Sexual Healing (Contemporary Cowboys 1)

“Kane!” A collective welcome embraced their mom’s first cousin before each one of her sisters did the same.

Brianna fell against the floor with her back against the wall. Great. Just f-ing great. Kane Cartwell was there and that could only mean two things. One, their father had indeed been aware of what had happened and hadn’t bothered to come and check on her for himself. And two, their much-coveted freedom was about to smash into a massive boulder.

Kane’s appearance there was certainly significant. Apparently, her father had read something more into her attack. Now, Kane was there to intervene. He’d throw that Cartwell weight around. He’d make a few threats, throw a few punches, and just act like a badass without a cause.

She grimaced. A stubborn, aging badass at that.

He’d take names. He’d want numbers. Then, all hell would break loose.

Chapter Four

“Darling, if I’d only known you’d wanted to come with us of course you would’ve been invited.” Peyton Cartwell tossed some eggs in a bowl like she intended to scramble them shell and all.

She secured her phone between her shoulder and ear while preparing breakfast like a pro. She flipped a few pancakes, tossed handfuls of veggies on top of an omelet, buttered some bread, and threw a plate of uncooked bacon into the microwave.

“Yes, of course you would’ve been welcome.” She cleared her throat and stopped dead in her tracks. Tossing a red-and-white checkered towel over her shoulder, she asked, “Trixie, why are you asking me all these questions?”

Brianna quietly took a seat at the kitchen table. She had a throbbing headache and had meant to grab some juice and head back upstairs, but the alluring breakfast scents took her back to another time. Her mother had been a wonderful homemaker and she loved to cook. Brianna’s older sister, Coco, had been named after a world renowned Italian chef. Still, it had been years since a full-scale breakfast had been prepared in their kitchen.

“Uh-huh. Well, if your sister is spreading rumors about me and your father....” Her voice trailed and she burst out laughing. “Let’s see, what was it that you said to me the night you were arrested and Braden bailed you out?” She paused, licked her finger, and acted deviously suspicious. “Oh, that’s it. Now I remember. You said you didn’t do it. Later, after you had children of your own, you said you were guilty as charged.”

She set the phone down on the counter and hit the speaker option. “Mother!” Another spunky voice filled the room. “Were you not embarrassed?”

“Why of course not. Why would I be? I was with my husband—your father, which is why this is uncomfortable to talk about—and it isn’t as if we invited spectators to watch. We didn’t sell tickets. We were in the privacy of our own car. We weren’t bothering anyone else and—”

“And you stopped for a booty call at the overlook? Nice.”

Peyton sighed, placed the back of her hand against her forehead, and muttered in a barely audible voice, “It would’ve been if we hadn’t been arrested.”

“You were arrested?” Nory crept up on Peyton in the kitchen.

“Nory! Oh my goodness. I didn’t see you standing there, sweetheart,” Peyton said, her cheeks turning pink.

Nory turned and pointed at Brianna. “Did you see her sitting there?”

Peyton’s mouth fell open. Her face turned a deeper shade of red.

“Well it sounds like you have co

mpany. I have to go anyway. Ansley is throwing forty fits this side of Friday claiming she needs help with inventory. Love you, Mom.”

“You, too, hon.” Peyton ended the call, flipped a couple of pancakes, and checked the bacon before facing Nory again. “So little woman, what’s your pleasure—pancakes, an omelet, a bacon biscuit, or—”

“I don’t eat breakfast.”

“She doesn’t eat at all,” Brianna said, watching from the adjacent breakfast nook.

Peyton’s gaze rushed over Nory and a worried expression crossed her face. “My guess is she just hasn’t had anything worth eating. Fast food gets old. Doesn’t it, Nory?” She took hold of her shoulders and steered her to the table. After guiding her to the bench, she turned to Brianna. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore, but better.” She had stayed in her room all night, popping her meds and cursing the pain. At one point Kane had stopped in for a visit and she’d pretended to be asleep. She hadn’t been ready to face them. It was difficult enough to acknowledge they knew why she had been hospitalized, how and where she’d been attacked.

“I’m glad, hon. We were worried about you.” Peyton sashayed back to the heart of their country kitchen. In a matter of minutes, platters were piled high with flat omelets, bacon, and pancakes. Slices of toast and biscuits were arranged on bread plates. She set everything on the table and took a seat. “Dig in, girls.”

Coco entered the kitchen then. She pulled out a few paper plates from the cupboard and slung them at Nory. “Here. Use these.”

“Oh, that’s all right. If I make a mess, I’ll clean it up. I want the girls to enjoy their breakfast.” Peyton paused. After a moment, she added, “I made enough for everyone, Coco.”

“How long are you and Kane planning on staying?” Coco crossed her arms over her chest. “I mean, obviously Brianna is okay. She’ll survive. That’s what we do.”