Branded by Laura Wright Page A

but it had dropped to every four or so lately. Same with Deac. They’d all just become strangers.
    Something about being back here, back home, Everett gone, the ranch’s future unclear—and a possible brother they’d known nothing about—it made Cole crave more from Deacon and James. Maybe that was a pussy thing to want, but there it was.
    Eyes trained on the road ahead, sweat pouring off him, he took off, sprinting back toward the Triple C.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    â€œI’ll be staying here longer than expected, Sheridan.” Phone to his ear, Deacon headed out of the house, across the porch, and down the steps. “I may need you to come for a few days.”
    Which would mean opening the River Black office space and apartment he’d bought a few years back. He’d furnished and stocked it well, but he’d need to get it cleaned and have the AC checked before his assistant arrived. He couldn’t have her conducting business in a hot and dusty three-room space above the Feed and Tack. River Black had a small hotel and she could stay there if she liked. He’d invite her to the Triple C, but with what was going down, he didn’t think she’d be comfortable.
    He heard the buzz of office life around her as she answered. “Of course, sir. Do you want me to liaise with your housekeeper? I can bring anything you may need.”
    â€œThat’s not necessary,” Deacon said, heading for the large red barn. What he needed was a good, hard ride. It had been way too long since he’d been in the saddle. “I’ll be back on Friday for the dinner with Breyer. I’ll pick up a few things then.”
    â€œOh,” Sheridan said, her tone slightly confused. “Are you sure you don’t want me to reschedule the dinner? If you need to stay—”
    â€œThis meeting will happen, Sheridan.” His tone sharpened. “I’m not letting Breyer slip through my fingers again. I’ll take the
Long Horn
in and back.”
    â€œVery good, sir. I’ll make sure everything is confirmed. And shall I contact Ms. Monroe?”
    He paused just outside the barn doors, which were spread wide, giving him a panoramic view of the immaculate stalls, horses that were well fed and cared for, and one of the farm dogs stretched out and snoring. “Yes,” he said tightly. “And make sure Pamela knows who we’re having dinner with and where.”
    â€œI’ll take care of it, sir.”
    His eyes cut to the right, and instantly his chest tightened with awareness. The ranch’s foreman was saddling her horse in the crossties. Christ, he’d thought Mac would be gone by now. Up and out and on the land. Deacon’s gaze roamed over her, trying to memorize every inch. He felt like a lecherous bastard, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Dressed in a pale green tank top and tight jeans that were tucked into roughed-up cowboy boots, she was all tan skin, lean muscle, and dangerously sexy curves.
    â€œSir?”
    â€œI’m still here, Sheridan,” he said.
    Mac’s head came around, and her gorgeous blue eyes locked with his. She gave him a quick, tight smile, then returned to her horse.
    â€œI just received the call you’ve been waiting for,” Sheridan said. “An employee from Genetics Free should be there by two o’clock. Ty is flying him over.”
    â€œPerfect.”
    Mackenzie was tightening the girth beneath her black gelding, the muscles in her toned arms bunching with the effort. Christ, just staring at her made Deacon’s hands twitch and his blood heat. He hadn’t slept for shit last night thinking about her, how her mouth had felt on his, how her hands had dug into his skull, how her hips had ground against his cock. And the sounds she’d made . . .
    His nostrils flared. He’d have to address it. Make sure she knew—and hell, he knew—that it