by Tessa Layne
During any other crisis, Jamey would have called Maddie immediately. After all, they’d been best friends for over a decade. But Maddie had rushed home to Prairie after her father, Warren Hansen, had suffered a massive heart attack, and was embroiled in her own crisis. She loved Maddie like a sister and refused to add to her stress. It hadn’t made sense to tell Maddie when she returned to Chicago, brokenhearted, or during the flurry of wedding preparations over the last few weeks. So Jamey had soldiered on and tried to make the best of a shitty situation on her own.
“Why don’t you come back to the pub?” Jarrod asked, his eyes serious.
They’d had this conversation three times in the last five weeks. She was over it. “I’ve already told you no. There’s no creativity in pub food. And I can’t be around gluten there any more than I can be around gluten in my own restaurant. You should see the rash around my midsection.” Not to mention feel the knives slicing through her gut.
“But there’s an escape clause in your contract. Why not use it?”
“About that…”
“Jamey,” her brother’s voice grew sharp. “For God’s sake, Jamey. You used the contract I sent you?”
“Jean Luc had a fit when I showed it to him. Said if I didn’t trust him, that we couldn’t be partners.”
Jarrod groaned. “And you fell for that shit?”
“I didn’t want to upset him any more than I already had.”
“I don’t give two fucks about that asshat. That contract was for your protection. To keep your investment safe. What were you thinking?”
Shame heated her. God, she’d been so naïve. Star struck that Jean Luc had chosen to partner with her. He’d pursued her with the ferocity of a pit bull. No one pursued her. She was always the loudmouth. Bossypants. Most of the time she liked it that way. But in the beginning, Jean Luc had made her feel feminine. Desirable. Until he started pressuring her to change. Get a boob job, fix her hair. At first, she’d made excuses for his behavior. But after she disclosed her illness, he’d become cold, impatient. Dismissive. And the pieces fell into place.
He’d been using her this whole time. Using her talent in the kitchen for his gain. It had never been a partnership. And as soon as she was back in Chicago, she’d begin the difficult task of extracting herself from the partnership that wasn’t.
“Obviously, I wasn’t thinking,” she snapped. “A mistake I won’t make again.”
“It’s for your own good, sis.”
“Are you ever going to stop bossing me?”
Jarrod draped his arm across her shoulders and grinned. “Nope. Never.”
And that, in a nutshell, was why she’d gone to Paris to study at Le Cordon Bleu, and why she’d moved to Chicago to make her own way. She adored her family. Loved all her brothers to pieces. But they couldn’t leave well enough alone. As the only girl, she was saddled with five well-meaning protectors. She’d never move back to Boston. Not if she wanted any kind of life for herself.
She leaned her head against Jarrod’s shoulder. “Do me a favor?”
“Save you a dance?”
“You know I don’t dance.”
“I think there’s a certain cowboy that would love you to save him a dance.”
She twisted to study her brother. “Not dancing with anyone. Sexy cowboy or not.”
“We see the way Brodie follows you around. Need us to take care of him?”
“I can handle him just fine, thank you.” She gently cuffed Jarrod. “Now grab that pile of dirty plates and make yourself useful.”
“Whatever you say, bossypants.” Jarrod gave her shoulders a squeeze and moved to collect the plates.
She followed, collecting another stack full, holding them out from her body so she wouldn’t get food on her dress. Of course her brothers had noticed the way Brodie looked at her. They weren’t blind. Neither was she, for that matter.
A body moved in front of her, and the plates were lifted from her hands. “Let Me.”
Brodie.
Did he have to look so delicious holding a stack of dirty plates? She rolled her eyes. “Do I look like some helpless little lady?”
He smiled slow and sexy. “No way to mistake you for one, darlin’.”
She pursed her lips, shaking her head. “Don’t call me that.” She attempted to take back the plates, but he tightened his grip.
Fine. Let him help. She stepped around him and made her way to the back door.
“You prefer something more intimate? Like babe?” He kept pace with her and reached the back door in time to open it for her.
