Alex

by Monica Robinson

  Brett set the book aside and eyed her wolfishly before taking her hand and pulling her into his lap. She started to protest when he silenced her with a kiss. The scent of his aftershave lingered in her nose and she lost herself in the taste of his sweet kisses and feel of his arms wrapped snugly around her.

  "If that's how you say good-morning in San Eduardo,” she teased once their lips parted, “I just may stick around when my time is up."

  "That's the plan.” He chuckled, but the flicker of emotion in his eyes hinted to something more serious. “There's something I wanted to ask you."

  She didn't like the hesitation in his eyes when he tightened his hold around her. Something was bothering him and if his odd behavior from the night before was any indication, then that something was bothering him greatly.

  "Certainly. Are you okay?"

  He forced a reassuring smile and nodded. “I'm fine. I was just wondering something, that's all.” He cleared his throat and looked at his hands resting on her waist. “Can you see yourself with a man like me?"

  "Brett, I—"

  He didn't let her finish. “I'm not talking about the drugs or the fact that I'm a convict. I'm talking about me and the fact I'm nothing like the other men you've met. I've never had much money and I doubt I ever will."

  One of the things she adored about him was his hard working nature. Money wasn't a factor. At least, it wasn't anymore. Now that she knew there was more to life than buying the newest fashions or eating at the ritziest restaurants, she could appreciate the satisfaction of creating something from nothing.

  "That's what I like about you.” She smoothed the back of his hair, letting her fingertips trail along the nape of his neck. “Most men who have money are overbearing and self-absorbed. They don't care about anyone except themselves. I'm tired of that."

  He closed his eyes before drawing in a deep breath. “So, what is it you're looking for then?"

  Why was he asking her this? Had someone said something to him to make him doubt her? She hoped not. She spent every free moment she could with him and was certain she'd made it clear she wanted to start a relationship with him.

  "Well,” she started. “I want a man to be honest with me. I can't trust anyone who lies to me. I also want him to let me be myself and not think of me as a trophy to put on his mantle."

  "What else?"

  "He has to be loyal. Only cowards cheat and since I wouldn't do that to someone else, I wouldn't want him doing that to me. Lastly, he has to be caring. Insensitive men are my biggest pet peeve.” Her expression softened. “Why are you asking me this?"

  He couldn't quite meet her gaze. “Because, I want to know if you'll wait for me."

  She stared at her fingers absently stroking the fabric of his shirt, her heart pounding in her ears. Under any other circumstance, she would tell him they didn't know each other well enough for that sort of commitment, but this was different. Brett was different. As bizarre as it seemed—even to her—she felt as though he knew her better than anyone ever had. What was more, in many ways Brett was exactly the type of man she was looking for. He was caring, strong and if his relationship with the other boys was any indication, loyal to a fault.

  "I think that's a given.” His eyes enlarged and she shrugged. “Unless Uncle Jason is forced to physically remove me from this property, I'm going to be here for the better part of a year. You'll be free long before then and after that, who knows? I might take it to mind to finish my studies out here. The Gulf could always use a new resort."

  "I've never been to the coast,” he mumbled. “I may have to visit you."

  Alex slid off his lap and stretched her hands out to help him up. Once he was standing, she gestured to the kitchen with her head.

  "You know, it's funny you should say that. I had a dream about you doing just that. I was sitting on a beach, working on a sketch when you appeared,” she replied.

  "Really now?"

  She released his hands and started for the cabinet containing the mixing bowls. If it was the last thing she did, she was going to master the art of pancake making—without Sinclair's assistance. She placed a skillet on the burner.

  "You know, I was thinking. I could do the bulk of my work during the spring and summer months, leaving me free to spend the rest of the year in San Eduardo.” She frowned and twisted her lips to the side. “On second thought, the boys may not want me that close. I did turn their lives upside down."

