Wrangling His Best Friend’s Sister: Beckett Brothers Book One Read online

  Ava took a deep breath and went up the rest of the way. Once at the top, she stood looking in through the open door to the attic apartment. Bran crouched with his back to her, a desk upside down on the floor in front of him. He had an electric drill in his hand and was removing the screws that held the legs and drawers together.

  Ava circled the room until she was in his line of sight. When he finally noticed her, he jerked to a stop.

  “Hi,” he said with a scowl. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was on my lunch break and saw all the commotion. Then the guys started talking to me while they were on their breaks.”

  Bran nodded and looked away. He’d been avoiding her for days—she knew the signs. What she didn’t know was whether that meant he wasn’t interested anymore or if he was simply trying to keep from having another moment like they’d had on their ride together to avoid complications.

  She walked closer. “So what’s going on up here?’

  He shot her a look that was a warning. Don’t go there, it said.

  Well, she was going there. “You know, the guys are worried about how losing at least two days of work is going to impact the month’s schedule.”

  He put down the drill and stood, placing his hands on his hips, brow furrowed. “I don’t recall taking on a new business partner.”

  She sighed. So it was going to be like this. As much as she didn’t want to piss him off, Bran was being an idiot, and someone had to tell him so.

  “Look, as I’ve been talking to all the guys for this article, they’ve kind of come to trust me. Every one of them is upset right now. They’ve tried to tell you that the timing of this impromptu clean-up is awful, but according to them, you won’t listen.”

  He shoved a box of auto parts aside with his foot and took a step closer, his eyes icy, sparking like fireworks.

  “I’ve been running this ranch by myself for seven years. Not once in all that time have I needed to ask my hands how to do it. Sometimes one thing takes priority over another. I’m perfectly capable of reassigning work to deal with those priorities.”

  Ava’s temper spiked, and she scowled at him. “You may have been running the place all these years, but you’ve hardly—”

  Bran stepped closer, looming, big, angry, and damn it all to hell, really freaking sexy, too. Ava’s breath quickened as her words died on her lips. Bran’s gaze was laser-focused, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

  “You don’t always…” She tried again but ended abruptly on a breathy exhale as he stepped forward and she reacted by moving back. Her back was suddenly stopped by a wall, and now his hand was next to her head, and his chest was nearly brushing hers.

  “I. Don’t. Always. What?” he asked in a low rumble.

  “Know what’s best,” she finished weakly.

  “And you do?” He ran his nose alongside her cheek, hissing softly as his free hand found her waist.

  Ava’s gut clenched in anticipation of his touch. She tried, but she couldn’t stop her head from falling back against the wall, making her chest arch toward his, her neck open and vulnerable to his mouth.

  He pressed hot, seeking lips to her pulse, licking softly before moving up to her jaw, her cheek, and finally, her mouth. Blazing need poured through her as he crushed his lips against hers, his tongue invading and retreating rhythmically.

  “Oh God,” she gasped before she kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.

  His hands slipped beneath her t-shirt, and he palmed her breasts, her thin satin bra providing only the tiniest of barriers. Her nipples hardened under his attention, and soon her core was aching with want, and his erection was pressed against her center, making tiny rocking motions that nearly drove her out of her mind.

  “Such a mouth,” he whispered, his lips turning up in a smile she could feel.

  “All the better to kiss you with,” she answered.

  “But so many clothes.”

  She gave him a light push, then lifted her t-shirt and pulled it over her head as he watched with a molten gaze.

  “Now your turn.”

  He grinned and unbuttoned his plain denim shirt before tossing it to the floor.

  She reached down and flicked the front clasp on her bra before letting it slide from her shoulders and fall to the floor.

  An audible intake of breath accompanied his worshipful gaze. “Jesus, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, running one finger lightly down the curve of her breast.

  “Maybe now that I have your attention we can talk about the staffing—”

  She’d said it to light a fire under him, and it worked. He yanked her into him, wrapping an arm around her waist as he bent his head to her ear and whispered, “You really want to talk about staffing right now?”

