Prairie Storm (Cowboys of The Flint Hills #4)

by Tessa Layne

  Axel barked out a bitter laugh. “Ha. It always comes back to how great Gunn is, doesn’t it? What is it going to take for you to take me seriously? Settling down with a wife of your choosing?”

  Haley flashed hot, then cold.

  She’d heard more than enough. Her mind went blank as realization dawned on her. Eddie would never accept her because she wasn’t ranch wife material. And without Eddie’s approval, Axel would never be allowed to step into his legacy. And while she loved Axel, she could never in a million years be a ranch wife. She didn’t doubt that Axel loved her. Then and now. But he loved this land more, and his heart was here, rooted in soil and sky.

  Despair knifed through her, buckling her knees. The ache of it stole her breath. She clutched at the barn door to steady herself, then slipped out, stumbling into the bright sun.

  For a fraction of a second, she’d allowed herself to imagine the possibility of a life with Axel. Somewhere, somehow. But she’d been foolish to think for even a fraction of a second, that he’d ever choose her over his family. And she’d never ask him to. Somehow, without realizing it, she’d wound up right back where she was ten years ago. And this time her heart wouldn’t recover.

  CHAPTER 22

  “What is it going to take for you to take me seriously? Settling down with a wife of your choosing?” Adrenaline surged through Axel as he paced in front of his father. Why did Eddie have to be so damned stubborn? Eddie refused to acknowledge that the ranch was sliding nearer and nearer to the redline. Instead, he clung to an outdated idea of success.

  “Settling down would be a start. It’s time for you and Gunn both to demonstrate your commitment to growing our legacy.”

  Axel fisted a hand at his side. “And what are you going to do if I don’t? Shun me the way you did Uncle Monty?

  Eddie’s face grew red. “Don’t push me, son. You don’t know nothin’ about Monty. I don’t take kindly to people threatening me. Not then, and not now.”

  Axel’s neck grew hot. He wanted to punch something. Someone.

  How had his father grown so harsh? Had he been too blind to see it? Or too cowardly to address it? The realization that he’d been complicit in this ongoing conflict with his father made him slightly nauseous. He was as much responsible for this impasse as his father was. He could have left at any time. Taken the Monty treatment. But he hadn’t been brave enough.

  Axel’s jaw ached from the clenching. “This conversation is over… for now,” he gritted out, shaking his hand loose.

  He spun on his heel and stalked out of the barn, slamming his shoulder into the heavy door, and sliding it shut with all the force he could muster. Let Pops stew in the dark. Maybe it was because of Coop, maybe not, but with each passing day, Axel grew more certain that the ranch was on the wrong path, and that he could so something to help it. The world was changing. Had already changed radically. And if they were going to keep up, keep the land in the family and a life they loved, they were going to have to change too.

  And if Pops wouldn’t change…

  But Axel hated the thought of leaving here. This was his home. He paused at the top of the hill where the trucks were parked to look out over the stables. The trees stretched out toward the river, and in the distance, he could see a few of Sinclaires’ bison munching on the prairie grass. These hills grounded him, connected him to himself. And at night, when he gazed up at the black sky, millions of stars shining down on him, he knew his place in the universe.

  If only he could talk to someone about this. Not someone… Coop. But what would she say? She didn’t have the sense of obligation to place or family that he had. Not her fault – she’d grown up with a different set of experiences. It amazed him how she always landed on her feet, no matter what. Like a barn cat. She was scrappy and tough. Hell, maybe he needed to be more like that.

  “Did you run into that brick wall that’s yer pa’s head?”

  Great. Warren.

  The last thing Axel needed right now was a ‘chat’ with Uncle Warren, but he wasn’t going to be a dick to his uncle just because he was pissed at his dad. “That obvious, huh?”

  “He stickin’ his head in the sand again?” Warren tossed a crate and a few burlap bags into the back of his beat-up old pickup truck.

  Axel laughed bitterly. “You could say that.”

