by Rhea Regale
“What’s this kid’s experience with horses?” Braden asked.
Tim laughed, a motion uncharacteristic of the man who ran Colton Ryder’s business with an iron fist. Only the best had any business working here.
So when Tim calmed down, and Braden allowed the icy brisk wind to calm his edgy temperament, he sipped his coffee and waited for an explanation.
“Don’t think you’ll have to worry about his experience. Just gotta trust me on this one, Bray. He’s a well-rounded fella when it comes to ranchin’.”
“We’ll see ‘bout that. If I need anythin’, I’ll be draggin’ your sorry ass down here to take care of it.”
Braden slipped into the warm barn as Tim’s laughter echoed in the morning. He closed the sliding doors and turned to survey the building. The stables were pristine, the bales of hay piled neatly between each stall. His gals didn’t seem restless, even with someone new wandering around the place. Two cats perched themselves on top of a tackle box, their eyes glowing in the fluorescent lighting. Their striped tails swayed back and forth, watching him curiously.
Braden grabbed a handful of treats from the shelf overhead and dropped the soft morsels between the two cats. “Mornin’ to you, Chloe and Claire. See you’re keepin’ yourselves busy.”
A purr was the only response as the two calicos indulged. Braden heard the rustle of straw being laid and followed the noise down one of the adjoining wings, where he finally caught the movement of the new guy between stall bars. At first obscured glimpse, Braden didn’t know what to make of the rookie. Did Tim really think this guy who barely reached the bars of the stall in height, who wore a backward baseball cap and a T-shirt was capable of handling his horses?
Braden rolled his eyes to the ceiling and took another sip of coffee. He’d be needing the extra boost of caffeine if he was to make it through this day without smacking some poor kid over the head with a whip.
The man reached out of the stall and pulled another bale of straw into the stall. Braden groaned inward, leaning up against the wall a couple stalls down. Tim must’ve been drinking when he brought this hoodlum aboard. Did this southern outlaw, ranch-hand wannabe really think he was going to make it in Ryder?
After a few minutes of enduring the torture of watching his responsibility finish off the last bale of straw, Braden moved up to the stall. The man was stroking Celia’s glossy neck, whispering something to the mare. The tattoos that reached down to the man’s elbow flexed over corded muscle. From this short distance, Braden realized he had misjudged the man’s stature. Maybe this kid could do some labor without bitching about it.
“Seems you know how to hold yourself around horses,” Braden said, dully noting that this particular mare was a skittish three-year-old who didn’t like anyone besides him. The man finished speaking, patted the mare’s neck, and turned.
Braden stared for a long moment. Oh shit. He knew the color of those shadowed eyes that stared at him in what appeared to be the same degree of shock that stole the breath from his lungs. Only when his coffee mug smacked into the dirt at his feet, the liquid splattering in every direction, did he grab hold of his bearings long enough to observe the man who was awfully familiar and yet a total stranger in the same instant.
Carter tugged off his cap and ruffled his dark hair, the wavy strands barely long enough to brush against his forehead. The overhead lighting highlighted a deep scar that etched along the man’s right cheek and upper lip. His eyes, when he finally looked up at him again, held a haunting mist along their bright blues.
Braden’s stomach knotted. His heart did a strange flip inside his chest. At one time, he would have delighted in the feel of his legs weakening and his cock swelling. Right now, he hated it.
Carter had no fucking business showing up in Ryder like this after what he did. None!
“Well, now everythin’ makes sense,” Braden groused. He reached down and grabbed his mug, ignoring the dirt clinging to the sides. “I’ll be back to check on the horses, since it’s obvious you know your way around here better than me.”
Braden spun on a heel and stormed down the aisle. He barely made it ten feet when Carter grabbed his shoulder and brought him up short.
“Hey,” Carter said. Braden whipped around and away from the man who looked so different, yet so much the same, as he had five years ago. There was a powerful air surrounding Carter, something dark pulsing along his being. It left Braden half breathless, half cautious. He had grown in delicious muscle, each fine cut and curve evident, despite the tattoo and cotton shirt. Thigh muscles strained against dark-blue jeans. His face held telltale wounds that gave him a mysterious, almost sharp, appearance.
