The White Cowboy - Complete BWWM Romance Box Set Read online

  At the end of that, the audience gave her a lot of applause. Brandon came up to help her with her guitar and her drink.

  "I think you made them happy," he said when he'd settled her back at the table.

  "Yeah, I did. I wasn't sure I would."

  "Why not?"

  "Well, I am the only person of color in here."

  "I think most people don't care," he said.

  "I hope not."

  "You really have a great voice. I was expecting Aretha Franklin and you were more Lea Ann Rimes."

  "Thank you. I never got into that screeching like Whitney Houston. I prefer a clearer voice, and that's what I was gifted with."

  ***

  Helen sat down with them between acts. "You're pretty good, Gemma. Can I book you?"

  "Book me?" Gemma said. She glanced at Brandon.

  "Helen actually owns this joint," he said.

  Gemma turned back to the woman. She was old enough to date Brandon, and she looked at him as if there'd been history. For a moment, she envied the woman that time with Brandon. Clearly it hadn't lasted, but they'd parted on good terms. "Oh, you want me to sing here?"

  "Yeah, the crowd loved you," Helen said.

  Gemma had enjoyed herself, and for a moment wondered if she'd miss the intimacy of such a small venue. "Uh, well, I'm not in town for long."

  "That's a shame. You here tomorrow night?"

  "I'll still be here," Gemma said. Her last night in Iowa. Her last night in town. Her last night with Brandon.

  "We're having a potluck supper as a fundraiser for the food bank. Would you be our entertainment? I can pay you."

  Gemma shook her head. "For a good cause, I'll do it for free."

  "I've got tickets, too," Helen said. She turned to Brandon. "How about you buy a ticket and stop by."

  Brandon blinked. Gemma wanted to laugh. Guess he didn't get out much.

  "We'll take two tickets," Gemma said.

  "I'm not going to charge you," Helen said.

  "Nonsense. It's for a good cause. Who's making the food?"

  "Well, church ladies, but there is also a recipe contest," Helen said.

  "Recipe contest?"

  Brandon nudged her good leg under the table, but she ignored him.

  "You get to vote on the best dish, and it will be featured in a church cookbook also published to raise funds."

  "Wow. I know some recipes that would work, but it's kind of hard for me to cook."

  "No, we don't have any recipes," Brandon interjected. "We'll take two tickets."

  "Stop by the bar on your way out and you can buy them."

  When she left, Brandon glared at Gemma. "What?"

  "We are not making a dish for the pot luck," he said.

  "Why not? It's another way someone else can taste your food."

  "Stop. I'm not doing it," he said.

  She could tell by the set of his jaw that she would not be able to change his mind. She'd have to figure out another way.

  CHAPTER TEN

  They stayed through one more act, then rose to leave. Brandon stood and handed Gemma her crutches. He lifted her guitar and walked along with her to the door.

  "You wait here and I'll get the truck."

  "Thanks. I'll buy the tickets while I wait."

  "Tickets?"

  "For tomorrow's pot luck."

  He nodded, then handed her some cash. He would not have her paying for them. "It's a little cold out there for you to be standing in it," he said.

  When he pulled the truck up, he parked it and left it running with the heat on full blast. He poked his head in the door to the bar to find a large man standing in front of a wide-eyed Gemma.

  "Is there a problem?"

  The man, who Brandon did not recognize, turned to him. "This your girlfriend?"

  "What if she is?"

  "So you like them dark?"

  The bar had quieted down, and Brandon knew everyone was watching him. He would not back down to a bully. He'd dealt with them in school and on the rodeo circuit. He especially had no patience for racists.

  "And what business of that is yours?"

  Brandon heard a few people step up behind him. He didn't want to lose eye contact with the man, but he wanted to know what was happening.

  "Yeah? What concern is it to you?" someone behind him said.

  The man looked at Brandon, then at whoever had gathered behind him, then took a step back. "Guess it isn't one."

