What a damn shame. He hadn’t known life without Dean. He was just a boy when Dean bought the property next door and turned it into a prosperous farm. Brock had grown mighty fond of him. “You need help leading them up that hill?”
Dean appeared to be gathering a head count on the cows. “No, I can take it from here.”
Brock backed away from the herd as Dean fell into step and began guiding them home.
Thwack!
A blood-curdling howl followed the blow.
“Oh my God,” Tiff screamed.
A loud thump and an ugh proceeded her shrill cry.
Brock’s gaze shot to her car. She threw open the door and took off running toward the herd. If she spooked them, hell, she’d likely start a stampede.
Aw shit.
In that instant she dropped out of sight. He trotted a circle around the cattle and saw her kneeling beside Ryan who was laid out on the ground holding his shin. His hat lay ten feet behind him. “Damn tenderfoot,” Brock mumbled. Amazingly, the herd seemed unscathed by the commotion, and kept drifting along behind Dean.
Brock ambled to the scene and squatted at Ryan’s waist. Tiff already had his pant leg rolled up and was examining the damage. A cow had planted a hoof below his knee. Aside from the welting print, he wasn’t tearing up, nor bruising, so Brock didn’t suspect any broken bones. It wouldn’t surprise him if Ryan’s pride suffered the majority of the injury. “I told you to stay out of their blind spot. I reckon you need to learn things the hard way.”
Ryan shook his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. It appeared he wasn’t breathing. Likely because he’d chosen to hold his breath. From prior experience, he knew that was how the boy dealt with pain. “You might want to loosen your hold on those teeth before they crack.”
Tiff glanced at him in disbelief. “How can you be so insensitive, Brock? He’s in pain.”
If looks could kill, he’d be flat on the ground beside Ryan, suffering a slow, cruel death. “I know it, darlin’, but taking it out on his molars isn’t going to help.”
“What do we do now? Should we take him to the hospital?” She rubbed the back of her hand along Ryan’s cheek in a maternal way.
“We’ll let him decide when he gains his bearings.” Damn, he wouldn’t mind having her doctor his wounds. It would almost be worth getting kicked in the groin.
“I’m okay,” Ryan said through clenched teeth. He took a deep breath and tried sitting up. He made it to his elbows and paused.
“Is the kid all right?” Dean yelled.
Brock glanced ahead. Dean stood on the hillside while the cows continued moving. Obviously, he’d needed to stop for a breather. If the trek downhill winded him, he couldn’t imagine how the old farmer felt during the incline. Brock shot him a thumbs-up, and then placed a palm on Ryan’s back to help him sit straight. “Think you need medical attention?”
Ryan shook his head. “Just some air. The dang landin’ stole my breath.”
Brock stood, offering a hand. When Ryan latched onto it, he pulled him to his feet. “Let’s call it a day. You need me to drive you home?”
“Nah, just take me to my truck.”
Tiff wrapped her arms around Ryan’s elbow and escorted him toward the vehicle. Brock followed closely on their heels. Ryan walked with a slight limp, but he seemed fine. So Brock allowed his gaze the liberty of feeling up Tiff’s backend. Skirts hadn’t done it justice. Hell, he knew they housed a great package, but the tight denim hugging those curves left nothing to the imagination. And that eye-catching wiggle, he had a few body parts that wouldn’t mind wiggling along with it.
Damn him, he was bound for hell for such thoughts.
It was the third time he’d been honored by her presence, and she still wore no rings on her fingers. Maybe she wasn’t hitched, but he couldn’t dismiss the possibility she might be in a relationship. In that case, he hoped the lucky fool knew what a gem he she was.