What was it with cowboy chivalry? She snorted as she bustled to the sink. “Go fack yerself, Brodie Sinclaire. Did you notice there’s a party outside?”
“What? What I do to set off your Irish?” He followed her around the island and leaned on the counter.
She narrowed her eyes at him as she began rinsing dishes.
“Wait. Are you mad about earlier? I was just teasing.”
He looked genuinely contrite. She didn’t know why he’d set her off like that. Under normal circumstances she could dish out as good as she got. But these weren’t normal circumstances, and Brodie kept her off-kilter. Tied her in knots.
“Forgive me? Kiss and make up?” He waggled his eyebrows. No shame. The man had no shame.
“I’m impervious to your charms. And I don’t dance.”
“I can teach you.”
“I didn’t say I don’t know how.”
“Now don’t get your panties in a bunch… you’re wearing them aren’t you?” He winked at her.
She rolled her eyes fighting the urge to giggle. “Do you really want to lose your balls?”
“Quit sweet-talkin’ me darlin’.”
She’d learned growing up that when she felt vulnerable, her best defense was a strong offense. Jean Luc had only reinforced that conviction. Hanky panky with the brother of the groom at any other wedding might be a pleasant diversion. But Brodie got under her skin. Made her hot and agitated. That made him off-limits, no matter how many butterflies he launched in her stomach.
“I have five brothers and know how to wield a knife. Are you a betting man?”
Damn.
Had her voice just gone breathy?
“I’ve been known to make a few bets in my life.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Cocky bastard aren’t you?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
The back door opened. “Sis, he bothering you?”
Without turning around, she answered. “I already told you. It’s nothing I can’t handle, Jarrod. In fact,” she slid Brodie a sideways glance. Time to have a little fun with him.
“Brodie here has just offered to take care of the dishes.” She cocked an eyebrow at him and winked, handing him the scrubber. “Thanks, sweetheart.” She whispered so only he could hear, then sashayed away to join her brother at the door.
CHAPTER 3
Brodie stood staring as the screen door slammed shut behind Jamey. Damn. She was good. And way too sexy for her skinny frame. The smirk she’d shot him indicating she knew she’d won this round had gone straight to his balls. He needed to have a talk with his balls. Jamey wasn’t remotely his type. But the whole time they’d talked, he’d found himself focusing on the way her mouth moved.
He had no desire to kiss her. None whatsoever.
Except that suddenly he did.
Damn.
Where the hell had that thought come from?
She was too tall. Too skinny. Too mouthy. But there were surprising benefits to having a woman’s face so close to his own. For starters, he could see every expression, every thought that passed over her features. Second, he was close enough to observe the crinkles around her eyes and the faint freckles splashed across her nose. Third, he wouldn’t have to tilt his head to swoop in for a kiss. Her mouth was right there. Ready for him. All he’d have to do is step close.
Blowing out a breath, he tossed the scrubber in the sink. He
wasn’t going to consent to dish duty. Not when there was a party to help wrap up. Dusk would be falling soon, and he and Ben would have to saddle the bride and groom’s getaway horses before they began the fireworks. He wanted the horses well on their way before it got noisy. He had half a mind to collect Simon and take him to the barn to show him how to turn the horses out to pasture. Then he could supervise Simon in the horse saddling. The kid was smart. Learned fast. But he didn’t quite have the mechanics down well enough to saddle horses by himself.
Brodie stepped out on the back porch and surveyed the party before him. The late afternoon sun lit everything in gold, and sharpened the contrast between light and shadow. He scanned the dance floor but didn’t see Jamey. Where was she?
Back over by the buffet table. Head bent toward Travis fucking Kincaid. Jealousy shot through him with the force of a charging bull.
Huh.
She wasn’t his type. He couldn’t possibly be jealous. Maybe he needed one of the celebratory Irish whiskey shots being passed around by her brothers. That would scratch the insane itch that had developed around her.
He spotted her brothers standing in a circle with Mason Carter, Blake’s college roommate and a billionaire playboy. Stepping off the porch, he made a beeline for them, narrowly avoiding Millie Prescott, who ran the local organic market.
