Kickin' Up Dust: Operation Cowboy, Book 1 (2 page)

For a heartbeat, he couldn’t think of who this gorgeous, tawny creature was. Long, dark hair that spilled over rounded breasts. Her eyes the same color as—

“Pup!” She launched herself at Brodie, climbing him like a tree.

On reflex, he locked his arms around her and held her to him, his panic forgotten, a low ache spinning through his gut. His cock twitched at the feel of her crotch against his fly, warm and covered only by a thin strip of denim and some cotton panties. At least that’s what fantasy played in his head.

“Danica?” he choked out, catching a whiff of her hair that left him with a strangely familiar feeling. She smelled of hayfields and bonfires. Of sour apples and everything he’d loved about spending time with the Popes.

“Jesus Christ, Brodie. Oh dear God.” She wrapped her arms and legs around him, unwilling to let go.

He held her effortlessly, though Matt’s kid sister was nearly as tall as he was. Flat-footed she must have reached six feet. “Holy fuck, Danica.” He buried his face against her hair and just breathed. If driving into Los Vista had left him feeling empty, holding Danica felt like coming home.

She pulled back to look into his eyes. The cornflower depths of hers were filled with tears, and while her smile was wide and her teeth blindingly white, he saw the glint of pain in her eyes.

Very gently, he set her on her feet. She stood before him, tall and curvy. A real cowgirl in a plaid top rolled to the elbows and knotted at the waist, affording him a glimpse of tanned midriff.

Fucking hell, she wore a silver hoop in her bellybutton.

He snapped his gaze back to her face in time to see her features crumple.

“Oh sweetie.” He reeled her into his arms again, just holding her and swaying back and forth as her grief crowded out the feelings of happiness they’d shared. The bag he still held seemed to weigh a hundred pounds, and he kept his wrist cocked so the bag didn’t touch her back. He wasn’t ready for her to ask what was inside. Right now, he just wanted to hold her.

“When did you get in?” she sniffled.

“Few hours ago.”

“And…” Her breath washed over his neck, raising hairs he didn’t realize he had there.

“And the town’s a fucking mess.”

“Nobody told you?”

He shook his head. When she withdrew from his hold to meet his stare, she’d composed herself a little. No tears wet her cheeks though some lingered in her eyes. She waved at the porch furniture, and he nodded.

Her tanned bare feet made scuffing noises as she crossed the porch, and she tucked them under her as she sat in an old wooden chair with a cushion. Brodie purposely skirted a certain chair and sank into another. One that didn’t hold so many memories of the man—or boy, rather—who used to sit there.

Brodie’s throat clogged again. He set the bag on the floor between his feet, leaned his elbows on his knees, and dropped his head into his hands.
Forty-seven, forty-six, forty-five.

A whispery touch on his arm made him look up into those tear-bright eyes that were breaking his goddamn heart. “I’m glad you’re home, Pup. It’s good to see you.”

He reached for the bag, but she tightened her grip on his arm. Her fingers were long and slender, shaped so much like her brother’s.

“I know what you brought, but I’m not ready to see it, okay? Let’s just talk. Like old times. Please?”

He bobbed his head in agreement and sat back in his chair to look at the only thing left in Los Vista worth seeing. Matt’s kid sister had certainly grown up.

Danica could almost feel her ovaries exploding as she drank in the image of Sergeant Brodie Bell. He must have packed on fifty pounds of solid muscle since going off to war with her brother. His arms were roped, his biceps bursting from his T-shirt sleeves. And mother of pearl, the way his jeans hung on his hips could make a girl go a little crazy.

Her nipples were two tight buds, and she feared he could see them distending her top, since she hadn’t bothered with a bra after her shower. All day long the torture device had dug into her shoulders and chafed her sides. Someday maybe she’d fabricate and patent a bra made for cowgirls. One a girl could rope and ride in without discomfort.

She watched Brodie’s face change as they stared at each other.

“You lost the braces.”

Oh hell.
Was that all he saw when he looked at her? That she no longer had buck teeth? In school they’d called her Easter, because someone said her teeth resembled the Easter Bunny’s.

