by Stacy Gail
“Good Lord, I’ll be living in the bathroom. And FYI, I’ll drink the orange juice only if there’s alcohol in it.” She shook her head, trying to brace herself for the upcoming birthday shenanigans when a thought suddenly occurred. “Back up a second. Bridget was ordering Hannah and Fiona around again?”
“Yep.”
“And were they following her orders?”
“As far as I know, you’re getting coffee, tea and orange juice, as per Bridget’s commands.”
“I cannot figure out how this keeps happening. Bridget is freaking three. Why do they listen to her?”
“Because she’s the most terrifying. Takes after her mother,” Ry said, deadpan, then chuckled when she gave his butt a swat. That firmly rounded ass of his was still one of her favorite parts of him, and even after all this time she happily took advantage of being his wife to grope him on the daily. “See what I mean? Terrifying.”
“You know what’s really terrifying? Turning thirty and realizing your life is run by a bunch of tiny terrorists.”
“Thirty was one of my favorite years.” As he spoke, a hand moved beneath the covers to idly slide down her bare leg. Ever since their girls became mobile she wore a nightshirt to bed—usually one of his—just in case they had a nocturnal wanderer. But that was all she wore, and he damn well knew it. “It was the year we got married, Pure Angus got off the ground, and you got knocked up with Hannah. Top that.”
“No fair. You got all the cool stuff.”
“So did you.” With an efficiency she genuinely admired, he had her nightshirt up and over her head. “Better yet, I’ve got some more cool stuff in mind to get your birthday started off with a bang.”
By the time she heard the girls stirring, Ry had convinced her there was plenty of cool stuff in her life to keep her well satisfied.
* * *
The sun was setting when Willard and Pauline drove up to the house. Scampering footsteps had Celia glancing toward the door just as her second oldest, Fiona, appeared. Decked out in the tutu she’d worn for her Christmas dance recital, along with the fairy wings she’d worn for Halloween, and finishing the outfit off with the pink cowgirl boots she wore with everything, she was the picture of all things girly and adorable.
“Grampa Will and Gramma P are here,” Fiona announced, pushing her hair out of her eyes. Like all her children, Fiona’s hair was as black as midnight and so thick and heavy it was impossible to keep it neatly restrained in a hair tie. “Why can’t we go with you and Daddy, Mama?”
“Aw, baby.” Securing the diaper around her five-month-old son Connor, Celia scooped him up off the changing table and rested him on her hip. “Daddy’s taking me on a grown-up date for my birthday. There’s going to be kissing and holding hands and lots of other mushy stuff you wouldn’t like.” But she would.
Most definitely.
“Ew.” Fiona scrunched up her little nose in perfect five-year-old disdain before she seemed to realize that kind of response wasn’t going to get her out the door with them. “But it’s okay for you and Daddy do the mushy stuff this one time, Mama. It’s your birthday, so we won’t mind.”
“That’s very sweet of you, honey.” Guiding her out of the room, Celia turned off lights as they headed for the stairs. “But we wouldn’t want to make you or your sisters uncomfortable, so you’re going to have a good time staying home and watching a movie with Gramma P and Grampa Will, and maybe even help them make something yummy in the kitchen.”
“Bridget says she doesn’t want you to go.”
Celia hid her eye-roll as they headed down to greet Willard and Pauline. “Bridget is going to have to learn how to cope with the fact that she’s not always in charge.”
As they entered the gathering room that merged with the open kitchen area, it was clear her youngest daughter was busy holding forth on what she wanted Pauline and Willard to do in order to keep her entertained. No matter how often Ry teased her that Bridget took after her, there was no doubt that Bridget was all Brody. Glossy black ringlets bounced around a cherubic face dominated by green eyes, but it was her casual bossiness that baffled Ry and made Celia shake her head.
Clearly, that baby apple didn’t fall too far from the Brody tree.
“...an’ then,” Bridget was saying earnestly to Pauline, who sat at the breakfast nook, “after da movie, you bake da cookies I like, ’kay?”