  The man left without another word, and Brandon let out the breath he was holding. He hadn't wanted to fight, but he would have. He glanced over his shoulder and nodded at the two large men stood behind him.

  "Thanks," he said.

  "No problem. No room for men like that here," one said.

  The other nodded in agreement.

  Gemma still stood a little wide-eyed. Brandon strode to her side. "You okay?"

  She smiled a little. "Yeah, I'm okay."

  "The truck's outside," he said. "I put your guitar in it."

  She walked out behind him without saying a word. Brandon's heart ached. He was still mad at the guy. He'd never understood that attitude. He'd been on the road with women and men, of all colors and ethnic origins. As long as they did their job, he didn't care what they looked like.

  Later in the truck, Gemma finally spoke.

  ***

  "I haven't encountered that much hatred in a long time," Gemma said.

  She'd been scared. When she saw those men lining up behind Brandon, she really wasn't sure what to think. Relief had taken over when she realized they were there to defend Brandon. And, by extension, her.

  "I think his kind is still around, but most people don't tolerate him."

  Her heart finally slowed down to its normal beat. She took off her gloves, and wiped her clammy hands on her jeans. Brandon reached out to her. "It's okay now."

  She smiled at him. "I know. I was just scared and feeling helpless because I couldn't do anything."

  "You could have hit him with your crutch."

  She laughed. He laughed. His was a throaty, sexy laugh that made her tingle in all the right spots. How had this man, this cowboy, finagled his way into her heart?

  Heart? Oh crap. No. No. She shook her head. No. She was on her way to Hollywood. Her car could be done tomorrow afternoon. She'd get on the road the next morning.

  With a clearer plan in mind for when she'd stop for the night. So she wouldn't have to rely on a lonely cowboy to take her in.

  "You okay? You were shaking."

  "I'm fine. Just a little residual adrenaline."

  But her body wanted him. Even if it was only for tonight.

  "You'll crash when we get home."

  Home. This wasn't her home, and she had to remember that. She was building a new home and a new life in Hollywood. With no man to hold her back.

  "Probably. I want to take a pain pill."

  Her foot was throbbing when Brandon took her out of the truck. The pain must have showed on her face because he carried her into the house. But he didn't put her down on the couch. Instead he brought her into his bedroom.

  Placing her on his bed, he said, "You take the bed tonight. I know you're in pain."

  He left before she could argue.

  ***

  Why did Gemma look so right in his bed? Even Spike curled up next to her as if she belonged there.

  He should have helped her off with her coat, but he used all of his self-control to get out of there. Otherwise he would have taken off more than her coat.

  After parking the truck and bringing in her stuff, Brandon noticed a light on in his kitchen. How had Gemma gotten there without her crutches?

  "I would have brought you a drink."

  "Oh?"

  He stopped short in the doorway. Sitting at his kitchen counter was the last person he ever expected to see in his house again.

  His ex-wife Jessica.

  His breath caught in his throat. She still looked beautiful, but other than su
rprise, she inspired no other emotion in him.

  Well, except maybe disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

  She visibly swallowed, and her eyes looked as if she'd been crying. "I've hit a snag in my career."

  "Oh? And you thought I would take you back in?"

  He strode to the sink, suddenly needing a drink of water.

  "You always were a sucker for a damsel in distress," she said.

  Yes, he knew that well. That's why Gemma was in his bed right now. Gemma. Damn. Not that he owed Jessica any explanations. They'd been divorced for a few years now.

  "Brandon?" Gemma called from his bedroom.

  Jessica arched one eyebrow. "Company."

  "Yes, and you should leave," Brandon said.

  "You have company?" She laughed.

  As if he couldn't get a woman. On the circuit he'd had to fight off some of the women. Though he'd only had eyes for Jessica, then. That hadn't turned out well.

  "I'm going to see what she needs. Good bye, Jessica."

  ***

  Gemma had heard another female voice coming from Brandon's kitchen. What was going on? She'd managed to get herself out of her coat, but she couldn't get anything else off without some help.