Gone was the once carefree, jubilant rebel Ryder. A new man stood in Carter’s body, one that held more secrets, darker secrets, than Braden could begin to decipher. Not that he cared to do much deciphering after the bastard disappeared under suspicious circumstances without as much as a two minute explanation.
Carter rubbed the strong frame of his jaw, turning his face away enough to hide the scars.
Braden glanced down at the T-shirt, hugging Carter’s hard-muscled body. Go Army was printed in bold black block letters on a gray background. He narrowed his eyes, taking a moment to scour Carter’s bare arms. Light marks marred his tanned flesh, some new scars, some old. He got a better look at the tattoo of a gothic-style cross nestled in a bed of black thorns and branches. A pair of dark-red hearts perched on the arms of the cross, Rosalin etched in beautiful calligraphy above the cross.
Carter glanced down at his arm and frowned. “Got it shortly after the accident.”
“Murder. She was murdered,” Braden muttered. Carter’s eyes shot up to him. Within a split second, the man he had fallen hard and fast for five years ago shut himself off. A mask of indifference slammed down over Carter’s face. His eyes became hollow, distant, and cold. “It might help if you acknowledge the facts.”
“You’re being a bit outspoken.”
“And I don’t have the right to speak out about that night? What the hell happened, Carter?” Braden growled, taking another step back to put more distance between them. “You bailed Ryder within an hour after your momma was killed and your father put a bullet from the same barrel into his own head. You ran the hell away from that, from all the people who gave a fuckin’ shit about you. You made the town gossip about your part in your parent’s death because of your actions.”
“There’s more to it than that, Bray. You’ve no idea what happened that night,” Carter said, his voice taking on a chilling edge. Braden snorted. He punched his fisted hand deep into his coat pocket to keep from punching Carter’s handsome face. This was not how he wanted to start his morning.
“Maybe you should let me in on the secret, you selfish prick. You weren’t the only one affected by the events that played out behind closed doors.” Braden shoved his dirty mug into Carter’s chest. The man tensed, not moving an inch. He lifted his chin. “What about me, Carter? What about Summer? You remember her? You loved her, didn’t you? You know what you did to her?”
Something cut across Carter’s face, but vanished behind ice as quickly as it appeared. Braden nodded once.
“Yeah, that woman had it hard for you and you fuckin’ left her like all the rest you flung aside once you had your fill.” Braden took one step closer to Carter and warned, “Stay away from her. You don’t deserve either of us.”
Braden spun around and stormed out of the barn, his blood lava hot with more than anger. Once in his truck, he slammed both hands down on the steering wheel and cussed.
Five fucking years have passed and that man could still set him on fire like he did when they were together.
God, why the hell did you send him back?
* * * *
Carter fell back against the stall door, combing his fingers through his hair. Maybe returning to Ryder was a bad idea, despite his promise to Henry and Colt’s insistence to come home. He had made a muck of everything in his life by
leaving in the first place. He knew that. He didn’t need the blatant reminder of his poorly made decisions.
He scuffed the dirt with the toe of his boot and sighed. He was royally fucked up. His cock ached from the very sight of Braden. Five years did little to dim the attraction he held toward the man. He hadn’t changed much over the years. Those slate-gray eyes held more emotion, more passion, than any he’d ever seen. Strands of sandy hair poked out from beneath the cowboy hat he wore, having grown in length. So had the faint scruff that lined his sturdy, square jaw. The man was searing to the eye, and did a hell of a lot more to his body.
Then he mentioned Summer and he nearly lost it.
The roar of an engine echoed through the barn, followed by the plinks of gravel being whipped up from spinning tires. A few moments later, the truck faded off in the distance, leaving him alone. Always alone, no matter how many people surrounded him. Always dealing with the demons plaguing his soul, wondering if he’d ever be given peace.
