Nothing Sweeter (Sweet on a Cowboy) by Laura Drake Read Free Book Online Page B

to escape before Tia got on a roll. Her life was complicated enough without adding love to the mix. She ignored the argument made by her libido and pushed the swinging kitchen door open with her butt. “Besides, if I keep eating your food, you’re going to have to widen the doors around here so I can get through them. Saddlebags should only be on horses.”
    A half hour later, Bree addressed Wyatt, who sat beside her at the dinner table. “I’d like to take my half day off tomorrow and run into town, if that’s okay.” The cowboys had carried their dishes to the kitchen before gravitating to the television, as they did most nights. Only she and the two brothers remained, drinking coffee.
    “Have to get your nails done?” Max asked.
    Bree lifted her hand to look at her ragged nails andreddened skin and snorted. “I only have a half day. I need to buy more work clothes.” She’d washed the few shirts she owned once already, and one pair of jeans was not going to make it. She’d forgotten how filthy you could get, working in a barn.
    Max’s slouch belied the look in his eye, like a dog that had picked up a scent—and she was the rabbit. “I’ve got to go to the bank anyway. I’ll take you.”
    Bree forced a smile, heart rate spiking. “Great.” She’d have to watch herself around him, or he’d see past the Bree Tanner persona she was still perfecting. No one here needed to know Aubrey Madison. She winced as a sheet of icy shame splashed through her. No one here would
want
to know Aubrey Madison.
    Carrying her plate, she pushed the door open to the deserted kitchen. Only the
swish-thump
of the dishwasher and the smell of spices remained. A fine tremor ran through her fingers as she rinsed her plate, put it in the dishwasher, then looked around for something else to do. The empty counters gleamed. The familiar jitter coursed down her legs, and she stood, gripping the stainless-steel counter, foot tapping.
    How fast could she leave without being obvious? Crowds still made her jumpy. Twelve men in a room without the distraction of food left her to be watched like an odd bug in a jar. The watching made her flesh crawl. But it was the jar part that brought an animal squeal to the back of her throat, and she lived in fear that one night it would burst free. If it ever did, her past would become her present, forcing Aubrey Madison and her secrets to the forefront.
    Fake it till you make it.
She took a long breath.
Fake ittill you make it
. She let the air leak out through her mouth, picturing the panic going with it.
    When the palsy in her hands calmed, she wiped her hands on her jeans, checked to be sure the bandana covered her neck, and forced her feet across the floor. She paused, hand on the door, and forced her muscles to relax. A fear-filled face would attract more attention.
Just fake it.
She pushed through the door.
    Shouts from the cowboys clustered around the TV drew her.
    The youngest hand, Pedro, leaped from the couch at her approach, gesturing for her to take his seat. The last thing she wanted to do was perch on the crowded couch, but she knew that argument would be futile in the face of ingrained old-fashioned manners.
This is what a normal person would do.
Forcing her knees to unlock, she sat, scrunching herself into the corner, eking an extra inch of personal space.
    The men were watching what appeared to be a rodeo. Bulls were loaded into narrow chutes, and cowboys stood on a catwalk above them. The camera zoomed in. One of the gates opened and a huge brindled bull exploded from it. A cowboy rode perched on its back, with only a rope to hold on to. The bull crow-hopped, then spun in a circle, muscles bunching as it bucked. The cowboy, one gloved hand in the rope, the other waving over his head, sat balanced in the eye of the tornado. But then the animal stopped and changed directions. The rider’s feet flew behind him, his chest flattened on the beast’s shoulder. The bull turned its head to come