Dearest Cowboys Box Set

by Mia Brown

  At the same time, sorrow had struck, and everyone was upset. Jaclyn had been the cornerstone of this place, and without her, I didn’t doubt a lot of people felt like their world was crumbling. Strangely, I felt the same. I didn’t know what was going to happen now that we were back, and life was supposed to move on. I didn’t know what would happen to my job or where I stood with Ace.

  It was disorienting.

  When I came back, I left Ace to have his time alone and walked to the bunkhouse to shower. I stopped at the barn first. I hadn’t had the time to feed Cookie at all this week. When I walked to her stall, she was excited to see me.

  “You’ve grown, Cookie,” I said. “Soon you’ll be as big as the rest of them.”

  She nudged my hand, looking for a bottle.

  The kittens appeared, mewing. They rubbed against my legs, and they were so much bigger, too. I had only been at the ranch a few short weeks, but I had fallen in love with animals and the outdoors here, with work and reward.

  “You little rascals,” I said, cuddling the kittens. “Who took care of you when I was gone?”

  “We did,” someone said, and I looked over my shoulder to see Pedro standing in the door with a grin. “We named them, too. Hope you don’t mind.”

  I shook my head, and Pedro came closer. The little ginger cat walked to him and rubbed himself against Pedro’s boots.

  “This is Christopher,” he said. “The little gray one is Maria, and the black one is Guadalupe.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “You named them after saints?”

  Pedro nodded. “Because they’re little devils.”

  We laughed together before we stood up and headed to the bunkhouse.

  “I’m sorry about Jaclyn,” Pedro said. “I heard you were close to her. She was like a mother to all of us.”

  I nodded. “Thanks, Pedro. I wasn’t even here for that long, but she got under my skin.”

  “That’s the way she does it. Did it.”

  I hated the part where people used past tense when they talked about someone passing away. I knew it was accurate, but I hated it.

  When we reached the bunkhouse, the others were all there and one by one, they hugged me. They treated me like I had lost a mother of my own, and it meant so much more to me than they knew. I had lost someone dear to me, after all, and the guys were acting like it was as big a deal as it felt.

  Everyone was sad about Jaclyn dying. Everyone missed her already, and I wasn’t the only one that felt like life could come to a halt now.

  I got into the shower and stood there for a long time, letting the hot water run over my body. I tried not to compare Jaclyn to my own mom, to think about all the things I’d lost before I’d really found it. I tried not to look at the life I’d left behind and weigh it against the life I had now.

  And I tried desperately not to wonder what was going to happen to me now. It was something I would figure out another day, when the funeral was over, and everyone had had time to grieve. Until then, I wouldn’t ask what was going to happen. I wouldn’t put any pressure on them.

  When I finished, I got dressed and left the bunkhouse. The men—even in their mourning state—were loud and intrusive, and I wasn’t in the mood for spending time with them. They were great, but I wanted to be alone. I wanted to mourn Jaclyn in peace.

  And there was work that needed to be done.

  I walked to the vegetable garden and started weeding. With everything else that had needed attention while we’d been away, the vegetable garden had been neglected. I pulled out the weeds, grabbing them and yanking them out of the ground. It was supposed to be therapeutic work. It had been since I’d arrived. But now all it did was remind me of Jaclyn.

  She was the one that had explained to me how to do it, how to tell the plants apart and how to remove some of them so that the seeds and roots didn’t stay behind.

  I started crying. I couldn’t help it anymore. I had been so strong for so long that I was falling apart, now. Tears rolled over my cheeks and blurred the vegetables I tried to focus on.

  “Hey,” a soft voice said behind me, and strong arms closed around my shoulders. Ace had found me. I hadn’t heard him coming, but I was grateful for his presence. He held me while I cried, and he let me mourn the death of his own mother. He sat with me, rocking gently back and forth, consoling me like I had done for him since the moment everything had gone wrong.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Ace said. Since Jaclyn had collapsed, I had told myself that, but today, I felt like I didn’t know if it was true. Not this time.

  “How do you know?” I asked, turning to look at him. Ace’s dark eyes were deep and caring. He wiped my tears with his thumbs, cupping my cheeks with his hands.

  “Because I’m here,” he said.

  He leaned down and kissed me, and I let him. Kissing was better than crying, and I needed the emotional connection, even though I had no idea what this meant for us.

  “I’m so sorry, Ace,” I said through our kisses. “About everything.”

  “Don’t,” Ace replied, and I stopped apologizing, stopped talking altogether. Ace broke the kiss and pulled me up with him. He pulled his body against mine, pulling me so tightly against him I could feel the length of his body. He kissed me again before he took my hand and led me the short distance into the house. Neither of us said anything. He led me to his bedroom, closed the door behind us, and guided me to the bed.

  When we lay down, he started kissing me again. He pressed himself against my body, hands roaming, and with every touch I felt like he was reviving me. I felt his hard cock through his jeans, and my body responded, blooming with desire for him.

  This wasn’t what we were supposed to be doing, a little voice in the back of my mind warned, but I squashed it.

  Ace moved his hips, grinding his cock against me, and I gasped. I was urgent for the release, for the chance to let myself go and forget.

