Wrangling His Best Friend’s Sister: Beckett Brothers Book One Page 4

  The driver of the truck had gone to the house to get a late lunch, and Ava was enjoying the chance to do some simple mindless physical labor. She had turned to snag the next horse in the corral when she saw Bran standing on the far side, leaning on the fence and watching. She smiled to herself. Ava had loaded a million horses during her lifetime. Now she could prove to Bran that she had what it took to do the job.

  She clipped the lead rope to the horse’s halter and began to coax him onto the ramp. She flicked him lightly on the hip with the end of the rope, annoying him to get him to step forward. The big brute took a step, but he was canny and sidled sideways as he did, pinning Ava’s legs between himself and the edge of the ramp. She pitched forward, her shins grinding into the metal edge of the ramp.

  "Ow!" she yelped, letting go of the rope to catch herself, hands splayed on the ramp. The horse took his opportunity to jerk away, and then he ambled over to the hayrack where he pulled a mouthful of hay to munch.

  Ava sat down on the ramp and rubbed her shins through the denim covering her legs.

  "Go on up to the house and get some ice on that," Bran said as he stomped through the corral and grabbed the errant horse’s rope.

  "It’s fine, he just caught me off guard. The last three were so well-behaved, I forgot what a pain some horses can be about loading."

  Bran led the horse back around to face the trailer opening. "Ava." His voice was rough and low.

  Ava stood and faced him. Something told her she wasn’t going to like this.

  "Go inside and ice, or you’re going to have vicious bruises. I’ll handle this."

  She stepped closer, hands on her hips as anger rose, prickling her skin all over.

  "Bran. I’ve loaded a million horses. You know that. I got shoved around by the big bully, but it’s fine. I’m fine. Let me finish my job."

  Bran looked past her shoulder, and Ava turned to see Rick approaching. When Bran’s gaze came back to her, it was cold and flat.

  "Last time I checked, I was the boss here. Occupational safety is something I take seriously. Go ice. Now."

  The air went out of Ava’s lungs, and she felt something inside turn to disappointment. She’d thought they were making progress, that Bran was going to take her seriously, but it seemed she was still nothing more than Hoyt’s little sister. Turning on her heel, she marched off toward the house, face burning with shame and anger. And something else, too, because before he’d gone cold, Bran had looked almost…concerned.

  * * *

  Ava closed the Mowgli book and pulled the covers over Cam, gently smoothing the hair off his forehead. He’d fallen asleep by page three. His first day of preschool and hanging out with his grandparents had been a success, but it had also been exhausting for everyone. She flipped on the nursery monitor by his bed and picked up the receiver before slipping out of his room and heading downstairs. All evening, she’d been preoccupied by her run-in with Bran. Her emotions had run wild—anger, resentment, gratitude, shame. How so many contrary things could fit inside one body, she didn’t know.

  Once she reached the barn, she set the nursery monitor on the shelf inside the door and picked up a rake. She might not have been able to finish loading the horses, but she’d be damned if she’d let her first day end like that. She was here to work, and she was going to give Bran his money’s worth, whether he wanted it or not.

  She stepped into the barn aisle, planning to start on the first stall and work her way back, and heard a grunt followed by scraping. She walked down the dimly lit aisle to see who else thought mucking stalls at eight thirty on a Monday night was a good idea.

  Bran’s back—his very bare back—was turned to her as he drove the blade of a shovel along the floor of a stall. Muscles rippled in his shoulders and upper arms, and his ass flexed with each movement. She blinked, momentarily blinded by the utter maleness of him. It had been a long time since Ava had seen a half-undressed adult male, and before she could stop herself, she sighed in sheer appreciation.

  Bran turned at the sound, and Ava felt her face heat at being caught staring.

  "Hey," he said softly, resting an elbow on the shovel’s handle.

  "I guess you’re of the mucking-stalls-at-night persuasion, too," she answered, trying to put some disdain into her voice because she was still mad at him. She was. Really.

