Saddled and Spurred: A Blacktop Cowboys Novel (42 page)

“How much longer are you going to make the poor man suffer, Harper?” Janie asked.

Bran wasn’t the only one suffering.

She’d wondered how Bran would react when he learned she hadn’t moved out of state, just up the road. Happy? Indifferent? Angry?

Yeah, he’d been angry.

She missed him. Three months didn’t seem like enough time to figure out if you liked someone, let alone if you loved them. But she loved Bran. She knew him, heart and soul, straight down to the bone. And like Janie had reminded her, she deserved to know if that depth of feeling, of commitment, was reciprocated.

When she’d told him to prove it, she’d half expected that he would scoop her into his arms and drag her off, keeping her captive until she admitted she loved him too. It was the sort of Neanderthal tactics she’d expected.

So why was she disappointed that he hadn’t reacted that way?

Two days after he’d left Split Rock in a huff, she’d feared he’d given up. She wondered if she’d been too hasty, too haughty.

On the dawn of day three, when Harper convinced herself she’d ruined everything by pushing Bran into a corner, a van arrived in front of her trailer—a van filled with lilacs. Every color of lilac imaginable; deep amethyst, vivid purple, lavender, pale pink, and creamy white. And every bouquet was in a different-colored jewel-toned vase.

Bran remembering her favorite flower earned serious brownie points.

Yesterday morning, the same van delivered a dozen doughnuts—crème-filled Bavarian, croissants covered in chocolate glaze, cake doughnuts with pink icing, long johns with rainbow-colored sprinkles—and a pot of strong coffee. At noon the van dropped off lunch—crab salad, fruit, sweet tea, and key lime cheesecake. She hadn’t known what to expect when the van returned at suppertime. Steak? Lobster? Veal? Pasta?

Lifting the silver-domed plate warmer revealed . . . pepperoni pizza. And in the champagne bucket? Wine coolers. The afternoon they’d stayed naked in bed just talking, laughing, feeding each other pizza and drinking “bitch beer” ranked as one of the best times she’d had with him.

His insight brought tears to her eyes. He’d turned the tables and used food as a way to her heart in such a thoughtful gesture, especially poignant because he’d sworn the food trick would never work with him.

At that point Harper was willing to admit he was taking her challenge seriously.

But Bran wasn’t done offering her proof.

This morning a gigantic package wrapped in gold foil had appeared on her doorstep. Inside the box was a glass bottle, in a beautiful shade of blue, topped with a silver filigree. As touched as she was that he remembered her fondness for antique perfume bottles, the item at the bottom of the box sealed the deal and her fate.

And then she’d understood. Bran did know her. Better than anyone ever had. Better than anyone ever would. If he hadn’t come to her tonight, she would’ve gone to him.

But Bran had shown up. With a karaoke machine, of all things. He’d unloaded the speakers and had been serenading her for the last twenty minutes.

If you could call the sounds coming out of his mouth . . . music. Good Lord. He truly was an awful singer. But his willingness to put himself out there, in front of her, and in front of the dozens of male workers in the compound, as proof of his love . . . Well, it was time she offered him proof too.

“Harper. Seriously. Go out and talk to him. Or gag him. My ears are starting to bleed,” Janie whined.

Harper laughed and exited the trailer.

The instant Bran saw her, the music stopped.

Thank God.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she said back. “Nice tune selection. I particularly enjoyed your version of Conway Twitty’s ‘I’d Love to Lay You Down.’ ”

His eyes lit up. “Really?”

“No, not really.”

“So did you come out here to make a request? I’ve got a big playlist. I can go all night.”

She murmured, “You certainly can.”

Bran seemed a little shocked by her innuendo. So shocked that he didn’t make a single move toward her.

So she ambled closer to him. “Now you can say,
I told you so
, because you did prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you know me.”

“Huh-uh. I ain’t done. There’s something else. You asked me to name something I liked about you that didn’t have to do with you workin’ for me or sex.”

“Bran—”

He put his fingers over her lips. “Let me finish. I don’t know if you’ve figured it out yet, but I ain’t exactly clever with words, especially not off the cuff. But that don’t mean I can’t do it—it just means I need to take my time to get the words right.”

She felt her chest constrict as he inhaled a deep breath.

“So here goes. I love that you’re always humming. I love how you grin when you’ve figured something out on your own. I love how you round up my coffee cups since I’m forever losing them or leavin’ them in the barn. I love it when you take off your hat and your hair sticks up all over the place and you don’t even notice. I love that you speak your mind.

“I love how you’ve taken to the calves, the cows, the goats and horses. Hell, I even like how determined you are to feed them damn rabbits.”

“Really?”

He shook his head. “No. Not really.”

“Shoot.”

Bran smiled. “I love your unconditional love for your family. I love your devotion to the old gals who depend on you to do their nails. I love that you can be all girly one second and elbow-deep in manure the next. I love watching you eat doughnuts with impeccable manners, and then I love how fast that ladylike behavior disappears when you’re chowing down on a plate of ribs.”

When she opened her mouth to protest, Bran placed his fingers over her lips again.

