Brother's Canadian Cowboy Friend (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 107)

by Flora Ferrari

  I’ve never held back anything from him ever, and I don’t want to now, but I feel like I have no other choice.

  Plus, it’s disrespectful to think that I have to tell him before I’ve even made my intentions crystal clear to Harmony.

  She may be eighteen, and I don’t want to say only eighteen, but still she’s an adult. She proved that to me today just by my initial reaction to her and then every single second thereafter.

  I can only imagine what she’s going to wear to the contest. If it’s anything that reveals so much as a lick of skin I know I’m going to be a possessive prick, telling her to cover up. I don’t want the world to see what’s mine, even if it means I’m a hypocrite for thinking that she’s an adult and can make her own decisions, yet here I am trying to make decisions for her.

  I try and tell myself that I’ve just been so focused on work and finally winning this cattle penning championship that I haven’t had time for women. But that’s a load of bull.

  The truth is no one ever interested me, and not that I ever had an inkling of desire to, but now I’m even more content with my decision never to get involved with a woman for some sort of short term gratification…and I’m using the word gratification lightly.

  What could be satisfying about meaningless sex with some buckle bunny? I don’t care what her measurements are or how sexy she looks in a Stetson. I’m an all or nothing guy and it’s been nothing my entire life, until now. Now? I’m all in…because of her.

  Nothing could stop me from making her my woman. If someone could read my thoughts, for sure they would sound cocky.

  I don’t care one bit. It’s the truth, my truth, and that’s exactly what she’s going to be…mine.

  It was only a matter of time.

  I retrieve my lasso again, knowing that this isn’t going to tire me out or take my mind off her one bit…but at least it keeps my hands off myself, because just as I’m not going to chase short term when it comes to other areas of my life, I’m not going to search for some hollow victory when it comes to her.

  Running my hand along my cock under a tree, or out in the barn would make me come in a matter of seconds. No doubt about it.

  But I don’t want to please myself to the thought of her. That’s not pleasure at all. That’s torture.

  I want the real thing, her.

  And I will have her…no matter who or what tries to come between us.

  CHAPTER 4

  Harmony

  The next morning (Tuesday, July 2nd, 2019)

  I belly up to the table in the diner in Stavely, Alberta, while my brother goes and washes his hands in the restroom and Maverick parks his truck around back of the restaurant. Maverick drove us all up this morning from Hank’s place at the border.

  Today is “just” the qualifier, but it’s vital that we do well so we can advance. If we advance then we’ll be competing in the actual Stampede, in just a few days, just up the road in Calgary.

  I know I look like hot death, the result of not sleeping a wink, but I feel incredible.

  Part of me is excited and blown away to be participating in this event with Hank and Maverick. The fact that they trusted and included me, despite my age and lack of experience, has my self-confidence soaring. Sure, I know they were desperate for a third rider, but still…they could have always just come up this morning and picked a random cowboy to join their team.

  But they didn’t. They chose me…or should I say Maverick chose me.

  I was never even a blip on my brother’s radar, but Maverick’s radar was a whole other story…not to mention I swear every time I see him his compass is pointing due north.

  The man is hung beyond belief, and stiff as a rock. His dick is like the sun…I don’t even have to look directly at it to feel its effects.

  Heck, my nipples are just as erect every time I’m in his presence, and that includes last night when I stood just back from the window, watching him in a position where he couldn’t see me, as he lassoed that lassoing dummy.

  God, watching him swing around that thick rope and then toss it effortlessly over the wooden cattle head each and every time had me wishing he’d take that rope and march right up into my bedroom, hold me down and hog tie me just as quickly as he could.

  But it wasn’t to be…at least not last night, which is probably a good thing.

  Maverick and my brother are both big guys, and it’s nice to be around them because I always feel safe. Another benefit is that they can’t exactly sneak around the house in the middle of the night.

  I’d heard Maverick get up and move down the hall, all the while I was staring at that doorknob, praying that it would turn and I’d see that big mass of manliness right there in my doorway.

  But instead he just kept walking until I heard him in the backyard.

  And it wasn’t but fifteen minutes later that I heard another set of footsteps in the hallway, but this time my door handle did open, though only slightly.

  I closed my eyes and opened my mouth and even intentionally drooled a bit. It was pretty gross, but my brother bought it hook line and sinker.

  Almost just as soon as my door closed, the door to Maverick’s opened.

  It must have taken my brother a few minutes to figure out he was outside, but once he did you could hear his footsteps moving throughout the house much more freely and louder as well. There’s no doubt he had suspicions, started creeping around, and once his suspicions weren’t confirmed he relaxed.