  Her only response was a moan as his deft fingers worked on the button and zipper to her jeans. A minute later, the last of her clothing lay on the floor, along with the last of his self-control.

  “Condom?” he asked.

  “Pill,” she responded.

  He lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his hips. As they started to move together, Bran’s breath whispered across her skin. She felt the spiral of arousal curl tighter and tighter, building into an aching tension that was almost more than she could bear.

  “That’s it, baby,” he growled as she gasped into his mouth. His hands squeezed her ass, the rough wall of the attic scraping against her back as he pumped into her.

  “God, Bran.” She squeezed her eyes shut and raked her nails down his back.

  “Now, baby, now.” He pressed into her and stopped moving for just a moment, and it was the only moment she needed. Her world broke apart and reordered itself, a brilliant spray of colors and heat and weight. She heard Bran’s strained growl, then he leaned harder on her, pinning her to the wall as his hands moved up her sides, his lips down her neck.

  “My Lord,” she whispered.

  “I definitely saw God,” Bran responded.

  They both began to laugh, and Bran slowly lowered Ava to the floor before stepping back and bending down to retrieve her t-shirt and panties. He handed her the clothing and gave her a lopsided grin.

  “I ought to feel guilty about this, but right now I’m so buzzed, I can’t gather up the common sense my mama gave me.”

  Ava pulled the t-shirt down and bent to pick up her jeans. Guilty, just what every woman wanted to hear after she’d been naked with a man—that she inspired guilt in him. As if she’d made him feel dirty or wrong somehow. Perfect. She didn’t feel guilty, but she wasn’t sure what she felt. It was the first time she’d had sex with a man since Nathan. The first man other than Nathan, ever. She felt—as if she’d lost a little more of her husband somehow, and that made her sad. Not guilty, but sad.

  “Well,” she told Bran as she bent to slip on her bright yellow tennis shoes. “Feel free to wallow in guilt.” She stood, fighting not to let that one teardrop fall. “But maybe after you’re done, you can spend a few minutes listening to your hired hands because if you don’t, you might not have any left.”

  Then she turned and walked out, head held high, that one damn tear running slowly down her cheek.

  10

  “You’re late.”

  Bran scowled at his middle brother, Hunter, as he sat down in the red vinyl booth at Nadine’s Diner. “As if you have big plans this morning,” he said, stretching out his legs under the table and shoving Hunter’s feet out of his way.

  “Mrs. Dozier’s bulldog needs his ‘nads whacked off. These things matter.” Hunter grinned.

  “Ouch,” Bran replied. Hunter was the town vet, and while it was great to have an animal doc in the family, Bran preferred not to know the details of what Hunter did all day.

  “Well, if it ain’t two of my favorite men in town,” Nadine cooed as she sidled up to the table, coffee pot in hand.

  Bran saw Hunter cover a smirk as he tried to school his own grin.

  “Good morning, Miss Nadine,” both men
said in unison.

  Nadine’s glossy red lips curled further upward, and she batted her long fake eyelashes. Her shellacked, platinum hair, topped off by a bright red headband—to match the lipstick—didn’t move an inch when she simpered and flirted.

  “I told little Lindsey Quinn I’d handle y’all’s order because you two were some of my special boys. Miss Nadine knows just what her fellas like, now don’t she?”

  Bran had to look down at the table as Hunter coughed loudly into his hand.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Bran said somberly.

  Nadine poured coffee into each man’s mug and then ran a hand down Bran’s arm. “And just look at how strong you’ve gotten doin’ all that work at the ranch,” she gushed. “I think you’ll need a double order of eggs today. You fine young men need to keep up your strength.”

  “That’ll be great, Miss Nadine,” Bran agreed.

  She fluttered one more time in Hunter’s direction and then sashayed on back to the kitchen, turquoise skirt swishing around her white cowboy boots.

  “Good lord, she gets more shameless every year,” Hunter muttered.

