Braving The Storm: An Age Gap, Cowboy Romance (Crimson Ridge Book 2)
Braving The Storm: Chapter 16

I wrench my jacket off and toss it on the bench seat beside me. Reaching up to fist my hat, I lift it off and scrub one hand through my hair as I allow it to sit on the empty space beside me, too.

Today has been a fucking day.

I’ve spent half of it on the phone video calling with Beau, figuring out what needs done to fix up his new ranch venture while he agonized over five different shades of white paint and renovations that still need to be completed. The other half of my day has been spent convincing myself that Briar has been riding around in Westin Hayes’ truck for hour upon hour.

Or worse, that she’s been riding him.

Jesus Christ.

As I sit, gathering up the energy to actually move my ass inside, my radio unit fitted in the truck goes off. We’ve all got them as a form of communication for those of us who choose to live up here in the isolation of Devil’s Peak, and I could put money on the fact this call is either going to be from Colton Wilder or Sheriff Hayes.

“Stôrmand.” The familiar grunt of Colt’s voice fills my truck.

“Fuck you very much. When are you gonna give me a break with that?”

He chuckles. A noise I didn’t think I’d ever hear as frequently out of that asshole as I do now that Layla is in his life.

“Well, when I know how much you love it… can you blame me?”

“Sounds like you’ve got too much time on your hands these days if you’ve got the opportunity to call me up and chit chat. Wanna gossip on the phone all night with me, sunshine?”

“Christ.” I can hear the shudder in his voice, and can’t help smirking to myself.

“Well, then, spit it out, old fella.”

“We’re the same age.”

“Last I checked, you’ve got at least a year or two on me. So, I’ll take the win and the buckle, thank you.”

The line crackles for a moment, and I can picture him scrubbing his hand over his face.

“As much as I feel like I’m going to regret asking, can you bring your ugly ass up here tomorrow and saddle up with us?” After a pause, the radio clicks on again. “Snow forecast is all clear.”

Up on this mountain, we spend an awful lot of time planning around the weather, especially so when it’s this time of year and while Spring might be showing her pretty little face, conditions can still turn on a dime and get treacherous real fucking fast.

“The roads are looking good, shouldn’t be a problem.” Along with snow and ice and every other goddamn complication that tends to come with a last flurry of winter is the risk of rockfall. While the Sheriff runs a tight ship with his crew, who work their asses off to reopen the mountain as quickly as possible, there’s always something that invariably goes south real fast.

You can’t ever take it for granted out here. I suppose that’s partly why I enjoy this place. It’s a challenge living in the wilderness.

“That niece of yours coming along, too? Get Briar up on a horse and show her some real riding.”

My throat tightens. I damn well know that Colt is beyond obsessed with his girl. Yet, the mere mention of her name by another man?

Fuck, I’ve gotta get this shit together where she’s concerned.

Tightening my fist around the radio handset, I pinch my brow. “Yep. She’ll be there.”

I hate the idea of leaving her alone, more than the concept of her being around Kayce and his golden-boy charm all day. So, I guess seeing her on a horse and laughing at his dumb fucking jokes is just a reality I’m gonna have to endure.

“She’s not confident enough to be around cattle.” I tack on abruptly.

“Sure. Layla said she’s a fast learner, though.”

Jesus Christ, I’m instantly transported back to last night and all manner of wrong things occupying my mind on repeat where teaching my niece is concerned.

“You good?” Colt says. He must’ve said something, and I completely missed it because I swear to god I can detect the scent of her arousal again, and my dick fucking well leaps to attention.

I’m on the radio with Colton Wilder, and my cock is thickening inside my jeans, and fuck my life, I need to end this conversation.

“Yeah, I gotta run.” I bite out the words. “Be there in the morning.”

“Got it.”

I toss the handset back in its cradle so hard it nearly cracks.

Dropping my head back against the seat, I drag both hands through my hair.

Last night was a mistake. A really fucking good one at the time, but it was reckless of me, and I don’t know what I was thinking other than that I wasn’t thinking, and mostly that I hated the idea of her being out on a date today.

