by Rhea Regale
“I’ve dealt with clients far more stubborn than you’re pretendin’ to be. I’ve made my case and my deals. Don’t dismiss me, Sheriff. I know how to close a deal.”
Rylan’s gaze dropped to her dark-brown knee-high boots. “We do things a bit differently out here, Miss Cabot.” That hot gaze crept up her body, searing the flesh beneath her clothes. She swallowed hard once his eyes leveled with hers. “Jackson may care about your promotion, but I don’t give a shit. I care about my land, my home, and keepin’ riches-seekin’ businessmen, and women, from messin’ around with it.”
He leaned down, mouth close to her ear, and added, “Try, Miss Cabot. It’ll be fun to watch.”
Brianna blinked. The growing ache in her chest triggered her to take a breath. Controlling her initial inhalation, she looked back at Jackson in time to see Rylan lean away from his ear and weave away into the crowd. Jackson eased her into a comforting embrace, even as she trembled from Rylan’s nearness. The man could intimidate anyone, but it was the raw power that radiated off of him that overwhelmed her. He played rough, but he hid so much more, that she knew by the short glimpse of the vulnerable Rylan earlier in the day and when they first arrived at the bar.
“Guess he doesn’t like me, huh?” Brianna asked with a small laugh. Jackson’s attention focused on her, a devilish grin curling his lips.
“I don’t think that’s the case, honey.” He shook his head and stared off in Rylan’s stead. “I don’t think that’s the case at all.”
“He could fool me. He left.”
“He didn’t leave. He’s grabbin’ a table.” Jackson cupped her face and lifted her chin enough to press a chaste kiss to her lips. “I love watchin’ you in action.”
“That wasn’t action. That was two people buttin’ heads,” Brianna corrected. She had a feeling she’d be butting heads a lot harder than this in the near future. “He’s challengin’ me.”
“Rylan likes a woman who’ll challenge him.” He kissed her again, this time his tongue stealing a slow sweep through her lips. “I think he likes you.”
“You’re delusional.” Brianna reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening their kiss in hopes of drowning out the traitorous glimmer of hope she found in his words. “I’m your woman.”
“Mmm.” Jackson held her close, each heated sweep of his tongue causing the temperature of her blood to rise. Her pussy ached for him, fresh out of the hospital or not. Add the reaction Rylan stirred in her and she was practically melting in Jackson’s arms. “Mine, baby.”
Brianna nipped his lower lip and settled back on her heels. Oh yeah, she sure started something she wanted to finish. The solid mound pressing against her hip silently beckoned her to bring this somewhere private.
Just then, Rylan reappeared, sidling through the crowd, his hand pressed to his hip. He brushed by them, grabbed up his beer and her water, and motioned the way he had emerged. “C’mon.”
* * * *
An hour, several beers between the guys, and a lost count of refills of her water later, Brianna found herself settled, maybe a little too much, tucked between Jackson and Rylan. The alcohol seemed to loosen the tense sheriff enough that his smiles came with more ease, highlighting a handsome dimple in his left cheek. Or perhaps that was because she had decided to leave business at the front bar.
Hollers and screams, chants and cheers erupted throughout the joint as Colton Ryder, the owner of Ryder Ranch plus some and apparently Rylan’s cousin, readied for his eight-second ride on national television. Jackson leaned on his elbows, his gaze fixed to the projection screen at the back of the dance floor. Most of the dancers paused and shuffled to the outskirts of the space to watch the famed cowboy tug up on his rein and nod for the go.
The gate opened and the bronc leaped out into the arena.
“Nice mark out, buddy,” Rylan said into his beer. He, too, leaned forward. Tension coiled in the air, the heaviness taking Brianna by surprise. She didn’t know much about rodeos, but she knew enough to get her by.
Here, in this small town of Ryder, Kansas, Colton was a damn superstar.
She dared to steal a short glance at Jackson. He was counting each second as it passed. A glance in Rylan’s direction portrayed the sheriff in full focus on his cousin’s ride. The announcers gave a play-by-play of the cowboy’s skill, their voices rising as the seconds closed in on the magic number eight.