  Well, he can stay relaxed for now, and that will certainly help us if he’s off-guard, but at some point he’s going to figure it out.

  That is, of course, assuming that we’re even going to be a couple.

  My mind is pushing the possibilities forward at a breakneck pace and when some random guy walks in, and practically breaks his neck looking at me, I’m quickly wishing Maverick or my brother were here.

  It’s rare for me to get noticed, let alone approached, but this is the lead-up to the Stampede and the guys are out hunting.

  “Mind if I sit down?” the man says without breaking stride.

  “Actually-“

  “Don’t mind if we do,” a second man says. Where did he even come from?

  “I’m Cus,” the first man says, extending his hand to me.

  “And I’m Much,” the second says.

  Cus and much? You’ve got to be kidding me.

  “And I’m waiting on two very big men and I’d appreciate, and strongly suggest, to be left to my own devices.

  “You hear that Cus?”

  “Sure did, Much.”

  “Ladies these days are making up fake boyfriends to try and discourage potential suitors. Well, I’m sure you’ll change your mind when you find out that we’re here from Edmonton to win this whole damn Stampede thing.”

  You have got to be kidding me, not to mention it’s not like there’s a single event that they can win and then win the Stampede. The Stampede, which is the name of the whole kit and caboodle, is comprised of multiple events. By definition, and age limits, you can’t win the whole thing. I say nothing, hoping that they’ll get the hint.

  “Show ‘em why they call ya, Much.”

  The not exactly gentleman known as Much makes a pounding sound underneath the table as if his cock is so large, and hard, that it’s pounding on the bottom side of the varnished wood.

  You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me.

  My eyes close slowly and I want to bury my face in my hands, but no way am I taking my eyes off these hucksters.

  And apparently I’m not the only one who’s currently got my eyes on them in a very unfavorable light.

  Out of nowhere I see one big mitt clamp down on the back of jerkoff number one’s collar, quickly followed by douchebag number two.

  Quicker than a blink of an eye these two jokers are sliding backwards, the sounds of their spurs dragging across the tiles has all the heads in the place spinning around quicker than Linda Blair’s in The Exorcist.

  But the
only scary sight is the impending figure behind them and the looks on their faces…

  Maverick.

  He curls each of them like dumbbells, pun intended, and brings their near ears together, before growling. “If there’s one thing I can smell a million miles away is the stink of shit on a fake cowboy from Edmonton…and if you don’t apologize to her and get the fuck on up outta here right now I’m really gonna get mad…and when I get made you can guar-an-fucking-tee I’ll drop kick both your asses all the way back up to the north end of the province.”

  “Sorry, sir.”

  “Really, sorry—“

  “Don’t be sorry. Be gone,” Maverick says, releasing his grip.

  The two men fall flat on their asses and then scramble in some sort of military low crawl across a few tiles before they take off running for the door.

  “They didn’t hurt me,” I offer.

  “I know. That’s the only thing that stopped me from hurting them…permanently.”

  “What did I miss?” Hank says.

  “Just me doing the morning chores,” Maverick’s voice, even deeper than normal, states matter-of-factly.

  “The morning chores?”

  “Shovelin’ shit.”

  I can’t help but burst out in a shot of laughter that’s laced with a snort.

  Maverick smirks and am I ever glad I brought enough panties to change out three times a day while we’re here, because I’m definitely going to put on pair number two for the day real quick.

  Last night the two of us worked together to tame the beast, so to speak, but Maverick just tamed the real beasts…man, not that I’d ever refer to guys like that as men.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” the waitress says as she comes straight to us, her hands brought up to her chest in a prayer position. “We’ve been trying to get rid of those two jerks for a few days now. It’s crazy to think these kind of guys are bothering women over an hour south of Calgary all the way down here in Stavely. Globalization I guess.”

  “Well, they won’t be bothering you again, I can guarantee you of that,” Maverick promises in a tone that’s as smooth as honey, but rough like it’s dripping over hot coals.

  “Pancakes on the house.”

  “Thank you, but we’ll pay,” Maverick says.

  “You found a good one,” the waitress says, turning to me without a hint of jealousy. “One of the few left. And you make a great couple.”

  “We’re..uh…”

  “He’s just looking out for my sister,” Hank pipes up.

  “You’re single?” the waitress asks, her eyebrows raising quickly as she runs her eyes up and down his body.