So yeah, I might have indulged in a fantasy that shouldn’t have happened between us because I was jealous of what a guy like Westin could openly have with Briar.

Maybe the sick part of me wanted to make sure she would be distracted and thinking about what we did last night instead of listening to his charming goddamn ranch stories.

Maybe I’m just a miserable old bastard who deserves all the shit I’ve had in my life. Who deserves to be alone.

But fuck, I haven’t been able to scrub her from my mind all day, and I’m pissed off at myself for starting something that I can’t finish.

Briar isn’t mine.

She fucking should be, but it’s impossible.

There’s no way a girl as beautiful and clever as her would throw her future away for a man who, to the outside world, is her own uncle. No one cares about details like adoption or that we hardly know each other.

Headlines only love a scandal, and my name has already had too much bullshit attached to it once before. It took everything Erik had in his media connections to make that shitstorm disappear and vanish without a trace before anyone heard anything, not because he cared about his own adopted brother, but all in an effort to safeguard the Lane Enterprises name.

Yet, the rumors still flew around.

Small towns still talk.

One sniff of another family scandal featuring the last name Lane is all it would take, and everything would end in disaster. I don’t care about my reputation; I don’t give a fuck what people say about Stôrmand Lane, they’ve already said and assumed the worst.

What I do care about is the girl with soft chestnut eyes, the kind that have the power to melt my entire fucking soul with just one glance.

I care about her too fucking much, and I can’t seem to turn it off.

With fingers threaded through my hair, I stare down at the evidence presenting itself in my lap.

My cock is pressed hard against the front of my jeans, all from thinking about her. The breathiness in her voice last night when she admitted how she hadn’t had much experience—we both knew she wasn’t talking about learning to drive. Then, that moment when her teeth caught the fullness of her bottom lip, followed by her head dropping back against my shoulder.

That, right there, was the second I knew I was fucking done for.

Glaring at my cock, the asshole throbs, desperate to be relieved of that pressure building and building. I let out a heavy sigh, and with a guilt-laden glance around—even though I’m parked outside my own fucking place in the middle of nowhere—I lift my hips and unbuckle my belt. Shame and urgency collide as I flick the button, lower my zipper, and allow my length to bob against my stomach when I shove my briefs down just enough for what needs to happen. My filthy fucking brain demands that I deal with the obsession I have over this girl right this second.

This is an all too familiar scene. Only last night, it was hidden away as I sat parked here in this very same spot, fisting my dick and jerking myself off. That clearly wasn’t enough to satisfy the urge. There’s a need I can’t quench, and I can’t explain, and the more I try to stop thinking about my pretty little niece, the worse it gets.

With a growl, I spit in my palm. As my fingers wrap around my length and I start stroking from root to tip, my balls are already hot and tight, drawn up and ready for another round of fantasizing about someone I have absolutely no business looking twice at.

Straight to hell.

Because a flood of all the sensations from last night arrive at once, as if I’m right back there. Only this time, my hands explore freely. The beautiful girl grinding in my lap is panting and begging for me to touch her, to fuck her. And I’m sure as hell not a good enough man to say no.

Not when it would deny her what she needs.

In my sordid imagination, Briar writhes as I unbutton her jeans and slip my hand down the front, exploring just how soft and drenched her sweet little cunt is.

Please, Uncle Storm.

She begs me so politely in that raspy, sultry voice. And it takes nothing at all to slip a single finger inside her tight, wet heat. My fist tightens around my dick as I squeeze my eyes closed and tug harder. Curses tumble out of me as it’s so vivid, I can hear her moans and feel the way she squirms and submits to me. Her pussy flutters as I finger fuck her right here in my truck.

Let me taste you.

She whimpers and asks so nicely. I let go, and the good girl Briar is, she’s kneeling over me, swallowing me down, and the noise that escapes me is guttural.

Heat builds at the base of my spine. I feel the wetness and warmth of her mouth. The plush glide of her lips mimics every movement of my fist, and it’s the moment I imagine her throat closing around my tip that my balls tighten and my stomach clenches.

