A Cowboy In Paradise

Jimi sighed as he nibbled the edge of her jaw. Dallas growled in to her and inhaled her wild and exotic scent that was just like his island. He’d learned long ago to seek out those special little places on a woman—it was so worth the extra care—and he found the delicate spot just behind her ear. Jimi’s body went lax in his arms. She ran hands down his back, leaving a trail of heat that spiked into fire when she linked her thumbs through the belt loops and pulled him to her. He settled between her thighs, her heat searing him. Sound dimmed. All he heard was the thumping of his heart and her soft, breathy sighs. Jimi dropped her head back, giving him more access, and he didn’t waste the opportunity to search for her trigger spot, smiling when she shivered as he licked along her collarbone.

Voices pierced his lust haze. He tried to ignore them, but when he recognized the laughter, Dallas swore and sat bolt upright, pushing her away. Regret washed through him at the confusion on Jimi’s face and he wanted to explain but couldn’t. She stood and shoved her hands into the jeans pockets.

She was mad—that was good. It made things easier. He’d been ready to take it just a little too far with her. Now wasn’t the time or the place. He stepped back and tried not to notice her passion-filled gaze, now tinged with anger. Or the way her hair was mussed and the plump pout of her mouth...all beckoning him like a siren, calling him back to her.

“What...?” Her voice was soft and sultry, but he heard anger around the edges.

“You’d better leave.” Dallas did his best to keep his voice unemotional, but he sounded like a bullfrog croaking.

“What happened? I don’t understand.” Yep, she was mad.

Before he could answer, a loud, booming voice from outside the tent announced his brother.

“Dallas, you old dog, are you in there?”

Dallas stepped in front of Jimi to shield her while she fumbled with her shirt buttons. The tent flap was yanked aside and his brother filled the opening.

“Hey, bro! What the frig...” He gave a knowing nod, raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. “...ahh.”

Jimi stepped around Dallas and he bit back a smile when he saw her lift her chin and shake her head, making her curls flutter around her shoulders like a lioness’s mane. She flickered her gaze to Dallas, but he couldn’t read the expression. It was as if a shutter had closed, hiding the light that had been shining from her only moments before. Strangely, it saddened him. He turned to Tucker and sent him a warning look.

“Excuse me.” Jimi took a step and winced. Dallas reached for her elbow, but she shook him off.

“Don’t let me interrupt things,” Tucker said, his mouth curving up on one side.

“Yeah, yeah, enough of that. Tucker, this is one of our guests. She cut her foot on a stone and I was just doctoring her up.”

“Yes.” Jimi looked down at her foot. “It doesn’t pay to not wear shoes around this godforsaken place. What a big mistake it was coming here.” Without a second look, she pushed past both the men and sailed out the tent opening.

They watched her go and remained silent for a few seconds. Tucker turned to Dallas and burst out laughing.

“What the hell was that all about?”

Dallas thinned his lips and glared at his brother. Ever the loud one with no tact. “Nothing,” Dallas snapped. The last thing he wanted to do was explain his actions to his brother. The less he knew the better, and no way would he let on what had almost happened.

“Well, bro, it certainly didn’t look like nothing to me.”

Dallas turned his back on him and grabbed the first-aid paraphernalia, holding it to Tucker as proof, then put it back where it belonged.

Dallas ushered Tucker to the tent opening. Time for him to leave. “Wasn’t sure you’d actually show.”

“You know me—I’m like a bad penny. Always turning up.”

“You got that right. When you’re needed, you’re not here. When you’re not needed, you turn up and usually with complications.” Dallas followed Tucker from the tent. “So what brings you up here? Did you drive or ride?”

“Drove. I need to make myself scarce.”

Anxiety squeezed Dallas’s chest. “And you have to do that...why?” He’d had about enough of bailing his younger brother out of all the trouble he was good at getting himself into. Did he really want to know what he’d done this time?