  His smile made everything below her face heat as well. "It’s a good way to think at the end of a long day, and I like the horses to have a nice place to sleep."

  "Ok. Well, I’ll just start on the other end." She pointed toward the far end of the barn, moving in that direction at the same time.

  "Ava?" His voice stopped her retreat. She turned. "About earlier?"

  She couldn’t cross her arms because she still had the blasted rake in her hand, but she gave him her best glare. "I was doing just fine."

  "That horse could have crushed one of your legs. It’s a two-thousand-pound animal. No matter how good-natured they are, they can do some serious damage."

  She set the rake down and leaned her back against the opposite wall of the narrow stall. "And if I’d been one of the other employees? Would you have done my job for me then? While you sent me to the house for ice?"

  Bran’s mouth opened once and then snapped closed. He watched her for a moment, face tense, and then he stepped closer. Some part of her brain noted his hair falling over his forehead, combining with the scruff that had cropped up on his jaw to give him a dark, edgy look.

  His voice was low, intense. "You’re not one of the employees. You’re Hoyt’s little sister, and even though we don’t see much of one another these days, he was still the best friend I ever had."

  "Bullshit," she snapped, hands on her hips. "You hired me to do a job, and if you think I’m not doing it right, then you need to tell me how to do it better, not treat me like I’m a four-year-old tagging along after you and Hoyt. I’m not a child anymore, in case you hadn’t noticed."

  Something snapped and crackled in the space between them, and Bran took a step closer, then another, until he was pressed against her, the old wood wall at her back, his hot, smooth skin against her front.

  "Oh, I’ve noticed," he growled. "I’ve definitely noticed."

  Both froze, his flashing blue eyes locked on her determined green ones. Ava heard her own breath rush in and out of her lungs, her heart picking up speed as it raced toward a finish line she couldn’t see.

  His hand came to rest on the wood beside her head, and her chest brushed against his. He exhaled in a soft groan before his head dipped and he ran his nose up the side of her jaw.

  "Fuck," he whispered, upending her entire world. "Tell me to stop."

  She answered by arching into him, wrapping one hand around the nape of his neck.

  Then his lips were on hers, and electricity sizzled all around them. An ache settled deep in her core, and she gasped, her tongue finding his as she pulled him even closer, barely resisting the urge to wrap her whole body around his like a snake around its prey.

  They thrust, parried, dipped, and sought, all heat, sighs, and breath. His palm skimmed over her breast on its way to cupping her face as he pulled away slightly and ran his lips over her cheeks and brows, finally settling on her lips one last time before he spoke, whisper-soft.

  "Sorry." He released a long slow breath. "I’m not used to having my employees argue with me."

  She scarcely knew how she found enough breath to answer. "So you don’t kiss all your hired hands like that?"

  "Only the insubordinate ones." As he pulled back, she pressed her palms against his chest, a chest that ought to be on exhibit in a museum, the skin like marble heated and come to life.

  She gazed at him for a moment, relishing the spark of warmth that flowed through her. She couldn’t stop the grin spreading across her face. "Maybe you need a little more insubordination in your life," she remarked, pushing him away gently before strutting out of the barn, aware his eyes were on her ass the entire way.

&
nbsp; 7

  “No! No! No!” The high-pitched voice echoed down the staircase. Bran stood at the bottom, having just walked in from a long day helping move cattle on the south edge of the ranch, followed by a long night having dinner with the North Texas ranchers’ association. It was almost time for the annual statewide convention, and the North Texas association wanted to nominate Bran for the state board of directors. He’d rather spend the next week scrubbing chicken coops than have to endure monthly meetings listening to lobbyists and bankers.

  “Camden Pearson!” Ava’s sharp voice betrayed her used-up patience.

  Bran didn’t stop to think but took the stairs two at a time and found himself outside the door to Cam’s bedroom. He peeked around the corner, finding the room empty. Light was spilling out from the adjoining bathroom, however.