“Yeah, Pup. What of it?” She shot him a grin, quite aware of how perfect her problem area was now.

A ghost of a smile tipped the corner of his lips but he didn’t let it reach his eyes. Those were the deepest brown, nearly black. Cool, calculating almost. She could easily see how battle and probably the latest events had changed him.

“That nickname can’t rile me anymore. What do you think they called me in boot camp?” He extended his forearm, where a cute little black puppy was tattooed. Its jaws were wide open, and blood dripped off its fangs.

She noted the veins snaking over his arm and felt her nipples tighten further. What was the matter with her? This wasn’t the time for lust or the person to lust over. Matt was dead, and Brodie had the horrifying job of delivering his belongings to her parents.

She swallowed hard and averted her gaze. Trying to think up anything to say that didn’t have Matt’s name in the sentence was making her edgy. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Nah, just came from dinner.”

“So the town—”

“Your ranch is—”

They spoke together, and she gave a low laugh. He nodded for her to continue. “The storms came a month back. Three twisters converged at the same time. Some had no warning at all.”

“Casualties?” He spoke as if it were war. At the time it had felt that way.

A shiver prickled the hair on her forearms. “Two dead. The Macallums.”

He blew out a long whistle. “Damn, that’s harsh.” They were an old couple everyone had adored. They’d taught school together, retired together, and perished together.

For a moment they were both silent as if in observance of their memory. Finally, Brodie looked up into her eyes.

The force of his gaze struck her. Her breath punched out, and she could do nothing but stare back at him. The coolness was gone from his eyes, leaving a smolder she had never seen and couldn’t make sense of.

Crow flopped on the floor between them, and Brodie’s burning look vanished, leaving the Brodie who’d come to bring her brother’s things back home—the man who’d seen atrocities unlike anything she could imagine.

“It’s good to see you, Danica.” His voice sounded as though sand was lodged in his throat. The gritty sound raised the hair on her forearms, and her nipples grew harder.

“Good to be back?” she ventured.

Resting his elbows on his knees once more, he dropped his head into his hands. When he scrubbed his jaw, a rasping noise sent her into a bigger spin than the F4 that had wiped out their town.

Finally, he raised his head. “I can’t answer that yet. But it’s good to be stateside.”

There it was—that burning in his eyes again. It took the dark brown to a whole new level of intensity. She unfolded her legs and reached across the short distance to rest a hand on his arm again.

He let her touch him, offering a millisecond of comfort. The hair under her fingers was wiry and his skin warm. This was Brodie, not some stranger. They’d climbed trees together and fallen out of them too. He’d carried her, with a badly sprained ankle, to the house on his back. She’d cried so much she’d snotted on him, and he hadn’t come near her for a week.

They were practically family.

Her throat clogged. “I hope you do stay, Brodie. I’m happy to see you.”

Dropping his gaze to the bag between his boots, he made a noise in his throat that sounded like tearing paper. “I’m not sure you’re going to be all that happy to see me.”

She sat back, pulling her fingers into her lap and clenching them against the trace of heat lingering from his skin. A strange calm settled over her. She needed to see what was in the bag before her parents did, and Brodie seemed to know this. She and Matt had been so close. Inseparable. She’d cried for two weeks after he’d left. And when the phone call had come with the caller ID of “US Government”, her heart had hit the floor.

But her parents…they were devastated to lose their only son. Matt would never again step foot on the land that was his birthright.

Brodie held her gaze deliberately, as if he could hold her up with the sheer force of his will. He picked up the bag and reached inside.

When the colors of the American flag came into sight, she burst. Tears exploded from her eyes and a sob rushed up her throat. Brodie hit his knees before her and wrapped her in his arms. She shook as she let him press her head down on his broad shoulder.

With a flick of his wrist, he unfolded the flag. It fluttered around them. Choking, she wrapped it around both of them, and they rocked in the combined pain of their monumental loss. She thanked God Brodie had been the one to bring Matt home.

Chapter Two

Brodie had been staring into the darkness for half an hour. It happened sometimes. He’d sit down to collect his thoughts and a long time later glance at his watch to see he’d lost another portion of his life.

