by Stacy Gail
“Mom,” Cleo hissed.
“—at some other time, of course,” Cleone finished smoothly, shooting her daughter a speaking glance before sending a smile Winnie’s way. “Enjoy your day off, sweetheart. We’ll talk soon to discuss your work schedule.”
*
The way Des saw it, things worked out even better than he’d planned.
He grinned to himself as he drove through the Green Rock Ranch arch with Winnie by his side, the bright morning sun beyond the truck’s windows making the whole damn world almost too brilliant to look at. Or maybe that was just Winnie. Whenever she was around, everything seemed like it was more.
More brilliant.
More beautiful.
More intense.
Just more.
Was it any wonder he preferred having her around?
“That right there is the farthest I’ve ever ventured onto Brody land,” she said suddenly, turning her head to look at the large red and white stud barn as they drove past. “As of now, I’m in uncharted territory. However will I survive?”
“I have a feeling you’ll do just fine. That’s what survivors do, after all.” He shot her a searching glance. “That’s what you are, aren’t you, Winsome? You’re a survivor.”
With one last glance at the barns, she settled back in her seat. “I guess so. I’m here, aren’t I? Though you didn’t have to insist on driving me to the ranch,” she added, and out of the corner of his eye he saw her wrinkle her nose at him. “I could have followed you in my car.”
“I wanted to make sure you didn’t back out. I’ll give your keys to one of the ranch hands so they can drive it over to the main house for you later on this evening. You’ll have it by the time you get back from dinner.”
“Back from dinner? Are we going out?”
“Kinda.” His eyes narrowed at the familiar sight of the main house, with its yellow and white Victorian turrets and wraparound verandahs dotted with colorful hanging flower baskets. Even from this distance, the flash of fiery red hair was visible as a woman carried an armful of what he assumed were groceries up the verandah steps. “My sister wanted to get the main house aired out for you, as well as stock up the fridge and pantry, just to make sure you’d be comfortable camping out there. But I’m not about to let you spend your first night in a strange house all alone to fend for yourself.”
“So you’re taking me out to dinner?”
“Something like that. Once I’m done with work, I’ll drive you over to my place for a bit. You like grilled steak?”
She made a sound of pleasure that nearly made him run the truck off the dirt road. “It might be my favorite food in all the world.”
Grimly he tried to unlock his throat. “With that response, you just became every rancher’s dream woman.”
Her laugh was adorably fluttery. “Hate to break the image I just made of myself, but I also love bacon with equal fervor.”
“Baby girl, that only makes you more appealing. There’s Dallas now. My sister,” he added when Winnie looked at him blankly. “Dallas Faircloth-Brody, to be precise.”
“Okay, so, she was from your first family—the one that abandoned you on the Brody doorstep?”
“Yeah, but I need to make something clear—Dallas never abandoned me. If anything, she never really let me go, even when we were separated. For that alone, I love her to the moon and back.”
“She sounds wonderful.” Winnie’s gaze fastened on Dallas as they drove up, and a smile lit her face when Dallas turned and awkwardly waved a hand while juggling bags of groceries. “Oh, my gosh, I know that woman. She comes into the shop on a regular basis and buys up just about everything I make. She’s your sister?”
“Half-sister, technically, though we don’t really care about that shit… unless it comes to explaining who she married.”
She turned in her seat to frown at him. “What do you mean?”
“Dallas doesn’t have any genetic relation to the Brody family, except me, obviously. And as the whole fucking town knows, I was born out of wedlock—a Brody bastard.”
She made a sound disgust. “I hate the word, Des. It’s so 19th-century.”
“Yeah, well, for some people, shit like that still matters.”
“Then those people don’t matter.”
“I like the way you think.” He came to a halt behind the truck Dallas was unloading, and opened his door. “My point is that family ties can get confusing when you’re born on the wrong side of the sheets. It gets to be a pain in the ass when I have to explain that my half-sister Dallas got married to my oldest half-brother, Killian. Shit like that tends to get a Game of Thrones kind of vibe if you don’t explain that Dallas and Kill aren’t related, even though they share me as their half-brother.”
