13
Horseshoe luck
Brandy-Lyn stared down the hallway long after Rafferty entered his room, still processing the mass of scars on his upper body. Front and back. She knew he’d been hurt. Just not the extent of the trauma. She had merely glimpsed his front, noticing several livid scars and the angel wing tattoo.
But his back …
She had not been expecting that .
Scars and ink.
My God, the latticework of welts crisscrossing the black ink covering most of his skin spoke of sadistic violence.
The cruelty he had been subjected to sickened her.
Blinking away the buildup of tears, she dropped the boot she still clutched to the floor and rubbed the heel of her hand over her heart. She wanted to gather him in her arms and soothe all the hurt he suffered and promise to protect him from further harm.
The very last thing he’d want is your pity, Brandy.
And remember, no falling for the prodigal.
He is still your ex’s brother . The twin brother.
Yet strange how she no longer saw the resemblance.
Their similarities had been replaced by their differences.
Rafferty was harder, leaner. Darker. Far darker, considering the rumors of him killing the man who had led to the death of his wife.
His experiences were etched into his soul.
And his skin.
Yet he retained a softer side, his gentleness evident when handling animals. Wounded animals , she corrected. Because he understood their pain.Even the compassion he showed toward Amelia, and his desire to check on her wellbeing, bore testament to the depth of his empathy.
He fascinated her.
Brandy shook her head. Just stop. Not going there.
She slipped on the flat leather pumps she brought to wear indoors, removed the birthday gift from the pocket of her raincoat, and made her way to the living room.
“Ah, you’ve arrived,” Branna said as she entered the room.
“I have.”
Her and Branna’s relationship was still on a rocky footing, and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever fully trust the woman.
The way Branna had revealed her former relationship with Sullivan to the Andrastian media had dumped a world of hurt on her.
But kudos to the woman for trying to make amends, hence her accepting the invitation to join the Lawson family for dinner.
See? Her acceptance had nothing to do with the birthday boy. Nothing.
Liar, liar, she mocked herself. And jumped at the crack of lightning, its bright flash casting an eerie glow across the room. It was followed almost immediately by a long rumble of thunder. She frowned, turning to face the direction of the stables.
“Concerned about your horses?” Jonathan asked once the sound died down.
Brandy swung back to look at the man and gave a half-hearted laugh. “I have two competent stable hands bunking there tonight, but …”
“You worry. Perfectly understandable, darlin’.”
“Yeah.” He would understand. For years he carried the responsibility of Lawson’s Landing on his shoulders. Ranching was not for the faint-hearted.
“What can we get you to drink, Brandy-Lyn? Wine? Beer? Soda?”
“Nothing alcoholic, thanks, Jon. Collecting my kids at ten. Maybe a Mountain Dew, if you have?”
“Sure do.”
Brandy settled onto the sofa Branna indicated and gave an appreciative sniff, her stomach rumbling in anticipation. “Whatever you’re cooking, it smells divine.”
Branna inclined her head. “Thank you, dear, but that’s my mother’s doing. It’s Irish shepherd’s pie, made from ground lamb, not beef. It’s Rafferty’s favorite meal.”
Her stomach rumbled again.
The older woman chuckled. “Hungry?”
“Starved,” she admitted. “This day’s been a mad rush from the get-go.”
“Well, you can sit back and relax for the next while,” Branna added.
Giving the spacious, open living room a quick once-over, she did just that.
She had never been in this room before, previous visits always taking place in the kitchen.
The simple, rustic touches — wooden shelves, a couple of elegant lamps, and family photos — without any knickknacks or excessive items took her by surprise.
Old hardwood floors stretched across the room, providing a smooth surface for a wheelchair to glide effortlessly.
A stone fireplace dominated the far wall, the cheerful flames burning in the grate warming the room.
Two inviting armchairs complimented the plush, low-profile sofa she presently sat on, and the sturdy coffee table with rounded edges completed the conversation area.
Her eyes settled back on the children’s corner. A pang of regret filled Brandy. Her own kids never had that — a dedicated corner in a grandparent’s house. Richard’s parents were too uppity to tolerate grandchildren cluttering their home.
“I guess this storm put a damper on the Halloween fun,” Jon commented, positioning his chair in the gap between her and Branna.
“A bit. There was talk about cancelling it, but it was decided this morning to move it indoors, setting up themed events in different classrooms.”
“Sounds fun.”
Maebh walked in from the kitchen. “Darling girl,” she gushed, arms wide. “You’re here.”
Brandy grinned and stood, placing the soda on the coffee table. The octogenarian was her favorite person on the ranch. “Maebh,” she murmured, returning the hug.
“Where is the birthday boy?” Maebh asked, looking around.
“Right here,” came the gruff reply from behind Brandy.