Why’d he abstain from taking a piece of her last week when she’d stepped out of Bobby’s closet? Hell, the way she’d unwound, and against his leg of all places, he could’ve had her right then and there on the bedroom floor. And the night prior? He couldn’t think about it without popping a boner. She’d had ten hands, and they’d been all over him while trying to rip off his clothes. He’d had to practically hogtie her to keep her at bay. Finally, he’d bound her in his arms until she’d fallen asleep. It ended up the worst night of his life. Damn male pride had a habit of getting in the way, otherwise he would’ve obliged her advances. But he didn’t want anyone calling him a ruthless womanizer for taking advantage of a drunk female.
Stroking her off with her favorite toy wasn’t ruthless? Seemed he’d tainted his own reputation.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Tiff asked Ryan, her soft voice breaking into Brock’s thoughts.
“Yes, ma’am, thank you.”
“My name is Tiffany.” She opened the passenger door on the truck.
“It’s my pleasure,” Ryan said, ducking his head and taking a seat inside the vehicle.
She closed him inside. “I’ll see you at the house.”
Brock climbed into the driver’s side and waited until Tiff situated herself in her car. He waved her forward and then followed her up the road. She parked parallel to his front door as he drove Ryan to his truck by the barn. “I imagine you’re going to be sore for a few days,” Brock said. “Ice that leg when you get home.”
“I will. I’ll see you Monday.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” Brock exited the vehicle and headed toward the house.
Tiff’s trunk was open, but she stood beside the driver’s door, facing Farmer Dean’s property, talking on her phone. Trying not to disturb the conversation, Brock removed a box from the trunk and carried it inside. When he returned for the second box, she was leaning against the car with an elbow resting on the roof, and hand covering her forehead.
“Troy, I don’t care,” she said into the phone.
Her voice had sounded a bit strained, as if it were a serious call. Brock didn’t want to interfere none. After he quietly closed the trunk and deposited the package in the house, he took a seat on the porch swing.
Chains creaked. Tiffany glanced over her shoulder to see Brock swaying back and forth. Hopefully, he was out of hearing range, she’d hate to have him witness the animosity between her and her brother.
She focused her attention on the driveway rocks at her feet. “Didn’t we just have this discussion two nights ago while bagging party orders?” she asked Troy.
“Yes, we did. But I’m not dropping the subject until you see things clearly.”
“Listen, this is the last time I‘m—”
“Damn it, Tiffany, she’s been out for a week already, and you haven’t even tried contacting her. Not even by phone.”
“And I’m not going to. What don’t you get?”
“Cut her some slack.”
“Slack?” How dare he even suggest that? “Did she cut me any slack when she locked me up with no blankets? Did she cut me any slack when she sent that brutal monster down to rape me?” A deep, eternal ache wrapped around her heart. “I guess she did me a favor, because that’s the night I broke free.”
“She was—”
“Looking out for her own well-being.”
“She’s not like that anymore.”
“It doesn’t matter, the damage is done.” She stole another peek over her shoulder. Brock had moved from the swing to the top porch step. “I don’t ever want to discuss this subject with you again. It’s killing our relationship.”
“So you don’t ever want to see me again either?”
“That’s not what I said. You’ll never understand the situation from my perspective. She’s blindsided you.”
“Quite acting like a baby, Tiffany.”
“Troy, I have belt scars, and burn scars, and fingernail scars.” She folded her lips, blinking back tears, and glanced at long narro
w scars from a belt buckle on her forearm as a reminder. No one else could see them unless she pointed them out, but they were there, deeply embedded like the incidents which caused then. She’d only asked for something to eat and received a beating instead. “Like I told you before, if you want to see my emotional scars, just look into my eyes.”
“It’s all about forgiveness. Isn’t that what life’s about, Tiffany?”
“I’ll never forgive her for locking me down there. I’ll never forgive her for beating me for no reason.” She inhaled sharply as the tears let loose. One dribbled along the side of her nose. She wiped it off with the back of her hand. “Nor will I ever forgive her for trying to steal my innocence.” She snapped the phone shut and wiped away more tears. Inhaling a deep breath, she turned around, and nearly face-planted into Brock’s huge chest.