  Brett let out a sarcastic laugh. “For the better if you ask Charlie.” In a sheepish tone he added, “Mine too, if you want the truth. You may be the most infuriating woman I know, but—"

  "I'm yours.” She peered at him and blushed. “I told you the night we made love to make me yours and you did. Face it, cowboy, you're stuck with me."

  His hands found her waist as he stood behind her. “Does this mean you're my princess?"

  His breath was hot on her neck and warmed not only her belly, but her heart as well. His fingers tightened on her sides while his lips brushed the back of her neck. With treatment like this, she would agree to just about anything.

  "Yes, but you'll have to spoil me with affection. Princesses are high maintenance in that regard."

  Another soft kiss, this time along the side of her neck and as with the previous night, she found herself leaning into him.

  "I can live with that.” His arms encased her in a protective hug. “Have I told you lately you make it awfully hard for me to keep my hands off you?"

  She ran her fingers through the sides of his hair and giggled. “You might have said it once or twice, but I think I should make breakfast before the others come in."

  The threat of a laugh crinkled the edges of Brett's eyes and he shook his head. He released her and fetched the stainless steel bowl filled with eggs. He set the bowl next to the container of milk and reached for a long-handled wooden spoon.

  "You wouldn't happen to want to make breakfast because of Sinclair, would you?"

  She didn't want to admit Sinclair played a large role in her decision, but when she glanced into his playful eyes, she couldn't find it within herself to lie.

  "That's part of it.” Brett's smile widened and she poked him in the shoulder. “Besides, the last time I tried to make pancakes, I dropped the bowl and cut myself. A wise man once told me I had to keep trying until I succeeded."

  He removed the measuring spoons from the drawer next to him. “Wise wouldn't be the word I would use to describe that guy,” he joked. “Annoying is more appropriate."

  She paused in whisking the egg mixture long enough to point the metal stirrer at him. “Watch what you say about my man. I'll take out your other knee if you're not careful."

  "God forbid you do that.” He reached for the canister of flour and winked. “I would hate to be laid up on the couch for another three days with you sleeping nearby."

  She thought of her plan for that evening and a rush of excitement pulled at her insides. She didn't know where they would be safe from prying eyes, but she would worry about that later.

  "How sweet of you to set up the breakfast preparations for me."

  Alex stiffened and slowly turned her head to see Sinclair twisting her hair up into a makeshift bun. She ignored the warning glance Brett was giving her and faked a sweet smile.

  "Actually, Sinclair, I thought I would give you the morning off. I figured that since I was up, I would make breakfast. However, if you insist on helping you're more than welcome to set the table. The other boys should be coming in soon."

  "I wasn't aware you even knew how to cook,” Sinclair drawled and withdrew a stack of plates.

  A faint groan reverberated in the back of Brett's throat. He shook his head and slid the measuring cup full of flour to her.

  "Don't feed into it."

  She didn't intend to. She'd had a good night the night before and her morning was turning out even better. She gave him a reassuring smile before taking the flour and slowly sifting it into the wet mixture.
/>   "I guess I'm full of surprises.” She reached for the baking powder next to her. “One teaspoon or two?"

  "Two.” In a lower voice he added, “Good."

  "So it appears,” Sinclair said with a smug grin. “You certainly were up late last night."

  Brett and Alex froze. Though nothing overly inappropriate had occurred, that wasn't the point. Someone had heard them in her bedroom. The important question was what had Sinclair heard?

  Alex set her jaw. “It was sweet of you to wait up for me, but really it wasn't necessary. You need your beauty sleep far more than I do."

  Okay, maybe she was feeding into it, but she couldn't allow this woman to bring Brett into their disagreements. It had nothing to do with him and she wasn't about to let Sinclair jeopardize his pending freedom.

  Sinclair set the plates down with a hard thud and spun around with her fists on her hips. “Just what is that supposed to mean?"

  The challenge in her voice ignited Alex's temper and she set the spoon down before facing her. “It means you should spend more time worrying about your appeal than on what I'm doing. If I want to stay up until three or four o'clock in the morning, that's my business and I will kindly ask you to keep your surgically altered nose out of it."

