Cowboy to Command

by Sabrina York

  And then, if the Cowboys should happen to lose, Ford clomped around like a bear with a sore tooth for at least a week. And by then, it was time for the next game. So yeah, not her favorite.

  She could only hope that Claire and Lisa would come over with the boys and they could engage in Cards Against Humanity or Parcheesi or something.

  “I have margaritas in the blender,” Crystal said as Porsche came back into the kitchen.

  “Excellent.” Porsche smiled at her boss-slash-sister-in-law. With golden hair and green eyes, she looked like an angel, but she was a devil in the boardroom. Of course, now that she’d married Ford and moved to Snake Gully, the boardroom was the dining room, but whatever. She was a brilliant businesswoman. And a good friend. And a maestro in the margarita department. “Your margaritas kick ass.”

  “They need to,” Crystal said with a smirk, “if we want to drown out all the football hullabaloo.”

  Porsche picked up a rumaki and popped it in her mouth. She moaned, because it was awesome, and then, before she had swallowed it all, said, “Who all is coming again?” Surely she wasn’t hoping to hear Brandon’s name. That would be insane.

  “Cody.” Crystal flicked a look at her, probably expecting to see orgasmic raptures at his name, but she was bound for disappointment, because Porsche had been working on her impulse control. “And Cade, of course.”

  “Mmm hmm?”

  “Charlie is a maybe. Depends on his schedule.”

  “Makes sense. Anyone else?”

  “Wayne.”

  Not the name she was looking for.

  “And the girls, of course.”

  “That will be fun.” It would be, but Porsche couldn’t infuse any enthusiasm in her tone. Because deep in her heart of hearts, she’d been hoping Brandon would come.

  She hadn’t been able to get that kiss out of her mind and had decided she needed to kiss him again, just to prove to herself it had been a fluke.

  It had been. Hadn’t it?

  Kissing him again was the only way to find out.

  But if he wasn’t coming, her best bet for tonight was to hunker in, pound back the margaritas, and try to have a good time.

  She knew the minute everyone arrived. It was as though a circus had magically transported into the living room. A great roar of voices and greetings bounced off the high rafters and wafted into the kitchen.

  “They’re here,” Crystal said.

  “Yay.” Porsche took another sip of her margarita, but then froze when she heard something scintillating.

  A bark.

  Not the deep, full-throated bark of one of Ford’s hounds, who had been relegated to the barn for the evening, but a high-pitched adorable puppy bark.

  How strange that such a small thing could make her heart shoot into a manic rhythm. She set her glass on the counter, nearly missing it, and bolted into the living room. Yes! There, in the midst of all the other faces . . . was Brandon.

  Heat flooded her face as their gazes tangled, and he grinned. She couldn’t help grinning back. He held Dougal in his arms, and that was an invitation to approach if she’d ever seen one.

  “Well hello there, darling,” she cooed. To the pooch. “How’s my baby doing?” She glanced up at Brandon as she helped herself to the dog and he graciously let her have him. She didn’t miss the way his hand trailed heat on her skin where they touched. She didn’t miss the scorching message in his eyes either.

  “Oh my God,” Crystal said, horning in on her lovefest. She pushed between them and took the puppy from Porsche. “Is this Dougal? He’s so cute.”

  This, of course, started off a cacophony of oohs and coos from the female contingent and eye rolling from most of the men. But they were all paying attention to the dog, so Porsche took her chance to sidle up to Brandon.

  “You came,” she said in a whisper.

  He nodded. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  Mind? Not in the least. “Can I get you a drink? What’s your poison?”

  He chuckled. “What do you have?”

  “Just about anything. Soda too, if you prefer it.”

  “A beer is fine.”

  “I’d like a beer too.” This from Cody, who apparently didn’t care to be ignored by her. Which was progress, she supposed.

  She shot him a carefree smile. “Sure. Anyone else like a beer?”

  Hands shot up and Porsche counted, then she and Crystal went into the kitchen to fill the orders. Lisa and Claire followed them. Because they all knew once the beers were distributed and the game was on, none of the men would have any use for them. And vice versa.

  “What do we have?” Claire asked, flipping through the stack of DVDs Crystal had left out by the TV in the breakfast nook. Though it was hardly a “nook.” It took up a generous portion of the airy kitchen.

  Crystal tipped back her chin and recited the offerings by heart. “Half-naked Spartan warriors, half-naked Highlanders, almost completely naked male dancers—”

  “Bah,” Claire grunted. “Too much like work.”

  “For you,” Crystal said with a grin. “Think of the rest of us. We hardly ever get to see oiled-down men shakin’ their groove thang.”

  “Right,” Claire said. “That’s hardly my fault. It’s not as though Ford doesn’t know all the right moves.” Which was funny, considering when Crystal and Ford had met, she’d mistaken him for one of Cody’s dancers.

  Still, Porsche clapped her hands over her ears and howled, “Stop. TMI. TMI.”

  Claire chuckled as she sorted through the films and held up one. “How about this?”

  “Pride and Prejudice?” Lisa frowned. “But they all have their clothes on. I think you’re missing the point of this party.”