His strong hands swallowed her shoulders as he looked deeply into her eyes.
She forced a meek smile. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.” She held up the cell phone. “My brother Troy, the peacemaker.”
“Didn’t sound like he was making much peace.”
“He means well.” Hopefully she’d swept away all evidence of the tears.
“Anything I can do?” Brock removed his palms from her shoulders and took hold of her hand.
She looked down at his powerful fingers. The secure grip calmed her instantly.
“Come inside with me, darlin’.”
She nodded.
“Can I offer you something to drink?”
“I’ll pour myself a glass of water, thank you.”
When they stepped into the moderately sized kitchen, the scent of fresh sawdust and wood stain filled her nostrils.
Brock set a glass of ice water on the table. “It’s not spiked, I promise. You hungry?”
She shook her head while admiring the intricate woodwork in the beautiful room. A butcher block table matched the counter tops. Tucked deep into a corner on the counter beneath the cabinetry sat an empty, etched glass vase. She stepped closer for a better view. “That’s gorgeous, Brock. Why isn’t it filled with flowers?”
He cocked a brow. “Do I look the flower type?” He picked it up and placed it in her hands. “It used to be my grandma’s. Pure leaded crystal.”
It was heavy. Really heavy. She handed it back immediately so she wouldn’t drop it. Breaking a family heirloom would hound her conscious for a very long time.
She walked to the table, admiring everything in sight. Dark hardwood covered the floor, and modern, beige appliances were surrounded by walls of cabinets. The house’s interior appeal was totally the opposite of the exterior. It looked as if it should be featured in a magazine as every woman’s dream kitchen.
She walked to the edge of the room and gazed into a breathtaking family room topped with wooden cathedral ceilings. The entire back stone wall housed a fireplace. The furniture consisted of a combination of oak, which matched the floor, and rust-colored suede fabric. A white fur rug lay directly in front of the hearth. Through an open doorway to the left, she spotted a mechanical bull sitting dead center in the room. Were all cowboy homes equipped with one for sport? Situated behind it sat some type of weight machine.
“Like it?” Brock asked at her back.
He was so close his breath filtered through her hair. She nodded. Her legs suddenly trembled, and an urge to snuggle in his arms evolved. Normally, she didn’t feel vulnerable when walking through her past, but craving Brock’s affection proved how desperately she needed someone strong to hold onto.
Would he embrace her if she initiated a hug?
As comforting as it may be, she slashed the idea. Prior episodes of rejection left huge emotional scars, so acting on impulse or temptation was out of the question.
He began stroking her arms from shoulders to elbows. Not falling against him proved to be the hardest thing she’d ever done. The friction from his palms intensified as he stepped closer, so close his chest whisked the back of her head. Static lifted a few strands of her hair and they crackled against his denim shirt.
“You trying to set me on fire?” he whispered, smoothing the hairs into place. “You’ve had me burning up for a week now.” He pulled her to his chest, locking arms dominantly around her stomach.
The deep rumble in his voice shook her to her panties. Her heart sank. Instinctively, she closed her eyes and took hold of his wrists. While warm skin and coarse hairs filled her palms, the tension brought on by Troy melted as if someone pulled it from her body with an invisible thread.
“Why are you trembling?” Brock nuzzled his face in her neck. “Am I scaring you?”
He couldn’t scare her if he tried. She shook her head, because if she’d open her mouth now to speak, she’d turn around and kiss him. And she couldn’t risk disengaging from his secure arms. There, she felt safe and protected. She was tired of taking charge of her life, and for once, she wanted someone to take charge of her, to make her feel wanted and cared for. At the moment it didn’t matter whether or not it was temporary.
Long locks tickled her chest when he removed a section of hair hanging along her breasts and laid it over her shoulder. The side of her neck was revealed as the weight now tapered down her back. Cool air united with the bare skin, forcing chills along her spine. He planted his lips on a tender spot below her ear and kissed it gently.
