Miller Brothers in Love

by Erin Wright

  Jennifer turned in the passenger seat to stare at Stetson openly. “Where is Mr. This-is-Not-a-Guest-House and what have you done with him?”

  The tips of his ears grew red. “I…yeah,” he mumbled. “I shouldn’t have…your arrival was not something I’d exactly been looking forward to.” He grimaced in her general direction. “I was kind of a jackass when you showed up.”

  Which, Stetson being of the male variety, meant that was as good of an apology as she was going to get. She nodded her acceptance. “Well, I’m thrilled with the idea if you’re okay with it. I normally don’t stay with clients, but Carmelita’s cooking is loads better than anything I can find in town, and the guest room you have me staying in is adorable. I’ve never seen anything like it in real life. Those roses on the wall – are they hand painted?”

  He nodded, a smile of pride spreading across his face, his shoulders easing now that the embarrassment of almost having to say sorry had passed. “My grandma painted those. I never met her…she died in childbirth with my dad. But she had a creative streak a mile wide, and apparently got the hankering to paint that bedroom one day. She wasn’t one to slap a coat of white paint on something, though, and before long, there were roses everywhere. My mom always said that she wanted a girl so someone else could appreciate those roses the way she did, but I was their last hope of that happening, and…well, I’m not a girl.”

  She bust up laughing, taking in his rugged, stubble-covered jaw and muscles flexing under the worn fabric of his jeans. “I wasn’t too worried on that topic, but I’m glad to know for sure.”

  “Disappointing females since 1990 – that’s my motto in life.”

  “I’m sure your mom was glad to have you,” Jennifer protested politely.

  Stetson shrugged. “My mom was happy, sure, although she would’ve been happier if I’d been a girl. But my dad…he was thrilled. He told me a few times that he’d screwed up with Wyatt and Declan – didn’t do things the way he wanted. He felt like he’d been given a chance to fix those mistakes with me. I honestly think that’s why he let me get cows – he never would’ve let Wyatt or Dec. He would’ve told them no, absolutely not. But with me, he was trying to be more liberal and open minded. It drives Wyatt and Declan completely mad, by the way. They say I got away with murder compared to them.” Stetson shrugged. “They’re probably right, although I don’t see as how that’s my fault. Well, we’re here!”

  Startled, Jennifer looked out the front windshield to see that they were parked in front of Frank’s Feed and Fuel. “Oh wow!” she yelped. “How did we…man, I was not paying attention to where we were going.” A truck ride with Stetson made the minutes just fly by. He could’ve been driving her to Canada, for all of the attention she’d paid to where they were going and what they were doing.

  A little terrifying, that.

  Stetson jumped out and hurried around to help her down. Sure, the skirt did make it difficult to maneuver, but she’d been able to get out of the truck back at the farm to fetch her purse all by herself. His help wasn’t strictly necessary, even if the truck was as oversized as Stetson was.

  As he swung her out of the cab and down to the ground, though, his hands lightly clasped around her waist, she got the impression that Stetson enjoyed helping her out of the truck a little more than he might’ve enjoyed helping a little old lady. The thought made the back of her neck tingle and she grinned to herself. Yeah, she might be wrong, but somehow, she was quite sure she wasn’t.

  All of which was weird, of course. She’d spent three years with Paul, who’d made sure to tell her in great detail just how undesirable she was. Having Stetson look at her with something other than pity and disgust…

  It was making her head hurt somethin’ fierce.

  She moved forward to grab her purse off the passenger-side floor of the truck when she brushed up against one very hard, very aroused Stetson. She shouldn’t have reacted – somewhere deep inside of her she knew that – but she couldn’t help herself. It was instinctual – she let out a little gasp and her eyes flew up to his to find he was staring down at her, naked hunger blazing in their depths.

  “I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t…but I can’t help myself,” he murmured, cupping her face in his hand and swiping the pad of his thumb across her lips. She trembled, need pouring through her. If they weren’t standing on Main Street in town, she’d be launching herself at him at that very moment.