  “But it’s a good movie.”

  Porsche shook her head and filled a glass with liquid heaven and thrust it at her friend. “You need a drink.”

  “She does,” Lisa declared. “And me too. And I vote for half-naked Spartans.”

  “What about the Highlanders?” Porsche asked. Seeing them prance around and moon the British army was one of her favorite parts.

  “But they all die,” Lisa warbled.

  “And the Spartans skip off into the sunset?”

  “No idea. I’ve never watched that movie ’til the end.”

  Porsche shook her head and frowned at Lisa. “You are such a Philistine.”

  “Sue me.”

  “Okay. That settles it.” Crystal said, although Porsche was unclear about what had settled anything. But, knowing Crystal—and considering her determination as she marched over and popped a movie into the DVD player—it was probably just a ploy to get her own way. When the familiar stripper music blared out, they all groaned. But no one complained in earnest, because the movie was just background noise.

  Also, almost completely naked male dancers.

  Ford poked his head into the kitchen and caught Crystal’s attention. “’Scuse me? Those beers?”

  “Coming right up,” she said with a blithe smile. He sighed and made his way to the fridge. Like any good husband, he knew it would be quicker to do it himself.

  But he needed a little help, so Porsche stepped forward and grabbed one of the beers he had uncapped. “I’ll take this to Brandon,” she said, and sashayed into the living room.

  Her gaze fell on him immediately, because he sat in the chair by the big bay window overlooking the drive. She flashed him a smile and waggled the beer.

  “Are we going to have to share?” Cody said in a joking manner. Or maybe not a joking manner.

  Porsche fluttered her lashes at him. “Ford is bringing the rest,” she said as she made her way to Brandon. “Here you go,” she said in a sickly sweet voice, handing him his beer.

  “You’re a doll,” he responded.

  “I do try.”

&nb
sp; “Oh, please.” Cody rolled his eyes.

  “What? Can’t a guy show a woman a little appreciation when she brings him a beer?” Brandon asked with faux innocence.

  “A guy should,” she said in a pedantic tone which was, of course, directed at Cody. He’d never shown her a lick of appreciation.

  It pleased her that he seemed disgruntled.

  But when Brandon pulled her down onto his lap and pressed a loud and smoochy kiss to her cheek, her obsession with Cody scuttled. Brandon was a better cushion than he should have been, considering how hard his muscles were. He was warm and his arms enrobed her in a comforting way. It was a perfect fit.

  She would have stayed there all night—despite her distaste for football—if Ford hadn’t shot them the look.

  It was a look she was used to, but poor Brandon had no idea what it meant. So she wiggled off his lap and laughed and said, “Y’all enjoy the game now,” and rushed back to the kitchen.

  But his heat? It stayed with her. And it scorched her to the tips of her ears.

  • • •

  Brandon was a huge football fan and loved the Cowboys, but he had a hell of a time focusing on the game. He whooped when the others did and wailed in their wake, but his attention was on the fact that he could still feel the imprint of Porsche’s body on his lap.

  He probably shouldn’t have given in to the impulse to pull her down on him, but it had seemed natural and playful and right. Once he had her there, he hadn’t wanted to let her go.

  He hadn’t missed Ford’s frown, but he hadn’t cared a whole lot either.

  When he saw Porsche slip out of the kitchen and into the hall, he followed, on the pretense of looking for the bathroom. Dougal had long ago fallen asleep on Cade’s lap and was only moderately disrupted when a holler went around the room.

  Brandon made his way from the great room into the shadows of the hall and was delighted to see Porsche emerging from a room with a sweater.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  Her smile was a little shy. “Not really. I thought I’d go for a walk.”

  “Do you want some company?”

  Her gaze seared him. “I thought you were watching the game.”

  “I am. They’re losing.”

  “Bummer.”

  “So a walk sounds . . . nice. Besides, I thought maybe we could practice.”

  She cocked her head. He loved the way her silky black hair fell to the side. “Practice?”

  “Practice making Cody jealous.”

  “Oh, what a delightful idea. What did you have in mind?”

  “Walk past the window holding hands?”

  “That would work.”

  “More kissing, maybe.” He’d noticed the big bay window. It would be a perfect frame for their silhouettes.

  She frowned—he didn’t like that she frowned. “In front of the window?”

  “Naturally. It would hardly cause jealousy if Cody didn’t see.”

  “Yeah but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “Ford would see.”

  “Is there some reason Ford shouldn’t see?”

  She wrinkled her nose. She was so cute when she did that. “Ford is overprotective.”

  “You’re a grown woman.”

  “That’s what I keep telling him!”

  “Well, I think we should give it a try.”

  She studied him with a hint of concern in her eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Kissing her was always a good idea.

  “You are a brave man.”

  He chuckled. He’d faced explosions, live fire, and months in recovery and therapy after losing his reason for living. And he’d survived. He’d bounced back. “I think I can handle your brother.”

  “Well okay then.” She held out her arm and he took it, but when he headed toward the front door she shook her head. “This way,” she said, leading him out the back.

  He didn’t know why he felt like a skulker, slipping into the shadows behind the house, but then reminded himself he kind of was.