  “Lemme tell you sumpin’ ’bout yer pa.” Warren fixed his brilliant blue eyes on Axel. “He hates change.” He chuckled, more to himself than to Axel. “Hell, he’s still wearin’ the same crew cut mama gave him in the sixties.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “You ever learn why yer pa runs the ranch and not me or Monty?”

  Axel bit back an angry retort. Warren’s love of story telling was never convenient. How many times had Warren pinned him or Gunnar down for a rambling story that rarely seemed to have a point? Maybe he could hurry the story along. “Let me guess. Does this have to do with Uncle Monty dying?”

  Warren shrugged, a sly smile curving the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know that you can say that definitively. I was never interested in running the ranch. I was happier working with the horses, like Hope.”

  Warren paused and dug his phone out of his pocket. Axel had to hand it to Warren. Warren might be a crusty old cuss, but he’d changed after his near death experience a year ago. Even more, with the birth of his grandson. Axel secretly loved it when he ran into Warren carrying little Henry in a front loading baby carrier Maddie had bought him. Warren was tickled to be a grandpa.

  Longing curled through Axel’s gut. Would his father react in the same way? He couldn’t imagine Eddie wearing a baby. But then again, six months ago he couldn’t have imagined Warren wearing a baby either.

  “Here, you see this?” Warren shoved the phone at him, looking pleased as punch.

  Axel took the phone, and pressed play on the video Warren had pulled up. Henry’s face was big on the screen, giggling and gurgling happily at Warren singing Old MacDonald and making barnyard noises. Axel grinned in spite of himself, shaking his head. “Maddie see this?”

  Warren’s eyes twinkled with pride. “Yep. Sent it over yesterday. I told her as soon as he can walk, we’ll buy a miniature pony. Just like the one we had when Maddie was small.”

  Axel’s throat grew tight at the thought. Would he ever have a child to teach how to ride? They all joked they’d learned to ride before they could walk. And dammit if Warren wasn’t doing more to perpetuate the family legacy than he was. That stung.

  Warren stuffed the phone back in his pocket. “Now Monty… Monty was a lot like you. Always tryin’ new stuff to see what stuck. Drove Eddie nuts. But Monty was the oldest, so what he said, went.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “That’s how we’ve always done it. To keep the peace. Someone had to be the decision maker. We all share the land, but the oldest calls the shots. That’s the way it’s always been.”

  “Well what if it shouldn’t have been that way?”

  Warren’s eyes grew bright. “Now yer followin’. Sometimes that means the person who should be in charge, isn’t. See, son, yer like yer pa too. Always chafin’ at the bit… you hate bein’ told what to do. Have yer own ideas.” Warren leaned back against the truck. “So things came to blows between my brothers. Eddie yellin’ at Monty he was sick of bein’ bossed by someone who didn’t even live on the ranch anymore. Not to mention Eddie hated Monty’s ideas. Called them harebrained and crazy.”

  “Okay… and your point is?”

  Warren chuckled drily. “Hold onto yer britches. I’m gettin’ there. Eddie threatened to go to yer grandpa Ollie and ask for the spread to be parceled into thirds.”

  What?

  Surprise coursed through Axel. His father had very nearly been responsible for breaking up the land? Holy smokes.

  Warren continued. “Only Monty had already convinced Ollie to get on board with his latest money making scheme.”

  “Was it?”

  “A scheme?�
�� Warren’s face clouded briefly, and he shrugged. “Some see it that way. I still maintain Monty was tryin’ to do right by us.”

  “Well what was it?”

  “Raising rodeo bulls.”

  If Warren had said titty bars, Axel wouldn’t have been more surprised. Rodeo bulls? They had the land for it, certainly. But Axel had always thought you needed to be a special kind of crazy to get involved with any aspect of bull riding. Those animals were raised to be ornery. And their whole operation, in contrast, was so gentle. Axel’s mind raced, trying to put the puzzle pieces together with what Warren wasn’t saying. “So does this have something to do with how Uncle Monty died?” He’d been twelve when Monty had died in some kind of an accident. Ironically, his cousin, Cody, who’d been six at the time, now rode bulls for a living.

