Summer's Wicked Cowboys [Casanova Cowboys 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Rhea Regale

  Carter came to a swaying halt. He squinted at the figure crouched down by his duffle bag, looking as horrified as he felt in this very moment. Trying desperately to blink away the encroaching gray from his eyes and wash the alcohol from his mind, he focused solely on the woman rising slowly to her feet.

  “Summer?” he whispered. His knees buckled. His back hit the wall, the gray coating everything in sight, suffocating him in its consuming arms. “Angel.”

  Chapter Six

  “Damn it, Carter.” Summer dropped the two worn photographs and lunged toward him as he sank down the wall. She caught his head before it slammed into the fireplace, his solid weight bringing her to her knees. The potent scent of alcohol filled her nostrils, and she snorted, waving the air between them. “Christ, what were you drinkin’?”

  Summer shimmied out from beneath him. It took all of her strength to slide him away from the wall to stretch him out in the middle of the floor. The barren living room provided no pillows or blankets. She hurried upstairs and dug out a dusty pillow from his old room, and coughed. On her way down the stairs, she tugged the pillowcase off and dropped it to the floor on her way back to Carter. She tucked the pillow under his head and went into the kitchen in hopes of finding coffee stashed away. Carter had loved his coffee when they were together. Surely he had some hanging around.

  When she pulled open the first cabinet doors, her hopes dwindled. Every shelf was bare. No food, no dishware, nothing. Each cabinet thereafter produced the same results.

  “He’s got to have something,” she muttered, pulling open the fridge. Two bottles of water sat alone on the top shelf. Nothing else. With a groan, she snatched one of the bottles and returned to the living room.

  She hesitated at his side, staring down at the very man who had always made her heart flip-flop like a schoolgirl. Gone was the perfect Carter she remembered. The man lying at her feet had ink down to his elbow, more muscle than she ever recalled, and scars on his face. His strong jaw looked a day or two unshaven. His hair was shorter now, wavy and thick, glittering beneath the firelight. A deep wrinkle etched between his brows as if he were in pain.

  Summer’s gaze lifted to the green duffle bag. Curiosity drove her to creep around Carter’s old place. Seeing Rylan at the house a short time had been her instigation. With Braden at Ride’em with some of the ranch hands, she ignored the voice of reason and followed the voice of adventure. The voice of hope that remained in her heart.

  Placing the bottle of water on the floor next to Carter, she moved back to the duffle bag and sat down beside it. She picked up the two photos she had just pulled out of the bag when Carter took her by surprise and finally looked at them. Her heart fluttered, her throat tickling as it tightened. An image of herself stared back at her, bringing with it a flood of memories tangled among an emotional storm. She had been twenty-three when Carter snapped the picture of her sitting on the tailgate of his truck while they were partying down on the ranch. A smear of dark brown stained her photo, the edges worn and tattered.

  Taking a ragged breath, she flipped the photo over and laid it down on the floor. The second photo was just as worn and tattered. A younger Braden smiled up at her, so damn handsome and carefree. With a sigh, she laid the second photo on top of the first and lowered the duffle bag beside her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a twinge of guilt crept up in her conscience. She stamped it down, replacing it with a sense of entitlement. She had a right to know what the hell happened to him, why he left without any explanation, didn’t she?

  Summer pulled out jeans and T-shirts, a hat, sunglasses, and sweatshirts. When she pulled out a camouflage jacket, she stiffened. Her thumb ran over the name plate on the front. Sgt. Carter Ryder. She licked her lips and glanced up at the slumbering figure across the room. Carter had gone into the army?

  “My God,” she whispered, lowering her fingers to the photos. No wonder they were so worn. And that mark on her photo. Was it blood? How bad had he been injured?

  Draping the jacket over her legs, she peeked into the bag and made out the shape of boots. She reached in and withdrew matching pants that she laid over the jacket. Digging deeper, her fingers wrapped around a helmet that she left in the back with the boots. She hit something hard and quickly pulled it out. Flipping open the leaflet, she blinked.