  Sinclair gasped as though Alex had slapped her, but when no one so much as blinked, she returned her attention to the table.

  "I see time hasn't changed you, Alexandra. Pity. I guess some people are naturally bitter,” she replied in a flippant tone.

  Alex stifled a comeback. She couldn't do this. The boys’ futures and the future of the Bar K were riding on her ability to keep her temper in check. If it meant biting her tongue clean off, so be it.

  It was apparent however, Brett had heard enough. He set the measuring spoons down and shot Sinclair a dark look.

  "Give it a rest, Sinclair. There are only two women here, so you're guaranteed plenty of attention."

  Sinclair's lips parted in awe. “Is that the impression you get? That I'm looking for attention?"

  "That's exactly what you're doing. I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but if you're looking to be worshiped, you've come to the wrong place.” He turned his attention to the pancake mixture.

  A surge of admiration flooded Alex upon hearing his rebuttal. He had taken her side and it was now obvious that his words had deflated Sinclair's gusto.

  "Thank you,” she whispered without meeting his gaze.

  "She was insulting my woman,” he murmured. “No one is allowed to do that."

  A blush seeped into her cheeks as she added a drizzle of olive oil to the batter.

  Brett's woman.

  She liked the sound of that.

  * * * *

  "Need any help with that?"

  Alex paused in her sanding and glanced down from her position on the ladder. She spotted Hudson standing on the first step of the porch. Her arms ached and she was positive her neck had a permanent crick from tipping her head back for so long, but at least her dark mood had lifted.

  She chuckled while brushing the paint from her shoulders. “Actually, yeah. It appears I'm a bit vertically challenged.” She gestured to the small stack of sandpaper on the railing. “You can start anywhere you'd like."

  He grabbed one of the long sheets and she resumed scouring the underside of the covering. “So tell me, have you lived in Dallas your entire life?"

  "Born and raised.” He peered up at her. “What's a woman from the coldest state in the Union doing way out here? I know you said your old man wanted you to learn responsibility, but isn't this a little far from home?"

  The stepladder wobbled beneath her and she placed her fingertips to the roof for balance. My project is going to end up killing me.

  "It's a long, sordid story,” she said with a shrug. “I'll leave it that the Bar K is looking more like home every day."

  He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “I'm sure your sentiment won't sit well with Sinclair. Y'all must have one nasty history together."

  "There's no love lost between us, that's for sure,” she grunted. “Sinclair will just have to get used to the idea that I'm not going anywhere. I was here first and I'll most likely be here long after she leaves."

  The sanding stopped and she peered down to see a quizzical expression on his handsome face. “But you're not incarcerated. If y'all can't settle your differences, the state will insist you be the one to leave."

  She had a sneaking suspicion that was what Sinclair was hoping for.

  "I know.” The front door opened and she called, “Be careful opening the door. I'm on the ladder."

  Despite her warning, the screen door flew open, slamming into the stepladder with enough force to send it skittering across the wooden planks. Alex's arms windmilled for only a second before she fell backward, her head smacking against the porch railing. Blinding pain exploded behind her eyes and she fought the inky fog threatening to engulf her.

  "Oh, I am so sorry!” Sinclair's voice sounded as though it were coming from a tin can, but there was no mistaking her mocking tone.

  If I can get up, she's mine. Alex placed her hand to the back of her head and a sharp stab of pain greeted her touch along with a warm, sticky substance. She focused on the dark smear of blood on her fingers and grimaced.

  Hudson crouched beside her when she tried to get to her feet. “Take it easy,” he murmured. “You just took a nasty spill."

  Fury replaced the pain and when the stars cleared from her vision, she rose and closed the gap between her and Sinclair.

  "That's it! I've had about all I'm going to take from you. I've tried ignoring you and I've tried avoiding you, but you just won't let things be."

  Sinclair crossed her arms. “Oh? What are you going to do? You didn't have it in you to do anything then and you don't have it in you now."