“You had peace, brother. You had it with two people, and you fucked them both over being a stupid imbecile,” Carter grumbled to himself. Coils of anger unfurled inside him, that self-hatred he’d held close to his heart since the days of his youth unable to stand the confinement. He slammed his fists down, punching the stall door with far more power than he expected. The mare in the stall whinnied, her hooves pounding against the floor, setting off a chain reaction down the aisle.
Taking a deep breath, Carter straightened up and pulled the hat on his head. He’d have plenty of time to ponder the wrongs he’d done to Braden and Summer, but right now, he needed to earn his keep. He needed to rebuild his life from the splinters it had been whittled away to.
“Fuck the past. Fuck Pa. I’m gonna build myself the biggest, brightest future if it kills me. I’m gonna make everything right.”
Hooves slammed into the door at his back. Carter spun at the loud crash, a sudden flash memory of the last attack on the outpost threatening to claim him in a panic attack. Sweat crested around his face, his heart hammering ferociously against his chest. He licked his suddenly dry lips, the scar on the tender flesh a stark reminder of that fateful afternoon. Closing his eyes, he forced air in and out of his lungs at a steady rate, forced the adrenaline to fizzle away as he regained his composure.
After a long minute, or two, he opened his eyes and stared at a large, dark orb through the bars of the stall. The mare snorted, expelling her annoyance before turning her ass to him.
“I’m a damaged mess,” he muttered. Damaged and mess were fine. He wasn’t about to vocalize his fears of being a ticking time bomb ready to explode at any given minute.
No, that was his father. The proof lay six feet under in two plots side-by-side, while the memory tortured his conscience. That would never be him.
Chapter Four
“Hey, Summer,” Katie Harris greeted, brushing aside stray strands of hair from her rosy round face. She flashed Summer a smile and a short wave. “Sorry I’m late. I was finishin’ up that order for the Rosendales for their daughter’s weddin’. They fell in love with the wintry theme you made for Travis and Lexi, and wanted a duplicate for Samantha.”
Summer laughed and wiped her hands on her apron. Her floral business was booming since she opened the doors a year ago. She figured it helped that she was in with the right crowd in Ryder, and the only florist within thirty miles. Having Miss Bess and Alexis consult her for the first Ryder family wedding in decades gave her a prime opportunity to show off her creations. In return, her business was suddenly getting a boost, less than fourteen hours after the wedding.
“I’m glad to have you back. The phone hasn’t stopped ringin’, and I’m behind on these arrangements that need to be at the funeral home in three hours,” Summer said, wiping away her wispy bangs that had become glued to her forehead. “I still need to get to the greenhouse for the orchids the Floral Society wanted for their convention tomorrow.”
“We’re finally movin’ forward with this, aren’t we?” Katie bounced on her toes as the phone rang once more. The peppy twenty-two-year-old definitely had spunk and energy, and Summer could use every ounce of it if she hoped to figure out a groove to keep up with her growing demand. “Thank you for callin’ Summer’s Bouquet. How may I help you?”
Summer returned to her work bench, listening to Katie speak with another customer about another potential order. A small smile crept along the corners of her mouth. Her dream was thriving. Her business was sprouting buds, her leaves unfurling. After Carter’s abrupt disappearance, taking all of her dreams of happiness with him, she put her heart and soul into what she loved. Flowers and plants. Then Braden stepped up in her life, soothed the ache Carter left, and together they built her store. It might be small and scrappy looking, but it was hers, something she created.
The bell over the glass door jingled as she placed the last flower in the arrangement. She heard the click of cowboy boots along the wooden floor and barely turned before strong hands grabbed her face and Braden’s fierce, hungry kiss met her mouth mercilessly. The demanding plunge of his tongue licked down into her womb, setting her slumbering desires loose. The faint scent of hay and horse clung to Braden’s coat, the underlying spice of his cologne subtle and familiar, cocooning her in her lover’s embrace.
God, how she loved this man.
Her fingers curled in the wool lining of his coat. She arched her swollen breasts into him, the friction teasing her hard nipples. His hands lowered from her face to her waist, and he tugged her tight against him. His bulging cock nestled in her belly, milking wetness from her pussy.
“Uh-hem.”
