by Caro LaFever
Taking off at a fast stride toward the barn, he ignored her impatient call. Within a couple of minutes, he had Diablo saddled and ready to go. Sadly, he’d lost Caballo five years ago. But buying another horse and naming him in Spanish again had irritated his father. So there was that to enjoy.
“I can’t believe you’re so angry.” Jessie stood outside the barn, her arms akimbo, her expression fierce with mother love. “The cows will be fine.”
Lifting himself onto the eager horse, he stared down at her. The lover in his bed. The mother of his beloved children. The woman who occasionally drove him crazy. “That’s not the point, and you know it.”
“I don’t think—”
“I told Jimmy not to fiddle with the apples. We needed them for the winter.”
His wife huffed, not willing to admit their oldest son had disobeyed a direct order.
Nick leaned on the pommel, knowing he was winning. “I also remember you telling Eddie to keep his fingers out of your sugar.”
Long, elegant fingers tapped on her arm.
“And I know for sure, Clyde and Nicky don’t follow my orders when tempted by their older brothers.”
Sighing, she peered up at him, the autumn sun blanketing her face in warmth, lighting her freckles into a splash of gold on her cheeks. “Don’t be too hard on them.”
“How’s that going to be possible, when their conniving grandfather was likely the Pied Piper of the pack?” he grumbled as he arranged the reins.
“Which is why you’re really mad.” She looked at him with her blue-green-brown knowing eyes.
“Yeah,” he drawled. “So sue me.”
“No, not a chance of that.” She came right to the horse’s side, not afraid like she’d been when they spent their first summer on the ranch. Now, she rode her own horse as well as he did his. “Come here, cowboy, and give me a kiss.”
Leaning down, he sipped on her lips. Lips that gave him pleasure and scolded him when he needed it. Lips that had spilled word after word, and somehow had healed his two families and himself. With Jessie by his side, he felt whole. Felt as if all the disparate pieces he’d held together with charm and lies had finally sealed into a man he could admire. “I’ll be back with the pack of thieves soon.”
“Dinner is Chinese.” She grinned. “Dim sum.”
“You are an amazing woman.”
“Amazing. Astonishing. And especially, astounding.” Her grin widened. “I’m also very good at alliteration, too.”
“Sí, you are.” Turning his horse, he headed for his crag.
He found the scoundrels just where he thought he would. On top of the crag, a place he’d forbidden them to climb without him being around. As soon as they spotted him galloping toward them, all four of them hightailed it to the other side of the mountain. It was no excuse that their grandfather guarded the horses down below.
He gave his father a hard glare. “You shouldn’t be riding a horse in your condition.”
“Are you going deaf?” His pa shot back. “Weren’t you in the doctor’s office when he talked about the pacemaker he planted in my chest at your direction?”
“Yeah, yeah. You can participate in more activities, true.” Swinging his leg over Diablo, he landed on the dirt ground, his cowboy boots kicking dust into the dry air. “You still need to be careful.”
“I’ll be careful when I’m dead.”
In retaliation for the empty threat, because his father was too cussed to die, he flicked his reins at him.
“You don’t give your boys enough credit,” his pa grumped. “They’re as sharp as tacks.”
Other than going soft with his grandsons, Edward Townsend hadn’t changed in the ten years since they’d settled their differences. His blue eyes were still bright, his strength still phenomenal, his temper as predictable as, well…his son’s. “Don’t even start to cover for them.”
“I thought it was pretty damn ingenious how Jimmy figured out the fermentation recipe.”
Throwing his father a growl, he headed for the steep climb.
“Nicholas.”
He stopped. And decided his pa deserved a poke. “¿Qué?”
“Foreign crap,” came the predictable response. But there was warmth in the scold, and Nick allowed himself a secret smile at his crag. “Look at me, boy.”
At the demand, he wiped his smile from his face and replaced it with a scowl before turning.
His pa fiddled with Diablo’s reins and leaned on one of the few oak trees lining the creek that dribbled along the crevice of the mountain. “Your boys…”
“Yeah?”
“I’m proud of them.”
“Yeah. Me too.” A bittersweet trickle of regret went through him. But he’d long ago forgiven his pa for being so tough on him, and he’d long ago given up on winning his outward approval. It was enough that he knew he was loved by the old man. He didn’t need the words. “Time for them to pay the price, though.”
“I suppose.”
A silence fell between them, filled only with the whip of a breeze. The silence was typical, as well. Part bewilderment, part awkwardness.
He coughed away the muted hurt and turned for the crag once more.
“Nicholas.”
“Yeah?” He focused on the climb, knowing he’d lost his way in the climb for his father’s approval somewhere around his sixteenth birthday.
“I’m proud of you, too, son.” The words were dry as dust, but as powerful as a bullet. “Very proud.”
Jerking around, he stared at his pa. “Huh?”
“Always have been.” The old man didn’t move from his lounging pose and kept his cowboy hat low. “Just too ornery to say so, I guess.”
“Pa.”
“Yeah, I know.” The old man waved at the crag. “Go on and get your boys.”
The words he’d stuffed down into the bottom of his soul for more than thirty years popped up like they were brand new. “I love you, Pa.”
The hat covered the old blue eyes, but didn’t conceal the slow grin. “I love you too, son.”