Cum spurts out, coating my fist, as I feel every shameful pump of release. The pulse thundering in my ears comes in time with the rocking of my hips as I chase the sensation, and wrestle with erratic breaths.

All the blood in my body is in my dick, and my every thought is of her. I feel like I can even scent her, hear her whimpering with pleasure as she runs her tongue along my length to clean me up.

She’s my perfect forbidden fantasy.

Holy fuck, I can hardly see straight.

I’ve just made a goddamn mess, and it takes me another few moments to get my shit together. I glare at my dick and the sticky mess I’ve made, and have to tug my t-shirt over my head in order to clean myself up.

The threat of being caught out here with a situation I absolutely cannot explain is enough to get me moving. Slamming the door behind me, I head straight inside to shower. As if running scalding hot water all over myself will absolve me of my sins.

After drying myself off, and scrubbing the towel over my hair, my hearing is on edge, listening for any indication that Briar has gotten back while I’ve been in here.

Do I want her to be?

Do I want to walk out this door and replace her safely returned, and not looking like some asshole just felt her up in his truck. Or do I want to go out there and replace everything quiet, back to the way it was with me up here all alone on this mountain? Before Briar and her sweetness and spark that I’m so fucking addicted to turned up unexpectedly and flipped shit upside down.

I shove into a pair of sweats and a clean t-shirt, then head out to replace the cabin empty.

My eyes immediately flick to the clock on the microwave. It’s not late, but Christ, her date was at lunchtime and it’s nearly seven p.m. Layla was supposed to be looking out for her, and I’m starting to feel like I need to revisit my plans to threaten everyone with a dick in Crimson Ridge to stay away from her.

Starting with Wes and his perfect goddamn charming smile.

He would look a whole lot less charming missing some teeth.

Right as I’m debating whether to pick up the radio unit and put out a call, the sweep of headlights plays across the cabin. A truck engine and crunching gravel announce the arrival of whoever just brought Briar back up the mountain.

That tightness banded across my chest eases as I glance out the window and see the familiar Devil’s Peak Ranch logo on the door—Colt’s truck pulls up beside my own, with Layla at the wheel.

I duck my head and busy myself with digging out some leftovers to heat up for dinner. I’m crouched down, rearranging the Tupperware stacked in the fridge, when the front door clicks shut behind me.

“Oh, hey.” Briar sounds happy. There’s a lightness in her voice. “How was your day?”

I straighten up and turn around, and the sight that greets me is the best and the worst fucking thing in the world. She stretches to reach up and hang her bag on the hook behind the door and while her back is turned, that moment gives me the perfect opportunity to openly stare.

The dress she’s wearing that hugs her thighs and ass is made of a material that looks so goddamn soft, a rich cocoa shade clung tightly against her skin. She’s got her dark hair piled up in a messy top knot. Fuck. My eyes bounce everywhere, down to the cowboy boots she bought that first day here which reveal a small peek of smooth skin, a glimpse of her bare legs below the knee.

The worst part, or maybe the best part, is that she’s wearing an outfit like that, and she’s got my jacket slung around her shoulders.

She went on a date today wearing my jacket, and that triggers every feral, possessive sensation I’ve been trying my hardest to smother.

Briar turns, and the smile brightening her face says it all as she shrugs out of the coat. A move that shows off exactly how that dress molds to her curves. How it fits her body like a glove, and she looks so beautiful, there’s no way Wes didn’t fall for her within half a second.

Dropping the containers onto the kitchen counter, the rush of blood hits my ears. I’m pissed off at every single circumstance between us, and that’s what turns my mind blank. Instead of trying to beat back this thing eating me alive, I give in to the surge of petty, rage-filled jealousy.

Shoving into my own coat and boots, I’ve got my keys and my phone in my hand, the other on the door handle before I can blink. Without turning, or properly looking her way—because I can’t face having to take in another second of how stunning this girl looks—I storm out of the cabin like a rampant whirlwind.

And because I’m really desperately trying to do my best to make this girl despise me, the words as I slam out the door are a snarl, a bark, as she watches me leave, open-mouthed.

“Don’t wait up, darlin’.”