  Without her crutches, she was stranded in Brandon's bed. He appeared in the doorway. "I'm sorry. You need some help?"

  "Is someone here?"

  He glanced over his shoulder. "My ex-wife. She's leaving."

  "Uh, okay."

  He didn't seem concerned, but suddenly Gemma felt awkward being in his bed. "Should I take the couch?"

  "No, I'm taking the couch."

  "What about your wife?"

  "Ex-wife. She's finding another place to sleep tonight."

  "Where do you expect me to go?" a woman said from the doorway.

  Brandon's hands stopped helping Gemma with her one boot. "I don't care. You are not welcome here."

  "But you know there are no hotels."

  "Jessica, I don't care. Go drive to the hotel a hundred miles from here."

  "That'll take me all night," she said.

  Gemma watched the exchange as if it had been a tennis match, her gaze going back and forth. She blinked at the rancor in Brandon’s voice. She had really hurt him if he'd take a stranger in, but not her.

  "You can't throw her out, Brandon," Gemma said finally.

  Brandon pulled off her boot, then sat back on his haunches. "You should stay out of this."

  "Yes, whatever your name is, stay out of this," Jessica said.

  Gemma glared at Jessica. "I am trying to help you."

  "I don't need help with my husband," she said, her eyes flashing in anger.

  "Ex-husband," Brandon said.

  "Fine," Gemma said. "I'll take the couch.”

  "No," Brandon said. "This is between me and Jessica. I'll get your pain pill, and we'll move this discussion out of here so you can sleep."

  ***

  Brandon had hoped to charm his way into the bed with Gemma, but his ex had put the damper on that. Now both he and his dick were frustrated. He left Gemma in his bed with her suitcase so she could change. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

  She nodded.

  He steered Jessica toward his kitchen. "Sit."

  "I'm not a dog," she said, but she slid onto a stool.

  "You are not welcome in my house."

  "What happened to make you so bitter?"

  "You did. Now, I've made a life for myself, and you are not part of it."

  "Is that young thing part of that life?"

  "That is none of your business," he said.

  He paced in his kitchen. He was more than ready for Jessica to be gone.

  "Don't you want to know why I'm here?"

  "No."

  "Well, I'm going to tell you. I'm broke."

  "I've got about a hundred bucks in cash you can have. Then you can mosey on down the road."

  "Brandon, she's broke. You can't kick her out," Gemma said from the doorway. "That's awful."

  "I said I didn't need your help," Jessica said.

  "Clearly you do. He’s ready to throw you out," Gemma said.

  "I see you went true to type, Brandon," Jessica said.

  Gemma glared at his ex-wife. "That's none of your business."

  Brandon's head spun. The temperature seemed to have risen several degrees in the kitchen. "Stop it. I don't have room for another person."

  "If two people sleep in the bed, the third can take the couch," Jessica said. "It's late. Do you really want it on your conscience if I die in a crash because I fell asleep?"

  "Wait? Where's your car? I didn't see it when I came in."

  She flashed him a sardonic grin. “I parked it behind the barn. I didn't want you to see it."

  "That's manipulative."

  "But mine’s a good idea," Jessica said.

  "But which two in the bed?" Gemma said.

  "Well, Brandon and I get the bed," Jessica said. She stood up, as if the matter were finished.

  "I'm not sleeping next you," Brandon said. "Gemma and I will take the bed. You get the couch. Final answer."

  *

  Gemma took her time brushing her teeth. She'd wanted to share Brandon's bed, but not with his ex-wife in the other room. She could feel the woman's rage from here.

  Brandon had made it clear that his decision was final. So she was sharing his bed.

  Her evening ablutions done, she hobbled out to his bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed in just pajama bottoms. He stood when she entered the room.

  "I hope this is okay. I can sleep on the floor if you want me to."

  "No need. We can handle this."

  "She'll be gone in the morning."

  "She doesn't really impact my plans."