  “She’s harmless,” Bran answered, sliding the menu to the other end of the table. Nadine would give them whatever she chose. They hadn’t ordered for themselves since they’d hit puberty.

  “You wouldn’t say that if she caught you in a darkened alley.”

  Bran had to admit his brother had a point.

  “So, I heard something kind of nuts the other day,” Hunter began.

  Every Thursday morning, Bran and Hunter had breakfast together at Nadine’s. It was a tradition they’d carried over from their father. He’d taken his three boys to breakfast every Thursday throughout their growing-up years and anytime they were in town thereafter. Hunter and Bran had both simply shown up at the diner the first Thursday after their dad died. They’d sat down and eaten, neither needing to say a word about it. Their youngest brother, Scout, hadn’t joined them then, and he’d never joined them since. Bran tried not to focus on that too much. Just as he tried not to focus on the fact that Scout hadn’t been to dinner at the ranch in at least six months.

  “And what insane bit of gossip made its way through your waiting room this time?” Bran asked as he took a sip of lukewarm coffee. Hunter’s waiting room was a veritable hotbed of town gossip.

  Hunter leaned back in his seat, deceptively nonchalant, one arm resting along the top edge of the booth. “I heard you hired Hoyt Ackerman’s little sister as a ranch hand, and you’ve got her living in the house with you.”

  Bran’s jaw tensed. A truckload of crap was coming his way, he could already feel it.

  “Yep. Sure did. What of it?”

  Hunter grinned. “Hoyt’s extremely hot, very single little sister.”

  “Fuck off,” Bran muttered with no real heat. “She’s widowed, which is a far cry from single, and she needed a job and a place to stay with her kid.”

  Hunter snorted. “Like Pat and George wouldn’t give her a place to live?”

  “She doesn’t want to live with them. Pat was driving her crazy or something.”

  Bran looked around, wondering where their food was. The sooner the eggs and bacon came, the sooner Hunter’s mouth would be too occupied to keep up the inquisition.

  “So you had to put her in the house with you?”

  Bran sighed. “It’s a long story.”

  Hunter just stared at him.

  “It was the only place appropriate for a three-year-old. Why do you care about this so much? When Mom and Dad died, you told me you didn’t want to have anything to do with running the ranch, you only wanted to take care of the animals. You’re the vet. I’m the rancher.”

  Nadine arrived with plates filled with pancakes, breakfast steak, eggs, and hash browns. After another spate of fluttering and flirting, she left them in peace to eat.

  “So, you’re going to tell me the fact that Ava Ackerman—”

  “Pearson,” Bran corrected. “She changed her name when she got married.”

  “Ava Pearson, then…You’re going to tell me you haven’t noticed her looks? Haven’t felt the need to give a little comfort to a hot young widow who happens to bunk down three feet from your bedroom door?”

  Bran swallowed a mouthful of creamy scrambled goodness, then took another swig of coffee. He ought to lie to his brother, ought to tell him to mind his own damn business. But the simple fact was Hunter was about the only person on the planet Bran did confide in. And if anyone would listen to the struggles Bran was having over Ava, it was Hunter.

  “Ok, fine, there may be some…issues going on there.”

  Hunter’s lips compressed in an I knew it sort of expression.

  Bran cracked his neck and then shoveled another bite of food in. Once he’d chewed and swallowed, he started talking. “There’s something there. She seems to agree—or she did. I’m not so sure now.”

  “Knew it,” Hunter murmured.

  Bran flipped him off. “But you also know I’m talking to Hoyt about investing in the ranch. And she’s my employee. And she’s his younger sister. That’s too many reasons not to go there.”

  “Except you’ve already been there, and screwed it up,” Hunter said wryly.

  Bran gave him a look that clearly stated, I don’t kiss and tell.

  “I think I pretty well scared her off. I haven’t been at my best this week.”

  “You know what I think?”

  No, he didn’t, but he knew Hunter would be downright gleeful to tell him.