  “I…I can’t help myself either,” she whispered back, her tongue flicking out and swiping across the calloused end of his thumb. His eyes went darker still and he pulled in a hiss of air.

  “Let’s go shopping, shall we?” he murmured, his voice hoarse with need. “Then we can stop by the motel to get your stuff, then head back to the farm.”

  The promise was obvious, if unspoken, about exactly what would happen once they got back to the farm.

  Jennifer wasn’t sure she’d live through the wait.

  Chapter 31

  Stetson

  They pulled up in front of the house, and Stetson hurried around to help her out of the truck, eager to put his hands back on her body, even if he was excusing it by using the cover of politeness to get away with it. Anything to put his hands on her body – anything at all, at this point. Watching her come out of the dressing room at Frank’s in Wranglers, her ass shown off to perfection…

  He held up his arms and she willingly moved into them. He swung her down to the ground, as surprised the second time as he had been the first. She was so light – like picking up a hay bale or a newborn calf. How was it that she could be a full-grown woman?

  Or was she?

  He stared down at her in horror for a moment, finally blurting out, “How old are you?” He had terrifying visions dancing through his head of finding out that she was actually fifteen years old and just some sort of accountant prodigy.

  “I’m 24. Why?”

  “Oh my God!” he exclaimed, relief and shock pouring through him. “You’re only two years younger than me. How is that possible?”

  “I’m going to guess that my mother gave birth two years after your mother did,” Jennifer said dryly.

  “But you’re so small,” he protested. “And short. And not at all tall.”

  It was at this point that he decided that talking to Jennifer Kendall was just God’s way of keeping him humble. He was apparently completely incapable of speaking coherently around her.

  “It’s possible – just possible – that my father isn’t cousin to Godzilla,” she retorted. “It isn’t my fault all of the men in Sawyer are giants.” She crossed her arms and stared up at him defiantly, her green eyes flashing.

  Shit.

  He decided that rather than try to extract his size 17 boot from his mouth – which was probably an impossible task at this point anyway – he’d just sidetrack her. With any luck, she’d forget all about this conversation.

  Just to show he could, he scooped her up into his arms and started carrying her towards the farmhouse, ignoring her squeal of protests, mostly centering on the fact that they were leaving her bags behind. Whatever. They could fetch her clothes later. What he had in mind did not involve clothing.

  He looked up when he heard a little howl of delight, and with panic spreading through him, he saw Maggie Mae headed straight towards them, tail going a million miles a minute.

  Dammit. If Maggie was here, Wyatt was here.

  Sure enough, he looked up past his brother’s mutt of a dog to see both of his brother’s trucks parked outside of the barn. He let a string of curses out that was likely to set the prairie grass on fire.

  “What? What is it?” Jennifer was craning her neck around, clearly not understanding the importance of the two trucks parked side by side by the barn’s sliding door.

  “I…forgot.” For a couple of hours, he’d let himself forget about the meeting with his brothers, and the arguments sure to come along with it. A few glorious hours without worry that he was loathe to leave behind.
He wanted to spin on his boot heel and head back to the truck to drive anywhere but there – leave it all behind – but skipping out on the meeting would only make things worse.

  If that was even possible at this point.

  “Wyatt and Declan are here. Hence Maggie.” He let Jennifer slide down his front in a deliciously painful descent to the ground, nearly groaning at the pleasure it brought him. “Meet Maggie Mae. Maggie Mae, this is Jennifer.”

  Maggie, a loyal, hardworking, sweetheart of a dog that Wyatt absolutely did not deserve whatsoever, busily set about licking Jennifer’s hand, her tail wagging madly with pleasure when Jennifer used her other hand to scratch behind her ears. “Oh, aren’t you a sweetie,” Jennifer crooned.

  Stetson was trying pretty damn hard not to be jealous of Wyatt’s dog just then, which was ridiculous, even to him.

