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

by Rhea Regale

  “Avoiding everything isn’t gonna make it go away, Bray.”

  Carter’s haunting words sliced through the air and nailed him deep in the chest. Braden looked over Sand Dust’s back. Carter slowly turned his gaze upon him, lighting that dangerous flame deep within his gut. Liquid fire poured through his balls and burned down his cock. The man could melt him with a single look, and right now, he was doing just that.

  Carter rounded Sand Dust’s hindquarters, an either novice motion or an extremely confident motion. With Carter, it was the latter of the two. He was confidence and strength build into one mouthwatering man. Braden fought to keep the fortress walls around him from crumbling as the tall, formidable figure of his former lover stepped up to him. Only an inch or two taller than himself, Carter had a way of swallowing the space around him.

  “We both know I speak from experience.”

  “Why’re you late?” Braden demanded, steering the conversation as far from the topic Carter blatantly proposed.

  “I was nursing some wounds.” He flexed his fingers, drawing Braden’s attention to his hands. The backs of his knuckles were raw and red, and pretty damn beaten up. “Heard you’ve taken my place with Summer.”

  “Stay away from her, Carter. You’ll only hurt her like you’ve done to everyone who ever gave a shit about you.”

  “Have you told her anything?” Carter asked. Braden wrinkled his brow, setting his lips in a firm line. Carter’s gaze never once faltered, his beautiful blue eyes hidden behind the deep shadows of the hat. Braden’s fingers suddenly itched to knock the hat off his head and see, truly see, the torment in Carter’s soul. He wanted to know what happened, what led him to leave. He wanted that hope he glimpsed in Summer’s eyes before smothering it beneath hurt and resentment. “About us?”

  “Why would I?” Braden shook his head and continued walking the short distance to the barn. “To hurt her more?”

  “Don’t you think she deserves to know the truth?”

  “From the mouth of a hypocrite.” Braden laughed, opening the barn doors and leading the mare into the warm interior. He didn’t once stop and look back. The tension-filled air spoke louder than words. He remained the focus of Carter’s intense gaze. Whether the man was trying to break him down second by second, he didn’t know, but he sure as hell wouldn’t let five years of betrayal fall by the wayside.

  Didn’t matter how damn hot Carter looked, how damn hot his blood ran, or how damn hot his cock throbbed.

  Braden guided the mare into her stall and slid the harness from Sand Dust’s head, urging her to release the bit from her mouth. He hung the harness on a hook beside the stall door and wiped his hands on his jeans.

  There was no escaping Carter.

  “I think you need to get to work. I’m not here to talk ’bout the past or ‘bout my relationship with Summer. Anythin’ that had to do with us was left in the dust with your goddamn boot treads. There ain’t no second chances,” Braden said forcefully, but the beating organ in his chest protested his harsh words. Locking up the stall, he braced himself for another breath-snatching look at Carter. “We don’t talk about you.”

  Carter rubbed his chin, the shadow of his unshaven jaw looking so damn nice. Braden nodded his head toward the pitchfork and bucket across the aisle.

  “Stop wastin’ time. Winter days are short here in Kansas.” Turning the collar of his coat up, he started past Carter. “Or have you forgotten?”

  Carter grabbed his biceps as he passed, bringing him to a sudden halt. He pressed his lips together, willing away the lightheadedness that engulfed him. Carter’s fingers were stronger than he remembered. No layers could protect him from what this man’s touch fueled inside his body. He weakened, physically and emotionally, and he cussed himself for being such a fool.

  Braden stared at the open barn door, not wanting to be so close to his former lover and look him straight in the eye. Carter would see through to his soul and know immediately how much he still cared for the bastard.

  Standing shoulder-to-shoulder, neither willing to look at the other, Carter tilted his head slightly, the enveloping scent of his cologne wafting all around him. “You may think what you wish, but a day has not gone by that I haven’t thought about her and what my actions have done to her.” His fingers loosened around Braden’s arm, but he didn’t release him. “I still love her as much as I did before I left. I have held onto her every fucking day. She’s always been my angel.”