  “You’re looking for excuses.”

  Bran’s blood pressure shot up at that one. “Yeah. Right,” he scoffed. “I’m trying to be a responsible adult and business owner, something you and Scout wouldn’t—” He stopped, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “Sorry. That wasn’t called for. You and Scout are both businessmen…”

  “But neither of us runs the family business,” Hunter finished, his gaze sympathetic. “Which brings me back to the point that I think you’re looking for excuses not to get involved, because I think you’ve been doing that since Mom and Dad passed.”

  Bran pushed his plate away, appetite gone. Hunter had this uncanny ability to cut to the chase like no one else.

  Hunter leaned forward, elbows on the table.

  “At first it made sense. You had all that responsibility, me still in vet school, Scout in college. You kept it all going, and it wasn’t fair to you, Dad knew that, he talked to me about it once—after he got the diagnosis—but he also didn’t have any other options. It was either sell the business or hand it over to you. And you needed all your focus, those first few years. You never complained, and you never let Scout and me know how tough it was, but I saw how much of your attention and energy it took.”

  Bran’s gut twisted slightly with the reminder of those first few years after his parents were gone. As much as his dad had tried to teach Bran everything he’d need to know, it was still scary as hell when he was left with the house, the business, and two younger brothers to manage before he was even twenty-five.

  “But, Bran?” Hunter waited until Bran looked him in the eye. “You’re not that kid anymore. You’re a successful, grown-ass man, and you aren’t going to lose it all if you let yourself have a life.”

  Is that what people thought? That he couldn’t let himself have a life because the business took his all 24/7? “That’s not—”

  “Yeah,” Hunter interrupted, “it is. You’ve proven you can handle the business, both Scout and I are set in our own careers, and you can afford to let someone in. It’s not going to upset the apple cart. Let go a little. You’ve earned it.”

  Bran huffed out a soft chuckle. He’d definitely earned it, no question. But was Ava the right one to celebrate his earnings with? This was the #metoo era. You simply couldn’t go around sleeping with your employees.

  “Stop,” Hunter instructed.

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop overthinking it. You’ve known Ava a
nd Hoyt your entire life. This isn’t about employees and investors, this is family, and a woman who you obviously have a thing for—and you say she’s interested too. Go forth and explore, brother. Do us all a favor and let the walls come down.”

  Twenty minutes later, as Bran sat in his truck parked on Main Street, Hunter’s voice continued to echo in his ears. “Let the walls come down.” He’d had a lot of years of being alone. Maybe this one time, his younger brother was right. Just maybe.

  11

  “Grandpa!” Cam hollered as he rushed through the Ackermans’ front door and ran toward the back TV room.

  Ava followed at a more sedate pace and shut the door behind her.

  “Well, the kid wouldn’t stop to give me a hug, but maybe you will.” Ava’s brother Hoyt strode into the foyer and grabbed her, lifting her up and swinging her around before setting her on her feet.

  “Hoyt!” she said, patting his cheek, unusually covered in scruff. “I’m so glad you came home for a weekend.”

  “Me too, midget,” he replied, using his nickname for her from childhood.

  They walked to the living room, Hoyt hauling Ava’s and Cam’s overnight bags. He set them on the floor, then picked up a bottle of wine and two glasses off the bar cart in the corner. He waved them at her, and Ava nodded.

  After pouring out wine for each of them, Hoyt joined Ava on the sofa. “Cheers,” he said, giving her one of his big, confident smiles. Hoyt was the least angsty human Ava had ever known. He was a golden boy—handsome, bright, hard-working, and athletic—and Ava had spent her entire life trying to live up to his accomplishments. Amazingly, however, she’d never once been jealous of him, only inspired.

  After a long swallow of the Zinfandel, Hoyt settled in. “So, tell me how my little sister and my favorite nephew are doing?”

  She gave him a brief overview of her time since she’d come home to Gopher Springs, ending with the fact she was going to help Bran find out where his missing funds were going.