Her amused chuckle charmed the hell out of him. “Okay, I get it, and thanks for the tutorial. I promise I won’t be shocked by them.”
“Good, because they’re really a great couple. Well, I mean, they became a great couple after Dallas got over being pissed at Kill because kidnapped her ass. Come say hi to her.”
“Kidnapped…?” Sounding uncertain, Winnie also slid out of the truck and rounded the front while Des hauled her suitcase out of the backseat. “Uh, was that a joke?”
“Nope.”
“Ohhhhh-kay.” She slanted him a glance, and those blue-gray eyes sparkled like water in the sun. “Why do I get the feeling I’ve just jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire?”
“Probably because you have.”
“Good morning, you two.” Dropping grocery bags at the front door, Dallas Faircloth-Brody hustled back down the verandah stairs toward them. As much as Des resembled his brothers—and therefore all the Brodys who came before him—there was no mistaking he and Dallas came from the same gene pool. Though he’d missed out on the deeply waving red hair, they shared the same light green eyes and sculpted bone structure that was completely different from the Brody bloodline. Happily he could see those same eyes in his twin niece and nephew, Fallon and Sean. “It’s Winnie, right? I can’t tell you how surprised I was when Des let us know we were lucky enough to have you as a guest up at the main house.”
“Winsome’s not really a guest, D,” Des said, curling an arm around his sister’s shoulders to give her a quick squeeze. “More like a temporary resident who’s going to make herself right at home here at Green Rock.”
“In other words, a guest.” Winnie waved a friendly hand Dallas’s way, so awkwardly charming he couldn’t help but smile at her. “We’ve actually met a few times in town, Dallas. At Cleone’s Closet, though I don’t know if you would remember—”
“Of course I remember you, Winnie. In fact, I believe I’m wearing one of your designs right now, yes? I chose it this morning because of the ‘Win’ label.”
“Seriously?” Des looked to his sister over before shooting an admiring glance at Winnie, who nodded, her glorious hair tumbling well past her shoulders. “Damn, Winsome. That looks seriously professional.”
That earned him a look that would have cut the Devil himself. “No need to sound so surprised, Desmond. That wraparound halter top has been one of the biggest sellers at the Closet this spring, though I believe I only made two using that tropical pattern. I actually packed one of those halter tops to wear while I’m staying here, though I used a zebra-patterned fabric for that one, along with white culottes with pockets trimmed in the same zebra fabric.”
“What the hell are culottes?” Des wanted to know. “Sounds like a fancy STD.”
“Ignore him,” Dallas advised, coming to link her arm through Winnie’s before guiding her up the verandah stairs. “My sisters-in-law are going to love having you here to talk fashion with. We’re all dying of the heat, and Lilah is pregnant with her second kiddo, to boot. She swears it’s impossible to find any light and airy maternity clothes that’ll still be appropriate to work in. We’re going to have to pick your brains while you’re here.”
“You’re not putting Win
some to work as your personal fashion designer while she’s here, Dallas.” Pausing to gather up the abandoned groceries in one hand while carrying Winnie’s suitcase in the other, Des hauled everything into the main house. He didn’t stop until he’d dumped the groceries in the kitchen before returning to the women in the grand foyer. When he and his brothers had been living in that house of hell, it had been very much like a Victorian-era time capsule. Thankfully, the interior had been gutted and revamped to make it a workable modern space, with Dallas in the downstairs offices as Green Rock Ranch’s business manager. “I want her time at Green Rock to be as stress-free as I can make it.”
