Hard Ridin' (10 page)

Damn, he hated hurting anyone or anything. Even branding the fifty head of cattle with the Rope Burn Ranch insignia had made his stomach hurt. Holden had laughed at him for days.

Yet that same drive to avoid causing hurt had given Holden another chance with Laurel. At this moment they were probably—

Jerking away from the thought, he gave Belinda a cursory, “Have a good day,” and strode on down the sidewalk.

The small town of Reedy boasted just about every shop a person could need. A family poured out of a shoe store, the children dancing and jumping around in their new shoes. Jens continued past toward the coffee shop. The delectable aroma of coffee reached him, making his stomach cramp.

This morning, Laurel had offered to make him a pot, but he’d opted to coat his tongue in another flavor. Licking his lower lip, he tasted her there.
Pure honey.

“Morning, Anderson. Haven’t seen you in town for a while.”

Jens grinned and paused to talk to the broker who’d arranged for him and Holden to buy the ranch. Sticking out his hand, Jens caught Marshall Brown’s tough hand, and they shook.

The older man was sharp as a pick and the most money-savvy person Jens had ever met. Marshall was only in his forties and rumor had it that he was set up to retire right now if he had a mind to. Jens didn’t doubt it. When he’d first approached Marshall about purchasing the ranch, Marshall had told him if Holden wasn’t able to come up with his portion of the funds, that he’d go in on the venture with Jens.

The four-hundred acre ranch had come with a steep price tag, but Marshall said he’d have a cashier’s check to Jens within days if he needed it.

“You know me—never leave the ranch unless I need something I can’t make, grow or trade a neighbor for.”

Marshall gave a bark of laughter. “Must be something important to drag you out today.”

Yeah, a gift for the woman I love, so I can show her just how crazy I am about her.
Jens stuck his hand into his pocket and moved from the center of the sidewalk to hold a conversation with Marshall.

“Yep. I’m getting that old Ford up and running. We need it to haul crops.”

Marshall scratched his trim, brown beard. “The crops you yield would be better hauled by a flatbed truck, I’d think.”

Jens grinned. “That’s true. But we’ve got a tenant on the Ransom plot. She’s got an organic crop going in, and the yield will be smaller.”

“Ah.” Marshall’s simple little word told Jens that the shrewd man had instantly read into the situation. “Sounds like an exciting prospect.”

Images of Laurel flitted through Jens’s head—of tumbling her onto the mattress, the sharp scrape of her nails on his spine, and of sinking deep into her tight, wet heat.

His cock twitched in his Wranglers. Yeah, everything about having Laurel up on that ridge was exciting. He just hoped like hell that he wasn’t cut out of the picture, and the snapshot wasn’t of Holden and Laurel. Though he cared about his best friend’s feelings, Jens planned to win her.

“Yeah, the organic is costing a lot more than the crops we raise, but it will be worth it in the end.”

“I’m in the market for some beef. You have any butchered?”

“Yessir. Freezer’s packed. Just come on over, and I’ll hook you up.”

“I never had beef as fine as the ones you raise, Jens. If you ever have a mind to expand the cattle herd and get really serious about making the Rope Burn Ranch into a true beef farm instead of just dallying, I’ll back you.”

Nodding, Jens grinned. “My pa raised me as a farmer first. I can’t abandon my heritage completely. The beef cows were Holden’s idea.”

“They’re a good one. Prices are going higher and higher.”

“All crops are in demand. This year we’ve got buyers already for our corn and soybean.”

Marshall tilted his head back and stared at the sky. It was faint blue, dappled with clouds. The breeze suggested rain was on its way—a good thing if they were doing the planting.

“Almanac says it’s gonna be a good year for yield. But if you find yourself in a tough spot next year, don’t forget about those cows.”

“Will do.”

Marshall gave a nod, and then moved off down the sidewalk. At the intersection, he looked both ways and then sauntered across the street as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Probably didn’t.

And here Jens was, twisted in knots about his situation with Holden and Laurel.

On the opposite side of the street, a diner, a secondhand furniture shop and a hardware store boasted their wares in their big front windows. But another kind of business captured Jens’s attention.

A five-foot tall cowboy boot sign hung from the front of the establishment. The front window was lined with boots, from snakeskin to rhinestone-ornamented and everything in between. But a female mannequin wearing fringe and a cowboy hat was the thing Jens focused on.

Laurel often wore ball caps to shield her eyes from the sun, but she didn’t have an old-fashioned cowgirl hat. Of course, she might. Her bedroom was one hell of a shocking mess. Who knew what kind of junk she had stored there?

Yeah, she needed a hat for when they went dancing.

That’s all the incentive Jens needed to make his decision. Jaywalking across the street, he passed between a pickup and a dilapidated car. A hand shot out of the pickup truck window.

“Hey, Jens!”

He waved, uncaring who it was. Most everyone knew him in these parts. He’d lived here his whole life. Just after high school, he’d lost both of his parents when their vehicle skidded off an icy highway. That was about the time he’d met Holden, and he still thanked God for his friend’s support. Later, after Holden’s father died, Jens had reciprocated and held him up during his dark hours.

Such a deep history between them. Friends from the beginning and competitors in the end.

Heaving a sigh, he reached the cowboy outpost. The scents of leather greeted him as he pushed through the door with the bell. The instant he moved into the space, he caught it—that floral perfume.

In seconds, Belinda was on him like a rope on a hog. “Oh, Jens! We’re running into each other all over the place.”

Jens gave her a nod and then cast a look around the store. A salesgirl caught his gaze and took pity on him. Drifting from around the counter, the girl Jens recognized by her brilliant red hair as a member of the Brady family came forward.

“Hi there. Looking for something in particular?”

