Page 12 of Bronco
I make a show of slumping my shoulders. I walk slowly to the door while he watches me go, the camera thumping against my chest with every step. I swing open the door and turn to him. “OK, I’ll go home. But Bronco? Just so you know, I’m the one who got you.”
He lets loose with a blue streak right as I close the door behind myself. Yep, he’ll be thinking about the auction all night long.
Chapter 5
Bronco
I am a man of my word, but this is not what I agreed to.
I stomp out onto my front porch after Lauren, determined to figure out what she meant when she said she bought me. There’s no way in hell she meant what I thought. There’s no way that I should like the idea of her owning me, even for a moment.
I force myself not to think about the images that haunt my brain almost twenty-four seven. Images of me and Lauren wrapped up together in the sheets as I do filthy things to her body.
I want to know if she’s a sigher or a screamer or a moaner. I want to know if she likes it hard and fast or slow and steady. Most of all, I want to know if she’d accept a scarred up, grumpy cowboy like me. Would she let me slide my ring on her finger and put my babies in her belly? Would she let me call her my forever?
I hurry out the door, but she’s already down the porch steps. I can see behind the barn from here, and I watch as she talks to the men. She says something before she grabs her bag then hurries to her little car.
I watch as it disappears down the long, dirt road until it’s nothing more than a blue speck. I don’t even know how she can fit in something that tiny. I can’t deny it makes my heart lurch every time I see her behind that wheel. It’s nothing more than a sardine can.
I go crazy worrying what would happen if she’s in a wreck. It’s why I insisted on installing those front and rear cameras in her vehicle last summer.
Courage County might be a perfectly safe place with very little traffic, but that doesn’t mean a cowboy doesn’t worry. I’ve seen enough to know that even in the most beautiful and serene environments, bad things can happen.
The moment she’s gone I stalk down to the barn where the guys are. They disperse rapidly, no doubt a little more afraid of my fury now that Lauren isn’t here to shelter them from it. Well, most of them disperse.
Flint and Cord are still hanging around making some dumb bet of some sort. These two are best friends, and they have seen hell together.
I think Cord saw the worst of it. Although, with Flint’s easy jokes and generally cheerful demeanor, it’s not lost on me that he’s probably covering for memories that he can’t talk about.
A man can only be so strong for so long before he breaks down. When that moment comes, his brothers will be around him to lift him up and carry him through it. That’s why I built Valor Ranch, so men like Flint and Cord would have a place to come back to where they could heal before they figure out what comes next in their lives.
“Howdy,” Flint gives me a shit-eating grin. “Did you and Lauren get that little spat worked out?”
“She seems like a real nice girl,” Cord adds, also trying to provoke me. I expected that from Flint, but not from him. I eye the two of them suspiciously.
“You two greaseballs want to tell me what’s going on?” I demand roughly.
Flint is the one who speaks. “She just wanted to see us without our shirts. Can’t blame a girl. These guns were made for gazing upon.”
He has the audacity to flex in front of me, which tips me over the edge. My temper that was barely held in check now boils over.
I grab him and push him up against the back of the barn. His grin never fades or falters. Of course, it doesn’t. When you know someone well enough that you would lay down your lives for each other, you can read the difference between intent and show.
“Stop playing games like some kid,” I swear at him.
“Come on,” Cord says, shaking his head. “You know we don’t mean anything.”
“Lauren is a sweetheart,” I say. “She doesn’t deserve to be played around with by any of you motherfuckers.”
“Look, she said it was your idea,” Cord finally says. “We thought we were doing something that you wanted us to do.”
Flint never buys that damn vowel. “Not me. I just thought she was pretty.”
“You only get this warning once, as a courtesy. But if you ever lay a finger on her—hell, if you so much as glance in her direction again—you’re going to spend the rest of your life sipping through a straw. You got it?”
He holds up his hands in mock surrender, but there’s still a little bit of amusement on his face. I drop my hands and back away, glaring at the men.
Without another word, I stomp away and head toward the south fences. They need mending, and I need time away from everyone.