“I know this list isn’t supposed to be about sex. But I love the glazed look in your eyes when I’m inside you. I love your passion and how you don’t hold anything back from me. I love how snuggly you are as we’re falling asleep. I love the smell of your hair and the scent of your skin. I love how whenever you pick up one of my shirts, you sniff it and smile that secret little sexy smile. I love the way you kiss me. I love the way you touch me, not only physically, but here.” He flattened her palm over his heart. “I love the way you accept every weird, kinky, dorky, plain, simple, and annoying thing about me. I love that you forced me to think about all the things I know about you, because, darlin’, there are a whole bunch more I don’t know and I think I’ll need a lifetime with you to figure them all out.”

Harper couldn’t speak around the lump in her throat.

“Come on. Say something.”

“I never knew my cowboy had such a silver tongue.” She leaned forward and kissed him. Twice. “But I’ll take it. I’ll take you. I love you, Bran.”

Then she was in his arms, being squeezed so tightly she couldn’t breathe. But she didn’t mind. She’d probably never get used to the breathless way he made her feel anyway.

“I love you so damn much, Harper. Now will you please come home with me and let me prove it without words?”

“I can’t.”

He eased back to study her. “Come again?”

“When I took this job, I promised Renner I’d live in the compound until the resort opened. We’re keeping some odd hours because we have such a tight deadline.”

“How tight?”

“Five months.”

“I sure as hell am not gonna be without you for five months.”

Harper kissed his scowling mouth. “That’s sweet, but—”

“No buts.” A contemplative look entered his eyes. “How about if I move my trailer here? Then you can sneak off and spend time with me when you’ve got a break.”

“Think Renner will go for that?”

“I ain’t giving him a choice.” He swept a lock of hair behind her ear. “Besides, I won’t be needing the trailer at the ranch much longer anyway.”

She stared at him, confused.

“Seeing Hank and Lainie so happy in their own place made me want the same for us.” Bran dug in his pocket and pulled out an old-fashioned skeleton key, a key identical to the one he’d sent her earlier. “I’m finally ready to fix up my grandparents’ house and move into it. But only if you’ll live there with me, and help me make it a home—our home.”

She swallowed, trying hard not to cry, because he was giving her everything she’d ever wanted. “And here I thought you were offering me the key to your heart.”

“You’ve already got that. You’ve had it for a while now. I just had to trust you enough to let you use it. Every day. Forever.”

It was no use. Her tears fell unimpeded.

“Hey, now, what’s with the tears?” His face took on a slightly horrified, comical look. “You don’t think . . . You know that I’m not asking you to be my ranch hand, right? I’m asking you to be my wife.”

“Well, you weren’t exactly clear on the job description, Bran.” She sniffed. “And being your ranch hand has been a good gig so far.”

He framed her face in his hands and gently wiped her tears. “You’ve been a great ranch hand, but you’ll make an even better wife. Say you’ll marry me, Harper.”

“Yes, I’ll marry you, just as long as you can wait a few months for us to tie the knot.”

Bran’s smile was a thing of beauty. “I’ve waited my whole life for a woman like you. A few more months ain’t gonna matter.”

 

 

 

T
he much-anticipated unveiling of the Split Rock Ranch and Resort took place last Saturday night after the wedding of Miss Harper Masterson to Mister Branford Turner.

Although I’m new to the
Muddy Gap Gazette
as the society reporter, as a lifelong resident of Muddy Gap, I’ve attended many weddings. But this wedding was truly special. The surprise addition of Harper’s sisters, Sergeant Liberty Masterson and Specialist Bailey Masterson, to the wedding party, wearing their United States Army uniforms as they escorted Harper down the aisle, will resonate throughout this community for years to come. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house—including mine. Harper looked lovely in a traditional ivory mermaid-style gown, while her intended, Bran, epitomized dashing in a Western-cut black tuxedo. The bride’s attendant was Celia Lawson. On the groom’s side was Hank Lawson.

The happy couple stuck around following the short ceremony for toasts and to cut cake, but left directly after for their honeymoon at an undisclosed location. Rumor has it they’ve gone fishing in the Caribbean.

Speaking of rumors . . . a couple of spats arose during the wedding reception, luckily after the bride and groom’s departure, leaving many locals wondering if all is as it seems with the Split Rock Ranch and Resort. Stay tuned for further reports.

When
Lorelei James
isn’t squirreled away behind her laptop writing sexy contemporary erotic romances set in the modern-day Wild West, she’s reading, practicing yoga, shootin’ for fun, watching the Professional Bull Riders tour, all in the guise of avoiding housework and rustlin’ up vittles. Lorelei is a fourth-generation South Dakotan, and lives in the Black Hills with her family—and a whole closetful of cowgirl boots.

J
anie Fitzhugh and Abe Lawson have been divorced longer than they were married. So cattleman Abe is stunned to find his ex-wife back in his hometown, working at the newly constructed Split Rock Ranch and Resort—especially since when she left, she couldn’t wait to put as much distance as possible between herself, Wyoming, and her rancher husband. Abe hasn’t forgiven Janie for leaving him, but seeing her again rouses feelings he thought he’d long since buried.