He’d seen into the pits of hell and never cracked once. But holding Danica while she’d cried for her brother had nearly sent him off the deep end.

He was upset with Matt. Pissed, in fact. Matt had left him to do this dirty fucking thing—giving his family a bigger measure of pain than they’d felt upon hearing about the tragedy.

After several heartbreaking minutes, Danica had looked into Brodie’s eyes and said, “Thank you for bringing him home.”

Her parents had been harder yet to speak to, and well—he couldn’t allow that memory to surface anytime soon. If ever.

Drawing a deep breath of the country air, he stopped hearing the constant loop of gunfire that played in his head day and night and focused on crickets and the faint buzz of mosquitoes. He swatted one.

Inside, a light burned in the kitchen, sending butter yellow squares across the porch boards.
God, what a fucking day.
The only good thing about it was the lingering scent of Danica’s perfume on his clothes. Not just her perfume—
her.
That wild colt of a girl had grown into a beautiful and desirable woman.

Just thinking about her sent a pang of lust straight to his groin. More shit to tamp down and deal with. He couldn’t touch Matt’s baby sister.

Not a hint of a breeze blew. So much like the desert, but this place felt different and smelled different, and
he
was damn well different here.

Leaving behind the last five years and moving forward was his new mission. But what would he do to occupy his time? The ranch had enough work for him and Pa, he supposed, though it wouldn’t be lucrative. How long before Brodie’s money ran out?

A year maybe, if he lived frugally. A year in a dead town like this wouldn’t be a picnic. There wasn’t even a country bar where he could nurse a beer and shoot the shit with the guys.

The guys…what were they doing? Making plans as he was? At least they had each other.

The echoes of Danica’s tears echoed his skull. Without thinking, he brought the neck of his T-shirt up to sniff. Pure, sweet woman.

Fuck, what was he thinking? She wasn’t some uniform chaser looking to add another dog tag to her list of conquests. He might be a horny fuck, but he couldn’t entertain thoughts of her big, ripe tits pressed so tight against her plaid shirt that the lines distorted. Or her smooth, tanned thighs he’d wanted to dive between and not surface for hours.

He bit off a groan and adjusted his cock.

The kitchen door cracked. “You all right, Brodie?” his momma asked quietly.

“Yes’m. Coming in now.” He didn’t move to get off the rocker, though. He stared into the darkness.

After the initial shock of having his son’s dog tags in his hand, Mr. Pope had gotten to talking. At first it was mundane conversation as you would exchange at a funeral—about the weather, crops. The Popes were running about two hundred head of cattle. They had a lot of bulls, and that was one thing Brodie’s family ranch was missing.

The screen door creaked shut. In the back of his mind, he noted his mother retreating into the house, leaving him.

That was good because he couldn’t trust himself not to make a noise of despair as his mind moved on to Danica. How he’d reached into the bag a second time and placed the small, stuffed teddy bear into her hands. A bear she’d given Matt when he’d left for boot camp. Its furry paws were stitched to a red satin heart that said
I love you
.

Brodie bit down on his lip and shook himself. Then he got up and went inside. Going through the house, he shut off the lights his mother had left to guide him to his old bedroom. When he reached it, he kicked off his boots and started to yank his shirt over his head.

As he got a full whiff of Danica, he hesitated. Somehow, her nearness comforted. Maybe…just maybe it would keep the demons at bay long enough for him to catch a few winks. He threw himself into bed fully clothed and slept for eighteen hours.

* * * * *

Three solid days of rain. Danica had been wet to the skin again and again while doing ranch chores, which she didn’t mind. It was the mud she hated.

The thick black earth stuck to everything. And dammit, these were her last pair of dry boots.

Using a stick, she worked to clean off the bottoms. When Crow barked, she looked up to see a figure crossing the field despite the soaking rain. Her heart skipped—Brodie. She’d know that rolling gait of his anywhere.

Watching him walk was like eating double chocolate fudge ice cream—decadent as hell. She savored every step he put down and the way his arms swung so naturally at his sides. His hat dipped so low over his eyes she couldn’t see them until he mounted the porch steps.

