5 #2
Brandy continued to the bathroom and set down the mug. Tugging off the flannel shirt she had draped over her tank earlier, she caught a glimpse in the mirror. Ugh .
When she had been summoned to the stables, she had stumbled from bed, donned yesterday’s jeans, and flung a flannel over the tank she’d slept in.
Her unbrushed hair fell about her shoulders in complete disarray. And it was time to invest in new sleeping tanks. The one she wore was ancient and threadbare from years of washing.
And he’d seen me like this.
She frowned at her image. “And why do you care? He’s nothing to you. Nothing ,” she repeated.
So why do your breasts feel all heavy and sensitive?
And what about that ache deep inside? The one you hadn’t felt in … years.
She shook her head in disgust and lifted her arms to— “Ouch!”
Slowing her movement, she dragged the top over her head and twisted to view her back. The red discoloration on her shoulder was the first step of a nasty bruise. Turning back, she viewed her front. Yep, there it was. Another bruise formed on her left rib where his elbow had connected.
Idiot . Who ran around a corner like the devil was after them?
The devil is after him, Brandy.
Shame flooded her, recalling her thoughtless remark about his addiction.
The man had been through hell, and it would take a long time to conquer the demons embedded in his soul.
He had been a prisoner. Even tortured, according to Branna, and forcibly injected with narcotics.
Rafferty had already left for rehab by the time she had arrived from Austin, but she had come across his distraught mother a couple of days after her return.
Curious to know the full story, it hadn’t taken much prodding for the woman to spill the sordid details.
So yeah, Rafferty Lawson had a long road of healing ahead of him.
“So, no lusting after the man, Brandy,” she instructed her image, loosening the button of her jeans.
Bending, she dragged the snug denim down her legs and off her feet, flinging the jeans in the general direction of the hamper.
She reached for a hairclip and, taking heed of her aches, she secured her hair in a haphazard twist.
The warm water pounding against her back, she reached for the sponge and squirted a generous amount of soap.
She dragged the sponge over her arms, her chest, and across her breasts.
Palming one, she ran the sponge beneath it.
Her thumb scraped across her nipple, and desire zinged straight to her core.
She pinched the nub, moaning. Ah. So good.
And she did it again, recalling the firm grip of Rafferty’s hands as he lifted her from the ground, brushing against the sides of her breasts.
Dropping the sponge, she closed her hands over her breasts and strummed her nipples, imagining they were his hands, all rough and forceful, teasing her, arousing her.
He’d picked her up into his arms, effortlessly.
And she imagined pressing her naked body to his, feeling those sinewy muscles with not an ounce of padding, hard and unrelenting against her chest. She clenched her core, recalling the bulge in his shiny running shorts.
And she imagined freeing his cock, taking it in her hand.
Beautiful. A dichotomy of soft and hard.
Was it as substantial as she imagined? Like Sullivan’s.
She froze.
What are you doing , Brandy?
Pivoting on the balls of her feet, she turned the tap all the way to cold, and the icy blast of water cascaded down her overheated body.
Rafferty Lawson is out of fucking bounds.
Brandy snorted at her unintended but accurate pun, shut off the water, and stepped out of the glass enclosure.
*
It was quiet during the twenty-minute drive from the ranch to town.
Brandy-Lyn risked a glance in the rearview mirror.
Both girls sat in the back, their arms folded, bodies turned away from each other, staring out of their respective windows.
Neither were speaking to her. Amelia had lost her driving privileges for a week, and Olivia’s cellphone was in Brandy’s bedside drawer for the same period.
Preston rode shotgun, playing it safe by not uttering a word.
Neither of the girls bothered with a goodbye, slamming their doors as they scrambled out at school.
Preston gave her a “Later,” and left to join his group of friends.
“Love y’all,” she called out after the trio. Only her boy acknowledged.
Brandy exhaled a beleaguered sigh. Parenting was hard .
And deserving of a pick-me-up.
She glanced at the dash. Already late. Then chided herself. Why worry if she were ten minutes late? She was the boss. Mouth already watering, she pulled away and headed to Main Street.
As usual, she battled for parking close to the popular bakery, heightening her disgruntled disposition, and when she finally walked in, she was in a mood .
Fortunately for the rest of humanity, Jeanie was in the process of sliding a tray of chocolate éclairs into the display cabinet.
There were three people in line before her.
So long as they didn’t buy up the creamy treats, she might survive the day yet.
“Who are you plotting to kill?” a deep voice asked from beside her.
“ Aaah !”
Heads turned at her scream.
“My bad,” the man said, his grin unrepentant.
Hands to chest, she scolded, “Stanislaw Novak, you scared ten years off my life.” She narrowed her eyes. “Lucky for the people in line before me, you’ve just jumped to the top of my hit list.”
“Now, now, Brandy, my boss won’t be happy if you eliminate me.”
“I’ll take on the entire KS team if it means getting my fix of éclairs today.” Stas was a member of King Security, a bona fide hostage rescue operator. And a very attractive man. He’d asked her out a couple times, but she had turned him down.
He grinned and called out to the person responsible for the extra padding on her ass. “Jeanie! A dozen éclairs for Brandy.”
Jeanie flashed a smile and called back, “How about adding a packet of chocolate macarons?”
“Macarons?” Brandy asked, salivating.
“Baked last night.”
“Yes!”
Stas chuckled. “I guess you like macarons.”
“ Chocolate macarons.” Brandy stepped forward in the line, Stas beside her. She gave the man closer scrutiny. He was tall, strong, extremely attractive. Available. Nice. But he didn’t make her pulse race. And his eyes were light brown, not vivid blue. Gah . Life was so unfair.
“Uh, uh. There’s the frown again.”
An idea popped into her head and before she talked herself out of it, she blurted, “Stas, what are you doing Friday night?”
His eyes widened. “Nothing.” A smile formed. “What do you have in mind?”