“Dirty Dealin’s one of the top broncs, and lookin’ like a great match for Colton tonight. Oh man! Look at him ride, folks. He makes it look so easy.”
The buzzer rang, Colton still riding strong. The crowd erupted into applauses and shouts. Jackson shot to his feet, arms raised over his head, howling with the rest of the customers.
“That’s a real cowboy!” someone shouted.
Brianna could barely hear over the roaring crowd, clinking glass, and splashing drinks. Hats flew at the ceiling.
Jackson and Rylan shot to their feet and crushed her between a celebratory hug. Her breath jammed up in her throat. She closed her eyes, the wild flutter of her heart and the two solid bodies drowning out the cheers. She moistened her lips, trying to ignore the very potent and erotic knowledge that the two sets of hips belonging to those two bodies brushed either side of her face.
God save me, I’m being cock-crushed.
Not that she minded.
Brianna blinked. She was all hot and itchy, her pussy moist and throbbing at that very notion.
“Damn,” she whispered, tipping her chair on the back legs and slipping her head from between their bodies. Wrong. Just plain ol’ wrong.
Jackson and Rylan separated, smiling and talking in rapid concession over her head as she fanned her warm face. She worked hard through her haze of stunned delight to focus on the screen as the replay of Colton’s ride finished.
“Eighty-four point five puts him in the lead! Colton Ryder’s on fire, folks. Two days into these finals and he might very well pull off four wins and a great shot at the All-Around title.”
“It’s still early, Roy, but man. Colton’s had a rough season. He’s showin’ everyone it ain’t draggin’ him down. He’s determined to take home every buckle he can this year—”
“Bree, honey. You okay?” Jackson asked, falling back into his seat. His excitement moments before was replaced with an etched brow and a concerned half frown. Rylan scoured her with that penetrating gaze, and it didn’t help matters.
“I’ll grab another water for you,” Rylan said, swiping her half-full glass from the table and heading toward the bar.
Brianna rubbed the back of her neck, peeling strands of hair from the fine coating of sweat that had developed, and flashed Jackson a smile. “I’m fine, Jax.” She scrunched her face. “Not sure I understand everything that just happened.”
“Colt’s off to a kick-ass start, that’s what’s happenin’. Finals in Ryder is a religion here. Everyone celebrates the games in one fashion or another. There’s a long line of top rodeo champs in the Ryder family.” Jackson hitched his thumb toward the screen. “And he’s the champ for our generation.”
Jackson grabbed her hand and gave her arm a gentle tug as he climbed to his feet. “C’mon, baby. Let’s get on the dance floor and have some fun.”
Brianna had no choice as she stumbled at Jackson’s swift-moving heels. Giddiness filled her, fingers entwined with his, holding onto his shoulder as they were bumped and rerouted. They stepped onto the hustling dance floor. Jackson spun her under his arm, caught her lower back, and dipped her. She laughed, holding his shoulders until he eased her upright and greeted her with one of his potent kisses. The laughter washed from her lips and left her moaning against his mouth.
The flash image of Rylan interrupted her mounting hunger. She cupped Jackson’s face and tapered off their kiss.
“I don’t want to make this awkward for your friend,” Brianna said. Jackson chuckled, kissing her forehead. He settled her into a steady slow-beat rhythm, despite the upbeat tune and
rowdy line dancers filling up the floor. She rested her head on his shoulder, allowing each breath he took to soothe her.
Two songs played. Jackson kept their slow pace, his arm tucked around her waist, holding her flush to his front. The overstimulating environment, or more accurately men, drained her of the small energy reserve she built up over the last few days. She needed to save what was left for her head-to-head encounters with Rylan, and whatever Jackson had planned for her during their stay.
“He’s a good man, Bree,” Jackson said, his breath caressing the side of her face. An airy kiss touched her cheek. “I’ve known him for as long as I can remember. I know him very well.”
“I don’t doubt that, Jax.”
“I know you’ve done somethin’ to him.”
Brianna’s serenity faded. She straightened off the comfort of Jackson’s shoulder and looked up at him. Jackson shook his head, his thumb strumming her lower lip.