He should ask her to dance. She was more his type. Curvy, soft spoken, vivacious. He glanced back at Jamey, who was still speaking with Travis. She threw her head back in laughter just then, and jealousy surged again.
No way.
He wasn’t jealous. He couldn’t be. Shaking the feeling off as he reached the men, he extended his hand. “How about a toast, gents?”
Jarrod, the obvious ringleader, looked him up and down.
Brodie got the distinct feeling he was being measured and wasn’t quite up to snuff. The desire to put these city boys in place surged through him. He stood his ground and looked each of them in the eye.
Jason, another of Jamey’s brothers, clapped him on the back. “Seein’ as we’re almost family, you bet.”
Mason handed him a glass.
“Sláinte,” saluted another brother whose name Brodie hadn’t caught.
Clearing his throat, he lifted his glass. “To the bride and groom.” He tipped his head back and swallowed the fiery fluid, feeling every bit of its heat sliding down his throat.
The whiskey didn’t do anything to cool the itch. If anything, it made it more persistent. Would Jamey taste like a shot of Irish whiskey?
Jarrod stepped close. “I noticed you following our sister.”
“Just making sure the guests are happy.”
Jarrod’s eyes narrowed. “So long as that’s all it is.”
Defiance pressed against his chest, and he lifted his chin a notch. “You have a problem with me, city boy?” He’d be damned if he’d be subjected to this kind of scrutiny on his own property.
Jarrod stepped closer and took a sip of his whiskey. “We see the way you look at our sister.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” Jason crossed his arms, biceps bulging. Was he the firefighter? Brodie couldn’t keep them straight. “Like she’s a five course meal.”
Huh.
He’d show them how wrong they were. He gave them his best smile. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, gents. The one you gotta watch out for is Travis.” Brodie cocked his head over his shoulder, sliding another glance Jamey’s direction. She was laughing with Travis. Again.
The brothers moved as one.
“Thanks for the drink,” he called after them. He kept his eyes trained on the brothers as they descended on Jamey and Travis. Jamey stepped away and caught his eye, giving him a scathing glare.
He waved his fingers at her, chuckling. Then mouthed the words “Payback” before he drifted away to search for Simon. Another round for him. She’d probably make him pay next time, but he didn’t care.
Thirty minutes later, he still hadn’t found Simon. Blake had signaled that he and Maddie were more than ready to escape the party, and it was past time to saddle up. Maybe Simon was waiting for him at the barn. So long as he didn’t handle the horses.
Brodie began to make his way to the barn, stopping to accept congratulations every few yards. He was halfway to the barn when he realized Jamey was in front of him, wobbling her way across the bumps and ruts. What was she doing away from the party? And trying to navigate the barnyard in frilly shoes?
Suddenly, she stopped and bent double. Was she hurt? He quickened his pace. “Jamey?” he called after her. A shudder wracked her body and she lurched forward, obviously heading for the barn. What the everloving fuck was going on? “Jamey. Wait.”
She heard him this time, if her dismissive waive was any evidence.
The barn door opened. Simon stood straining against the heavy door. Shit. Shit.Shit.Shit.
Blake’s horse, Blaze, stood saddled. But Brodie could tell from the tilt of the saddle that the cinch was loose. Simon must have tried to saddle him alone. He broke into a jog, calling to the boy. “Simon. Stay there. I’ll be right there.”
A flash of movement by the corral caught his attention. The McPherson boys had found their stash of fireworks. Goddammit. Axel and Gunnar had assured him the fireworks were stashed out of sight. “Boys, get out of there,” he bellowed. What in the hell were those boys doing down here anyway? Then he caught it. The whiff of cigarette smoke.
Of course.
Three things happened simultaneously. An object bounced off the barn door. Simon reached for the reins hanging from Blaze’s bridle. And Jamey finally stopped to stare at him.
The air filled with the deafening sounds of firecrackers. Christ almighty. Did the boys have to choose the string of Black Cats? At the same time, Blaze reared, pulling Simon.