“Giving me something to work on, like creating summery maternity designs, is a perfect way to keep me happy.” Winnie’s attention seemed to be everywhere at once, from the antique chandelier spotlighting the foyer, to the sweeping mahogany staircase, where Killian had nearly lost an eye after being knocked into it by his insane mother, to the delicate stained glass panels by the door that Fin had smashed in outrage after his mother had threatened, yet again, to murder Des. “I even brought my sketchpad with me, so coming up with new ideas will be more like a treat than a stressor.”
“Perfect!” Looking delighted, Dallas clapped her hands together. “It’s so rare when we gals can get together for a ladies’ night, what with demanding husbands, jobs, and crazy kids running around all over the place. But we’re going to get together now that you’re here.”
That stopped Des in his tracks. “Wait, what?”
“Celia and Lilah are going to love meeting your friend, Des,” Dallas went on, clearly brimming over with an enthusiasm for fucking up all his plans. “And I’m sure you don’t want Winnie to be all alone in this rambling old mansion once I leave work for the day. I work here in the offices,” she added as an aside to Winnie, pointing through an open archway. “I can keep you company up to a point during the day, if you want to hang out with me. But come nightfall, you’re suddenly painfully aware that there’s about eight thousand square feet of empty, creaking space all around you, and you’re a tiny little pea rolling around inside of it.”
Winnie’s eyes kept getting bigger. “That sounds vaguely horrible.”
“It could be worse, I suppose. It’s just that I’ve lived that life in this house, you know? My husband, Kill, dumped me here after kidnapping me—well, sort of kidnapping me. Never been damn so bored in my life. Not to mention I think the third floor might be haunted. Tell you what, Winnie,” she went on as if struck with inspiration, beaming over at the other woman. “Celia, Lilah and I will be happy to come over tonight to keep you company. We can throw a little potluck dinner together while we get to know—”
“Winsome is busy tonight, D.” Holy hell. Clearly he had to nip this in the bud before his sister took a page out of Killian’s book and fucking kidnapped Winsome right out from under him. Determinedly he cupped his free hand around Winnie’s elbow and hustled her butt toward the stairs. “Whenever I’m not working, I’m the one who’s going to be with Winsome, so check with me before you even think about monopolizing her time, yeah? Thanks loads for getting the house ready, but I’ve got her from here.”
“Your sister certainly is a go-getter,” Winnie remarked as they reached the landing that was eye-level with the immense chandelier. When he was about sixteen or so, Ry once had to stop Fin from taking a shotgun to that chandelier right about where they were now standing. God, he hated this fucking house. “I admire that. I’d like to think that in my own way, I’m a go-getter, too. At least when it comes to the things I want in life.”
“What do you want in life, Winsome Smiley?” Automatically he turned in the direction of his old room, the one and only place that had been somewhat of a safe haven in this nightmare place. “What hopes and dreams does the girl next door have?”
“Probably not the kind that would set the Brody world on fire.”
“All that matters is if those dreams set your world on fire. Do they?”
She nodded in a shy little way that made him want to tug her to him and never let go. “I’ll admit, I do have a few dreams that are near and dear to my heart. What about you?” she added, glancing up at him with those heart-stopping pale eyes of hers. “What is it that you want out of life? Name the first thing that comes to mind.”
“You.”
Her gasp probably wasn’t the most encouraging response he could have hoped for. At least he had her attention.
“What?” she whispered, her free hand fluttering up to her chest. “Sorry, I misheard you. What?”
“You heard me just fine.” He didn’t bother to hide how closely he watched her, gauging her reactions to see just how far he could push things. “Though I think I need to make sure you understand me.”
“Um…”
“I’m attracted to you, Winsome—the look of you, the sound of you, the scent of you. I want you, more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life, and I want you to want me the same way.”
“Des.” As he watched, her eyes darkened with both an arousal that thrilled him and an alarm that made his teeth grind. “You can’t just pop off and say things like that.”
“Yeah I can, and I’m not done yet. I’m not done, because I want you to know the thoughts that go through my head whenever I look at you are so X-rated they’d make a porn star blush, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.”
“Holy crap,” she whispered.