  Braden blinked, setting his jaw tight. Why was Carter telling him this?

  A soft, warm breath of air caressed his ear. “And I still love you, Braden. Just as much as I love Summer.”

  Braden snapped his eyes to Carter, their gazes colliding amidst a heart-stuttering wave of potent emotion. Time ceased. The air became thick, hard to breathe. Carter held his gaze for a long moment before dropping to Braden’s mouth. He licked his lips.

  “Where have you been?” Braden asked. He couldn’t ignore the tremor in his voice.

  Carter gave his head a small shake, his hand falling away from Braden’s arm, shattering the electrical moment. “Hell.”

  Braden stared at Carter’s back as he gathered the pitchfork and bucket and disappeared inside a far stall.

  Braden stormed from the barn and closed the doors behind him. After a quick glance to make sure he was alone, he leaned against the wall, dropping his head back and closing his eyes. Every muscle, every limb trembled. The hard pulse of his cock seared, bringing back vivid memories of their secret trysts down by the swimming hole and in the greenhouse when Carter’s father was away.

  To have that back again. To feel Carter take me, claim me, fuck me so thoroughly that nothin’ could bring me down from my happiness. Nothin’ could break what we had.

  “But something did,” Braden murmured. He adjusted the heavy bulge in his jeans and pressed off the wall. Tugging the brim of his cowboy hat low on his forehead, he cleared his throat. “Ain’t never gonna be the way it was.”

  Chapter Eight

  With a frustrated groan, Summer tossed the flower aside and dropped her head in her hands. Today was not the day she needed her thoughts turning back to Carter. His return to Ryder was difficult enough to digest. Nights of dreaming of this moment only enhanced that the reality of his return rocked her carefully laid life more than she could handle.

  The soft patter of Katie’s slippered feet approached at her back. She laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  “Summer, what’s botherin’ you?” she asked. Summer let out a sharp breath and looked up at her employee. Katie’s big brown eyes were wide with concern, her pigtail braids draping on either side of her pretty face.

  Summer waved to the growing pile of white Gerbera daisies with broken stems. “Can’t get them into the foam without the stems breaking.” She glanced at her watch and shook her head. “I need to have this over to the Dixon’s in an hour, and if I break anymore stems, I’m not gonna have enough flowers for the order.”

  Katie picked up one of the damaged stems and looked over Summer’s angled cut. “Is the foam too hard? Every once in a while, we get a bad block.” Katie pursed her lips and laid the flower on the table. Summer fingered through the remaining blooms in the water bucket. “But you usually pick that out before you start an arrangement.”

  “The foam is fine. It’s me.”

  “It’s not you.” Katie straddled the bench and fluffed the leaves of the stems already in the block. “Whatever’s gotchya down today is the problem. Nothin’ happened between you and Braden, right?”

  “No. We’re fine.” Summer examined a broken stem and frowned. She grabbed her scissors and angled a cut just above the crease. “I can probably save this one for the bottom.”

  “Want me to help? The phone’s quiet, and the two customers I’ve been helpin’ just left.”

  Summer offered a smile. “I think I’ll be fine. If you want to start on that order for the Murray’s Christmas party, that would be wonderful.” She pointed
to a cardboard box on the table across from her. “The ornamental picks are in there. There are three buckets of red carnations in the fridge. Mrs. Murray wanted a red backdrop to the arrangements.”

  “Got it, boss.”

  Summer put all of her effort into focusing on finishing the arrangement without losing any more flowers. When she placed the last bloom, she stole a glance at her watch.

  “Damn,” she groaned, scrambling to pack up the basket in a box. She grabbed the order form with directions to the house, her keys and purse, and nodded her good-bye to Katie. Precariously balancing the box, she rolled off the door. Her keys dropped and she bumped the corner of the box against the doorframe.

  “Whoa. Let me give you a hand.”

  She had no time to protest, a sudden swell of anxiety gripping her mercilessly. The box lifted off her arms. Summer moved her lips to speak. The only sound that came from her suddenly dry mouth was a short moan. Her eyes lowered with her flowers as her keys were retrieved from the sidewalk. The sun spread over a prominent scar along a very rugged cheek.

