Page 18 of Beat of Love
She came out of nowhere, and he swerved, but she was too close and he too fast. They collided and momentum sent them to the ground. He barely managed to avoid falling on top of her by twisting his torso at the last moment, executing a nifty tuck and roll, leaping back onto his feet.
He looked down at the woman sprawled across the lawn, her hair spilling over her face, catching fire in the early morning sun. Faded jeans, scuffed boots, and an open checkered shirt over a white tank that clung to her curves.
She wasn’t wearing a bra, the soft cotton of her top almost translucent.
What a glorious sight.That was his first thought — before his mind registered that she wasn’t moving.
As innot breathing.
“Fuck.” He dropped down beside her and touched her shoulder.
Her torso bucked, her breasts heaved, and an ominous whistling sound emanated from her lungs. “Easy, darlin’.” He slipped a hand under her shoulders and eased her up a bit, settling her back against his bent knee.
Her hair flowed over his forearm, his bare thigh. A wave of copper silk. The last time he’d seen that exact shade of auburn hair was nearly twenty years ago. And the reminder sent a jolt through his pulse.
He shook off the memory and moved a hand across her face, gently tucking some flyaway tendrils behind her ear. Her earlobe was pierced in two places. A tiny diamond-encrusted horseshoe and a small dangling gold loop.
She sucked in a rattling breath.
“Breathe in through your nose, exhale from your mouth,” he said. From his vantage point above her head, his gaze fell on the delightful view of the deep valley between herbreasts as she followed his instructions.
With a silent curse, he averted his eyes.
Don’t be a perv, asshole. She’s hurting.Youhurt her.
A fair amount of grey streaked the glorious red, and once again, his mind wandered back to the verboten one. He’d never had the pleasure of touching her hair, but he’d bet his last dollar it would be as soft and luxurious as this woman’s.
Her breathing evened out, each inhalation less rasping than the previous.
“You ready to stand, darlin’?”
She nodded, bending her knees. He hooked his hands beneath her arms, helping her to her feet. And ignored the surge of lust when the tips of his fingers brushed against the soft curves of her breasts. She took a moment to dust her backside with her palms before lifting her head.
And he got his first proper look at her face.
For a moment he figured his mind was playing tricks on him.
But those eyes.
Flawless emeralds.
“The fuck?” He blinked and refocused his stare. She was still standing before him. “Brandy-Lyn?”
“You’re back,” she wheezed.
“You’re …here?”
He looked around. Ithadto be an illusion.There was no way Brandy-Lyn,Sullivan’sBrandy-Lyn,was standing before him,here, on Lawson’s Landing.
But the sun beat hot on his head; birds flitted in the air; cattle lowed in the distance. Hewason the ranch. And she definitely stood before him.
This was not a weird hallucination contrived by his muddled mind. Even though it had been years since he’d seen her, her image was immortalized on his grey matter.
She was real.
And here.
“What the fuck are you doing on Lawson’s Landing?” He narrowed his eyes. “Do not think of causing trouble for my brother,” he warned, wagging a finger at her.