“Oh, nothing. Just a little misunderstanding.” Tucker drew in a sigh and stopped, turning to face Dallas. “Do you really want to know?”

Dallas narrowed his eyes and planted his feet, crossing his arms over his chest. He stared hard at his brother before answering. “Unless it’s got something to do with jail, murder or losing the ranch, then no. Fair warning, though—don’t make a fool of yourself or the family. I’ve—we’ve—worked too hard to keep our upstanding reputation. I don’t need you to bring it down by doing anything stupid.”

The look that flashed through Tucker’s eyes wasn’t what Dallas expected. He saw relief, pain in them and something else...defeat? Ah, shit, maybe he did need to know. He was his brother, after all. Under his cavalier and crusty exterior, Tucker was a softy. To the bone. Dallas had been hard on him, hoping the tough love would work. Last thing he wanted was his brother to fall down the rabbit hole again. “Like I said. Not unless it falls into any of those categories. But know that I’m here for you.”

Tucker nodded and Dallas was relieved to see the stress ease a tiny bit from around Tucker’s eyes. “I brought the truck. A few bags straggled in and Larson sent up some more wedding trinkets.”

“More wedding crap? Take a look around—there’s enough lace and ribbons and girlie stuff to sink a ship. What more could possibly be needed?”

Tucker shrugged a shoulder. “Who the hell knows. It’s chick stuff. Anyway, we need to get it unloaded.”

Dallas followed his brother to the half-ton dually. The wranglers had unloaded most of the additional supplies and late luggage, and carried stuff into the storage tent under Samantha’s care. He checked the labels on the suitcases. Nothing for anyone named Jimi.

“Did Larson say anything about the other suitcase coming?”

Tucker shook his head. “She said something about a woman upset her bag hadn’t arrived.”

“Yeah, she’s already made her displeasure known. Hopefully it turns up in the morning,” Dallas muttered.

“So what’s first now?” Tucker inquired.

“We should get the coals lit. Easy dinner tonight—everything’s on the grill.” He checked his watch and then looked to the sky. “Probably should get the guests out to Bridge Rock. The first night is supposed to be a sunset-cocktail thing.”

“Seriously?” Tucker shook his head and gazed around the camp. “This really is a stretch for us, isn’t it?”

Dallas nodded in agreement. “All I can say is thank God for Samantha. I didn’t want any wedding responsibilities. This is important, though. If we can pull this off, it could open up a whole new niche for us. Weddings and glamping. I think there’s a market.”

Tucker gave him a skeptical look. “Where did you get that idea? I thought all brides wanted to be pampered, five-star, not roughing it like we are up here.”

Dallas shook his head. “Apparently not, according to Sam. If there’s a need, I will provide. Be warned and on your best behavior. Nothing is to go wrong. And no fraternizing, either.”

“What, moi? Fraternize?” Tucker gave him a devilish look, but Dallas kept his demeanor stern. Tucker had to understand the importance of professionalism, something Dallas would have to remind himself where Jimi was concerned.

“So who is this wedding planner?” Tucker asked.

“Haven’t you met Samantha Ray? She’s Larson’s friend.”

Tucker shook his head. “Can’t say that I have.”

“They met at college, but she’s not like Larson at all.” Dallas looked over Tucker’s shoulder. “Well, speak of the devil.”

Tucker turned around as Samantha approached. She was a small thing. With red hair that hung in a riot of organized ringlets almost to her hips and pale blue eyes under ginger brows that easily drew you in, she exuded a serenity unlike Larson. Sam was calm, where Larson was wild.

“Well, well. No, I haven’t met her,” Tucker muttered in a low voice. “She might be worth a little bit of a chase.”

Dallas found that funny and chuckled. “I think she’d run you a merry chase, that’s for sure. She’s way out of your league, bro.”

Tucker ignored him, but Dallas saw the muscle in his jaw twitch, usually a sign he’d been offended. But sometimes the truth hurts and it needed to be heard.