“Brodie.” Her voice was a little breathless, but she had a naturally raspy voice. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.

“Are you catching cold in the wet?” Oh, he’d noticed, all right.

She shook her head, and droplets scattered over her shoulders. “I’m a country girl, remember? We don’t catch colds from rain.” She knew better than to be interested in a guy like Brodie. Unless he’d changed, he charmed everything with tits.

And she wasn’t that kind of girl. Or was she? She
had
slept with Wayne on the first date. But that was different.

“Hmmph.” Brodie took a seat next to her, and the old wooden chair creaked under his bulk. “Looks as if you’ve been making mud pies.” He did a chin-nod toward the stick in her one hand and the boot in her other.

Her libido went into overdrive. Did the man do anything that wasn’t sexy? She turned her gaze from his brown eyes to his chest.

Damn, that was worse. He wore a faded denim shirt with pearl buttons. Rolled to the elbows, for the love of moonshine. She couldn’t help but note the change a few days had made. He wasn’t even wearing his dog tags.

“Nothing better to do than make mud pies on a rainy day.”

He arched a brow, and her belly fluttered, low.

Dear Santa, I’ll take a Marine…

“Your momma will skin your hide if you go in muddy,” he drawled. For the first time since he’d come home, she saw him smile—a real smile that reached his eyes.

She swallowed hard. Giving up on the boots, she tossed the stick into the yard.

Brodie laughed. The sound rolled through her like thunder, shaking everything she knew about herself.

Apparently she wasn’t really as content to be alone as she claimed.

“Crow didn’t even go after that stick.”

“Well, he’s five years older and he’s taken an aversion to the rain.”

He laughed again, the sound so rich and full she could barely form a thought. “A cattle dog who hates the rain? Things really have changed around here.”

His statement hung between them. “Yeah, they have,” she said quietly.

He pushed to his feet and started pacing. She watched his long legs eat up the length of the porch several times before she caught his hand on the way past.

Scorching heat danced up her arm into her shoulder and threaded all the way through her. She forgot about her damp clothes and dripping hair. “Want to go inside for coffee?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

He was wet too, so in the kitchen, she handed him a towel. She squeezed the wet ends of her hair into the terrycloth, watching him pat rain off his shoulders and the brim of his hat.

Their gazes met.

There it was again—that low, dark heat.

She dropped her towel and he leaned against the counter.

“I didn’t come here to stare at you, Danica. I’m sorry.” What to say to that? She didn’t have time to formulate a reply because he went on, “I came to make you a proposition.”

So. Much. Worse.
Visions of his hard mouth on hers as she tore off his wet denim shirt did a mad jig through her mind.

Before she said or did something stupid, she pushed him aside to get at the coffeemaker. “What sort of proposition?”

Was it her imagination or did his gaze lick over her backside? She didn’t dare turn her head to see. Instead, she dumped two heaping scoops of coffee into the machine and added water. When she turned, he gave a small, nervous smile that quickly vanished.

“I have an idea.”

“Just the one?”

“Hold your tongue, girl.” His teasing lilt was returning—the one she’d missed so much when Matt and his friends had gone away. He leaned against the counter beside her. With only a foot separating them, she could feel heat radiating from the man.

“I’ve been thinkin’ these past few days. Not much else to do with all the rain and my momma coddling me. Anyway, our ranch isn’t doing too well, and from what I gather from your father, yours isn’t either.”

She gave a simple nod. “That’s true.” She’d seen the books herself. Lots of red ink there.

“The way I see it, we’re neighbors and neighbors help each other out. Between us, we’ve got three hundred head of cattle. I’ve got a lot of cows that need calved. Our ranch was always a cow/calf enterprise, and we don’t have a way to keep that going without bulls.”

A thread of excitement wove through her. “And we’ve got bulls.”

He nodded.

“I don’t know why our fathers haven’t done this before.”

“Shell shock,” he said as if it were obvious. “The storm, having cattle wiped out, the town gone. They’ve been just surviving.” Their other loss hung between them, but he didn’t voice it.

