Buck Me Cowboy

Fumbling through my drawers, my hands throw random things into a duffel, breath coming fast and hot. Tears trail down my cheeks and painful sobs burst from my chest as I pack. Because the Double H is all I’ve ever known, the only place I’ve ever called home. So now that I’ve lost it all … what comes next?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Tyler

“Hell yeah!” Jacob squeals, high-fiving Eli when we get back. “Booya!” both screech, chest bumping with glee.

They whirl around the living room, practically knocking over furniture, spindly frames flying everywhere. Because there’s plenty of space. Our estate is a fucking mansion, ornate and gaudy. The rustic aesthetic is actually laughable, because nothing about this home is true farmhouse.

The exposed wooden beams are just for show, they don’t hold up the ceiling. The stuffed animal heads lining the walls are purchased, it’s not like anyone knows how to aim a gun and shoot. And shit, but that designer chair in the corner cost five figures, purchased from some catalogue back east.

Shit. When I was with Maisie, none of this mattered. From the creaky floors to the beaten-down furniture, it didn’t matter because we had each other. Holy shit, what I wouldn’t give to hear her soft voice calling to me again, to feel that plush, generous body beneath mine, moaning with ecstasy.

But first, there are my brothers.

“Ty, you didn’t see her when she first came out. That chick was all proud and cocky, telling us how she’d never sell,” Eli guffaws, face mottled with glee.

“Yeah, she stormed out of that house like a boss,” Mitch adds in wonder.

“I seriously thought she had married some rich dude for a moment,” Jacob adds. “Like we really were down shit creek.”

“But she did!” Eli howls with laughter while pointing towards me. “She married Tyler Morgan, and the Double H is ours now!”

“Shut up,” comes my growl. “Shut the fuck up.”

But my brothers can’t be stopped.

“I get it though, big bro,” says Mitch, a smirk on that cocky face. “I mean, I got stiff the second she came outside in that robe. I know you couldn’t control yourself. Hell, I’m jealous! I wish I was fucking that sweet, young snatch,” he leers and I literally charge across the room then, intent on tearing his head off.

But Jake and Eli grab me, holding me back like a snarling dog, face a mask of rage.

“Shut the fuck up!” I howl, struggling like a madman, “Don’t you ever talk about my wife like that!”

“Cool it, cool it,” grunts Eli, trying to grab my arm. Unfortunately, I’ve got about fifty pounds on him, and it’s hopeless. I break free.

Meanwhile, Jacob is trying to restrain my other arm, and I toss him off with a quick shake. My hulking form advances on Mitch, ready to do some serious damage, but give my youngest brother some credit. He knows danger when he sees it, and immediately steps back, both hands up, expression apologetic.

“Yo yo, take it easy. My bad, bro. She’s a beautiful young girl, I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“Then shut the fuck up!” comes my howl again, expression murderous.

“Yo yo, like I said!” Mitch wails again, now quivering with fear. “Cool it, no disrespect.”

I close my eyes, seeing red, but the truth is there’s no point in beating him to a pulp. My brothers are fickle weaklings, they’re not even worth the energy. So I back off, chest heaving, fists clenching and unclenching by my sides.

“Besides,” grunts Eli, picking himself up from the floor. “You’re not staying married to her, are you? We’re just taking the land and then you’ll divorce her, right? I mean, hot cunt is hot cunt, but she’s trash, bro. Pure trash. You can’t give garbage like that the Morgan name.”

Didn’t he hear me? Is his brain really so small? I turn to him, the animal unleashed again, ready to skewer this fucker in two.

But suddenly, a deep voice comes from the office.

“Tyler,” my dad commands, and Eli is rescued again. As usual.

Stalking into the office I feel a mix of emotions. Obviously, regret and shame are the most severe, but I’m utterly disgusted with myself. I can’t believe I’ve tricked Maisie and hurt her so badly. In our entire time together she’s only ever cried from pure ecstasy, when I fucked her too good. So today was a new side to the sweet girl, and I can still hear pain in her voice, see that beautiful face streaked with tears. My chest grows tight, the air leaving my lungs. Shit. I did that. I’m responsible for her misery.

But my dad doesn’t know, nor does he care.

“Sit,” my dad points towards a leather chair and I take a seat as the old man grabs two glasses and a decanter filled with a amber liquid before joining me. Unable to wait, I rush to pour three fingers of whiskey, quickly downing it all in one gulp.