by Maree, Kay
“Jake!” I barked.
He didn’t try to hide the roguish look in his eyes, nor his lop-sided smirk. I eyeballed him while he held my warning glare.
We needed a change of subject immediately. “So, how did the shopping go?” I asked the girls.
Louisiana’s shoulders visibly relaxed and she let out a breath. Rory’s face came to life.
“It went so well. Jeans, boots and shirts, just as you requested,” she drawled with an eye roll, then added, “And a Stetson, obviously, and the most gorgeous underwear-”
“Rory!” Louisiana yelled and slogged her on the arm.
My sister threw her head back and laughed at the high ceiling. Damn her for making me wonder exactly what they purchased. I shifted in my seat and forced my concentration to return to my food.
“What!” Rory exclaimed. “It’s nice!”
Jake snorted, then chimed in. “Ain’t no need for nice panties out here, ladies.”
My sister arched a brow and pegged Jake with a savage stare. “And who says we can’t wear nice panties? Tell him, Brandon!”
I leaned back in my chair and pointed a finger at her. “Girl, I’m staying out of this. Just eat will ya. I’ve got shit to do after lunch.”
“Like what?” Rory asked.
“Like teaching the jailbird to ride, that’s what,” Jake sniggered through his mouthful.
Louisiana’s eyes widened and filled with fear. “Oh no! We discussed this.”
I set my elbows on the table. “It’s imperative you learn, Louisiana.”
“You’ll love it,” Rory chimed in with a reassuring tone. “And Bran’s a great teacher.”
Despite the high—and rare—praise from my little sister, trepidation rolled off Louisiana in waves thick enough to reach my end of the table. The last thing I wanted was for her to be anxious about getting in the saddle because the horse would pick up on her apprehension. I had just the mare in mind—she was gentle, settled, and one of the quietest horses we had on the ranch. If any horse could coax Louisiana into the saddle, it would be Dottie.
It didn’t go unnoticed that Louisiana nibbled on the rest of her lunch instead of wolfing it back like the rest of us. She mindlessly picked it apart and pinched off tiny pieces of bread to nibble. Seeing her fretting made me feel bad for pushing her, but the more she put it off, the longer it would take to build that confidence. As it was, it was going to be one hell of a challenge.
After we pushed away from the table with full bellies, I helped Rory clean up the kitchen then said goodbye to her at the front door. While I appreciated her assistance with the shopping, she was a small dose kind of gal since she always broke something I owned. Simply put, she was too damn rough! Ma blamed me for picking on her as a kid, and I blamed Rory because she was a little shit most of the time. Regardless, I gave her a hug before she headed off to Ma and Pop’s place nestled at the far boundary of the ranch.
Louisiana waited on the swinging porch seat and watched my sister drive away, slinging gravel as she went.
Turning my back on the dust cloud, I leaned my ass against the porch railing to face Louisiana. “Feeling okay?”
She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. "I'm more of a small animal type of person. Horses are so damn big!”
I snorted and gripped the railing on either side of my body. "How 'bout you start on the chickens, then I'll introduce you to Dottie after that. She’s a sweetheart.”
Some anxiousness left Louisiana’s features, and she nodded. “Okay, so let them out and check the eggs?”
Nodding, I gestured for her to follow me. “And check the nesting coop—we’re expecting hatched chicks any day.”
If I didn’t know better, real awe lit in her baby blues. “Like little fluffy yellow chicks?”
“Like little fluffy yellow chicks,” I confirmed with a chuckle.
Louisiana did well to hide her excitement, but I sensed it rising as we approached the coop. So, she had a clucky side, eh?
The disappointment over not having baby chickens today took some of the wind out of her sails, though at least it served to take her attention off riding a horse.
“Pop the eggs inside, darlin’, otherwise Blue will eat them. And chuck on a pair of jeans before you come back out. It’ll save your thighs from sufferin’ saddle burn.”
I held my breath and hoped that she would comply without argument, but as soon as her gaze narrowed into slits I knew it was wishful thinking.
