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“In for a penny, in for a pound,” she muttered as Bren looked up and caught her eyes again. Something about the way he kept doing that prompted her to move forward, despite telling herself to stay back and give them both some space.
He didn’t like her, or he didn’t like something about her, and darned if she would let that keep her away.
And so she didn’t.
* * *
DON’T COME OVER. Don’t come over. Do not come over.
She pushed away from the back of the house.
Bren tried not to groan. And stare. And gawk.
Damn that George.
He’d been doing just fine at ignoring how gorgeous Lauren was right up until George made a fuss about her looks. Now he couldn’t get her looks off his mind, either. He even had to blink a few times to get her out of his head. What was he saying...?
“The only thing I’d like to see you change is maybe how tight you wrap the rope around your hand.” He glanced up and against his better judgment stared in her direction again. She was, indeed, headed this way.
Focus.
The bull rope—a prickly hemp tool that served as a bull rider’s lifeline—came back into focus. “YouTube can’t teach you the feel for how much pressure to use when you pull tight. It’s like this. Here.” Two of the boys stepped back as he went to work. “Do this.”
He pulled, getting the thing tight around Kyle’s hand. The boy’s eager eyes watched his every move and for a moment he forgot about the kid’s mother and how sexy she looked in her tight jeans and pigtails. Pigtails! They made her seem about twenty years younger than him—and served as a reminder of the age gap between them.
“I get it,” Kyle said. “Not so tight that my hand tingles.”
“Exactly.”
He caught a whiff of her, and she smelled as good as fresh waffles on a Sunday morning. Sweet and with just a hint of vanilla.
“So if you’re ready, I’m going to have the boys here start pulling on the ropes real good. It’s going to get kind of hard to stay on, but that’s okay, right, boys?”
The kids nodded, their faces eager, too. There was nothing they liked better than trying to knock each other off the barrel. He just hoped Lauren didn’t freak out. Once glance at her face told him all he needed to know about how much she liked the idea of her son riding that barrel.
She should find her son another hobby, he thought. That would make both their lives easier.
“Ready?”
Hazel eyes looked up at him with complete determination. The kid had more freckles than a spotted trout, but the resolve in his gaze made him seem older. For the first time Bren wondered if Kyle was the real deal, something he’d only ever seen rarely, a kid who really wanted it. He didn’t do it for the bulls or the glory but because he was drawn to it.
Like he himself had been once upon a time.
“Go!” he told his students.
One tugged down, another sideways, and one pulled a rope toward him. Poor Kyle didn’t know what hit him. One moment he sat in the middle of the barrel; the next he was flat on the safety mat.
“Kyle!” Lauren called.
“I’m fine, Mom.” Kyle sat up so quick Bren could tell he did so for his mother’s sake. It was his grin that told him that he wasn’t hurt. Not in the least. His eyes had lit up like an ocean sunrise. “Can I do it again?”
Bren pulled his gaze away from Lauren. At least she’d stopped short of bending down by her son’s side. She must have spotted the brief warning in Kyle’s eyes, the one that had clearly said, Don’t humiliate me, Mom.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Lauren glanced at Bren as if seeking his help to convince her son, but he shook his head.
“He needs to do it again. Had this been a real steer, he would have hurt himself coming off like that, especially since he’d be landing on hard ground.” He glanced down at Kyle, who already stood up. “You can’t put your arms out like that. Don’t try and land on your feet. Don’t stick a limb out in front of you. And most importantly, never land on your head.” He nodded toward the barrel. “Do it again.”
Lauren didn’t exactly gulp, but she did something close. Worried eyes caught his own and even though he told himself to keep things cool between them, he smiled. He just wanted to reassure her. To let her know nothing would happen, not on his watch, but seeing the way she relaxed, watching her take a deep breath and then ever so slightly smile back... It was his turn to gulp.
“Don’t forget to wrap it tighter.”
Kyle nodded absently as he climbed back on board.
“Look where you want to fall,” one of the other kids told him. Michael was his name. Good kid without a lick of talent, but he sure tried hard, and Bren appreciated the way he wanted to help.
“Curl into a ball if you come off headfirst,” said another one. Perry, his neighbor’s kid, who rode steers more because of the girls it attracted than any real love of the sport.
“But don’t stop trying,” Rhett advised.
It filled him with pride. This was why he did what he did. He might not ride bulls anymore. He might be all washed up. But he still knew things that he could pass on to kids who wanted to learn.