“I think you’re right.”

“I’m finished with just surviving, though. I’m ready to start living, and that means fixing our ranch first. And yours in the process. After we’ve got them up and running, I think we can hire some hands, bring blood back into Los Vista.”

She blinked. It was a good idea. Better than good, actually. Exciting. “What do you want me to do?”

“Come with me to talk to your pa. If he’s even up for talking.”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t spoken a word since you were here the other day, Brodie.”

His throat worked. “I’m sorry I had to do that, Danica.”

“It was necessary. My parents have been different since… Well, c’mon. Let’s go talk to Pa anyway.”

An hour later, with a plan hammered out and another pot of coffee drunk between the three of them, she walked Brodie to the door. He fingered the brim of his hat in farewell. “Rain’s supposed to clear tomorrow. I’ll be up to work.”

“We can start on that fence.” The east side of her family’s ranch had been touched by the high winds, and the fence was broken or falling over.

With a smile teasing the corner of his lips, he reached out and tweaked her ear. She yowled for show, but her body reacted to the touch as if it were a caress.

“Do you need anything before I go, Danica?” His warm eyes wore concern along with the usual strain she saw there.

“Got it covered, but thanks. Tomorrow bring your sledgehammer, Pup.”

“Will do.” His smile flashed far too briefly. He walked out the door, crossed the porch, and then walked across the field back to his ranch. She folded her arms over her chest, too aware of how he affected her. Wondering if Matt might forgive her if she accidentally slipped and landed right on Brodie Bell’s cock.

She gave a small giggle. Before Brodie dropped out of sight, he turned and waved. She waved back. And started praying for the rain to let up so she could spend the next day with him.

* * * * *

For five years, Brodie had barely been separated from his buddies. It seemed a few days was enough for them too, because he looked up to see the old blue Ford buzzing up the driveway, churning mud. Garrett stuck his head out the rear window and hooted.

Brodie couldn’t help but laugh at the dumb shit.

By the time they hit the front porch, Momma was there with a smile and hugs for all. Then she bustled them inside for fresh cinnamon rolls and copious pots of coffee. Sitting in his kitchen with his friends was like old times.

Well, almost.

He scuffed his knuckles over his jaw and leaned back in his chair. “I’ve got something to tell you guys.”

“We do too. We’ve got work clearing out some of the ruined buildings around town.” Garrett poured himself another mug of rich, dark coffee. They didn’t get coffee like this in a mess hall or a makeshift base camp.

“That was fast. A three-man crew?”

“We’re hoping you can make it four.”

“That’s what I was gonna tell you. I’ve got some work ahead of me too. Right here on the ranch, and on the Popes’ ranch.”

The name of their platoon leader dropped into the room, silencing them. Then Wydell cleared his throat, and they all started talking at once.

“Is it true Matt’s little sister’s all grown up?”

“I heard she’s a hottie. Might make me a trip over there today.”

“I hear there’s this schoolteacher in the next town over who’s been trying to get a ring on her finger.”

Brodie’s head spun with all this information. A protective pressure built in his chest, and he leveled his gaze at Garrett, and then divided the rest of his stare evenly between Wydell and Boyd. “We ain’t talking about Matt’s sister that way. Show a little respect.”

Garrett dipped his head first. “Yeah, you’re right. So what’s the plan with the ranch, Sergeant?”

“Combine them.” His Texas twang was more pronounced now that he was home. It sounded good to his ears. “We lost our bulls in the storm and we need calves. The Popes have bulls and a lot of broken fence. We’re going to combine efforts.”

“Your father’s on board with this?” Wydell rubbed his hands together, a nervous gesture he’d picked up in combat. The swishing noise reminded Brodie of holding his breath, of waiting for a kill shot. Adrenaline spiked in his system, and he started counting by fives.

“My pa’s happy to let someone else take over for a while. And the Popes…well, you understand.”

They nodded all around. For five minutes nobody spoke, drank, or nibbled one of his momma’s cinnamon rolls. Time would have continued ticking by if Garrett didn’t finally speak.

“After we get the debris cleared, we’re going to put together a construction team.”