“Let go, Simon. Let go of the reins,” Brodie yelled, breaking into a run. Blaze gave a little hop and bolted, saddle listing precariously, heading straight for Jamey. The horse was going to trample her.
“Jamey. MOVE.”
Out of the corner of his eye he could see the McPherson boys hopping the corral fence. He’d deal with them later. He had to reach Jamey. She stood frozen to the ground. He charged with a final burst of speed, and captured her waist, diving and twisting so that she landed on top of him.
“Oomph.” The air left his lungs in a whoosh, and her startled eyes met his. He caressed the back of her head. “It’s okay. You’re safe.” For a moment, he’d visualized the worst, and his heart had leapt to his throat. He’d never forgive himself if anything happened to her.
She shifted on top of him, and he became aware of her thighs pressed against his. Hard and muscular. His other hand rested dangerously close to her ass. The urge to squeeze and caress her radiated through him. All he’d have to do is raise his head, and her mouth would belong to him.
She arched her back, pulling away from him. “What in the devil’s whiskers are you playin’ at, Brodie Sinclaire?”
He gave her a wry smile. “Glad to see your Irish is intact.”
“Jamey, Jamey. Are you okay?” A worried Simon appeared above him.
A curious light flashed in Jamey’s eyes. “I’m fine, kiddo. Just had the wind knocked out of me by Cowboy Courageous, here. Help me up?”
Simon extended his hand. “I thought for sure Blaze was going to run you over.”
“Nah. I’m too ornery.” She pushed off him, and took Simon’s hand, hauling herself up. She dusted herself off and glanced back at Brodie, her face all business.
He pushed himself to sitting, looping his hands over his knees. “Simon. What were you doing down here by yourself? You could have been trampled when the horse spooked.”
Simon’s eyes widened. “I guess I didn’t think of that.”
Brodie shook his head grimly. “I know you didn’t. You have to remember there are reasons for our rules. We don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
A look of panic crossed Simon’s face. “Are you goi
ng to send me home? I didn’t mean to, honest. I wanted to help.”
Brodie pushed himself to his feet and crossed to Simon in two steps, wrapping an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “No one’s going to send you anywhere. You’re a Sinclaire. This is your home. Even when you make mistakes. Hell, I’ve been making mistakes on this ranch my whole life, and I’m still here. Just do your best, and follow the rules.”
Simon’s arms wrapped around his waist. “You won’t tell, will you?”
He ruffled the boy’s hair. “Yep. I’ve got to. Part of being a man is taking your lumps when you mess up. Now go find Ben and let him know about the McPherson boys. Gloria’s going to tan their hides.”
“Sure thing.” Simon gave him an extra squeeze, then took off for the Big House at a jog.
The horses could be properly saddled once he assured himself Jamey was really okay. Blaze had circled the barnyard, and stood about ten yards away, munching on a patch of spring grass.
Brodie gave a low whistle to the horse, gently strolling closer. Blaze gave him a side-eye, but remained where he was. “Come on, boy.” He kept his voice low. “Come on back. No one’s gonna hurt you.”
He kept advancing on the horse, murmuring soft endearments until he came abreast of him. Reaching out, he gave Blaze a gentle stroke along his neck. “See? You’re okay. Come on back.” Brodie slowly reached down and clasped the reins. Blaze’s ears flicked, but the horse didn’t back up.
“You’re good with him, you know,” Jamey called out behind him.
Warmth blossomed and settled low in his gut. “I’ve been around horses my whole life.”
“I meant Simon.”
Pride surged through him. Jamey didn’t seem like the kind who freely dished out compliments. “You sure you okay?” Better to steer the conversation to safer territory. For both of them. “Before the horse spooked–”
She raised her hand, mouth tightening. “I’m fine. Really.” She lifted her dress and picked her way over the bumpy ground to the corral fence.
He followed her with Blaze, looping the horse’s reins over the fence post. “Why are you down here? Why’d you leave the party?”