“Ready?” he asked Kyle when he was all settled. The boy nodded again, throwing his hand up in the air this time as if he rode a real bull, and Bren tried not to smile. He glanced at Rhett and nodded, and the chaos began all over again. Kyle tipped left, but darned if he didn’t correct himself this time. Same thing happened the other way, but he hung on, for a little while at least, because one of the kids jerked the rope so hard it looked like Kyle rode a trampoline. He heard Lauren gasp as her son flew right, hand hanging up on the rope for a moment, arms flailing as he landed on the right side of the mat with a whoosh. He’d listened, too, because he’d curled his arms up tight. Bren smiled because a lot of kids couldn’t think that fast. The adrenaline, the fear, it all got to them. Clearly Kyle could slow down his mind. He could think. And he loved it, because he smiled the whole time.
Lauren, not so much.
She sat there staring at her son, leaning forward, perched on the tips of her toes, as if she were about to launch herself at him.
“You need to work on your balance more.”
“Ride horses,” Rhett said, helping Kyle up. “If you have any.”
Kyle turned toward his mom. “My uncle Jax has a ton of horses.”
“I bet your uncle would have some great horses for you to ride,” Bren said.
“Riding will help a lot,” said another of his students.
“He doesn’t know how to ride,” said Lauren, and he could tell she didn’t like the idea of Kyle riding a horse any more than she liked the thought of him on a steer.
“Bren can teach him,” said Rhett. “Bren used to ride broncs and bulls.”
“He’s been to the NFR,” Perry added.
“A long time ago,” Bren told her. “Right after I got out of the army.”
“I know,” Kyle said, hopping off the mat and standing next to his mother. “My uncle said you got some kind of special accommodation in the army. Is that true?”
“A Distinguished Service Cross,” he admitted.
“That’s cool,” Kyle said.
Something in Lauren’s eyes flickered, and it wasn’t approval. It was more like...disappointment, and that was so completely opposite to the usual reaction that the realization kind of threw him to the point he found himself saying, “I’d be happy to teach Kyle to ride,” before he could think better of it.
“That’s okay.” She shook her head, pigtails waving behind her. “My brother has a qualified instructor coming to teach at his ranch.”
“Mom, that’s not for weeks. Uncle Jax told you that just yesterday.”
“Then you’ll have to wait.”
Kyle caught his eyes. “I can teach myself, can’t I?”
“No, you can’t,” his mom immediately replied hotly.
“It’s really no problem.” Although why Bren argued, he had no idea. He should let her have her way. Take her side. He found her pigtails entirely too adorable, not to mention his curiosity was now peaked. What was her deal with former military personnel? Because it was clear she had an issue with them.
Or maybe it was just him?
“Kyle would learn how to ride a lot faster if I helped out,” he added. “I can teach principles that will cross over into bull riding.”
“He can,” echoed Perry.
“Come on, Mom. I’m entered in that rodeo next month. I don’t have time to wait for Uncle Jax’s riding person to arrive.”
Bren crossed his arms and gave her the same stare he’d given some of his subordinates when they were thinking of doing something they shouldn’t. “Of course, if you want to risk his safety...”
She knew he manipulated her. The disapproval in her gaze deepened and he told himself that was good. He didn’t want her approval. He wanted her to keep her distance.
At least, that’s what he told himself, because when she straightened and her chin flicked up and her pretty hazel eyes sparked and she said, “All right, fine,” there was a part of him that did the same thing Kyle did.
“Yessss!” the kid yelled.
Chapter Four (#ulink_3bceb1f7-f03a-59a8-915c-7eba4c2bad47)
She should have said no.
You’re just nervous about Kyle learning how to ride.
But she knew it wasn’t just that. It was him. Bren Connelly. The former Green Beret. Gosh darn it all, another testosterone-filled male in her life. Just what she needed. He reminded her of Paul. And why not? They had both been manufactured at the same war-machine factory.
Too bad.
She would never go down that road again. Never, never, never. Which was really a shame because she’d found him kind of attractive.
Kind of?
Okay, very.
She heard his truck before she spotted it. For a moment she wished Kyle were with her, but he’d gone down to the stables ahead of her with Jax. The two were saddling up the horse they would use today, and so it was just her.
Don’t be afraid.
Bren was not Paul.
Besides, Bren was so aloof. He had no romantic interest in her. He wouldn’t wine and dine and woo her and then...change. Bren hardly glanced her way. That was good. She needed to keep it that way. She forced a wide smile on her face and pulled open her front door. At least he’d followed her instructions. She told him to drive around to the side of the house, to where the guest’s quarters of her brother’s multimillion-dollar home were located.