  He’d managed to avoid Ava all day, the memory of their sizzling kiss the night before tormenting him from sunup until sundown. He’d never had a problem with self-discipline before, and of all the people to lose it with, Ava Pearson had to be the worst. What Bran needed to do was stay the hell away from her, but the ruckus in the bathroom didn’t sound like something he could ignore.

  “No, Mama! I don’t wanna!”

  “You can be a mermaid, just like you were night before last,” Ava cajoled.

  A mermaid? Well, hell, no wonder the kid was protesting. Bran stepped into the room and walked to the open door of the bathroom. He hooked his hands on the molding above the door and leaned in. A buck-naked three-year-old stood just outside a tub full of warm water, and a charmingly bedraggled mama bent down in front of him. Cam’s arms were crossed, and while Bran hadn’t thought the kid looked like his mother until now, the expression he wore was classic Ava. Stubborn, determined, and not about to give in.

  “Hey, there,” he said cheerfully. “What’s goin’ on in here?”

  Ava’s gaze whipped to his, and he could see the frustration in her eyes. As well as the fatigue.

  “We’re having a little disagreement over bath time,” she answered, moving from a squat to sitting with her ass on the tiles and her back against the cabinets.

  “I don’t wanna’ take a bath, and Mama said I should be a mermaid. Mermaids are dumb.” Cam’s lower lip stuck out in defiance.

  “He loved being a mermaid forty-eight hours ago,” Ava interjected, her lower lip mimicking Cam’s.

  Bran smothered a grin. The two of them were tired and grumpy—but really damn adorable. Taking another step into the bathroom, he hunkered down to be on Cam’s level. “Did you know I was friends with your Uncle Hoyt when we were not much older than you?”

  Cam shook his head, the smallest bit of interest sparking in his eyes.

  Bran continued, letting one of his hands drift into the bathwater as he talked. “Yep, it’s true. And when we’d have sleepovers, we’d spend all day outside, playing in the barn, and the treehouse, and the back of my dad’s pickup truck.”

  He casually swished his hand back and forth through the water, giving Ava a quick wink. “Then after dinner, we’d be so dirty that my mama would make us come up here and take a bath in this very same tub.”

  Cam’s eyes grew wide. “Really? You and Uncle Hoyt taked baths here too?”

  Bran nodded. “We sure did. And you want to know what game we played while we did?”

  Cam nodded somberly.

  “Piranhas!” Bran slapped his hand against the water, sending a big splash all over Cam’s back and head. At the same time, he gnashed his teeth and then growled. Cam shrieked and then started giggling hysterically.

  Bran looked at Ava. Seeing the big grin on her face, his ego shot to the stars. The tedium of his day melted away in the face of that gorgeous smile.

  “How do we play piranhas?” Cam shouted, sitting on his behind and sliding around on the wet tiles like a slippery little eel.

  Bran leaned in close like he had a special secret to tell. “You have to get in the water,” he whispered loudly. “Piranhas live in the water.”

  Cam scrambled over the edge of the porcelain tub and sank into the water. For the next fifteen minutes, Bran played piranha while Ava managed to get the kid soaped, shampooed, and rinsed. By the time Bran pulled the squirmy wet bundle from the water and held him aloft for Ava to wrap in a towel, the entire bathroom floor was wet, both adults were drenched, and everyone was smiling from ear to ear.

  Bran stepped back as Ava scrubbed at Cam’s hair with one end of the towel. “Well, looks like that’s the last battle of the night,” he said.

  Ava looked up at him, her cheeks rosy, eyes sparkling. “Thank you so much for that.”

  “Yeah, thanks, big piranha!” Cam’s voice was still about ten decibels too loud.

  Bran rubbed the damp, tousled head. “You’re welcome, little piranha. I’ll see you both tomorrow, I guess.” He gestured toward the hallway.

  “Yes. Bright and early,” Ava answered, smiling as she lifted Cam and nuzzled his hair.

  Bran made his way back downstairs, his dampened clothing starting to feel chilly. He peeled off his button-up shirt and dumped it in the laundry room off the kitchen before grabbing a beer and heading back upstairs to hit the hay. Just as he passed the door to Ava’s room, it swung open, and there she was, having traded her own wet clothes for a tiny t-shirt and boy shorts.