Braden groaned quietly into her mouth. When he leaned back, the world quaked. He left her dizzy and lightheaded, short of breath and craving more of his unabashed passion. Her lips pulsed from his demanding kisses. Her body throbbed with the need for him to take her any way he wanted.
Summer gingerly wiped her lips and peeked around Braden’s arm. Katie’s brows arched, her arms crossed, and her slippered foot tapped the floor. A light rose hue touched the girl’s cheeks, but her eyes glittered with mischief.
“Just ‘cause you have a hot cowboy at your beck and call doesn’t mean you need to show him off,” Katie said.
Braden chuckled, tucking Summer under his arm and turning to Katie. “Sorry, doll. Must’ve missed your shinin’ smile on the way in. My head was somewhere else.”
Katie’s eyes dropped to the prominent bulge in his snug jeans. “Had I not interrupted, I’m sure it would’ve been.”
Summer gaped, her face heating to match the temperature of her body. She slapped her hands over her face and shook her head.
“Aww, baby. Don’t get all bashful,” Braden cooed, humor twined in his rich voice. His lips caressed her ear as he whispered, “She’s pretty right. I’m plannin’ to take you, pin you down, and drive into that tight pussy of yours.”
Summer seethed. She gave Braden a playful shove and fanned her searing face. Katie laughed and hitched her thumb over her shoulder.
“You’ve been here all mornin’. I’ll finish up those arrangements and deliver them to the funeral home while you go with your needy mass of hotness there,” she said, crossing the few feet to Summer’s workbench. She pointed the phone at Braden. “Next time, you don’t need to make me jealous ‘cause Summer’s got herself a prime catch from the swimming hole.”
Braden mussed Katie’s loosely braided hair. The girl ducked and slapped his hand away. Summer nudged him in the ribs.
“You’ll get yourself some hard-workin’ boy from the ranch, especially if you keep comin’ to the bonfires dressed in next to nothin’,” Braden assured. Katie shrugged, her lips curled in a menacing grin. She cupped her breasts and squeezed.
“I got assets. Heidi tells me I need to show them off.”
“Katie!” Summer scolded. She pushed Braden away, out of Katie’s view. “I’m gonna have a long talk with that woman. She’s no right leadin’ you down her wild p
ath.”
“Really, Summer. You were with a Ryder for over a year. You ain’t no innocent.” Katie chuckled. “And now you’re locked with Braden there, who used to be pretty damn good friends with said Ryder. You definitely ain’t no innocent.”
The mention of Carter left her blood warm and her heart shuddering. She glanced up at Braden. A mask had fallen over his face, his beautiful gray eyes dimming behind a rush of stormy clouds. Carter had hurt them both. She believed that was one driving force that brought them together, even if they had been friends while she dated Carter. They soothed each other’s wounds and found love along the way.
Katie wiggled her fingers. “Hand over your apron. You won’t be needin’ it.”
Summer tried to paste a believable smile on her face. She couldn’t shake the unsettling mention of Carter from her mind. So many years later, the damned man still had an overpowering pull on her soul, despite everything she’d done to forget him. She untied the apron from around her neck and back and handed it to Katie.
“Remember, those arrangements need—”
“Yeah, yeah. Summer, I’ve got this.” Katie snatched the apron from her outstretched hand and leaned toward her. “I swear to you. I won’t let you down.”
Summer couldn’t ignore the sudden tension that had grown between Braden and her as he guided his truck toward their apartment. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard and frowned. Seeing Braden at spontaneous times during the day was always a treat, but something drove him today. She should’ve noticed in his kiss, or the possessive way he held her. The grim line on his sensual mouth hadn’t lifted, despite the small kisses he placed on her knuckles as he drove. From where she sat, she could see the distant look in his eyes.
“Everythin’ okay?” she finally asked, breaking the silence. “You weren’t at the ranch long. Thought you’d be conditionin’ the horses.”
“Tim stuck a rookie with me. Set things off a bit,” Braden murmured. The edge in his voice hinted to more, but he didn’t divulge. “Figured I’d come see you. You know I love seein’ you every moment I can.”