  Slowly, Ace stripped me of my clothes. He peeled them off me like I was a present that needed to be unwrapped, like beneath it all would be consolation, something that would take away the pain. Our sex before had been rough and urgent—fucking, in the true sense of the word. This time, everything was different.

  I helped Ace out of his clothes, too. I pulled his shirt over his head and worked his jeans down his hips as far as I could reach with his body on top of mine. When we were naked, our skin against each other, Ace moved against me. His cock was hard against my hip, and the tip dragged a trail of lust along my abdomen, but he didn’t aim for my pussy, not yet. He lay on me and caressed me with his hands, his body, and his erection, tracing my contours as if seeing me for the first time. His eyes were deep with emotion.

  With his lips, he followed his hands, kissing every inch of my body. He tasted and explored me, and I felt like he was learning who I was through his hands and his mouth, finding the person I was when no one else was looking. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to him.

  When his fingers pushed into my slit, I gasped softly. He found my clit and rubbed his fingers in circles over it a few times before he pushed them into me. I was wet, and I opened my legs a little more to give him space. Ace slowly slid his fingers in and out of me, his eyes finding mine as he slid himself over my G-spot. With his thumb, he reached for my clit, and he rubbed himself against me. He moved his fingers in a “come here” motion, which only made me moan louder. I squirmed on the bed, an orgasm building in my core.

  Ace kept it calm and slow, sliding in and out of me with control, and it was the torturous rhythm that he kept up that pushed me over the edge. I orgasmed, and he held me between his thumb and fingers as I contracted around him. I bit my lip to stop myself from screaming out loud. The orgasm was mind-blowing. Sweeping through my entire body. I felt myself begin to relax as my orgasm faded away and little aftershocks swept through me, causing my body to twitch.

  “Let me please you,” I said when I recovered, and he removed his hand, but he shook his head.

&nb
sp; “This is not about that,” he said. He crawled on top of me again and pressed his body against mine. I shivered when he pushed his hard, throbbing cock in between my legs, and I gasped again when he started moving.

  He kept up the same rhythm he’d used with his fingers, and I moaned as he pushed deep into me before sliding out again, his cock stroking all the right places.

  He began to pick up the pace a little more. Not too fast, but not too slow. It was the perfect pace. His cock filled my tight pussy, stretching me. He pushed his cock all the way into me, going deeper and deeper with each thrust. I wanted to feel more of him. I wanted him to push me over the edge once more.

  He pulled himself out and stuck his cock on my clit, rubbing it against it, teasing me and pleasing me at the same time. It felt good, but I wanted him back inside of me. I moved my hips, trying to get his cock to slide back into me. He gave me a sly smile, pulled back, and shoved his cock back inside of me, deeper and harder than before.

  “Don’t stop.” I moaned as he started to shove his cock in and out of me a little harder.

  It felt orgasmic, and before long, I was shivering beneath him again. I had no idea that he could take me this far, taking it as slow as he had done it fast the last time we’d had sex. This time, it wasn’t fucking. I wasn’t sure if I could call it making love, but it was companionship on a level I had never felt before.

  After a while, Ace picked up his pace. He moved faster and faster inside of me, working himself to the point of orgasm. It sent pleasure through my body, and I gasped and moaned as he pushed into me until he came.

  When he pushed in as deep as he could go, he released inside me, and I orgasmed again. How he managed to push me over the edge so many times was a riddle, but I had no intention of trying to get to the bottom of it.

  The feeling of us orgasming at the same time was unreal. I loved the feeling of his cock throbbing while my pussy squeezed around him. It made it so much more intense.

  Ace finally finished, and he slipped out of me, rolling onto his side next to me. He pulled me closer to him so that our bodies were pressed together, his face buried in my neck. This hadn’t happened last time. Between him falling asleep and then falling off my little bed, spooning hadn’t been an option. But he cuddled me now, and it made me feel warm, beautiful, important.

  We lay together. I closed my eyes and hung between wakefulness and sleep for longer than I should have. Slowly, the afterglow faded away, and I became aware of how naked we were, that I was cuddling with a man that I didn’t really know the way I would have liked to.

  “Are you okay?” Ace asked, as if he could sense that something was wrong.

  I looked up at him. His dark eyes were on me, his expression thoughtful.

  “I didn’t plan for this,” I said. I didn’t know how to say it. I wanted him to know that this hadn’t been my aim, that I liked him, but I wasn’t going to push for something.

  Ace shook his head. “Plans are overrated. Especially now. You can plan your whole life, and before you know it, something changes, and it all falls apart.”

  I knew what he meant. He was referring to Jaclyn and to his dad passing away. I knew it had left a hole in my life. I wondered if Ace knew how much it affected me, too.

  “Let’s ignore it all for now, okay? Right this minute, I’m exactly where I want to be. I’m not going to overthink things. I’m not going to look at the bigger picture. It’s you and me, here, now.”

  I nodded. I would give him that. Not just because it was what he needed but because it was what I needed, too. Everything else could wait. It had to. Enough was going on in our lives that we had to deal with at some point. Right now, we were in a bubble. Maybe it was better to stay in this bubble for as long as we could.