His voice set her pulse fluttering, and she sank back down onto the sofa, willing herself not to gawk at him like a lovesick teenager.
But gawk she did when he walked into view.
A black, long-sleeved Henley covered his torso, hugging his sculpted pectorals and abdominal muscles like a second skin, even highlighting the definition of his washboard abs. Said T-shirt was tucked into dark blue jeans, and brown slip-on canvas loafers.
She had seen him clad similarly on multiple occasions (if you swap out the loafers for boots, that is) and always admired (okay then, ogled) his muscular form, but it was different now.
More … intimate.
Maybe it was because she knew what the figure-hugging stretchy material concealed.
And she wasn’t talking about the scars, but the play of light and shadow across the contours and valleys of his muscular frame as he had stormed away, the breathtakingly sinister scorpion tattoo alive with danger and beauty.
Or maybe it was the unconcealed lust that had flashed in his eyes earlier as his gaze had raked over her body, holding a promise of endless nights of passion and pleasure if they were ever to give into the inconvenient pull between them.
At that lusty thought, her gaze flashed to the substantial swell contained behind his jeans zipper.
Hey, don’t blame her slutty brain.
That bulge was right there .
Eye-level.
Taunting her.
“Just poured Brandy-Lyn a soda. Want one, son?”
Jonathan’s question reminded her that she was in the company of the parents and grandmother of the object of her wayward thoughts, and she lowered her gaze to her lap.
“Sounds good, but I’ll get it, Dad. Can I top you up, Brandy-Lyn?”
Her eyes snapped up to meet his gaze. Those hypnotic blues flashed with annoyance, and a frown cut a groove above the bridge of his nose.
Heat flooded her cheeks, his displeasure at her blatant gawking quickly dousing any lingering ardor.
Silently berating herself for her foolish desires, she shook her head. “I’m good for now.”
She congratulated herself on sounding normal.
And not watching as he swaggered across the room
Only to meet the amused stare of his grandmother.
Jeez . What was it with those all-knowing blue eyes of this family?
She searched for something to say. “I hear you’re planning a Thanksgiving wedding?”
A huge smile broke across Branna’s face. “Yes.” She clasped her hands together in front of her chest. “Essie and Max. They settled on Thanksgiving Day. It seemed fitting.”
As Branna droned on about the arrangements for that big day, Brandy sipped her soda, surreptitiously watching Rafferty from the corner of her eye as he continued to roam around them.
For all its spaciousness, the only actual seating (excluding the two upright chairs against the far wall) consisted of the armchairs which Branna and Maebh occupied, and the sofa she sat on.
Was that why he prowled like a caged animal? To avoid sitting beside me?
As she considered the idea, the man in question dropped onto the other end of the sofa with a humph . And she couldn’t help but notice how the denim pulled taut across his thick thighs.
Brandy. Get a grip, girl.
She shifted closer to the armrest, and the soft crinkle of paper reminded her of the gift in her pocket.
“Here … this is for you,” she said, placing the small package in the gap between them. “From the kids,” she fumbled, just in case he got the wrong idea.
“That’s sweet of them,” Branna murmured.
Brandy watched Rafferty look at his gift as if it were a snake ready to strike. She nudged it closer, whispering, “It won’t bite.”
“It wasn’t necessary,” he protested, picking it up.
“After you organized the twins’ fourteenth birthday at a real hostage rescue training facility, you’ve basically secured lifelong friend status.”
The veins on the back of his hand shifted with every movement as he set about unwrapping the small gift, his fingers flexing slightly. His knuckles bore the marks of a man who knew how to use his fists as weapons, emphasizing the raw power in his hand.
And she wondered what pleasure those hands would invoke if he put all that strength and gentleness and intensity into removing her clothing?
He flipped open the square jeweler box and stared at the chunky amulet in silence.
Hooking his finger on the leather cord, he lifted it.
Light caught the silver horseshoe pendant, highlighting the intricate embossing and the delicately carved horse head nestling within the curve of the U.
“Your kids chose it?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.
“Actually, they saw something similar online and went to Brookman’s in town to have it made.”
“They had it made?” He canted his head to look at her, his throat bobbing fiercely. “For … me ?”
His disbelief brought tears to her eyes. “My kids really like you, Rafferty.”
He swallowed. Hard. And turned his attention back on the gift, rubbing his thumb over the horse’s face. “It’s … perfect,” he rasped.
“They included a note.”
He retrieved the little card from the lid of the box and opened it.
Dear Raff,
Happy birthday!
Thank you for being our friend.
Love,
Mimi, Liv, and Pres
? ? ?
He glanced up, a raw, unguarded look flickering across his face. His throat worked before he spoke. “I don’t deserve this,” he said, hoarse with emotion.
Brandy’s smile was soft, her eyes steady on his. “You don’t have to deserve it. They see you as their friend, Rafferty. That’s enough.”