“Enough about the goddamn jeans!” she exclaimed and turned on her heel.
Watching her huff and stomp up the porch steps had me grinning. It wasn’t funny, and it was extremely unprofessional of me, but I was beginning to enjoy razzing her just enough to see sparks come to life. It gave an edge to her pretty appearance—one that I liked a hell of a lot more than I should.
Deciding to get Dottie sorted while I waited, I grabbed a bridle from the barn then climbed over the gate into the horse field. I let out a shrill whistle, then called the mare over. In contrast to my stallion, Dottie took her sweet time ambling my way but looked majestic while doing so.
She came to a stop before me and waited patiently while I slipped the bridle over her head. I led her through the barn, then tied her to the wooden yard fence.
By the time I had her saddled and ready to go, there was still no sign of Louisiana. Craning my head toward the house, I caught sight of her sitting on the porch swing.
“You can’t learn from over there, darlin’,” I shouted and waved an arm. “C’mon.”
Her reluctance was clear, even from this distance. And fuck me, she was still wearin' those goddamn tiny shorts!
I ran a hand over my chin as if it would help wipe away the frustration. However, when she strode down the porch steps, I was happy to see that she had at least swapped out her canvas sneakers for boots. An inch of progress, I guess.
All it took was two moments for the mixed approval to turn into an oh shit feeling; the boots teamed with Louisiana’s itty bitty shorts, and a hat not too dissimilar to my own, looked too damn sexy. The hum of approval that caught in my throat quickly turned into a groan of exasperation.
Jake appeared at my side and let out a long, low chuckle. “My my my, she’s a stubborn one, boss.”
I gave him a look; he sure as hell wasn’t wrong.
The smug look on Louisiana’s face when she stopped a few paces away, blatantly dared me to say something about her lack of jeans.
I refused to rise to the bait. “Ready?” I asked while trying to quell my hammering heartbeat.
Louisiana simply lifted both her eyebrows and crossed her arms over her chest.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I drawled and ignored her incredulous snort.
Ushering her closer, I talked her through the main areas of the horse and equipment, then showed her how to slip her foot in the stirrups and swing up into the saddle. Louisiana looked up at me, sitting on Dottie’s back with distinct doubt on her face.
“And to dismount, it’s the opposite,” I explained, then swung my leg back over and landed on the ground at Louisiana’s side.
When I turned to see if she had been taking note, I caught the flash of alarm in her eyes as they snapped from my ass to my face. I couldn’t help but smirk, which tinted Louisiana’s cheeks a pretty shade of pink.
Damnit—flirting wasn’t part of the lesson. Get a goddamn grip, Bran! I internally chastised myself.
Louisiana nervously shifted her weight from foot to foot and nibbled her lip when I coaxed her closer to Dottie.
“Your turn, Louisiana. You’ve gotta come a little closer.” I slapped the saddle and beckoned her toward me.
She stepped up to the plate, and it got a little awkward as we shuffled around each other to get her where she needed to be.
“If you can reach, grip the front of the saddle.”
After a brief pause, Louisiana followed my instructions. She looked over her
extended arm when I held out my palm. “Foot.”
Having successfully avoided touching her smooth leg while guiding her boot into the stirrup loop, I'd be damned if I didn't welcome the feel of the curve of her waist as I boosted her up into the saddle. For the next few drawn-out seconds, I busied myself with fussing with the stirrup length so she couldn't tell how breathless she made me.
Louisiana
I barely contained the gasp that caught in my throat the moment Brandon’s warm hands pressed to my waist. They created a wash of heat that tingled throughout my body, strong enough to erase the memory of how I ended up sitting on the white and black spotted horse.
I looked down at Brandon with my mouth parted and each breath coming in short, sharp inhales and exhales.
“I’m on,” I panted in surprise.
An earth-tilting grin broke out over Brandon’s face and left me equally as heady.
