Sweet-Loving Cowboy (Kinky Spurs 2)

“No, you’re right, I don’t want to hear anything about this,” Brody finally grumbled. He entered the room, taking a seat on the end of her bed next to the open box. “But I’m still your brother.”

“Yes, you’re my brother, therefore, we don’t need to have a mom-and-daughter chat.”

Brody glanced down to his laced fingers. “I know . . . it’s just . . .”

The emotion in Brody’s voice clenched her heart, making her regret trying to shut the conversation down.

She sighed again, folding the dress in her hands, placing it in the box, then sat next to him. “It’s just what?”

“I worry about you.” Brody gave her a quick look before glancing at everything but her.

He’d never seemed to find talking overly comfortable. When he’d attempted to talk to her about sex, he gave her a pamphlet about birth control, STIs, and a doctor’s address, along with money for birth control pills, all without saying a single word. Maybe it wasn’t the best way, but it was Brody’s way, and she loved him. “You have nothing to be worried about. I’m good.”

“Now everything is good,” Brody retorted with a frown. Another pause. Then he lifted his gaze to hers, revealing emotion-packed eyes. “I don’t like when you cry.”

“I know you don’t.” Harper placed her hand on his forearm, sensing the quiver in his muscles. “And I won’t cry. Promise.”

His eyes searched hers, and then he heaved a long sigh. “Listen, I know you’re a grown woman. You’re smart”—he shook his head slowly—“far smarter than I ever was at your age. But women are softer than men, sweeter even. I worry.”

She heard what he said and absorbed his advice. Brody had given up so much for her to succeed, working as a mechanic to support her during culinary school, when she knew he’d once wanted to go to college himself. He never once let her touch her inheritance because he said she needed that to open a restaurant one day. “Please don’t worry about me. I’m okay.”

He tilted his head to side, giving her a measured look. “You know what you’re doing?”

She nodded. “I know exactly what I’m doing. I’d say I even have my big girl panties on, but . . .” She laughed at his cringe, hoping to lighten his mood. “And that’s exactly why I’m not going to say panties.”

“Please don’t say that again.” Brody cringed.

“What, panties? What about lacy, fancy panties? Oooh . . . thongs.”

“Harper,” Brody said dryly.

She chuckled. “All right, I’m done.”

Another sigh spilled from his mouth as he rubbed his hands over his face. “I actually have something else I wanted to talk to you about.” He reached into his pocket and took out a black velvet box.

Harper’s eyes widened, her stomach shooting up to her throat when he opened the box, revealing a sparkling diamond engagement ring and wedding band. “Why do you have Mom’s rings?”

“With your permission, I want to give the rings to Faith. I’m taking her to the foothills.”

Harper blinked. “You’re going to propose to her?”

Brody gave a small shrug. “Think it’s about time for that, don’t you? She’s been with me since high school, and she’s been talking about wanting kids soon.” He gestured at the rings. “But I want you to be okay with her having the rings. They are as much yours as they are mine.”

Harper reached for the box, closing the lid, holding both her hands around his. “I think the rings are perfect for Faith.” She threw her arms around him. “Mom would be so happy. I’m so happy for you.”

“Yeah,” Brody said, his arms locked around her.

The hug lasted longer than Harper thought it should have, and because of that, her throat tightened and eyes watered. So much emotion poured through his hug. Maybe Brody had even wanted to hug her before, but didn’t know how. She got the feeling he did not want to let go. And maybe that was because for so long it was just the two of them.

Soon, she would be gone.

When he leaned away, he tucked the ring box into his pocket and rose.

Harper fought the tears.

“Oh, hell, don’t do that.” Brody began stepping back like she was toxic. “Jesus, Harper, I just said I hate it when you cry.”

Harper laughed softly, wiping the tears away. “Well, I’m sorry. I can’t control it. I’m an emotional person.”