  No box or flowers could mask the sexy, gravelly tone that could only belong to Carter. No baseball cap or turned-up coat collar could disguise the face of the man who built her world and tore it down.

  A wave of weakness flooded her, starting with the offset beat of her heart, spreading down her arms and legs, and swirling into a hot mess between her legs.

  “God, Summer. You okay?” Katie asked, appearing at her side. Summer blinked, giving her head a small shake.

  “Um, yeah. Lost my balance,” she murmured as Carter straightened up to his full height, forcing her to tip her head to look up at him. Those blue eyes that singed her memories all these years stared down at her, a furious storm of unspoken emotions lashing around in streams of gray.

  She broke the spell that threatened to make her forget all of the hurt and pain she’d endured, and looked at Katie. To her disgruntlement, her young employee’s eyes glittered like most women who ever crossed Carter’s path, or any of the Ryder boys. Summer never gave their Casanova nickname any heed, but right now, seeing how Katie looked ready to fall at Carter’s feet, maybe there was some credence to the stigma.

  She wasn’t going to admit that she wanted to fall at Carter’s feet too.

  “Got yourself a cowboy knight to save you hours of anguish and spare you an angry customer,” Katie said. Oh yeah, Summer didn’t miss the subtle arch of the girl’s back, lifting her perky breasts for a better look, or the rouse of jealousy inside her that accompanied the innocent motion. Katie held out her hand. “Katrina Harris.”

  Carter shot Summer a curious glance. Summer lowered her head and aimlessly rubbed the sudden heat that rose to her cheeks.

  “Sorry, ma’am. My hands are full. Name’s Carter,” Carter said. When Summer glanced up at him again, one of his signature smiles had replaced the faint frown. The smile highlighted the single dimple in his left cheek, and with it, another swell of anguish and excitement pummeled her.

  “New here?”

  “Yes and no,” Carter offered.

  Summer took a deep breath, pasted an exaggerated smile to her mouth, and reached for her box. “Well, on that account, I’m late. You two have a blast chattin’ it up and I’ll be back.” Carter moved the box from her reach. Summer clenched her teeth. “Carter.”

  “Let me help you.” Despite the smile on those sensual lips, his eyes dimmed. “Please.”

  “Stop. I’m late.”

  “So am I. Five years late.”

  Summer stared at him. Beneath the handsome face and stunning eyes, beneath the air of power and strength and body-melting sexual prowess, she caught a rare glimpse of vulnerability.

  Katie swung a finger between them. “Do you two know each other?”

  “No,” Summer groused the same moment Carter said, “Yes.”

  The girl’s brows lifted, scrutinizing them. Summer growled, waving her hands.

  “We knew each other,” Summer admitted. She pierced Carter with a perturbed glance. “A long time ago.” She brushed by him, heading toward her car. “Let’s go, if you insist.”

  “Summer, if Braden comes by—”

  “Tell him I’ll be right back.”

  “I’m parked over here,” Carter said, bringing her up short. She cast him a blank glance as he stepped alongside a huge black pickup. She arched her brow at the silver Ryder Ranch decal on the back window.

  “Ain’t that Colt’s truck?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I’m borrowing it until I get my old truck up and running.” Carter pulled open the back door to the double cab and slid the box onto the back seat.

  “I’d prefer to drive,” Summer said even as she came up to the side of the truck. Carter shook his head, the bill of his hat casting a mysterious shadow over his face.

  “I never was a good passenger.” He guided her around the back of the truck with his hand on her lower back. She avoided looking at Katie. The girl’s potent gaze held tight to her until the truck blocked her from view. “Still not.” Carter pulled the door open, his hand slipping over her ass before falling away. “Hop in.”

  Summer hesitated, drinking in the sight of him. His scent was not familiar, a strange concoction of stable, leather, and cologne, but he was everything familiar. The long scar along his cheek, the small nick on his upper lip, did nothing to change who he was, and how much power he held over her. No matter how hard she tried to fight the whirling desires stirring in her womb, her panties were damp with arousal and her heart thudded an erratic rhythm.