  I reach my hand out, putting it on her shoulder and feel my grip grinding into her skin as I want to push her. She doesn’t even acknowledge me, apparently counting her seemingly lucky stars that Maverick is on the market.

  “I’ve got my eye on someone else, and only her.”

  “Oh,” the waitress says, her face deflating. “Lucky her.” She pauses, and it’s only then I notice how red her cheeks are. My hand slowly slides down the length of her arm as I try and process Maverick’s words. “I’ll be right back with your pancakes.”

  “You didn’t tell me you were seeing someone,” Hanks says as if he’s slightly taken aback and disappointed that he’s been left out of the loop in all things Maverick.

  “Well, it’s not official yet, but we’re seeing each other, that’s for damn sure,” he says through clenched teeth, his eyes locked on mine and mine on his. “We’re definitely seeing each other.”

  “Uh huh,” escapes my lips in a barely audible tone.

  We’re definitely seeing each other right now…and my brother is seeing it too.

  “Your pancakes,” the waitress says, setting the plates down on the table. Pancake breakfasts are extremely popular this time of year. Lots of companies host them and the restaurants sell a whole heap of them too, so they know to have plenty prepared.

  As she sits down the plate I don’t like how close she is to Maverick and without realizing it I catch myself stepping closer to him, blocking her arm from brushing against his.

  Yeah, we’re seeing each other all right. And for the first time I’m seeing just how possessive I can truly be…about him.

  CHAPTER 5

  Harmony

  That evening

  “How’s Hank?” I ask as Maverick rejoins me at the fire pit in his backyard in Calgary, a short drive from where we were today down in Stavely.

  “Out like a light.”

  “Already?”

  “Whatever was in that pill bottle that the doctor gave him must have been some pretty powerful stuff.”

  “He usually never takes anything, let alone goes to the doctor, when he hurts himself.”

  “If there hadn’t been doctors right there at the event I doubt he would have said a thing. He’s one tough dude.”

  Maverick’s right. Hank is a tough guy, which explains why he barely winced when he fell from his horse during qualifying earlier today. I just wonder how ‘tough’ he’s going to be if things between Maverick and I keep escalating.

  And that’s exactly what’s going to happen now that our team qualified for the Stampede.

  We were on fire today, maybe too much, and that’s exactly what lead to Hank’s fall.

  It was like he was the odd man out, Maverick and I working together like we were one. It was the perfect pairing. Maverick, and his amazing skills, would separate the cattle from the pack and then guide them my way, where I just had to make sure they didn’t do anything sudden or drastic at the end as they went into the pen.

  It was perfect...as far as Maverick and I were concerned.

  The only problem was Hank was off his game, and when he tried to overcompensate it lead to the rare instance of a rider falling in a cattle penning competition. This isn’t bull riding or anything of that nature, yet somehow Hank managed to fall from his horse…something I can’t remember ever seeing him do.

  Which is probably because he’s never seen me act this way around a man before. Then again, he hasn’t seen much of me at all as I’ve been in New Zealand all these years while he’s been back over here.

  The big age difference means we’ve spent a lot of our lives apart, but being a cowboy, older, and the only family I’ve got for thousands of miles, he’s sure to be overprotective of me…no matter who, or what, he might sense as a ‘threat.’

  And the threat level that Maverick presents is obviously starting to get to him.

  “You think he’ll be healed up in time for the Stampede in a few days?”

  “No way he’s missing it. We’ve been waiting our whole lives for this chance.”

  “But what if he does?”

  He pauses, tossing a stick into the fire before looking at me even more intently. “Then it’s us against the world.”

  “Us?” I swallow hard.

  “Us,” slides from his lips like the sound of the deep notes of the fire crackling in the early night.

  “But how can the two of us compete with teams of three.”

  “We,” he says, sliding closer to me, “can compete with anyone…when we have each other.”

  My throat goes dry and I catch myself leaning in closer to him to unconsciously mirror his movements.

  There’s barely any space between our arms now, and my arm feels like it’s on fire…and it’s not from an errant spark from the fire in front of us.

  This is real. This is now. This is…us, as he just said.

  “Do we have each other?” I want to slap myself in the forehead. Why would I call him out and take a step back when we were clearly taking steps forward?

  Something about me has to know…that’s the reason. I have to be sure that this isn’t just some summer fling over the course of the competition, and our time together.

  I don’t want to get involved only for our time together to abruptly end. Heck, I already am involved…I just don’t want to wind up getti
ng hurt.

  “I know I have you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It’s not something I can put into words. It’s something I feel, just like the laws of nature.”

  “You mean you’ve got me when it comes to the competition or—“