  Warren gave him a sad smile. “You catch on quick, son. Turns out yer pa was right and Monty was wrong.” Warren sighed heavily, a far away look in his eyes. “And it cost him his life.”

  Why wouldn’t anyone be direct where Monty was concerned? Nobody liked it on the rare occasions he’d been brave enough to bring up Monty in conversation. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

  “Monty was a stubborn cuss. Hansen trait.” Warren cleared his throat and stared right through Axel, reliving whatever had happened twenty years ago. “He got too close to a bull,” Warren mumbled, voice thickening with emotion. “The whole thing…” Warren shuddered. “Well, you can imagine how it went.”

  Axel held his breath. He’d never heard anyone speak of the day Monty died. But given what Warren had just disclosed, he guessed it wasn’t pretty. “Was it…” he searched for a tactful word but came up short.

  “I’ll never forget it,” Warren’s eyes glittered with grief. “And I don’t go a day without missing Monty. He was a good cuss. And while he may have been wrong about rodeo bulls, he was right about plenty more.” Warren took a breath and looked like he wanted to say more, but then he shook his head as his shoulders sagged.

  Axel scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “I still don’t understand what this has to do–”

  “With yer dad chewin’ you a new asshole?” Warren harrumphed. “Put two and two together, son. He’s afraid to lose you. Monty died in his arms. He vowed to make sure no one else got hurt. Offered to let Peggy and the kids move back and use the other bunkhouse, but Peggy was done with us after that.” Warren’s face looked bleak. “Can’t say I blame her.”

  He should say something. But Axel was too stunned by Warren’s story to do anything except stare at Warren’s old, scuffed boots.

  “Look at me, son.”

  Axel raised his eyes to meet Warren’s. “Do you understand yet?” he asked fiercely. “Eddie’s afraid he can’t protect you if you move away. Hope’s incident only reinforces that. He feels somethin’ terrible that he wasn’t there to help her. He don’t realize he’s killin’ you by keepin’ you here under his thumb.” Warren wrinkled his face like he was searching for something more to say. “I know you think I’m ramblin’, and maybe I am. But I see how you moon after your lady.”

  Axel covered a tiny smile. Moon? So did everyone have an opinion about him and Coop?

  Warren pinned him with a serious look. “Most of us don’t get a second chance at love. I never did. It would be a damn shame if you followed in my footsteps.” Warren pushed off the side of the truck, and shuffled to the door, hopping in the truck and settling himself behind the wheel.

  The truck sputtered to life, and Warren rolled down the window, leaning an elbow out. “Never be afraid to be your own man, son. There’s no dignity in bein’ someone else’s man.” He pulled forward and barreled down the drive.

  Axel stayed watching the truck until it disappeared from sight, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust in its wake.

  CHAPTER 23

  Haley pushed her laptop away, her eyes drifting back to the bathroom yet again. Anxiety flicked at the edge of her conscious. What would Axel say? And how would he respond when she informed him she wouldn’t, couldn’t move to the ranch just because they were having a baby? He was sure to go all caveman again. He’d want her here to show Eddie that he was ready to take the reins. But there was nothing for her here, except Axe. No colleagues, no lab, not even an affiliate station where she could take a dead-end weather person job.

  She swallowed back the lump of worry that stopped up her throat. She should tell Axe as soon as he walked in. Just blurt it out, get it into the open where they could deal with it. They would have nine months to work out the details. Well eightish, she guessed, setting a mental reminder to schedule a doctor’s visit as soon as she could get back to Norman. It was crazy. She didn’t feel any different. But she would soon.

  The bunkhouse door burst open and Axel loomed in the entryway, bracing an arm on the door jamb, pinning her with an intensely hungry look. The kind of look that said she was on the menu. Now was definitely not the time for a heavy conversation.

  In spite of her heartache, his expression lit a fire low in her belly, and her pussy began to throb in anticipation. He’d left her squirmy this morning, but instead of taking off the edge herself, she’d decided to wait, hoping they’d have a chance to squeeze in a little loving before the storms popped up.