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hudson bound down the steps and hurry toward the grazing field where Charlie and Matt were working. At least he didn't go for Uncle Jason.

  "Try me.” A smug grin twisted Alex's lips. “By the way, how did it feel to lose the pageant after sabotaging Christie's and my chances of winning? Kind of ironic, don't you think?"

  "Bitch.” Using both hands, Sinclair shoved her down the porch steps. Alex stumbled, but remained on her feet before crooking her finger.

  "Bring it on, honey. You want a fight? You got it."

  She calculated her options. The two would be unobstructed in the road, but with the way Hudson was frantically pointing to them, she estimated they only had a few moments. I'll make them count.

  "Take your best shot,” Sinclair goaded.

  "Gladly,” Alex replied and landed a right hook that caught Sinclair off balance. She grabbed the woman by the shirt and hauled her upright. “How anyone can find you attractive is beyond me.” With that, she shoved her away, grinning when Sinclair tumbled over the fence and into the pig's sty.

  "You'll pay for this!"

  Alex hopped the fence, her feet landing in the mud with a splash. Although the thought of what might be in the sty disgusted her, it was worth it to see Sinclair covered from head to toe in the foul smelling muck.

  "I'm waiting.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You might want to make this quick, though. The others are coming."

  Charlie was hurrying toward the altercation at a dead run, with Matt close behind. She returned her attention to Sinclair and wiggled her fingers in a come-here gesture.

  Sinclair lunged, catching Alex around the waist sending them toppling to the ground. Mud streaked her cheeks and saturated her hair as she drew back her fist and slammed it into Alex's jaw.

  "Holy shit,” she heard Daniel call from somewhere off to the left. “They're really brawling."

  Enraged that Sinclair had been able to get in a lucky shot, she wrapped her fingers in the woman's filthy blonde hair and rolled to the side.

  "Stop them!” Brett shouted.

  Mud oozed down Alex's back and into her shorts as she gripp
ed Sinclair's hair and dragged her toward the trough. She threw a quick look behind her to see the men rushing toward the fight, none of them believing what they were seeing.

  "You want me to stop that?” Daniel inquired in awe. “Alex will kick my ass if I go in there."

  Had she not been so angry she might have laughed at his comment, but as it stood she was positively fuming. Using what little strength she had, Alex flipped Sinclair into the pig's trough with a stomach-churning splash and held her head beneath the slop. Bits of food and water spilled out of the feed box, incensing the three large hogs who had been trying to eat.

  "What's going on here?"

  Alex loosened her grip and whipped her dirty, wet head in the direction of the voice. Parked in the middle of the road were two white sedans with government license plates.

  Oh my God. It's the state! Even as she thought this, Sinclair slammed her feet into her chest, sending Alex reeling until she fell to her rear.

  "Steven, get Sinclair while I grab Alex.” Jason climbed over the fence and gripped her arm. He lowered his voice while hauling Alex to her feet, “I'll give you credit, darlin'. You have impeccable timing."

  She lowered her head and allowed her uncle to lead her out of the pigpen. Waiting for her were a group of three men and women along with two additional deputies from the sheriff's office.

  "Does this sort of thing happen often, Mr. Kincaid?"

  Alex lifted her head and shot her uncle a terrified look. He remained emotionless and shook his head.

  "No, Ms. Barton. This is the first my prisoners have fought amongst themselves. I assure you nothing like this will occur again,” he said, loosening his grip on his niece.

  Ms. Barton lifted an eyebrow and motioned for the uniformed men to step forward. “I am in total agreement with you, Mr. Kincaid. It appears the addition of females to this institution was a mistake and one we will remedy right now.” She looked Alex over in distaste. “Someone will be by to fetch your belongings, Miss—"

  "Kincaid,” Alex murmured. “My name is Alexandra Kincaid."

  "Kincaid?” Another, this time a tall thin man dressed in a black suit, asked. “Are you kin to this woman, Mr. Kincaid?"