“Tell the tiny tyrant no.” Ry and their oldest, Hannah, led Willard into the kitchen, and both men had some sort of photographic equipment with them. “Bridget has to learn that she doesn’t get to be the boss of everyone on the planet.”
“Is that so?” Celia sent him a teasing look as she crossed to where Pauline sat. “You never had that lesson.”
“Oh, I had it, darlin’. It just never stuck.”
“In any event, the timing’s off for that particular life lesson to take place.” Pauline chuckled, then took Conner from Celia with a little coo to the baby. “I told your wife I’d be filming a video blog about treats that can be done with the little ones in the kitchen, Ry. The treats we make tonight might not be the cookies Miss Bridget is talking about, but they’re sure going to be nummy-nummy.” She said the last bit while rubbing noses with Connor, who squealed and giggled.
“Cel did mention something about that.” Ry shook his head before glancing at Willard. “I used to have a memory. Then fatherhood happened.”
“You said you gave us all your smarts.” Looping her thin arms around her father’s middle, Hannah looked up at Ry with adoring eyes. From day one, Hannah had been Daddy’s Girl, just as Ry had been utterly smitten with his firstborn. Hannah was Celia’s mini-me, with pale gold skin and the thickest head of ebony hair the world had ever seen. Only her eyes were Brody, a dark forest green and filled with an intelligence that was almost palpable. “You don’t have to worry about forgetting things, Daddy. I’ll be your memory.”
“Me too,” Fiona announced and danced over to hug her father.
“Me too.” Not to be outdone, Bridget lost interest in bossing Pauline around and threw herself at her Ry’s legs.
“Well then, it’s unanimous.” Willard laughed while Ry tried not to topple over. “Looks like you’re well taken care of, Ry.”
“I am.” Smiling, he bent to hug his girls close a moment before he lifted his head to lock gazes with Celia. “I most definitely am.”
It took another ten minutes to help get Pauline’s video equipment set up and the girls settled down in the comfortably cluttered living room with their movie, but at last Celia found herself sitting in the passenger seat of the classic Camaro that had once been hers but was now driven exclusively by Ry. Not only did the sleek yellow and black two-seater not fit her minivan needs, but Ry genuinely adored the powerful muscle car that Coe Rodas still kept in tiptop shape. Every now and then her husband referred to it as his midlife crisis on wheels, but she knew better. There was no internal crisis going on with Ry; he had everything he’d ever wanted and then some, with one blessing after another raining down on him as the years progressed. She knew this because he never seemed to tire of telling her just that.
God knew she never tired of hearing it.
After years of living in family hell, Ry had rediscovered his idea of heaven on earth with a new family.
Their family.
“I love that The Spot has become our place.” Seated inside the bar and grill overlooking the deck where they had shared their first dinner together, she glanced out the window overlooking the deck. It was too cold to sit outside, but she knew that during warmer weather her man did whatever it took to get “their” table where her life had changed in every possible way. “Just think—we never would have met if I hadn’t gotten smashed that night and goosed you.”
“I still would have found a way to lasso you, one way or another.” Smiling, Ry picked up her left hand from the table. The four
carat round cut diamond he’d slid around her finger winked in the light thrown off by the tabletop candle as he brought her hand to his mouth. “The first time I looked into your eyes and saw all that beautiful magic inside you, I knew you were the one.”
She beamed, loving how he often described her eyes as black magic. “Yes, but you never would have had a chance to look into my eyes if I hadn’t been so gaga for the perfection of your ass that I had to make a grab for it.”
“Wrong, though I like hearing you think my ass is perfection. I could say the same for yours, darlin’.” He kissed her hand again before tipping her a wink. “Make no mistake, yours is truly the finest ass in all of Texas, surpassed only by the boner-making magnificence of your legs.”
She laughed. “Now that was a Brody compliment if I’ve ever heard one.”