“Wow.”
That was all he said when he stepped out of the same black Dodge truck she’d seen at his house. The vehicle matched his all-black outfit right down to the cowboy hat. Not that she expected a warm greeting from him or anything. Ever since that first day he’d been so...standoffish. Still, a “Hi” or a “Hello” or “Good to see you” would have been nice. Not that she really blamed him. Her brother’s home could make a politician speechless.
“It’s kind of over the top, isn’t it?”
Bren had completely ignored her words, just stood in place, tipped his hat back, topaz-colored eyes taking it all in. She’d done the same thing when she’d first arrived.
The house had been built into the side of a hill, one covered by oak trees and a small outcropping of rocks. It’d been designed by some bigwig mucky-muck in New York, one who specialized in feng shui. Her brother believed in luck and Karma and all that other crazy stuff, so she hadn’t been surprised that he’d built his monstrous-sized home out of “natural elements,” in this case redwood and granite, and then ordered it to blend in with its surroundings. Three stories tall, it boasted a steep roof in the middle and two smaller peaks on the left and right. Giant beams stuck out at the ends, a design mimicked around the ranch. The second and third floors both opened up to decks, but she lived on the bottom floor, around the side, which sounded not as nice but, in fact, was super spacious and comfortable, and she thanked God for the roof over her head every day.
“And you live there?” He pointed behind her.
She followed his gaze, remembering what she’d thought when she’d seen the private entrance. She had a deck, too, although hers was more like a porch, the narrow steps leading to a door with windows on either side of it. Her apartment might look like a tiny portion of her brother’s giant mansion, but that wasn’t the case at all. She had the entire corner of the house—and given the size of that home, that said a lot—plus three bedrooms and a kitchen that overlooked the backyard. Even though the home had been nestled against the side of a hill, it was really more of an illusion. They had carved away the hillside to make room for more decking and a pool, all of which she could spy from her kitchen and family room windows along the back of her apartment.
“It’s supposed to be the maid’s quarters.” She’d laughed when she heard that. Her brother—with a maid. “But he’s letting me and Kyle live here until I’m back on my feet.”
Because her life had completely fallen apart when Paul had died. The lies. The half-truths. It had all come to a head and she’d been forced to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart and start all over again. And she’d been doing fine, too. She’d raised Kyle while holding down a job and going to school at night. But then Jax had visited her. His visits had been so few and far between when he’d been working full time. But now he wasn’t, and he’d seen the hovel where she lived and had insisted she move into his new place. It had meant moving to a different city and rebuilding their lives from scratch, but she’d done it for Kyle. He’d been happier than she’d ever seen him and it made her hope he’d escaped her marriage to Paul unscathed.
“Where’s the riding stables?” His gaze scanned the perimeter.
“Out back.”
He appeared skeptical. She didn’t blame him. The first day they’d driven up to her brother’s new home, right after she’d picked her jaw up off the floor—pictures did not do the mansion justice—Kyle had asked the same question. Surrounded by trees and the hillside, it didn’t appear to be anything other than just a home out in the middle of nowhere.
“It’s hidden,” she said.
Right then, as if on cue, a horse nickered in the distance. Bren turned toward the sound coming from the tree-studded hillside and cocked his head.
“It’s around on the other side.” She pointed to a gravel road that swept past her apartment and wound through the hills. “Kyle’s already down there.”
He nodded, but whereas last week he’d pretty much ignored her, today he turned and studied her. She felt the urge to brush a hand through her hair. She’d left it down today. No more pigtails, but for some reason she wished she’d taken time to style it a little more.
Stupid. Former Green Beret, remember?
“I heard your brother is a military contractor.” He cocked his head a bit as he awaited her answer.
“He was,” she said, glancing down at her new boots. They weren’t broken in yet and they already hurt. “He’s mostly retired now. Focusing on Hooves for Heroes.”
Because far be it from Jax to retire, although she supposed that at thirty-eight, he was far too young for that. Still, most men in his position would want to travel the world, to forget the past and the stress of their previous line of work. Not her brother. No. He wanted to help the men and women who’d served their country—and had the scars to prove it.
“If you don’t mind driving, we can go down there now, unless you’re not supposed to drive civilians around in your vehicle or something.”
“I won’t exactly be driving on city streets.” He shot her a smile. “Not that it matters. The truck’s a perk of the job. I can do whatever I want with it.”