  He frowned at that. She hoped he understood that she was still leaving. No matter what. She wasn't going to be sidetracked by a man, no matter how tempting he was.

  "True."

  He slid under the covers, then opened the book on his nightstand. Her body was thrumming at him being so close, and she hadn't even gotten into bed.

  Dropping her crutches on the floor, she slid under the covers, thankful that he had a queen-sized bed. She'd put her Kindle on the nightstand, and now turned it on to read.

  Jessica appeared in the doorway. "I need a toothbrush."

  "You can't afford your own?" Brandon said.

  She frowned. "Really? I just forgot it."

  "You must have left some place in a hurry," Brandon said.

  He rose to get her one, then returned a few minutes later. "Tomorrow can't come soon enough."

  ***

  Brandon kept reading the same sentence over and over. Not because he was tired, but because he was aroused to be this close to Gemma and not be able to touch her.

  She couldn't seem to settle. She shifted around, and almost pulled the covers off of him.

  "Are you okay?"

  She blew out a breath. "I'm in a little bit of pain."

  "Did you take your meds?"

  "No, I changed my mind."

  He put down his book. He could take care of this problem. Easily. The problem of his raging hard-on was another story. "Maybe you should take it tonight. If you're in pain."

  She frowned. "I guess."

  "I'll get you a glass of water," he said.

  He padded to the kitchen. Jessica raised her head from the couch, but Brandon ignored her. Because of her he wasn't having sex tonight. His dick didn't like Jessica either.

  After filling a glass with water, he padded back to his bedroom. He heard a dissatisfied grunt from Jessica, but he didn't care.

  Handing the glass and tablet to her, he waited for it. He watched as she drank down most of the glass, exposing her long neck to him. He blinked. He needed it far too badly, considering he had had sex just a few hours ago.

  "Thanks," she said, handing it back.

  She flashed him a smile, but he could see the pain in her eyes. "Maybe you shouldn't have gone tonight."r />
  "I'll be fine as soon as this takes effect."

  He put the glass on the nightstand, then slid back under the covers on his side of the bed. He opened his book and read another sentence three times.

  Sighing, he closed the book, and turned off the light. "Good night."

  "Good night," she said.

  He must have dozed, because he woke to Gemma struggling. "What's wrong?"

  "I'm going to throw up, and I can't find my crutches."

  Instead of looking for them, he scooped her up and got her to the toilet just in time for her to throw up into the bowl. He held her so she didn't fall over even though she was standing on one leg.

  Finally, she said, "I need to sit."

  ***

  Gemma got to the floor with Brandon's help. The room was spinning.

  With her breath ragged, she leaned her head on the toilet edge. The coolness of the porcelain felt good on her hot forehead. Brandon had flushed several times for her. Now she just wanted to die.

  "Here, rinse, don't drink."

  Brandon handed her a glass of water. She did as he said.

  Her stomach wretched, then she burped louder than she'd ever heard anyone burp. She put a hand over her mouth. "Excuse me."

  "That might be a good sign."

  "What made me sick?"

  "Probably the pain meds."

  "It didn't bother me the first time," she said.

  "Sometimes it takes more than one exposure."

  "Guess I'll stick to ibuprofen."

  "Probably a good idea."

  He sat on the edge of the tub, his long legs out in front of him. His hair was ruffled, and his eyes looked a little bleary.

  "I'm so sorry. You were asleep."

  "Better than you throwing up in bed."

  She snorted. "That would have been bad."

  "You might have been sleeping on the floor for that."

  She laughed. "You wouldn't make me sleep on the floor."

  He gazed at her as if he were looking into her soul. "No, I wouldn't have kicked you out of bed for that."

  She rubbed a hand down her face. "I feel as if I threw up my insides."

  "You were doing a good job," he said.

  She took a few deep breaths. "I need to use some mouthwash."

  He helped her to her feet, and then over to the sink. She rinsed with a minty mouthwash.

  "You ready to go back to bed?"