“But even more than your epic ass and legs, it was your eyes I noticed first. It happened right there,” he added, nodding his head toward the polished, crowded bar. “Right before you grabbed my ass, you bumped into me at the bar. Do you remember?”
“Vaguely.” She smiled, remembering how miserable that time in her life had been. “That was a lifetime ago, and I was kind of tipsy.”
“You were smashed off your ass, but I remember it like it was yesterday. You were ordering more strawberry margaritas, and you asked the bartender if you had to pay since the party being thrown in your honor had brought in a shitload of customers.”
“I’m obviously a cheeky drunk.”
“You’re an adorable, sexy-as-fuck drunk.” He smiled, threading his fingers through hers. “That was around the time you bumped into me. I turned around just as you locked those crazy-beautiful eyes on me and, boom. That was that. I was done. Just fucking done.”
Her heart melted. “So it wasn’t the ass-grab that made you fall for me?”
“Make no mistake, darlin’, that ass-grab was the cherry on top. But it was the moment your eyes locked on to mine that sealed your fate. With your eyes on mine, the boring, colorless world I’d always known stopped and reshaped itself into your image. You became my world.”
“Ry.” Her heart somersaulted as his words filled her with a joy so pure it brought tears to her eyes. “Baby.”
“A heartbeat after that, you grabbed my ass,” he added with a wicked smile, “and made me the happiest and horniest man on earth. Thanks for that.”
Delight bubbled through her low laugh. “It was my pleasure.”
“You know what my pleasure is? Getting you as shitfaced as you were that night and seeing what else you wanna grab.” He glanced over at their server and raised a hand. “Could we get a strawberry margarita over here? And keep ’em coming. We’ve got a birthday girl celebrating tonight.”
* * *
“Oh, yeah.”
With the driver’s seat pulled all the way back and the back lowered flat, there was just enough room for Celia to straddle Ry’s lap. Every now and again her ass would hit the steering wheel and honk the horn, but that was all part of the fun. And besides, there wasn’t anyone around to hear or see them. Parked about half a mile from the entrance to Green Rock Ranch, Ry knew better than anyone that no one outside of family used that road this time of night.
It was just the two of them.
Exactly the way he wanted it.
“Oh...yeah.” Celia leaned over him with her hands clutching at his shoulders the way he loved. Her eyes were closed as she focused on rolling her hips to ride his cock, taking him in so damn deep he thought he’d lose his mind. He always thought that when they were this close, when he was so much a part of her he didn’t know where he ended and she began. It was a blinding, all-consuming madness, and he loved it so fucking much he hungered for it whenever they were apart.
This was what it was to be one half of a whole. When they were together, like this, the perfection of it was a kind of crazy-ass, mind-blowing insanity.
God help him, it was what he lived for.
“Oh yeah, Ry. God... Ry.”
“Fuck me, darlin’. Fuck me hard, you hear me? Harder.” She was close. He could feel it, just as he could feel that raging rush of pleasure starting deep inside him, reaching ever outward along every nerve ending. It was so good, so close, he could almost reach out and touch it...
“Ry.” Her fingers clenched hard on his shoulders as her eyes squeezed shut, and he put his hand under her skirt pooled around him to make sure she came when he did. At his first touch she cried out while her body clenched around him, gripping his dick so fucking tight in all that wet heat that he groaned in the sweetest kind of agony there was. The tension inside him shattered, and his cries mingled with hers as he emptied himself into her. She collapsed onto his chest, breathing hard while he moved to grip her ass, holding her still so he could savor being sheathed inside her for just a little longer.
Heaven.
This woman, his wife, his Celia.
She was his heaven.
“Best. Date. Ever.” A sleepy giggle escaped her as she snuggled her face into the curve of his neck. “Like, ever. You made the earth move so much it’s still spinnnnning.”
He laughed and gave her ass a gentle squeeze. God, she was hot. “That’s because you’re drunk, darlin’. Drunk and funny and so damn sexy I couldn’t even wait to get us home before I had to be inside you. It’s where I belong, you know.”