“That’s why I want you to hunger for me like you haven’t eaten in a week and I’m your favorite dish. That’s how I hunger for you, so I won’t be happy until you feel the same way. I want you naked, and I want to be naked with you. In fact, I’ve wanted that from the moment I found you skinny-dipping. That’s a night I’ll never forget. I got so hard for you I couldn’t sleep that night. Not even jerking off with your name on my lips when I came was enough to satisfy me, and the cold shower I took afterwards didn’t cool me down either. So I’m not going to lie to you. When you ask what I want out of life, you are the first thing riding the top of my wish list. It’s best you know that.”
“Damn,” she whispered faintly. Somewhere along the way they had come to a stop, and along with the shock and excitement in the gaze that met his, that hint of fear lingered. “Call me a thing again, and I’m walking home.”
Well. That was unexpected. “You’ve got to know that’s not what I meant.”
“But you said it, and I’m sensitive to being thought of as a thing, rather than a person who deserves even the barest minimum of common decency or respect. I’ll fight for that right every step of the way.”
That was a story he knew all too well. “Let me guess. There was a time in your life when you were made to feel like you weren’t even human, yeah? That a dog merited better treatment than you?”
“Not when it came to my father,” she muttered, then threw him a sharp look. “But… wait. How is it you keep knowing so much about me?”
“Winsome.” No man worth that label could resist all that fucking glorious hair, so he didn’t even try. Fascinated, he ran his hands over that wildly curling cloud before he cradled the back of her head. “You don’t think you’re the only one walking around with battle scars, do you? Scars you think you’ll never recover from, until one day you realize there’s no one left to hurt you. Well, no one but yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I know what it is to hold on to hurt and resentment, and all the countless traumas that pile up when you’re living with an abuser that has no soul.”
The flinch the flashed across her face was so quick he would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking for it. “You… I never said I was abused.”
“Christ, woman. Who needs words when everything about you screams it out loud? Of course you were an abused child.”
“I nev—”
“You’ve told me how your old man killed everything you loved. He did it violently and with a helluva lot of glee, and you don’t think that’s abuse? But he did mo
re than that to you,” he added, watching her like a hawk. “I know he did, because monsters gotta monster. My stepmother taught me that. I know I’m looking at someone who was abused as a kid, because it’s like looking at myself when I was at my darkest, most damaged point in life, when I didn’t care whether I lived or died.”
Her hands came up between them to push halfheartedly against his chest. “Then you need to get your eyes checked. Ask anyone, they’ll tell you I’m not dark or… or damaged. I’m not like you. I’m okay. I’m always okay.”
Somebody had to call her on her bullshit. Might as well be him. “Then why can’t you tell me what that motherfucker did to you to make you look so damn scared whenever I get physically close?”
“Do I look scared now?”
“You look pissed and smokin’ hot and so utterly fuckable it’s all I can do to keep from tearing that pretty little dress clean off you. And I’d do it, Winsome,” he added honestly. “Swear to Christ, I’d do that in a heartbeat, if a statement like that didn’t scare you so damn much you can’t begin to hide it from me.”
Her swallow was audible. “I’m not afraid of you, Des.”
“You sure about that?” In the next heartbeat he had that sweetly curvaceous body of hers up against the wall. With great deliberation he pressed his body against hers and gripped her firm, silken thigh to wrap it around his leg, the thin veil of her skirt and his jeans the only barriers separating them. His other hand tightened in her hair, just enough to lock her in place so he could look her dead in the eye, and wanted to cuss a blue streak at the flash of terror he saw there. “How about now? Tell me that my holding you like this doesn’t terrify you.”
“I…” Her ragged breathing tore at him somewhere deep inside while every muscle in her body turned to stone. “Why are you doing this? Are you trying to scare me?”
“No, baby girl, I’m not. Fact is, most women on the planet don’t get terrified when their man holds them like this. They get aroused.”
Again she swallowed. “You’re not my man, and I’m not most women.”