  She glanced at the radar on her laptop again. Nothing. The winds seemed to be cooperating. She looked back at Axel, her mouth going a little dry as she took him in. He was dusty. And sweaty, and every muscle on his body bulged from the day’s exertion. She licked her lips, and heard his quick intake of breath.

  She scanned him slowly from top to bottom, then returning to the bulge in his jeans. Talk could wait. Problem solving could wait. She met his hot gaze with one of her own. “Hi.”

  “Hi yourself.” His eyes raked over her body, heating her and pulling at her core.

  “So… no storms yet.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.”

  Her pulse fluttered wildly. God, she… wanted, no – needed to feel him. To ground herself. Reassure herself that in spite of the impossibility of their situation, they were as good together as she believed. That they could weather any storm. Even Eddie. Or a baby.

  She lifted her chin, and slowly stood, unbuttoning her blouse. “You look like you worked hard this morning.”

  His eyes lit and zeroed in on her hands. “You gonna clean me up?”

  She raised an eyebrow, a smile tipping up the corner of her mouth. “In more ways than one, cowboy.”

  He stepped into the room, slamming the door shut behind him and toeing off his dusty boots. In three steps he was across the room, shirt off. Pants next, cowboy hat last. He knew she loved looking at him with nothing but his Stetson on. He turned back to her, a naughty grin on his face as she lasered in on his growing arousal. “What are you waitin’ for, darlin’?”

  He turned and walked to the shower, leaving her to strip down and follow him. When she slipped in behind him, washrag in hand, he stood bracing himself under the cool water, droplets sluicing down his back. She reached for the soap, filling the washcloth and working up a lather, and started at his neck. She rubbed in concentric circles across his shoulders, marveling at the way his muscles bunched under her hand, even as her heart cracked a tiny bit.

  Haley blinked rapidly, pushing away her feelings. Nothing mattered right now except this moment. For one blissful second, they could let go and forget the rest of the world. Lose themselves in each other and surrender to their need. She could give them this connection before all hell broke loose – make it good for them. For him.

  She steadied herself and brought her attention to the man in front of her. Axe’s back was a feast of planes and dips, every muscle honed from years of hard work, narrowing in a vee to his hips. The soap bubbles beaded and slid down, catching on the curve of his ass where she swiped the cloth down, letting her hand slide between his thighs.

  “Coop…” His voice held a note of warning.

  She rubbed forward, fingertips brushing against hi
s balls.

  His head dipped. “Fuck, Coop, do that again.”

  She let out a breathy laugh, and resoaped the washcloth, this time, scraping it up the back of his thighs before she slipped her hand in again, this time gently cupping his balls. He widened his stance and rolled his hips. “Yeah,” he said gruffly. “Like that.”

  He groaned a little when she took her hand away. But there was more of him to admire. To touch. She pulled the washcloth over his shoulders, soaping his arms and the muscles that tensed under her touch. Then she reached around, dragging the rag across his lower abs, down the front of thighs, then up his side, pausing at each rib, each little dent.

  His hand was fisted against the tile, but he stayed still. His little gift to her. She knew the effort it took for him to stand still. She’d been on the receiving end of this too, one or four times. She grinned as she soaped the cloth one last time. Now for her favorite part. She pressed herself against him, wriggling and sliding herself up and down his back as she worked his pecs from behind.

  He dropped his head back, groaning. “God, Coop, you have no idea…”

  Oh, she did. Her pussy was slick and swollen just from touching him. She gave a last wriggle, this time sliding her hands down his hips and pressing her fingers low into the crease between hip and inner thigh, and bringing her thumbs to rest at the base of his erection.

  “Haley…” His voice was tight with need and raised at the end when he spoke. As if he was on the edge.

  She released him and stepped back.

  He turned around, eyes feral and heated, his erection hard and heavy between them.

  Haley licked her lips in anticipation as she ran a finger over the tip. Gorgeous and hot, and so fucking big.

  He stepped into her space, crowding her back against the tile. “You enjoy your little game?”

  She waggled her eyebrows at him, eyes crinkling. “Oh yes. You?”