  “Certificate for a Purple…” her voice faded as she read over the certificate. She dropped it to the floor and dug deep into the bag until her hand wrapped around what she thought was a box and yanked it out.

  Her heart fluttered as turned the black rectangular box over. Purple Heart. Slowly, she opened the box and stared at the medal lying on a velvety spread. Her eyes stung, her chest swelling. Her fingers trembled and she quickly closed the box, bringing it to her chest. Her attention swung to Carter as a single tear streamed down her face. Five years of wondering what happened to him. Five long years of not knowing why he left her, left Ryder. Five goddamn years of patching up the scars he left on her heart only to have him slip back into Ryder in the dead of night.

  And yet, he hadn’t come to her. If he cared, wouldn’t he have tried to find her? What had he endured, alone? Why didn’t he confide in her? Had he not loved her?

  Summer placed Carter’s uniform on the chair behind her, the honorary medal on top of it, and crawled over to Carter’s side. Only then did she notice the blood smeared over his knuckles. Carefully, she picked up one hand. Heat spread through her body as the familiar feel of his fingers soaked into her own. Callused, powerful fingers that held her tight, protected her from harm, and made it very clear to every man that she was his. She inspected the gashes along his knuckles. A splinter stuck out from between two joints.

  “God, what the hell happened to you?” she wondered, resting his hand at his side. “I’ll fix you up, Carter. I promise.”

  Summer hurried back to her apartment and gathered bandages and first aid supplies she always kept handy. She tucked a spare blanket under her arm and returned to Carter’s house. He was still out cold. Dropping all of her supplies in a neat pile beside him, she went into the kitchen and found a pot in one of the lower cabinets that she rinsed out and filled with warm water.

  Settling down once more in the living room, Summer cleaned his wound with care. She took care not to jostle him too much, though she doubted anything would draw him out of his binge nap. When she finished with his first hand and moved to the second, he stirred. Summer waited, staring down into his ruggedly handsome face marked by battle scars, making him even more handsome than before. The small scar on his lip begged her to trace it, and she didn’t catch her fingers before they touched the familiar curve of his upper lip. She traced the fine etch, memories of how possessive those lips had been, how sweet and succulent and pleasurable.

  Summer shook her head, breaking her gaze from his face, and turned to his hand.

  “Angel,” he murmured on a heavy breath, his head lolling away from her. She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. Hearing the nickname Carter had given her fall from his lips tore mercilessly into her, ripping open every fragile stitch of every fragile patch around her heart. How many nights did she imagine him calling her, whispering that single word in her ear before she’d wake up and realize she had been dreaming?

  I love Braden now. Pushing the turbulent roll of emotions aside, she tended to his other hand, bandaging his knuckles before cleaning up. When she returned, she knelt down and spread the blanket over him, and brushed her fingertips through his waves, reveling in the silkiness that hadn’t faded. She followed the line of his brow with her thumb down over his cheek, tracing another scar.

  When she reached his lips once more, she dipped down and pressed a soft kiss against his mouth. Leaning back, she held her breath when she noticed his eyes had opened to slits. A moment later, they slid shut again.

  Summer climbed to her feet, leaving the first aid supplies for Carter. Staring down at him shook her resolve more than she could bear. The time that lapsed suddenly see
med nonexistent, as if she’d just seen him last night at Ride’em, dancing up a storm, having the time of their lives. That last night before his parents were found dead and Carter disappeared they had talked about their promising future. Braden had chimed in about turning them into a threesome so he could share in their happiness.

  Summer had laughed the comment off and went home with Carter, where they made love until the sun rose.

  She wiped her cheeks dry with the heels of her hands and looked away. That was the past. She had a new future now. One that didn’t include this man, the one whose mere presence reminded her how tight he still held onto her heart.

  Carter would need someone when he woke up suffering a severe hangover, but she couldn’t stay. Her place was with Braden, not Carter. She had no right coming here tonight, curious or not. She taunted Braden’s trust should he discover what she was up to. No, she had to leave, but she’d call one of his cousins to come by and check on him.