“You sure are, darlin’. Nice job.” His business face slid back into place. “Now, hold the reins like this…”
He lifted one of my hands that gripped the front of the saddle for dear life, set the leather strap underneath, then pressed my hand back down. With a subtle squeeze on my fingers, Brandon’s hazel eyes locked on mine.
“I’m going to lead you around the yard a couple of times so you can get used to the roll of the saddle. Try not to squeeze your legs—Dottie here will think we’re going for a trot.”
When I frowned down at him, he clarified, “It’ll make her want to go faster.”
Oh shit!
My voice shook so bad and my legs were beginning to tremble as fear set it. Dottie didn’t look too big from the ground, but now that I was sitting on her back, it was so damn high.
“Relax, jailbird. You’re in good hands. If he can teach me to ride, Bran can teach anyone,” Jake reassured me from where he leaned against the fence on my other side, watching us silently until now.
I nodded despite being unconvinced this was a good idea, and I had no choice but to hold on and try not to squeeze my damn legs when Brandon started to lead us around the massive yard.
He looked back over his shoulder with a smile as big as Texas. “You’re doing great, darlin’. A true natural, I’d say.”
A flurry of giddy, praise induced bubbles rose in my belly and popped under my rib cage. “Now I know you’re lying.” I laughed a little shrilly.
“I’m not, Louisiana. You look perfect up there.” His eyes held something that hadn’t been there before.
I bit down on an uncontainable smile and ducked my head until he had his back to me again. Damn that cowboy for making me feel like a first-place competitor instead of a loser who'd tripped at the start line.
Dottie's mane moved against her neck with every step, and after a few laps of the yard, I began to get used to the tilt and roll of the saddle. I found I was able to move my hips accordingly to remain balanced. I even found enough confidence to sit a little straighter and loosen my death-grip on the saddle.
As I relaxed into the movements, my eyes once again lifted and glided over the width of Brandon’s back. It angled sharply at his shoulders and the muscles in his tanned forearms flexed and moved as he guided Dottie down the lane in the direction I headed yesterday.
Yesterday seemed like forever ago, and as I followed the gradient of Brandon’s back lower, I found myself checking out his ass all over again. I now held a new appreciation for cowboys and why women thought they were so darn sexy. Brandon was a living, breathing, sauntering case in point.
The further we walked, the more I became aware of heat gathering against my thighs. I lifted one leg a little and found instant relief, but as soon as it touched back down on the saddle, the burning sensation immediately returned. I glanced down and groaned under my breath when I saw what Brandon described as saddle burn. I thought he was grossly overstating the importance of wearing jeans. Now, though, I understood why he had been so damn persistent.
“Brandon?”
He looked back over his shoulder without slowing his pace. “Yeah, darlin’?”
“How far are we going?”
A hint of surprise passed over his expression before it became smug. “Why’s that?”
“Oh, you know, just wondering,” I said flippantly while making sure the pain on my legs wasn’t echoed on my face.
“I thought I’d take you up to the top pasture-”
“No!” I interrupted. That sounded much too far. “I mean; my back is getting sore so I don’t want to overdo it on my first lesson.”
Brandon stopped walking and came to my side. His smile tipped one side of his mouth. “Your thighs are burning, aren’t they, Louisiana?”
I scoffed. “My thighs are definitely not burning. Truth be told, I’m growing a little bored.”
Brandon obviously didn’t believe a word I said. Quick to react, he set his hand on my knee and lifted it with ease. He leaned closer and got a good look at the underside of my thigh before I managed to kick out of his hold.
“Looks sore,” he stated without a hint of irony or condescension. There was true concern bunching his eyebrows at the center, and his eyes looked me over as if assessing the rest of my general well-being. “I need you to dismount for a minute.” He held up his hands to help me off.
I didn't move. “What? Why?” There was no way I’d be able to walk back to the house with chafing that bad.
“I’m going to drape my top over the saddle for you. It’ll stop the rubbing.”
