and he exchanged a quick worried look with Brady before both men turned their attention back to the window.
Please don’t be Paul.
Out of the driver side, Clarissa Morgan emerged, but from the passenger side exited one of Carter Groves’s sweetest and oldest residents.
“Oh God! Betsy Kline.”
Betsy may be the sweetest old lady in the area but her mouth preceded her—she was the biggest gossip in six counties.
Mickey turned to a terrified Felicia. “I’d run baby doll.”
Chapter Five
I can’t remember last night and this morning just turned horrific!
Felicia blinked at Mickey and decided now was the best time to heed his advice despite the fact she was quite comfortable wedged between the two cowboy’s strong, hard frames and wrapped in the safety of one of Brady’s arms.
“Move it, doll” Brady said and released her. Instantly she missed the comfort of his hold.
She backed away from the men who were giving her mixed signals. Felicia grabbed her sunglasses from the table where she had tossed them and knew coffee and food would have to wait.
Mom has the worst timing in the world.
She scurried like a famished rodent after a snack toward the entrance of the kitchen where the threshold collided with the entrance of the house and the stairs heading to the second level. The front door opened without a knock or even the ringing of the bell.
“Hello!” Her mother greeted with a happy bellow.
Felicia halted in her mad escape and slipped on the sunglasses. Her mother and the biggest gossip known to human life form stood on the threshold. To make matters worse, her mother clutched a wedding dress best described as a hot mess in her grasp like a hawk with prey in his talons.
Screw hell, this is slow painful death.
“Felicia, wait till you see what I brought.” The words rushed from her Mom in an excited breath and every nerve in Felicia’s body went on alert.
Doom. Pure doom and it’s a quarter toss to determine if the white tragedy in your hands or the gossip of the century is the bigger of the disasters.
“Mom! There are no words to describe my excitement at seeing you!” Her stomach churned with acid as she boldly lied to the woman who’d raised her—for the most part—single handily. She cast a sweet smile at Betsy. “Wow, there are hardly words.” Good breeding kicked in despite the awkwardness. “Mrs. Kline, what a pleasant surprise.”
I’m going to hell. Maybe the boys will buy me a Prada handbag, so I can go to hell in style.
The phrase ‘hell in a handbag’ made complete sense, but by God, she was going to go out inundated in nothing but the best. She blinked at the two older women and reality hit. Of course, the cowboys would buy her Prada. Everything and anything she wanted they gave her—except the men themselves. Hell, Brady and Mickey would rope the moon if she asked, snag fireflies and a ray of sunlight in a jar for good measure.
Down deep in her soul, though, she’d surrender all the designer shoes and clothes, even her luxury car for a chance with their hearts. Grief hit her full force. She knew that wouldn’t happen anytime soon. A sudden flood of sadness washed over her, like humidity on a hot day with pending rain.
Betsy Kline stepped forward and patted her upper arm. “Oh dear, how could I deny you this special moment?”
Like the rest of the world, with tequila and denial. She thought for a moment. Possibly more hard liquor if that doesn’t work.
She bounced a glance to her mother who was raking her judgmental glare over Felicia’s appearance. Choosing to ignore her mom for a moment, she turned to Betsy. “So what special moment couldn’t you deny me?”
The little old smiled. “Why loaning you the wedding dress I got married in.”
Jesus! I should’ve had shooters instead of conversation with the guys.
Suddenly she missed her brother. As usual, he was unavailable for consultation. She glanced into the kitchen at the men who held her heart—for how long?—she couldn’t remember. Both wore a ‘deer in the headlights’ expression and she knew, this go round with her mother, she was on her own—what else was new?
Her mother stepped closer to her and her expression became more studious. Not good. “You’re in a man’s shirt three sizes too big.” Her eyes widened and horror etched across her face. “Oh, please don’t tell me you brought a strange man home to warm your bed over your disagreement with Paul.”
Disagreement? I called off the wedding.
“Um...”
Her mother heaved an exasperated sigh. “I have it on good authority you were pounding back the drinks at the town bar, like a… ah”, she glanced at Betsy and seemed to change her train of thought, “a woman parched for liquid.”
Bitch! And I mean it in the most loving way possible. Sorta.
She cast a sideway glance at Betsy who wore an intrigued look on her face. Felicia then refocused her attention on her mother and figured the time had come to rock the proverbial ‘boat’.
“Not exactly. Hot guys kept buying me drinks and even the bartender gave me a few on the house.”
Horror replaced her mom’s expression. “Tell me you were a good girl.”
“Better than good. I was awesome. Rumor is, I came home with two gorgeous men and yes, I’m wearing one of their shirts.”
