Dylan by C H Admirand

they needed their sleep. What about him? He needed sleep, and damn it all, he needed someone to care about him too.
    Jealous much? “Yeah. Damn woman’s got me tangled up and tied in knots.” You just need to take a ride into Mesquite—relieve some of that tension so you can focus on your job at the ranch—and the one rebuilding Ronnie’s store.
    He took off his Stetson and tossed it on the kitchen table, and the image of rose-dusted skin glistening in the moonlight sliced through him. The witchy woman with the raven hair lying on the rough wood farm table smugly smiled up at him, licked her lips, and opened her arms.
    â€œFuck me.” Dylan scrubbed his hands over his face, afraid to look back at the table for fear that the glorious vision would either be gone or beckoning him to shuck his jeans and take what she offered.
    â€œCoward.” The table was empty but for the hat he’d tossed on it. “Crazy,” he grumbled. “Plumb loco. ”
    Shaking his head at his wild imagination, ignoring the bulge behind his button-fly jeans, he stalked through the kitchen, down the hall, and up the stairs, chastising himself the whole way for giving into his twisted need to watch his older brother and his girlfriend. Hell, he hadn’t done that since Tyler was fourteen and Dylan thirteen—and horny as a three-peckered goat.
    He paused reaching for the doorknob. Now wasn’t that an image, a goat with three— “Jesus… I’m certifiable.” Dylan opened the door and flicked on the light. It bathed his room in a soft glow for a moment before he heard an odd pop and the room went dark. “Figures.” He didn’t keep a stock of light bulbs in his bedroom and he sure as hell wasn’t going back downstairs to rummage around in the kitchen drawers to find one.
    He sat down on the edge of his bed, pulled off his boots and socks, and then stood to shuck off his jeans and strip off his shirt. He didn’t need to worry about boxers; he’d forgotten to do the laundry, so he didn’t have any clean pairs left.
    He grinned as he hit the sack. It sure as hell saved time getting dressed in the morning.
    Lying on his back, he stared up at the ceiling. Sleep eluded him, but the image of Ronnie tilting her head back and licking her lips haunted him.
    â€œDamn… maybe she really is a witch.”

Chapter 5
    Dylan woke with a start. Whatever or whoever had interrupted his sleep was going to die a slow and pain-filled death. He rolled over and groaned. “Jesse, what the hell is your problem?”
    His brother shrugged. “I’m hungry. When are we gonna get some of that home-cooking Emily promised?”
    Dylan’s brain was still foggy from lack of sleep. “Emily’s cooking for us?”
    Jesse glared at his brother. “No, she promised that her friend would be cooking for us in exchange for you repairing her store, or did I dream all of that?”
    The youngest Garahan looked like he’d been in a wreck out on I-635—again. Dylan rubbed his hands over his face, hoping it’d help clear his mind. It didn’t, but a gallon of coffee might. “You want to talk about it?”
    When his brother shrugged again, Dylan realized it would be a long time before Jesse would be able to get past the reality of Lori getting remarried to her loser ex-husband. With a heartfelt sigh, he admitted that women were more trouble than they were worth.
    On the heels of that thought was an image of Ronnie… naked in the moonlight spread out like a feast on the farm table in their kitchen. Holy hell, he had it bad. Women—definitely trouble.
    Jesse turned to walk away, but Dylan was already out of bed following him. “Jess, you gotta get it out of your system.”
    The pain in his younger brother’s eyes cut him deep. He knew exactly how Jesse felt. He’d been there until Tyler had had a Garahan heart-to-heart with