“Yeah, you have, honey. He’s like a short-circuitin’ flip switch. The man doesn’t know which way to turn.”
The stitch between her brows deepened, her lips falling apart. She didn’t want to hear this. She fought to convince herself Rylan hated her to save her sanity. She loved Jackson, loved him with all her heart.
Until the big, bad sheriff came into her life.
“Why are you tellin’ me this?” Brianna asked. “We’re here to make that deal and we’re leavin’.” She stopped swaying, her hands dropping from his shoulders to his chest. “Aren’t we?”
Everything about his expression should have led her to believe he was genuine when he answered. “Yes, baby. Deal and gone.”
But she had come to learn Jackson’s expressions, and something lingered now that made her doubt his intentions. Would his loyalties to his friend, his old hometown that he never “fit into” become a conflict of interest?
“Jax, you know what this deal means to me. You know I need this promotion,” Brianna said.
“Bree, I know everythin’, but you don’t need a promotion to cut ties with your mother.” He touched her temple, followed by her chest. “Here and here, my love. That’s what counts. Be happy in your heart. Be sound in your mind. Don’t prove anythin’ to anyone, only to yourself and you’ll be free.”
He cupped the back of her head and laid her cheek to his shoulder once more. “As for Ry, let me just say that I think he’s got an eye for you like no other.”
“You’re up to somethin’.”
“Not up to anythin’. Pointin’ out a fact is all.”
She pressed her lips together for a long moment. “Really, Jax?” A short laugh escaped her. “I think I know you better than that. You’re simmerin’, and probably with those thoughts about threesomes we’ve joked about.”
His smile held a pronounced mischievousness. His eyes darkened, shadows casting through his expression. She knew that look, knew it meant he had something edgy and inappropriate, maybe even a little dangerous, coming together in his intriguing brain.
Her thoughts were disturbed when someone reached for Jackson. Rylan leaned into his friend, his head turned away from Brianna, and spoke close to Jackson’s ear. Jackson responded, his words muffled by the music. Rylan straightened up, shaking his head even as Jackson tugged him up to Brianna.
“I’ll be right back. Ry’ll teach you a thing or two about dancin’,” Jackson said. He pecked her cheek and sidled through the crowd, disappearing in a mass of cowboy hats, tank tops, and T-shirts.
Brianna shot Rylan a confused look, a rush of weakness pouring down her legs. He shrugged, holding out his hand.
“What do you want to know about country dancin’?” he asked. She glanced at his hand and recalled the strength in those fingers, the heat that permeated her flesh from his palm. Guiding her gaze along his bared forearms, the thick muscle and defined veins, to the bunched thermal sweatshirt at his elbow, she lost the ability to swallow. “Or do you?”
Her full attention flew up to his face, catching at his lips for a brief moment. He was watching her, those shadowed eyes peeling apart each molecule of her being in the most invasive and—god help me—erotic way.
“What are you willin’ to teach me, Sheriff?” Brianna asked, easing her hand in his. Her voice dipped, a sexual husk filtering into the last few words. Rylan’s lips curled ever-so-slowly, a seductive motion that demanded her full, unfettered focus. The shadow of a dimple formed in his left cheek, his fingers folding around hers. He angled his head slightly, his eyes narrowing enough to leave her heart racing in her chest.
“Some valuable lessons that come with bein’ part of Ryder.”
“Ryder the town? Or Ryder the family?”
Rylan led her in a slow circle under his arm. As she came back to face him, his smile had grown. She didn’t miss the sharp edge that accompanied it when his other arm slinked around her waist and brought her close.
“Both, Miss Cabot.”
* * * *
Jackson sipped his whiskey, elbows perched back on the bar ledge. He didn’t lose sight of Rylan and Brianna once, even with the thickening crowd and the small group that took a seat at a nearby high top table. He observed Rylan’s change in demeanor the moment Brianna accepted his invitation to dance. The masterful man of seduction showed his predatory face as he spun Brianna around, uncaring as to who might be watching them.
There was no mistaking anything he saw tonight. No degree of practiced faces and expressions could hide that particular glimmer of desire that flashed every time Rylan as much as glanced at Bree. His friend’s hardheaded approach only solidified his growing suspicions about Ry’s unspoken attraction to his woman.
