Page 2 of Rodeo Cowboy
Chapter One
SAMMY
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“MY FUCKING NOSE.” THEimpact spurs a sharp, intense pain in my face and momentarily blinds me. “Shit, Silver,” I curse.
I wasn’t ready for my twin brother to throw a swing. I should have been. I damn well ought to have expected a punch. That’s how the two of us solve things—we fight it out.
Instead, I stumble backward like an idiot. My connection to Ayla breaks. Her horrified gasp rings in my ears. In hindsight, I should’ve warned her my return might not be pretty.
“You deserve worse,” my brother scowls. “A swift hard kick in the ballsack to start.”
My hand touches my nose. I feel the warmth of oozing blood before I see red on my fingertips.
I deserve the hit but damned if I’m going to stand around and let him beat the shit out of me.
“Kick him in the ballsack!” The shout comes from some drunken fool in the crowd, who also happens to be one of my six brothers.
“Hog-tie his ass!” Another cowboy provokes with a thick southern drawl—my pa.
“Is this a celebration or a brawl?” Mayor Thomas hobbles up the stage stairs. He no doubt intends to instruct the band to resume the music and kick me, my brother, and my new bride off the stage.
Silver glares at me. I glare right back. His hands raise like he’s ready to go. I’m fucking ready to go.
We both take a giant stride, fists up when Ayla steps between us.
Silver halts. Anger and confusion contort his face. “What the shit?”
I skid to a stop, nearly plowing into her backside. Not that my body would fucking mind. The way that blue lace dress hugs her hourglass figure, full breasts, and hips is all woman. I’ve spent the last two days driving from Vegas to Texas—with a pit stop in Arizona to pick up her two nieces and nephew—reminding my dick we’re faking this marriage, and there won’t be any mattress dancing behind closed doors.
Ayla plants her hands on her cocked hips. “You want another swing at my husband? You’ll be going through me first.”
My lip curls upward at her feisty, protective tone. I’ve been working at her ranch for months, and I haven’t met this side of her. I like it. I’m not the only one impressed. A wave of whistles sweeps from the crowd.
My brother blinks away the fiery anger piercing his eyes. “Silver Wilde.” He offers a hand, and my wife firmly shakes it.
“Ayla Wilde,” she says.
Technically, we did get hitched. On a drunken whim in Vegas three nights ago.
Silver chuckles. “You even took our last name. Guess you’re officially part of the family.”