  “I need to go meet up with my brothers,” he said with a jerk of his head towards the barn. “I’ll…be back in a little while.”

  It was an awkward-as-hell goodbye, because he wanted to kiss her but they weren’t exactly at the casual-kiss-goodbye point in their relationship but not doing something also felt weird and he thought about hugging her but she was still bent over, petting Maggie, who had obligingly rolled over onto her back so she could get belly rubs, so hugging Jennifer was weird too, so he settled for tugging on the brim of his Stetson and heading for the barn.

  Girls were so confusing sometimes.

  He walked into the barn, the massive sliding door already open from his brothers making their way in.

  I can do this. I can totally do this. I will not beat Wyatt into the ground. We will make Dad proud.

  He found his brothers sitting on a couple of crates, bullshitting quietly to each other as they waited for him to show up. Stetson bit back his groan. Being late was not going to help matters.

  “Hey,” he said casually, jerking his head in greeting as he leaned on the bumper of one of the work trucks. Usually, Declan had the schedule worked out, so Stetson waited quietly for him to begin.

  “’Bout damn time you showed up,” Wyatt snarled. Stetson just cocked an eyebrow at him and stayed silent. If Wyatt thought he was going to apologize to him, he was going to be sorely disappointed.

  “Let’s just get going,” Declan put in, ever the peacemaker. Stetson rolled his eyes. Someday, Declan would grow a backbone and tell Wyatt to stop being a jackass. Until then, it was hard to take the guy seriously, even if he was Stetson’s favorite brother.

  Not exactly the most difficult contest in the world to win.

  “So, here’s the deal,” Wyatt said, begrudgingly taking Declan’s advice. “It’s been a downright awful year for water, other than this shitload of rain that we just had, so my dryland wheat is ripening real quick. It’s gonna need to be harvested before it rots on the stem. Stetson, you bring the trucks up next week. You still have three guys, right?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got three right now,” Stetson said, trying to ignore the fact that Wyatt had just ordered him to bring the trucks over next week instead of asking. If he was going to start getting pissy over small details like that, he and Wyatt would never be able to hold a conversation again. “When you thinkin’ of starting? I haven’t done the oil changes on the trucks yet.”

  “We’re starting Monday,” Wyatt said flatly.

  “I can’t do that!” Stetson protested. “I gave the guys the weekend off; told ‘em to enjoy their last weekend of freedom since harvest was about to begin. I can’t start until Tuesday or maybe Wednesday.”

  “Dammit, Stetson, do we always have to hold your hand?” Wyatt snapped.

  “My trucks aren’t ready either,” Declan jumped in, trying to placate them. Stetson and Wyatt both ignored him.

  “I don’t get it,” Stetson growled. “Unless the wind picks up and dries your wheat out, your harvest is gonna be shit anyway. Why not just call up your crop insurance agent and collect a payout for this year? Getting trucks into the field is gonna be rough on ‘em – we’re gonna spend half our time pulling machines out of the mud, and then turning around and getting them stuck again. For hell’s sakes, just call it for the year.”

  “I am not going to collect insurance on my wheat! Some of us have to work for what we get, and not just get it handed to us for twiddling our thumbs.”

  That was a direct hit, and everyone knew it. Time slowed down as Stetson froze in place, staring at his oldest brother, pure anger boiling through his veins. “You bastard!” he roared, his fists clenched at his side. “I was the one who took care of Dad and paid for his chemo treatments. I noticed you were nowhere to be found for that part of it.”

  “Some of us had already grown up and bought our own farms,” Wyatt volleyed back smugly. “If I’d been able to just sit around and wait to have everything handed to me, I could’ve played Dad’s nursemaid too, but I had a bank loan to pay.”

  “What, and I didn’t?” Stetson shot back. “Dad had an operating loan every year. Has for years. You know that. Just because I got the farm doesn’t mean I inherited it free and clear.”

  “Oh, so is that why you’ve hired a bookkeeper to run your adding machine for you?” Wyatt demanded. “Incapable of adding a few numbers up by yourself?”