The gossip known in six or maybe eight counties around raised her brows in shock. “Oh, my! Lord have mercy.”
And a sense of humor. Prude.
Felicia rested her attention back on her mother. “What can I say, my bad?”
Her mother’s face turned snow white. “Felicia, tell me you’re kidding.”
She flashed her mom a smile. “Well, I would, but that would constitute lying.”
“How could you do this to your fiancé?”
And now comes the bomb of the century.
“Ex-fiancé, I called the wedding off around midnight.” She held her breath and waited for the aftermath.
Color returned to her mom’s face, then shifted to pink then a bright red. Volcano Clarissa was about to blow. “No!” The single word came out in a roar.
Brady and Mickey stepped to the threshold of the kitchen and exchanged a concerned expression. However, both remained uncharacteristically quiet.
Her mother shook her head as anger contorted her facial features. “This is unacceptable. I have put a lot of effort into ensuring this wedding is perfect and you go and decide to have one of your flighty moments.” She sighed dramatically. “Mrs. Kline brought me her dress and I think it is vintage enough to be stylish.”
Felicia turned to Betsy. “Thank you so much for the offer, but I don’t need it.”
Her mother stomped her foot. “Don’t be ridiculous! Of course you will. You and Paul had a mere spat, and for the love God, take off those overpriced sunglasses and stop being rude.”
Dread filled Felicia; this was getting worse by the minute. She slipped off the designer shades and focused on her mother. “I don’t need the dress; I’m not marrying Paul; now unless you plan on having coffee with Mickey and Brady and discussing horses, I suggest you leave.”
She again turned to Mrs. Kline. “Thanks again for the offer of the gown.”
The older woman nodded and clutched her purse toward her. “It blessed me with eight beautiful children. I wanted the dress to do the same for you.”
That’s not a blessing, it’s a curse.
Brady started to cough and Mickey muttered something completely inaudible under his breath. The men were not impressed and her mother speared the two cowboys with a scowl.
“Anyway, Mom, Mrs. Kline, good seeing you both, I need to get upstairs.” She plastered a smile on her face and stepped toward the stairs. As her bare foot touched the first step her mother gasp.
“Oh, my God. Please don’t tell me your sin and debauchery is still upstairs. This is unacceptable. I didn’t even see another vehicle in the driveway.”
“Sin and debauchery, that’s nice mom.” Okay so her sarcasm hit full swing. “No as a matter of fact they are not upstairs and if they were, what the hell would it matter?”
“Watch your mouth!” Her mother scolded. “I don’t think Paul would appreciate this at all.”
“Well I didn’t appreciate him screwing half of L.A. and part of Orange County, but what’s done is done. I take full responsibility for my actions last night.” She turned away from her mother and decided now was as good as time as any to make her escape from the lecture, the gossip and the white travesty of a dress.
“No. I can’t hold you responsible.”
Now what…or is it why?
Oh Christ, grant me strength.
Clarissa Morgan stepped forward, swung her attention to the threshold of the kitchen, then cast Mickey and Brady a lethal glare. “You two. You both knew better, how could you let her lose control?”
I wish. I would’ve been in their bed and not my own.
Mickey was the first to respond while Brady wore an unreadable expression. “Now Mrs. M, you know we’d protect her and never allow anything inappropriate to happen.”
Felicia’s heart sank at the words and reality crashed in. For a fleeting moment in the kitchen, she had mistaken their words—and thought maybe they felt the same way as her. However, with the ticking minutes and seconds, it became more apparent—she was nothing more than Collin’s sister. Resentment toward her brother grew.
God, why can he do whatever and I have to be good—the perfect one?
Her mother’s temper kicked up. “Then explain to me how you two let her bring a man or two home to bed. Collin counts on you to watch out for her.”
Mickey pursed his lips and inhaled through his teeth creating a whistle sound. Brady blinked at her mom, but not before a grief filled expression flashed across his face for a fleeting second.
“Relax, Mrs. M,” Mickey soothed. “We brought her and the car home safe—without additional company.” Despite telling the truth, there was an undercurrent in his tone Felicia couldn’t identify.
Her mom turned then narrowed her gaze on Felicia. “You scared me to death with your antics and let me think the worst.” She exhaled a relieved sigh. “Why can’t you be more like Collin?”
Something inside snapped and Felicia’s heart filled with hurt in a rush with tidal wave force.
I can’t believe she just said that. How dare she?
“Well, Mother, because he cares only about himself enough for the both of us.” Tears threatened with stabbing pricks behind her eyes. “Have a nice day.”