“Yes, a gift.” Jens wished like hell he could shake off Belinda, but she’d practically adhered herself to his side. He racked his brain for remnants of their exchange where he’d let her down easy. Something to the effect of “not ready for a commitment” floated through his head.

Now he was committed to buying Laurel her first cowgirl hat, which was as committed as anyone got in these parts. Hell, it was the equivalent of sending out wedding invitations.

“Umm. I’m looking for a hat. Something like the one in the window. Do you have it in any other colors?”

Belinda sucked in a sharp breath. He gave her an apologetic look, which he hoped wasn’t too apologetic, and moved off with the Brady girl.

The soft sway of the redhead’s hips seemed to turn into a violent shake. Damn, what was wrong with these females today?

“This is for a gift?”

“Yes.”

“Here’s our selection. We’ve got some nice straw cowgirl hats in pink.”

The corner of Jens’s mouth twitched upward, thinking of Laurel in a pink hat. “She’s not that girly. And I hope to find something that will keep her head dry in a country downpour.”

The Brady girl plucked the pink straw cowgirl hat off the rack and adjusted it over her gleaming red hair. The color put roses in her cheeks. Then again, she had to be about ten years younger than Jens. Of course she had that blooming complexion—she was practically a kid.

“Looks fine on you, Miss Brady, but I’m thinking about leather.”

Miss Brady kept the hat on and circled the metal hat rack. “What color is her hair?”

Suddenly, Jens felt Miss Brady’s sidelong gaze and Belinda’s very direct one from where she stood five feet away, eavesdropping.

In a town of this size, everyone could take the clues and deduce the identity of Jens’s love interest. If he said the woman was a blonde, there would be approximately twenty girls of marriageable age who fit that description. Redheads? Four. Brunettes? Maybe a dozen. And most people knew Laurel was living on the ranch and had seen them grinding on the dance floor at The Hellion.

He pressed his lips into a fine line. Why couldn’t they all just mind their own damn business? Soon enough, Laurel would be under a microscope anyway. After all, she’d been spotted with Jens, and now she’d be with Holden as well. Rumors would start flying, and pretty soon, Laurel would have a bad reputation. As it was, Belinda had already painted a target on her back.

Avoiding the question, Jens plucked a hat off the rack. It was fawn-colored, with a simple, black band and a silver conch in the center. The ends curled up perfectly already, and Jens immediately pictured it atop Laurel’s shining, dark head.

“This ’un will do.”

Miss Brady cast him a questioning look, but he wasn’t about to give her—or nosy Belinda—any more information.

“Wrap it up for me, please.”

When he walked out of the outpost with his gift for Laurel, his heart thumped happily. Tonight he’d have her alone, and he’d present her with the hat, which now was more than a token of his affection. In the minutes he’d spent in the shop, the hat had come to symbolize Jens’s pledge to Laurel. For better or worse, he was in her life.

Holden cut the engine and looked over at Laurel. She gave him a quizzical smile when he didn’t get out of the truck.

“Something wrong?”

Yes. He didn’t want to take her into the house. If he did, they’d end up in bed, and he wanted her to see he wasn’t only out for some pussy. Though his cock throbbed for it, he had to remind himself he was civilized. He might have spent eight months fighting to keep his life on the violent Bering Sea, yearning for Laurel’s soft touch, but he didn’t want to show her that animalistic side.

She waited expectantly for him to answer. Not the best at communicating, he struggled to put his wants into words. This was exactly why he hadn’t written or called. And now he was paying the price for his inability to speak up.

“I’d like you to wait here. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Her almond-shaped eyes tilted up as she smiled. “Okay.”

“Don’t go anywhere.”

Her smile widened, and she looked out at the sweep of land. All that was visible were rolling fields, the distant mountain range and the field-stone and wood barn.

“Promise,” she said a little breathlessly.

The sound inspired memories of her throaty cries when she released. She was wild in his arms yesterday—bucking, nipping, biting and sinking her nails into his ass to drive him deeper.

Holden scuffed a hand over his face to wipe away the erotic thoughts. “Be right back.”

He opened the truck door and advanced quickly to the front door. They never locked the main house. Out here, no one would dare trespass. Besides, they’d have a hell of a long distance to come—town was a forty-five minute drive, and the nearest ranch was twenty minutes away. And if someone did get it into their heads to steal something from him and Jens, they’d meet up with their rifles.

Inside the house, he strode to the kitchen, a plan suddenly in his mind. He’d take Laurel for a romantic picnic. They’d be alone and on neutral ground. In the house, Jens’s presence seemed to be around every turn. His coat hung on a hook, boots by the door, his favorite coffee mug upside down in the sink, waiting to be washed.

While Holden believed his first encounter with Laurel since his return was a success, he’d been very aware that he and Jens shared this house.

It had never felt so small or claustrophobic.

Tossing together a couple sandwiches and bagging up some homemade cookies Jens usually charmed out of Mrs. Sandy on a neighboring farm, Holden couldn’t help but wonder if Jens had slept with Laurel here.

Shut it off, man. She’s with you right now.

He couldn’t really think much further than this afternoon. He had Laurel for now, and then he’d pass her off to Jens. One of the most fucked-up situations he’d ever heard of in his thirty-one years, but what choice did he have? Laurel was in no state to make a decision, and Jens’s thinking had been solid. She would turn away from them both if they pressed her right now.

He opened the fridge, hooked two fingers around the necks of some ice-cold root beers and then made his way back outside.

Laurel hadn’t moved as promised, though when he climbed into the truck, she angled her body toward him.

Heart surging with desire, he set the makeshift picnic on the floor at her feet and pulled her across the console. She came into his arms easily. Pressing on her lower back, he locked her against him. Her sweet, feminine scent infused him with joy. He wrapped the silken length of her hair around his fist and tipped her head back to claim her lips.