Page 13 of Bronco
It’s dusk by the time I’ve worked long enough to clear my head. Normally in the evenings, I gather around the campfire with the other guys, and we roast hotdogs or grill burgers. But I’m too worked up to sit around right now.
Instead, I head back to my house. There are a couple of barns on the land that have been outfitted with bunk beds and living facilities to mimic the feeling of living in the barracks. But there are also a few single cabins that dot the land.
The barrack-style setup is for new guys, and those that prefer to have people around them. Those that crave a solitary life and have been here for a while graduate to the cabins.
But me, I have this beautiful three-bedroom white house with its wraparound porch and stunning hardwood floors that I’ve spent the past year refinishing.
Lauren mentioned once that she loves refinished floors. She talked about how comfortable they are in the summer to walk on in your bare feet. I’m not crazy enough to think that Lauren would ever spend her days barefoot in my house. But a cowboy can dream, can’t he?
I cook a simple dinner of steak and baked potato, tossing bites to Menace, the mutt I adopted a few weeks ago from the shelter. Poor guy has one eye and always cocks his head as if he’s squinting at me. He’s some mix of Labrador and a couple of other breeds I can’t quite define. Doesn’t matter though, he’s the sweetest dog I’ve ever met.
When I’m done with dinner, I clean up the latest victim of Menace’s insatiable chewing need. This time, it’s one of my boots.
I’ve bought my guy just about every imaginable chew toy, and still nothing beats the premium leather of my favorite boots. I’ve taken to hiding them from him, but it rarely works. At this point, he’s smarter than most of the guys working the farm.
When I’ve cleaned up the boot and reassured Menace who always hides his face that I still love him, I head to the shower. The warm, pounding water against my back loosens sore muscles from a day spent working on the farm.
I think again of the look in Lauren’s eyes when I wrapped one of her curls around my finger. Her sharp intake of breath. Her sweet strawberry smell. Her soft strands between my rough fingers.
I want to feel all of her soft places against my hard ones. Want to hear her sharp intake of breath when I’m sliding nine deep and taking us both to heaven.
Grasping my cock, I work my hand up and down my shaft as I imagine what it’d be like to have her underneath me, moaning as her hands roam across my naked skin.
The image is all it takes to have me coming like it’s my first time against the shower walls. It’s always that way with Lauren. Whenever I touch my cock, it’s her I’m thinking about. When I come, it’s her name on my lips.
But I’ve spent the last three years trying to keep myself away from her. At first, it was because of my promise to Vale. Before every mission, he’d always come to me and make me swear to take care of Lauren if he didn’t return.
I always reassured him that his ugly ass was coming back. He was the kind of larger-than-life that you think is never going to die. Then one day, a mission goes sideways and you’re deploying a search-and-rescue team to look for the bravest Marine you’ve ever known.
Lately though, my self-control has less to do with being trusted by my best friend to take care of his little sister and more to do with the scared look in her eyes. If I could convince her that she’s safe—that I’ll always be the man looking out for her—then I’d make my move in a heartbeat.
Shaking off the thoughts, I turn the water to cold and let it wash away the need that’s still coursing through my body. Not that it matters. By the time I turn off the water, I’ll be hard for her again.
After my shower, I toss on some clothes. Faded blue jeans and a flannel shirt that’s worn and soft. What would it be like to have Lauren wearing my clothes? What would she look like in my shirt?
“Look, toss it down on the counter,” I hear Cord’s voice. “Then we’ll get out of here.”
“What are you doing?” I demand as I round the corner into my kitchen to see Flint and Cord. Flint has a guilty look on his face as he tries to hide what he’s doing on his phone. Wait, that phone is in a bright yellow case with strawberries on it.
Cord bumps Flint. “Nothing.”
“Let me guess. You’re both looking to borrow a shirt,” I quip, still irritated by their behavior earlier.
Flint takes a step back and tosses me the phone he was holding. I catch it instinctively, staring down at the girly device. “What?—?”
“She left it here. We didn’t take it,” Flint says quickly and turns toward the door.
But before he can leave, there’s a rap on the screen door. It’s open so Lauren gives a jaunty little wave through the screen before walking right into my kitchen. Her big smile is triumphant, and fuck, it makes something flip in my chest to see it.
“I’ve been searching everywhere for my ph—oh, good you found it.” She beams at me, and I want to pound on my chest. Her smile is mine. I did that. I made her smile so big. “Flint, Cord, great. You’re still here. You’ve got to see what the bidding is already up to on you, Cord.”
He frowns. “Someone wants me?”
“No one is more surprised than we are,” Flint answers.
She practically bounces to the kitchen island and puts her laptop on the counter. She opens the screen and swipes her finger across it. “Look, do you see that number?”
Cord whistles when he sees the figure. “This isn’t a joke?”