Any man would be a bull ready to land a horn through a man’s gut, but not him. Hell no. He had a secret motive for pushing Gregory to put Brianna on this deal. He wanted his woman to see where he came from, what his life held before he worked his ass off to get to where he was now.
He wanted to prove to her that she needed nobody but herself to live a life she dreamt. Well, as long as he was part of that dream.
Rylan and Bree’s crossing of paths was not part of his plan, but it sure as hell opened up an entirely new direction for him to lead this work-slash-Christmas vacation down. He wanted his friend back, the one who smiled because it was a sunny day or danced the night away because life could never best him.
Rylan spun Brianna around again and pulled her flush against him. Jackson grinned against the lip of his glass, his plan re-forming down a brand-new, and far more delightful, path. Rylan’s hand rested low on her back, bordering inappropriate, and Bree appeared awfully content in his friend’s hold.
Jackson knew a golden opportunity when he saw one. Bree nailed it when she mentioned the threesome. They’d joked about the idea and the allure, but never took it further, mostly because he didn’t trust another guy with his woman. Years ago, he and Rylan had tossed around the idea of sharing a woman, but neither one of them could settle on a single lucky female.
The timing felt right. His return to Ryder with Brianna. The fateful accident that had brought Brianna and Rylan together. A chance to indulge in the pleasures of a bed with three rather than two.
It wasn’t a farfetched proposition.
Jackson sipped his whiskey as Rylan brushed Brianna’s hair from her forehead, exposing the healing wound. He was a trustworthy and tender man who possessed a slick and sexual beast. The Casanova title pertained to Rylan as much as it did any of the Ryder cousins. Even at this distance, Jackson could almost feel Brianna’s reaction to Rylan. She was a receptive woman, easily aroused, and so much fun to love.
Yes. Jackson would share her with his closest friend. He could coax Brianna into falling in love with Ryder the town, and maybe loving Ryder the man, creating another lynch to convince her this would be the perfect place to start a new life.
As for his friend, the man deserved happiness. Jackson saw every possibility of that special happiness manifesting right before his eyes. If Bree could give him that small
gift while indulging in her fantasies, why the hell not put this plan into motion?
Unspoken fantasies, baby, but not unseen. Both of you.
“You’re still alive, you bastard,” Jackson said with a chuckle. He threw back the rest of his drink and dropped it on the bar when someone pushed him from behind. Whipping around, he almost missed the familiar face of Landon Ryder in his search for a punk trying to start a ruckus.
“Rumor had it you were back in town,” Landon said, his cowboy hat riding low on his head, shadowing his eyes. His smile, however, was turned on full-berth.
“Hey, man,” Jackson greeted. He clapped Landon’s hand and pulled him in for a strong hug. “When did you slip in?”
“Beginnin’ of the saddle bronc event. Colt killed it out there. He’s provin’ his innocence with each ride.”
“Shame. He shouldn’t have to prove his innocence. That’s not what our judicial system is based on.”
“Ain’t no judicial system. It’s people. Guilty until proven innocent. By that time, your reputation’s been hog-tied and dragged through pig shit.”
Jackson nodded, turning back to Rylan and Brianna. Brianna stumbled beside him, those luscious waves he so loved to tug on falling over her face. She laughed at something Rylan said before straightening her shoulders and preparing to conquer the line dance. Rylan held a hand against her back, guiding her along.
“Is that Ry?” Landon asked, grabbing a fresh beer from Terrance. He mirrored Jackson’s casual stance, his gaze narrowed on his cousin. “With a woman?”
“I believe so,” Jackson confirmed.
“Christ, I didn’t realize he knew women existed anymore. Look at him.” Landon pointed his bottle toward Rylan and Brianna. Rylan held Brianna closer than necessary, and Brianna melted into him. “Those two are gettin’ pretty cozy.”
He was looking, and he was definitely imagining. “He sure realizes this one exists.”
“Know her?”
“I sure do,” Jackson teased, tearing his gaze from the dancing couple. “Brianna. She’s my woman.”