“I thoroughly agree.” She giggled again—that tipsy, happy kind of giggle that was guaranteed to get him hard all over again if she kept at it. “In fact, I have an idea. Let’s both retire and have sex all the time so that we’re exactly where we belong. What do you say?”
“I’m serious, Cel.” He sifted his fingers through all that gorgeous hair of hers and pulled her face up so she could look into his eyes. “With you, and the kids, in our little house and making each day better than the last...the life we’ve built is where I belong. I’d never have this life now if it weren’t for you, so you need to know something. Even in my wildest dreams, I never knew life could be this good. And it’s all because of you.”
“Ry.” Her dark eyes shimmered with tears, and in that moment she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “There you go again.”
“What, darlin’?”
“You keep doing things, saying things, that make me want to kiss you. That make me want to do more than just kiss you.”
God, what a woman. “Then I think I’d better get you home while the getting’s good. If your ass keeps honking that horn, eventually someone’s going to come out here to find out what all the noise is about.”
“The noise is all your fault.” Celia clumsily returned to her seat, and after rearranging their clothing they were back on their way home. “My man is always horny.”
“True, but that’s not my fault.” He shot her a grin as they drove through Green Rock Ranch’s gate and headed for home. “The only reason I’m always horny is because my woman’s always sexy. What the hell am I supposed to do?”
“Love me forever.”
Her retort was both whimsical and content, and he took pride in that. She sounded like a woman who was secure in the knowledge that she was well and truly loved. He’d done that. And he’d keep on doing that every damn day for the rest of their lives. It was both his right and his privilege to make his woman know she was his everything.
“Always, darlin’,” he promised, reaching for her hand so that she could feel the depth of his vow. “I’ll love you forever and beyond, and even after that. Think you can handle it?”
Her fingers squeezed his before she brought his hand to her lips. “Only if I can do the same for you.”
“You already do,” he said softly, and he smiled when their house with the windows aglow with warm welcome came into view. “You already do.”
* * * * *
To purchase and read more books by Stacy Gail, please visit Stacy
’s website at www.stacygail.blogspot.com.
Please enjoy this unedited sneak peek excerpt from the next Brody Brothers novel
Braced by Stacy Gail
Available Fall 2018 from Carina Press
Chapter One
“Trust me, Mrs. Pfeiffer, Dolly Bea does not have laminitis.” Huffing so hard her cheeks inflated, Lilah Ledbetter charged once more across the lawn after the elusive two-toned La Mancha goat, a lasso clenched in one hand. It was a damn good thing she was in such great shape, she couldn’t help but think. If she weren’t in the habit of running for miles every morning, she probably would have dropped dead by now. “Laminitis affects the hooves.” Huff, puff. “It’s very painful for the afflicted animal to stand or walk, much less run around like a maniac.” Huff, wheeze. “Dolly Bea doesn’t look like she’s in pain.” Lilah was, however. Any minute now she was going to keel over from playing this never-ending game of goat tag.
“I suppose you’re just going to have to catch Dolly Bea to make sure of that, dear.” Sitting in a rocker and sipping coffee from a rose-patterned china cup, Winifred Pfeiffer watched the goat marathon from the comfort of her front porch. “You know, Lilah, I just had a thought. Why don’t you try cornering Dolly Bea over there by the oleander bushes down by the duck pond?”
Lilah didn’t even bother to look around for whatever bushes Bitterthorn’s one and only chèvre maker was referring to. “I have a feeling I’d be the one who’d get cornered.” At that moment Dolly Bea zigzagged yet again, leaving her in the dust. Exasperated, Lilah came to a stop, adjusted the phone she’d tucked into the breast pocket of her camp shirt the moment she’d arrived, and frowned at the old lady sitting on the porch. “I also have a feeling you didn’t call Dr. Petrosian’s vet clinic because one of your goats was in distress.”
“What’s this? Lilah, I’m shocked.” Idly, Mrs. Pfeiffer sipped her coffee. “Whatever makes you say that?”
