Page 26 of My Cowboy Temptation

The next photo is a teenaged kid standing next to a man I know to be my granddad. I touch the face of the kid, see the haunted dark brown eyes and the familiar but more hollowed-out planes in the face of a kid who had suffered too much. My heart aches for him and what he might have gone through.

The next picture is definitely more the Brody I know, maybe in his early twenties, standing next to my dad, both of them looking grim as they stare at the photographer, and I can’t help but wonder who might have captured this photo. Was it my mom, just before she left, and the grim faces were a foreshadowing of the pain that was going to come?

The last picture has my heart swelling with emotion as I see a three-year-old girl sitting proud and happy on the back of a horse, her thick black hair tied in loose pigtails on each side of her face as she grins at the camera. But the best part about the picture isn’t the little girl rejoicing at having her first horse ride, but rather, it is the younger giant of a cowboy standing behind her, watching carefully with what might be a hint of pride in his eyes as he ensures the girl doesn’t tumble off.

Brody Dalton has always watched over me, protected me from harm, then and now. Only now, of course in an entirely different way.

He’s both protector and tempter, all in one.

And I can’t wait to see him. Heading to the kitchen, I peer inside, looking for said tempter, and find him standing over the stove, his blue flannel sleeves rolled up as he scrapes what might be eggs around in a pan.

He doesn’t seem surprised when I step behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. “Morning, Cal. Hope you’re hungry.”

“Ravenous. I didn’t think I was going to see you this morning.”

He flips the burner off and sets the pan aside before turning around to pull me into his arms. “It’s Sunday. Figured the boys know what has to be done, and they could get started without me.”

“Happy to hear that,” I say and lift my face up to him, waiting for my good morning kiss.

Something he seems happy to oblige as he brushes some hair from my face and presses his lips over mine. He tastes like coffee and bacon, and as much as I would like to languish here in his arms, I have other needs too, and I pull away and head to the mugs that I fill nearly to the rim, leaving barely enough room for some half and half that I pour in next.

“Take a seat wherever you like,” he says and grabs a plate down.

The barstool at the counter seems good enough for me, and I slide onto it and watch as Brody puts together the last few things. A few minutes later, I’m in awe as I stare down at the plate he’s fixed for me, piled high with three pancakes, scrambled eggs sprinkled with cheese and salsa on the side—just as I like them—and four strips of bacon.

I take a gulp of coffee and set the mug down before picking up a perfectly cooked piece of bacon and taking a bite. “Do you do this for all the women you sleep with?”

“Only the special few.”

“Quite the treatment. I’m touched.”

He slides the syrup across the counter, and instead of taking the barstool by mine, he remains standing across from me.

“You’re not going to eat?”

“Ate nearly half an hour ago.” He picks his coffee mug up from the counter and takes a drink.

“So you’re just going to watch me eat?” I ask, finishing the last bite of bacon and pouring syrup over my pancakes.

“Why not? It seems that there’s not a lot you can do I don’t want to watch you doing. Besides, I have to meet some of the wranglers out at the south pasture in fifteen minutes.”

I dig into the pancakes and take a bite, nodding. “These are delicious.”

“I know.”

I roll my eyes as I grab my coffee and wash the food down with another drink. “So how did your business go in Bozeman? Anything out of the usual?”

“It all went just as I planned. Have more than enough buyers for the spring calves and some new contracts in place with some suppliers. How about you? You must be getting pretty excited for London. You going to stay with your mom?”

I shrug and try some of the eggs, which are seasoned perfectly. London seems so far away right now, both physically and figuratively, and it’s definitely not something I want to think about when I’m sitting here with Brody.

I only want to be in this moment and nowhere else.

“You really are amazing, Cal. Don’t let this De Longer guy make you question your talent,” he says, mistaking my reticence to talk about it with self-doubt, which is adorable. “Someone with your talent and spirit doesn’t come along every day. He’s lucky to have you.”

His confidence in me is humbling, and I can see from the glint in his eyes he’s completely sincere. My hunger for food seems to completely slip away as a hunger of another kind takes over.

“It’s really a shame you ate already,” I say as my fingers go to the buttons on my shirt and undo them, letting the shirt gape open so my bare breasts peek out. Not done, I pick my fork up and swirl it in the maple syrup on my plate before holding it above me. Droplets of syrup hit my skin, dripping down the pink of my nipples. “I thought that you might like to taste some of mine.”

His eyes have darkened again as he appears next to me. Without warning, he lifts me from the seat and rests my ass on top of the edge of the counter, then dips his head down as his tongue slides against my skin, licking the maple syrup until nothing’s left.

I grin, noticing the erection already bulging in his pants. “Didn’t you say something about leaving in a few minutes?” I ask, picking up the syrup and this time tipping it to drizzle down my belly, where the syrup continues to drip dangerously lower.

He grins back, just before dropping to his knees. “We probably shouldn’t waste any time then.”

Then his tongue is licking the sticky liquid from my belly and making a path down until he’s at my folds.

Eagerly, I spread my thighs wider as Brody Dalton enjoys his second meal this morning, and I wonder how life will ever be as good.

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