  “Wait.” He stopped her before they rounded the corner into the front yard. “Don’t you think we should warm up?”

  “Warm up?”

  “You know. So we get it right.”

  “Oh.” Her brow lifted and her eyes shone in the moonlight. “Warm up. Okay.”

  She stepped into his arms and pressed her body against his, and he shuddered. It was awesome holding her, here in the dark, for no one’s benefit but his own. But then he had to revise his opinion. It was more awesome still when she tipped up her face and smiled at him. His heart gave a thump and he sighed.

  “You are beautiful, you know,” he murmured. He hadn’t intended to. The words just came out.

  Her brow wrinkled. “I’m okay-looking.”

  He had to laugh, because she was deluded. “Your face is perfect.”

  “My nose is snubby.”

  He kissed it. “I think your nose is cute. And your eyes are so dark and deep.”

  “The color of cow pies.”

  “Chocolate.”

  “My chin is pointy.”

  He pressed his lips there too. “It’s elegant.”

  “And my lips . . .” She paused and flicked a glance at him, one he was certain was hopeful.

  “Your lips?”

  “Too large.”

  “Do you think so?” he said with a laugh.

  She frowned at him. “Don’t you think?”

  “Not in the least. They are perfect.” And then he gave her what she’d been angling for. A kiss on those perfect, pouty lips. Something tender and gentle, because he didn’t want to get carried away.

  But of course, he did.

  It was her fault, for responding the way she did. He was totally prepared to be restrained—there was a house full of people just beyond that wall, after all—but she incited him to madness.

  Maybe it wasn’t madness. Maybe it was magic, because this kiss, as the one before it, was delicious and dragged him down into a mellow pleasure that seeped into his bones.

  It didn’t stay mellow for long. A simmering fire that had been turned to high by an unseen hand flared between them. He pressed her back, until she was braced against the house, and consumed her. Laving, lapping, delving deep. She responded in kind, raking his hair with her nails and nipping at him with a passion that made him dizzy.

  Her scent engulfed him with her every move, her cries inflamed him.

  When he kissed his way down her cheek to nuzzle at that sweet spot at the crux of her neck, she arched into him with a feral moan. He winced when she tugged at his hair, but he didn’t mention it, because he liked it so much. He liked all of this so much, he didn’t want to stop.

  An unwelcome sound behind him gave him pause. A snort of some kind. Or a growl.

  It might have been that bull he’d saved her from, coming to haunt him.

  Or it was Ford.

  “Porsche.” Her name, low and throaty, rumbled toward them.

  She froze in his arms and stared up at him, eyes wide. When she glanced over his shoulder at her brother, they widened more.

  “Porsche, go inside.”

  Oh crap. Ford didn’t sound neighborly at all.

  Porsche put out a lip. “We’re . . . in the middle of something.”

  “I can see that. And thank God I came outside to look for you before you got to the end of that something.”

  “Ford, I am a grown woman.”

  “I’m well aware of how old you are. Now please, do me the great honor of obeying me for once.”

  To Brandon’s surprise—or not surprise—Porsche didn’t obey; she turned around and shielded him with her body, which, all things considered, was very thoughtful of her. As much as he appreciated the gesture, h
e knew that at some point, he and Ford were going to have to have this conversation. He’d come here tonight expecting it. So he eased her to the side.

  “It’s okay, honey,” he said, kissing her on the forehead.

  She pushed back in front of him. “No it’s not. It’s Ford. He saw us kissing.”

  “I can handle Ford.”

  There was no call for Ford to snort derisively; Brandon was only trying to help.

  “Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I couldn’t face your brother, man to man?”

  “Boyfriend?”

  “Calm down, Ford,” Porsche warbled, holding out her hands as a defensive measure. “Don’t hit him. He wasn’t kissing me. I was kissing him.”

  Well really—he didn’t need this tiny slip of a woman defending him. Besides, “I believe I was kissing her.”

  Ford crossed his arms. His big, beefy, bulging arms. “I noticed.” His gaze speared his sister. “Go inside.”

  “But Ford—”

  “Go. Inside.”

  She shot a look at Brandon, one that intimated this might be the last time she saw him alive. He thought perhaps there was even a tear in her eye. “Did I mention he saved my life?” she said in a woebegone voice.

  “Porsche.” This rumble had the desired effect. Porsche turned and, plodding along as though all hope was lost, made her way to the front porch.

  Chapter Ten

  Once Porsche was out of sight, Ford’s attention whipped back to Brandon. “Well?” he said. Just that. Just, Well?

  Brandon saw no reason to prevaricate. If a smackdown was coming, he was ready for it. He would fight for her if he had to.

  “I like her.” There. Simple. Honest. Straightforward.

  Ford snorted again. Honestly, he really was beginning to resemble that bull. Brandon wondered idly if he might consider getting a nose ring. “I can tell that you like her. Apparently no one warned you about me.” He leaned in, as though he could intimidate Brandon with his bulk. And to be honest, he did.

  But Brandon had learned the importance of standing up to a threat. He’d learned to fight for what he wanted. He would not back down.