  “It’s a good thing that Stetson hired someone to help him out,” Declan put in, trying to simmer things down a notch. Again, Stetson and Wyatt both ignored him.

  “She ain’t a bookkeeper,” Stetson said flatly. He didn’t want to tell his brothers – especially not right now – but lying didn’t sit right on his soul. It was time to come clean, and deal with the aftermath.

  “What?!” Declan hollered, getting angry himself for the first time. “You told me you’d hired a bookkeeper to go over things—”

  “I know what I said,” Stetson cut him off, still not looking at him. His eyes were locked on Wyatt who was glaring back at him, anger radiating off him in waves. It was a pretty fair bet that Wyatt would never forgive him for what he was about to say.

  It was also a pretty fair bet that Stetson didn’t care.

  “It’s the bank. Intermountain. There was a balloon payment on that loan that was due on January 1st, and I didn’t make it.” Stetson was talking quickly now, keeping Wyatt from interrupting him. “The accountant is here on behalf of Intermountain, to see if there’s a way for me to make that payment.”

  “Holy shit!” Wyatt exploded. “I can’t believe it! I was right. You idiot! I bet it was those stupid cows sucking down all of the money.”

  “Hold on a moment here – Dad’s cancer took all the money from the cows. I noticed you couldn’t be bothered to contribute to that effort. It was my cows that gave Dad an extra six months,” Stetson spat out.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Declan asked, clearly hurt by Stetson’s silence. “We would’ve helped you.”

  “Oh yeah, rain more money down on the Golden Boy so he doesn’t have to learn how to work,” Wyatt threw out sarcastically at Declan, even as he advanced on Stetson. “I should pay off the loan and take over the farm,” he said, jabbing himself in the chest with his thumb. “It should’ve been me that got it anyway! I’m the oldest.”

  “Hear ye, hear ye, the perfect brother who has never had any problems,” Stetson said with a heaping dose of his own sarcasm. “Please, do tell me how to farm. I’d love to hear all about it.”

  “You need me to tell you how, ‘cause it’s so hard having everything handed to you on a silver platter. Grow up, you whiny little bastard,” Wyatt bellowed, his spittle hitting Stetson’s cheeks. They were so close, Stetson could see the red veins in his brother’s eyes, popping as he yelled. “Don’t you ever think that your bedwetting problems are anything close to what I’ve had to live through. I am ten times the man you will ever dream to be. No wonder Michelle left you standing in the church. No woman wants to marry a baby.”

  The comment hit well below the belt. Past caring, past stopping, past reason, Stetson saw red as he went in for the verbal blow.
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  “You’re a real man, all right.” Stetson’s voice was low and full of danger. “You’ve been directing your anger at us for so long, I sometimes wonder if you’ve bothered to get around to being pissed at the drunk driver who actually killed your wife and daughter. Stop blaming us for what happened.”

  Stetson knew he was pressing Wyatt’s biggest button with a sledgehammer but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

  The words were barely out before Wyatt launched himself at his youngest brother.

  Stetson was ready. The brothers collided like a train running into a mountainside. They tumbled to the ground, fists flying as they fell. The two angry men rolled around on the dusty barn floor, each blinded by rage. Some blows missed while others found their mark.

  Somewhere in the distance, they could hear Declan yelling for them to stop, but neither paid him any mind. The air was split with the sounds of fists striking flesh. Blows were punctuated with a litany of swear words.

  For the first time in their lives, Stetson gained the upper hand in a fight. Pinning Wyatt to the ground with his knees, Stetson’s fist connected with his brother’s cheek. Wyatt’s lip split as his face contorted from the punch.

  The single blow was almost victory enough for Stetson. Almost.

  Cocking his arm back, Stetson readied to strike again if Wyatt pushed the issue.

  “You can harvest your damn grain without my help,” Stetson growled. “Now get the hell off my farm.” He rolled off Wyatt and onto his feet in one smooth motion.