Reluctantly conceding, I slowly leaned toward him until I felt his firm hold around my torso. Brandon lifted me down with ease and steadied me for a second while I found my footing. Holy crap, my legs ached and felt as if they had been forcefully bowed. Shaking some feeling back into them, my movements halted when I noticed Brandon quickly working open the buttons on his shirt. It fell wide to reveal a tight black undershirt that hugged his body like a second skin. My eyes followed each defined bump from his chest to lower stomach and didn’t stop until I’d passed his belt and zipper.
Brandon didn’t falter, however when my eyes returned to his face, I was taken aback to see him watching me take him in. His eyes held enough heat to leave me scorched ten layers deep.
I couldn’t help the hitch of my breath or the erratic jump of my pulse when he finally turned his back and slung his shirt over the saddle.
During those moments, it was as if we were both mentally pulling ourselves back into check before facing each other again. I took several deep breaths and held the last one for as long as I could, while Brandon fussed with the shirt more than necessary, then adjusted his hat a couple of times.
Despite clearing his throat, his voice was tight and gritty when he spoke. “Good to go, darlin’. L’me help you up.”
I stepped up beside him without argument, and for the briefest of seconds, our eyes snagged in a way that created a series of pangs in my chest. It had been far too long since I’d been with a man, and Brandon was driving my libido through the roof with nothing more than a lingering glance.
“One, two, three,” he said huskily before boosting me up and into the saddle once more.
I had to hand it to him—his shirt really made all the difference, but the damage was already done. Even against the soft flannel fabric, friction still irritated my sensitive flesh. Just like the torch that had been lit between Brandon and me, I was left with the reminder of an ache that, had I followed the rules, wouldn't be present.
“Thanks,” I murmured while my smile wavered.
Brandon looked up at me with both confusion and caution in his gaze. As if being unsure whether to touch me again, he simply smiled and patted my knee once then turned Dottie around.
The way back to the yard was filled with silence, tense enough to be seen in the line of his exposed shoulders. The skin there was slightly less tanned than his forearms, but still hinted that he worked without a shirt on from time to time. His stance was straight and strides were
assertive, and he didn’t so much as chance a look behind him until we entered the yard.
Brandon tied Dottie to the fence, then adjusted his hat. “Want me to lift you down, Louisiana?”
“Uh…” I looked down at the ground and gripped the saddle when I felt Dottie shift her weight. “Yes please, if you don’t mind.”
His smile both settled my nerves while setting them on edge. “I got ya.”
At his outstretched arms, I leaned forward and welcomed the familiar strong hold that clamped around my torso. His biceps bunched under my palms, then relaxed as soon as my boots connected with the gravel.
“Let me get you somethin’ for your thighs,” Brandon drawled and dropped his gaze to my mouth.
Warmth hit my cheeks as well as between my thighs while I searched for a retort that couldn’t be found.
Brandon chuckled under his breath. “The saddle rash, darlin’.”
“Seems that my thighs are out of practice.” A laugh fell from my mouth that sounded much too shrill, and my cheeks blazed with mortification. I wanted to melt into the ground and never reappear.
Brandon coughed hard, then ran a hand over his face. I was pretty sure I heard a cuss flow under his breath too. His piercing eyes then locked with mine. “House. Now.”
I tried to keep up with his long, determined strides yet quickly fell behind when the stinging pain zapped over my tender skin and reminded me of my stupidity of not changing into jeans. By the time I entered the kitchen, Brandon had already found chafing cream and held it out to me.
“Just rub it in…” He cleared his throat and diverted his eyes everywhere apart from my legs.
“Thank you. I should have listened.”
The hazel depths held humor when they locked on me again. “Damn right you should have listened. Had to learn the hard way, eh?” The teasing smile that accompanied his mild scold lightened the mood again.
I raised my brows, neither confirming nor denying my inability to learn the easy way.
With the cream clutched in-hand, I headed for the stairs while trying my darnedest not to waddle like I was wearing ten layers of underwear. Halfway along the hallway, the screen on the front door whipped open and a boisterous laugh filled the air.