  Before she walked out on the man who left her five years prior, she said quietly, “You broke my heart, Carter, and my God I’m still hurtin’.”

  Chapter Seven

  Carter groaned, squinting against the bright light that spread throughout the room. His head might as well have been put through a vise, each thump of his heart beating his skull.

  “Brought some coffee. Figured you’d need it.”

  Carter grimaced, slowly pushing up off the hard floor. He pinpointed the direction of the voice and rubbed his eyes. The figure pulled the curtains closed and flipped on the overhead light instead. Carter pulled his knees up, draped his arms loosely around them, and rested his forehead forward. His stomach roiled. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this.

  “Carter, here.” A hand turned his own over, pressed two pills to his palm, and closed his fingers. “C’mon, brother. Tim’s already called askin’ ‘bout you.”

  Tim. Ah damn. Carter carefully lifted his head, trying to squish the nausea that followed. He popped the aspirins into his mouth and took the cup of black coffee dangling in front of his face. After drinking half the cup, he placed it on the floor.

  “What did you tell him?” Carter asked, finally turning to see who nursed his sorry ass back to reality. He could have swore Summer was with him at some point, but the voice speaking to him was far off from her sensual tone. Landon squatted down in front of him, his green eyes dusty with concern. “Thanks for the coffee and hangover relief.”

  “I told him you’d be down shortly. Somethin’ happened at the house that required your immediate attention.” His cousin wove his fingers between his knees and lifted his dark brows. “When did you get back?”

  “The other night. Colt grabbed me from the airport.” Carter tested his strength as he shifted onto his knees. His eyes narrowed on the gauze wrapped around both hands before a sharp pain speared up through his head. His stomach churned. “Fuck, I got wasted.”

  “Understatement.” Landon pressed up to his feet and held out his hand. Carter took it and allowed his cousin to help him up. “How much did you drink?”

  “Don’t know. Enough to put me to sleep.” He yanked off the gauze wrappings and looked over his battered knuckles. “Shit. I didn’t realize I punched the fence that hard.”

  “Looks like you did more than punch the thing.”

  Carter turned around, taking a moment to let the scene sink in. His army uniform was laid out on the chair, his clothes scattered on the floor. A hazy memory slipped into his aching mind as he stepped over to his belongings. Sitting on top of his uniform was his Purple Heart box. His brow creased.

  “How did you know to come?” Carter asked slowly, digging for that nudging memory that eluded him. The two photos he had kept with him all of the years since he left lay turned down on the floor beside the certificate for his medal. Someone was here when I came inside.

  “Summer called me last night. She asked that I stop by to check up on you since you had a night with the bottle.”

  Summer. The revelation crashed into him worse than the sledgehammer in his head. Summer had been at his house. He came inside and she was looking at the photos. His angel.

  “Did you go through my stuff?” Carter asked, tipping his head enough to see Landon from the corner of his eye. “Did you wrap my hands?”

  “Honestly, if you’re gonna hit the bottle that hard after a night of bein’ back, I’d let you suffer the consequences. A small reminder that you’re nothin’ like your piece of shit pa.” Landon stepped up beside him and jutted his chin toward the medal box. “My cousin’s a hero, huh? I didn’t go through your bag, but I’ll say that seein’ your medal gave me a bout of pride.”

  “I’m no hero, Landon,” Carter gritted out between his teeth.

  “Whatever you wish to think. You were never good at acceptin’ compliments.” Landon reached for the box and traced the lettering. “I’m proud of you, though.”

  “You have no idea what happened.”

  “I’m expectin’ to hear about it. If any part of your story is held in the scars on your arms and face, then I can only imagine what you went through.”

  Carter sifted through his clothing until he found the small bag that contained his toiletries. “I’m going to get ready. If you don’t mind driving me down to the ranch, I’d appreciate it. Maybe you can fill me in on things here.”