She gasped and tilted her head.
“Now am I scaring you?”
Not a chance. Again, she shook her head. Placing her fingers on the back of his neck, she encouraged him to continue.
The first flick of his tongue beneath her earlobe shot a wave of heat through her veins. As he continued to her collar bone, a stream of desire flowed from her body to her panties.
“Now?”
“Uh-uh.”
He uncrossed his arms and slid both palms along the center of her stomach. “What about now?”
“No,” she said through a rush of breath.
With a featherlight caress, he stroked her breasts, pausing to toy with her nipples through her shirt. They instantly peaked into hard buds.
“And now?”
She spun around, placing her hands on his cheeks. The soft whiskers prickled her palms as she rubbed his jawbone. “You don’t scare me, Brock, I scare myself. My body loses control when I’m near you.” That pretty much explained why she’d let him rub her off with the dildo in Bobby’s bedroom. Hopefully, he understood.
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Yes.” She slid her hand from his cheek to the back of his neck, massaging the taut cords, drawing his face closer. She stood on tiptoes and patted her lips against his. “A very bad thing.”
“Then I suggest it’s time I walk you to your car.”
She took the liberty to trace his mouth with her tongue. His hard penis dug into her belly. She pressed into it, drawing a groan from his throat. “Or?” she asked, batting her lashes.
“I reckon we’ll end up doing something you’ll regret.”
“I won’t regret it.”
“I recall your previous actions when you thought we’d slept together.”
“I’d just met you. I don’t have sex with men on a first acquaintance.”
“The third time is okay?”
“The third time is the charm.” Why couldn’t she curb the craving for his luscious body? “But only with you.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that?”
She kissed a trail from the corner of his mouth to his chest, separating his shirt, and tasted his skin. So hot and salty. “I swear, Brock, if you give me this one night, I’ll walk away and you’ll never see me again.”
“I don’t want to be the face behind your guilt, darlin’. I have higher morals than that. If anyone’s going to wake in the morning beating me up, I’d prefer it be me.”
For a brief second she wanted to cry. Not only because she hadn’t expected that reaction, but because it brought every prior incident of rejection crashing down on her shoulders. She str
aightened her back proudly, wanting nothing more than to run from the room, but she stepped out of his arms and smiled. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
She adjusted her shirt at the waist for no reason other than to banish nervous energy. “If you want to chum around someday, give me a call.” She turned and walked out of the house to her car, refusing to look back. Tears were inevitable, and if she glanced over her shoulder, she’d bawl like a baby. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing that weakness. And as she sat down in the car and started the engine, she mentally kicked herself in the ass. This was by far the worst beating her pride had taken.
What in the hell just happened? Had she come on too strong? Was he toying with her as payback? Was it something she said? What?
Just as she pushed in the clutch and grabbed the gear shift, Brock reached inside the car and shut off the ignition. Her heart lurched, yet her defenses stood on alert. Never again would she repeat that same mistake. Never. It hurt like hell.
Without uttering a word, he opened the door. She waited for an apology or explanation, but he remained silent as he took her by the hand and led her into the house. In the kitchen, he lifted her in his arms before he carried her to his bedroom where he gently laid her on the sheeted bed. Almost immediately the spongy mattress conformed to her body.
His gaze locked on hers as he unbuttoned his shirt and began sliding it off his broad shoulders. “I’ll give you this one night, but you’re not walking away. If you never want to see me again, then get out now.”
What could she say? Surprisingly, nothing. In her muddled state, she shook her head.
“This cowboy doesn’t ride ‘um and run ‘um off.”
“I…” She cleared her throat. “That’s not what I meant.” His large chest emerged from beneath the shirt when he removed it to toss on the floor. She inhaled sharply, her fingers itching to touch the masculine contours. “I didn’t want you to think you’d be stuck with me.”
“When I’m done with you, if you choose not to visit my doorstep ever again, you’d better at least say goodbye.”
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