  She climbed into the warm cab and settled in the comfortable seat. Carter closed the door. She tried her damnedest not to look at him as he rounded the front of the truck, or watch him pull himself behind the wheel. She tried her damnedest not to imagine what had happened to him to have earned the Purple Heart.

  When the flash image of Carter dead from wounds and the thought that she may never have known hit her, she swallowed a sudden lump in her throat and turned her gaze out the passenger window. After everything he did, why were tears forming?

  “Where are we going?” Carter asked. Summer closed her eyes, hating what his deep voice did to her resolve and her aching heart.

  “The Dixons’.”

  “Ah, another anniversary.” Carter chuckled, pulling onto the road. “Those two will claim a Ryder record.”

  “At least someone in this town knows the meaning of loyalty and faithfulness in a relationship,” Summer said, bitterness weighing heavy on her tongue. “That it’s not about one person, but two.”

  “Summer,” Carter sighed.

  She held up her hand and turned to face him. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  He slowed down and leveled her with a curious and hurt gaze. “Is that why you came to my house last night? Because you didn’t want to hear it?”

  Damn you, I want to know why you left. Why you hurt me as bad as you did. Instead, she said, “I saw someone messin’ around late the night before and went over to make sure it wasn’t some punk kids thinkin’ they could vandalize your house.”

  “Oh,” he said quietly, but the way he drew out the small sound assured her he didn’t believe a word.

  “Doesn’t matter, Carter. You were a few extra shots into your bottle last night, and I ain’t feelin’ bad for you. I’ve moved on—”

  “With Braden,” he interjected.

  “And I’m happy now.” Summer licked her bottom lip and watched the scenery slide by. Snow from two nights ago covered the grassy areas of the town in glistening patches. She swatted away the stark image of that medal, the uniform, everything that drew him as a hero that made her proud. That pride swelled each time she saw the mar on his face. Her resolve was taking a battering she wasn’t certain could withstand the force of what she had buried.

  He left you. He left you with no reason, no explanation. He just…left.

  Summer curled her fingers against the sides of her jeans. God she wanted to punch him. That bubbling
pool of pent-up emotion she’d suppressed all this time may not stay in check long.

  “Braden is a good man,” he said.

  “Yes. He’s a very good man.”

  Summer pulled out the order form from her purse and glanced over the directions to divert her attention away from the man less than three feet away. They were coming up to Forest Drive. Only a few more minutes of this torture and she’d walk the hell away from him. Sitting in the passenger seat, Carter at the wheel, all she wanted to do was slink up beside him and pick up where they’d left off.

  Stop it, Summer. He’ll only leave you again.

  “When did you two hook up?” Carter asked.

  “That’s none of your business. You have no right to nose around my life.”

  Carter jerked the steering wheel, turning onto a side road away from Forest Drive. Summer gaped, jabbing her finger into her window.

  “Carter!”

  He slammed the truck into park and squared the broad berth of his shoulders to her. Summer scowled, unlocking the door. He grabbed her arms tightly enough that she couldn’t shake him off, but his grip did not hurt. Electric waves skated down her body, shaking her confidence more and more. His touch was the heat to her cold, the cold that consumed her when she first found he left. By God, he was melting her.

  “You were nosing around my place last night. You went through my belongings. Pardon me for inquiring about your life in my absence, but if you’re gonna take it upon yourself to dig into my life, I’m gonna do the same to you.”

  Summer stared at him, jaw slack, mind stunned. The fire that erupted from his touch settled in her belly, lower still along her pussy. Pain slashed through his eyes as he fell back in his seat, releasing her arm. He adjusted the hat and gripped the steering wheel with both hands.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right.” He rubbed his chin, shifted the truck into drive, and turned back to Forest. “Sorry.”

  Summer didn’t say another word, shocked and partially embarrassed that he remembered her from the night before. Then again, he had acknowledged her right before he passed out.