  Landon didn’t say anything until he had reached the kitchen doorway.

  “You want to know about Summer,” Landon assumed. Carter glanced back at him before ducking into the kitchen. Yes, he wanted to know about Summer. He wanted to know what he did to her when he left. He wanted to know if she was still the angel he always pictured her to be. He wanted to know if he fucked up so bad that he’d never have another chance with her if hell burned.

  Then there was Braden. His forbidden lover.

  “She and Braden became an item a few years ago,” Landon added, his voice distant. Carter tensed at the sink for a long moment, anticipating more. Braden’s fierce protectiveness over Summer made sense now. “They’re pretty tight, Carter. They love each other very much.”

  “That’s good. They deserve happiness,” Carter muttered, turning on the faucet. He pulled out his toothbrush and toothpaste. He only had himself to blame for losing them. He was the one who ran off. What the hell made him think he could walk back into Ryder and make things right?

  Damn you, Henry, for making me promise.

  “She opened her own little shop on Dairy. A cute little florist boutique. She’s makin’ a name for herself.” Toothbrush in mouth, Carter turned to find Landon leaning against the doorway, arms and ankles crossed. His Summer always had a dream of owning a florist one day.

  You could’ve been part of her dream. He scrubbed his teeth and spit into the sink.

  “We all know how bad you hurt her.” Landon spoke softly. “And a few of us saw that your leavin’ affected Braden, too.”

  “I don’t expect a friend of ten years to take lightly to me up and leaving without notice.” He finished brushing his teeth and washed his face. He’d have to stop by Colt’s house and use the shower until he fixed the plumbing in this damn place. Even the pressure in the sink faucet was just above a drizzle. Running his wet hands through his hair, streaming water over his mussed waves, he shut off the water and flicked his fingers. “Mind sidetracking to Colt’s before we head to the ranch?”

  “Not at all. Ready?”

  Carter chuckled, lacking all humor. “I’m as ready as I’m getting today.”

  * * * *

  Braden stole another glance at his watch and scowled. The bastard probably ran off like he had after his parent’s death. Never had Carter been one to run from anything, but then again, how well did he really know the man?

  To make things even brighter on this sunny morning, Summer was in an unnaturally quiet mood before he left the apartment.

  He spurred the mare, setting her into a steady gallop around the indoor corral. Another mare followed in tow
with only a rope lead attached to a simple harness. He wished it wasn’t so damn cold out. Losing himself in a carefree ride across miles of pasture and forest would do his mind well right about now, but wouldn’t be good for his gals.

  After close to two dozen laps around the corral, Braden slowed the mare to a walk and cooled her off with an additional few laps. He dismounted as they came to the double doors of the corral and pet the mare’s shimmering brown neck.

  “That’s my girl, Sand Dust. Feelin’ good?” Braden asked, tightening his grip on the reins and leading her into the wintry morning back toward the barn.

  “You handle her well.”

  Braden stiffened and leaned forward to see around the mare’s head. Among the familiar scents of crisp air, warm leather, and horse, a blood-simmering fragrance of woodsy spice crept into his nostrils. Carter paused alongside Sand Dust’s flank, splayed fingers stroking the sleek hairs along the mare’s powerful shoulder.

  “Travis had a tough time with this one from the moment she was born. Colt wanted her for rodeoing, but agreed she needed a gentle hand and a stern voice,” Carter said, his shadowed eyes beneath his low-riding baseball cap perusing the mare. Braden fisted the reins. He was not about to acknowledge the tension unleashing in his body and cock.

  He held his anger and resentment in a death grip, shoving it front and center. “You’re two hours late. If you’re gonna start slackin’ off on your second day, you might consider somethin’ more conducive of a lackluster work ethic.” Braden gave Sand Dust’s reins a firm tug. “I don’t have time to babysit, nor do I have the patience to deal with an insubordinate.” He continued to lead the mare toward the barn. “Stalls need muckin’. Get to work.”