  Bran’s mouth went dry, and he froze, beer in hand, his bare chest suddenly feeling more exposed than if he’d been entirely nude.

  “Hi,” she said, sounding breathless.

  “He go to sleep?” Bran asked, his skin tingling as he struggled not to let his gaze drop to her high, firm breasts.

  “Out like a light,” she answered, leaning against the doorframe, exhaustion evident in the tightness around her lips.

  He nodded, about to continue on his way down the hall, when he saw a look of disappointment pass over her face.

  He cleared his throat. He’d tried to avoid this, didn’t want to have to address it, but he also couldn’t stand to see that look in her eyes.

  “So, uh, last night…”

  She crossed her arms, her face suddenly impassive. “Yeah?’

  He scratched his head with his free hand, letting the bottle of beer dangle at his side. “I probably shouldn’t have—in fact I know I shouldn’t have. I mean—”

  “It’s not me, it’s you?” she asked with a wry smile.

  He sighed, wishing he could get blind drunk and then sleep for a couple of days. Maybe when he woke up, he wouldn’t want Ava anymore.

  Yeah. Right.

  “It’s just complicated, you know? You’re Hoyt’s sister, you work for me, I’m asking him to invest in my business…”

  She studied him for a moment, thoughtful. “Yeah, I can see that.” She looked as if she wanted to say something else, but then she snapped her mouth shut, her brows meeting in a small frown.

  Every nerve ending in his body felt as though it might spontaneously catch fire, but he ignored the sensation, reminding himself that this was how it needed to be.

  “So…I’ll see you around tomorrow, I imagine,” he told her.

  “Sure. Thanks again for helping with Cam.” She turned partway back into her room.

  “Goodnight, A,” he told her and walked the last few steps to his own bedroom door.

  “Goodnight,” he heard her answer softly, and then he heard the firm sound of her door shutting.

  A few minutes later, Bran stripped out of his jeans and climbed into bed. He looked across the room at the bottle of beer on his dresser. Hell, it would take a lot more than one beer to help him sleep, knowing Ava was on the other side of his bedroom wall.

  8

  Ava waved as her mother drove off with Cam on their way to preschool. After a sleepless night of trying not to think about Bran’s bare chest, she’d called her mom and asked if Pat could drive Cam to school so Ava could have a little time to herself before work.

  She’d brewed a thermos of coffee to take with her into the stables. She
hadn’t taken an early-morning ride since she’d left for college, and the idea of a horse, open air, and an hour to clear her head was more than attractive.

  As she gathered tack and pondered which horse to ride, her mind wandered to Nathan and the months that had passed since his death. At first, she’d been so overwhelmed by the details of funeral and burial, trying to comfort his family, trying to reassure her family she was okay, and managing the most basic things—laundry, grocery shopping, childcare—she’d barely had time to miss him.

  But after those first couple of months, she’d woken one day and found herself in an apartment that was tolerably clean, with some groceries in the refrigerator, a three-year-old who’d slept past seven a.m., and no husband. She could still remember the deep pain that had ripped through her that Sunday morning as she realized that Nathan wasn’t ever coming back.

  But there had been something else there as well, a realization that even in their young marriage, they’d already become so entrenched in the routines of daily life, they’d stopped nurturing their relationship. The day she realized Nathan was gone was also the day she realized she couldn’t remember the last time they’d made love, or talked about anything other than Cam, what to make for dinner, and whose turn it was to pay the bills. Part of what broke Ava’s heart that day was having to face the hard truth that she and Nathan had let go of something in their relationship long before he died.

  Maybe that was why Ava had been so willing to kiss Bran, why she couldn’t stop thinking about him and the way his hands felt as he explored her body. She ought to feel guilty—she did feel guilty—but she also felt real and full and alive for the first time in so long, she couldn’t remember. As much as Ava missed Nathan, she missed being whole even more.