Page 8 of A Cowboy's Twinkling Lights Lasso
Shit.
My dick hardens.
I scold myself for my lack of control. But I’ve waited a helluva long time for this woman.
“That proved to be a little challenge.” Panting slightly, Faye exhales a deep breath. “Considering Rita wasn’t on board with fixing her niece up with likings of you.”
“The likings of him?” My brother stuffs the Stetson back on his head. “Has she met her niece? She might be bright as the sun, but she’s as strange as a moonflower.”
“Enough,” I growl; loud enough, we garner glances in our direction, including that of Flora.
Dammit, she’s gorgeous. She’s rid her glasses, but I’d love to see them highlighting her dazzling hazel eyes. Her hair is darkerbrown now and falls around her shoulder in loose curls. And that body—my cock twitches. Her dress teases curves for miles, and my fingers itch to travel every last inch. But first things first, having a conversation that doesn’t end in her resenting me.
I turn to my brother. “This ain’t damn high school. And I’d bet my ranch that comments like yours sent her packin’ in the first place.”
I have to bet ‘cause she sure as hell hadn’t told me she was leaving. She gave no warning before disappearing—no forwarding address or goodbye.
“From here forward, unless you have something constructive to say, you keep your fucking mouth shut. Are we understood?”
His jaw tightens like my father’s used to when he was ‘bout ready to blow a gasket—which was often. It often led to a hole in the wall or whatever material item was in his grasp, ending with a good beating.
I’ve long let the beef of our unstable upbringing go. My old man died way too young as a result of the angry life he lived. I sure wasn’t about to follow in his footsteps. He may have raised a couple of roughneck teens that the sheriff hauled in and out of jail multiple times a week, but after spending one summer with Flora, all that changed—I changed. Then she took off, and no amount of begging her aunts for an address to the college she’d enrolled in worked.
“What’s the plan here?” Theo says it just like our father.
He has no idea about the many traits they share. Including the fuck ‘em and leave ‘em attitude toward women.
“To woo her and marry her? Then what? You stayin’ in Rocky Ridge Creek or headin’ to the city at her heels.” He holds up his hands. “Those are constructive questions.”
He’s right. They are. But hell if I know the answer yet.
“I’ll get back to you on that.”
He gives an irritated huff and turns away. “I’ve got shit to do,” he grumbles. “And you’ve completely killed my mood.”
He stomps away, but the carpet absorbs the impact of his boots.
It’s better this way. I don’t need him hanging over me intentionally hindering my tactics—respectable tactics. I ain’t an asshole.
Plus, he’s clueless about anything that didn’t happen at the Walker ranch the summer he worked there and discovered his love for girls—or getting under their skirts. He’d been oblivious to the days I snuck off the ranch to find Flora and hike every path, in every thicket she dared to venture. The kids might’ve called her frame freak Flora because she always had a camera around her neck, lost in a different world than us. Still, maybe if my classmates had stopped spouting hurtful names and laughing for just a second, they’d have seen the unique way her lens focused on the world in its rawest form.
“This is our one and only shot.” Wilma’s eyes narrow sharply on me. Her grey eyebrows arch like the wings of a hawk. And I like how she says “our,” like someone is finally on my side.
“I only need one shot.” My gruff whisper holds the confidence I lack. The confidence I’d been brimming with until overhearing her masturbating success and the candy cane reference. And then envisioning her naked in the shower, the water drizzling over her breasts and beading at her nipples. Add her hands between her legs, rubbing—
Dammit, my cock is throbbing.
“It’s a big shot, and time’s a tickin’.” Faye taps her wrist, pretending she’s wearing a watch.
Right. I gotta focus.
“You’ve got one weekend to show her you’re not just whistlin’ Dixie and, instead, prove you’re in love with her.”
“It’s not my love I’ll have to work on. She knew my love the day she left. It’s proving to her that it’s safe to love me, and I won’t abandon her the way her father did to her mother. Or screw around the way Elmer does on her aunt.”
Wilma folds her arms over the front of her burgundy western shirt with flowers embroidered on the shoulders. “He won’t have a problem.”
“He might. My sister is trying to trade him off as we speak.” Dani Rowe joins our circle.