  Like Ace had said, it was him and me, here, now.

  Twenty-Five

  Ace

  I stood in front of the mirror folding my tie. The last time I’d worn this suit and tie had been for my dad’s funeral. How fucking ironic. In the four years I’d been away at college, I had never felt the need to wear a tie. And now? Death, again.

  Life was so unfair. I hated that I’d lost my mom, hated that I was attending another funeral. I hated all of it.

  But I had to go. I wanted to say goodbye to my mom the right way, and it was only right that I was there.

  When I looked in the mirror, I looked like a shell of myself. I hadn’t slept much in the few days since she’d passed away. I’d barely eaten, and I’d drank too much. My dark eyes seemed haunted, and I’d slicked back my hair.

  “Hello,” Vanessa called from the kitchen. She was waiting for me.

  She would be at the funeral, too. It was only right that she was. She had done so much for us in the week leading up to my mother’s death, and she had become a part of the ranch and a part of the family in such a short time. She had to be with us when we said our final goodbyes.

  I met her in the kitchen. She wore a black dress that came down just past her knees, and she looked regal and put together. Her blonde hair was up in a twist of some sort, and she wore light makeup and kitten heels. She looked more on top of things than I felt.

  “Are you ready?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for this,” I said. “How do I say goodbye?”

  Vanessa hugged me. Sometimes, that was all she could do when there were no answers to be had.

  Andrew came out of the room, sullen and serious. He wore a black suit, too. His hair was too short to slick back; he’d buzzed it off after my mom had died as a sign of mourning—but he looked calm and collected despite the tragedy that had struck our family. Was I the only one that was losing it? It felt like it.

  Andrew had had his freakout at the hospital, but since then, he had seemed to handle things well. Everyone else at the ranch carried on with their duties despite their sorrow. It was only me, it seemed, that couldn’t seem to get my shit together.

  “Let’s go,” Andrew said. “Lance and Alana are meeting us at the church.”

  I nodded, and we headed out to the truck. We drove to town in silence, with Andrew driving and me in the passenger seat. Vanessa sat behind me, but she’d put her hand on my shoulder, and I couldn’t begin to explain how that little bit of contact comforted me.

  When we arrived, everyone else was there. Alana waited for us in front of the church. She hugged each of us before leading us into the church, where she’d reserved our seats in the front. Lance was already there. He nodded to each of us, and I was aware of everyone’s sorrow all around us, of the pain in everyone’s faces. It was a reminder that I wasn’t the only one who had lost her, that I wasn’t the only one hurting.

  They were all here—her family and friends, the workers on the ranch, some of the town’s folk that had been touched by her generosity and kindness. It was beautiful to see how many people had turned up to see her off. She had been well-loved by all.

  As I looked at all the faces, turning in my seat, I realized that despite my mom’s illness and her life being cut short, she had lived a good, full life.

  And she was with my dad now.

  Vanessa reached over to me and squeezed my hand. I lifted her hand to my mouth and kissed her knuckles.

  The ceremony was thoughtful and sweet, but I felt numb throughout. Eulogies were given, memories brought up, and every little speech was accompanied by tears. Andrew also spoke on behalf of the two of us. I didn’t have what it took to stand up and say something. It was all very caring. But I didn’t feel anything—not even sadness. It all felt so surreal. My mom wasn’t dead. She wasn’t in that coffin. We weren’t at her funeral. We weren’t saying goodbye.

  None of it felt real. The only thing that felt real was Vanessa’s hand in mine. It was like an anchor, and I held onto her like she was a lifeline. Everything they were doing for my mom was amazing. Everyone arriving meant a lot. It was nice to see how loved she was.

  But I couldn’t help thinking that she was gone.
What was the point of all of this if she couldn’t see it? We should have done something like this for her when she was still alive so that she could have seen how important she was to them all so that she could feel how much she mattered.

  Now, it was too late.

  After the funeral and the burial, we headed back home. We had agreed that we would open the house to everyone. Vanessa and Alana went into the kitchen as soon as we arrived and took platters with finger food and sandwiches out of the fridge. I hadn’t known that they’d prepared it all.

  Andrew put on coffee and put out cups, and we mingled with the crowd. Lance made sure everyone was taken care of, that everyone had something to drink and something to eat. They were a little team, the four of them, taking care of everyone.

  I was the only one standing around, doing nothing but grieving.

  I accepted condolences from everyone. I nodded and smiled when they said how sorry they were, and I told them I was fine when they asked how I was doing. I ran through the same little rhyme with everyone even though there was no way I could have been fine, no way that their condolences would change anything.

  They were being nice about it, so I was being nice back. But I felt like it was all pointless. My mom was gone and no matter how well-organized the funeral had been, how caring the guests were or how wonderfully my friends arranged the reception after, nothing would change it.

  “Ace,” Alana said, finding me in the living room, sitting on the couch. “Come to the kitchen with me.”

  I blinked at her.

  “Come on,” she said again. I got up and followed her. Her dark hair was pulled back in a bun, and she wore a very flattering dress. I had never seen her dressed up like this. Had she looked like this for my father’s funeral? I couldn’t remember.