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Check out the rest of the series. There several other books within the International Billionaire Series. All of them are standalone and all of them have happily-ever-after endings. Happy reading!
The Italians
Mistress By Blackmail
Wife By Force
Baby By Accident
The Greeks
A Perfect Man
A Perfect Wife
A Perfect Love
The Scots
Lion of Caledonia
Lord of the Isles
Laird of the Highlands
Knight in Black Leather
International Billionaires XI: The Latinos
by Caro LaFever
Coming out in November 2016!
Stomping down the last of his stairs, Luc paced toward her. Any other person with a modicum of intelligence would have taken the hint and backed away. But the woman’s teasing smile didn’t wither and she didn’t retreat. “I’ve cooked breakfast for you.”
That elicited a growl from him. No one touched this kitchen at his home. He might be forced to trust his staff at the restaurant, but he had little choice. Here, however, he did. “This is my kitchen.”
“Yes, it is.” She nodded and ducked into the room, heading for the steaming skillet. "Excep
t I wanted to pay you back for what you did last night.”
“There’s no need,” he grumbled as he followed her, shutting off the jazz as he passed the speaker.
“There is.” Her smile turned from teasing to gentle. “You were wonderful.”
The compliment washed over him like a warm wave. He was complimented often. By his patrons, reviewers, fans. Compliments about his food were as common as a New Orleans rainstorm. But he rarely got a compliment that didn’t involve his work in a kitchen. Not for years and years.
Not since the devastation.
It was a good thing he remembered his past at the moment, because the woman still wore his T-shirt and gym shorts, offering him a wealth of things to look at.
If he wanted to.
“I’m not wonderful,” he shot at her, wanting her to stop.
The woman chuckled. That low, alluring sound she made in the depths of her throat did the same thing to him that it had done in his kingdom at the restaurant.
His cock perked to attention.
Anger followed. “I’m not.”
“True,” she readily agreed. “Usually you are merely a surly saleau.”
He straightened from his lounge on the kitchen arch. “What did you call—”
“But last night, you were my knight, my champion.”
My knight.
My champion.
The words rang in his head making him dizzy. Before he could gather his anger and disinterest, she lifted the cover off the skillet and leaned in. The move drew his gaze to her butt. When he’d been young, when he’d fallen in love, he’d thought of himself as a man who loved an armful of a woman. Genia had been everything his dreams had conjured. Lush, sensual, and knowing.
This woman’s butt was not big. Neither were her breasts. His clothes hung on her, giving him little to imagine, thank goodness. He’d grant she was nicely put together, but nothing special.
His cock rose in disagreement.
His anger grew as well.
The warm, comforting smells of cornmeal and buttermilk gave him a good idea what she’d cooked. “Cajun crap.”
Swinging around, she laughed. “No, no, mon ami. Don’t try the whole creole vs cajun thing on me.”
“I’m not your friend.” Feeling like he needed to do something with his hands before he grabbed her, he moved to his espresso machine. His brain tried to decide what he’d do if he did grab her—strangle her neck or kiss her lips?
The realization of how close he was to either, made him twist his own lips in instant rejection. He’d been alone now for years and he liked it that way. Going another way with a woman would expose him to too much risk. There wasn’t much left of him, but what there was, he wanted to keep.
“Would you make me a cafe au lait?” She segued around him and his words, apparently not willing to tackle his claim of non-friendship. “I couldn’t figure out how to run that thing.”
He grunted.
“Is that a yes or a no?” Amusement laced her voice.
Sign up for my new release email list at www.carolafever.com and I'll send you a note when Knight in Black Leather is released!
Also by Caro LaFever
The Italians
Mistress By Blackmail
Wife By Force
Baby By Accident
The Greeks
A Perfect Man
A Perfect Wife
A Perfect Love
The Scots
Lion of Caledonia
Lord of the Isles
Laird of the Highlands
The Latinos
Knight in Cowboy Boots
Knight in Black Leather
Knight in Tattooed Armor
Nonfiction
The Complete Guide to Heroes and Heroines
About the Author
Double finalist and winner of the Golden Heart, one of Romance Writer's of America's highest awards, Caro LaFever writes timeless romantic tales as well as nonfiction advice for writers. Her book, Heroes & Heroines: Sixteen Master Archetypes has been a go-to resource for writers for more than a decade. Her romantic novels have won or been a finalist in such prestigious contests as the Golden Pen, the Orange Rose, and the Emily. She lives in the Rocky Mtns.
@caro_lafever
CaroLaFever
www.carolafever.com
[email protected]
Acknowledgments
I appreciate every bit of advice and commentary that I've received from numerous critique group buddies, workshops, classes, and beta readers. After years of honing my craft, I still find new and important nuggets of wisdom every time I put my writing out there for review.
Thanks to my developmental editor, Allie Burton, who is truly my conscience and calls me on my idiot imaginings. Thanks to Sue Viders, who always catches when a character has moved across the room, but I haven't mentioned it. And thanks to Tanya Saari, my proofreader, who diligently goes with me into the correct way to spell numerous foreign foods and phrases.
Finally, thanks to my family, who taught me to love books and appreciate a story well-told.
Copyright © 2016 by Caro LaFever
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Book cover: Kim Killion
Interior design: Caro LaFever
ISBN: 978-1-945007-18-7
