Billionaire Cowboy: Siblings (Book 2 in the Richland Series)

Chapter 15: Michael

Michael’s pov

Waking up from a ray of light breaking through the curtains, the sun, my workday alarm clock quickly became a medieval torture technique. At my bachelor age, waking up hungover without memories of the wild night has become a common component, almost a requirement, but lately, it no longer seems appealing. The same laughs, the same girls, the same loneliness.

So, why am I back to this crap? I have no idea. First things first, I need to remember what happened. My head and chest hurt, but not like a sucker punch, more like a wake up call or something sh*t like that. I don’t know, it just feels different.

Rather than brag about surviving an unknown night of havoc, I’m pissed that I let this crap happen again. Shifting to sit up is a struggle as the culprit was found, a hairy arm across my chest. Well, at least I didn’t make a mistake with a random bunny. Wait, what the hell? Smacking the arm, a loud groan echoed my feelings.

Pulling his arm, the creep’s fingers lingered a bit too long as he massaged my chest, receiving a well-earned punch in return. “What the f*ck?” he croaked. I barked, “Exactly, what the f*ck, man?” Billy’s head shot up looking dopey and clueless. Yeah, this will not be mentioned again.

Standing up and stretching, my eyes roamed around the room as pizza boxes, crushed beer cans, empty bottles of Jack and random clothes littered the area like country graffiti. More grunts and moans bounced around the room as bodies were stirring. I might not have clear memories from last night, but the disaster in front of me shows someone had fun.

What is missing?

Locating my shirt hanging on a lamp and boots against a rocking chair, my attention was dragged to the side as Matt’s booming voice rattled the walls, “I’m grabbing food, who’s coming?” Grunts responded to the announcement as heads popped up accepting the invitation.

Looking refreshed from a shower, I questioned in a low voice, “You good?” He smirked, ignoring my concerns while walking around kicking bodies with his boots, “Let’s go, food will help.” He raised his voice, “Get up lazy arses, it’s time to eat.”

Redirection is his talent, he’s hiding something. I need to ask about “My Girl” when we’re alone, especially after the guys said he was whining like he’d lost his horse. He’s never acknowledged anyone or made any mention of one girl standing out amongst the rest.

What is going on?

Pulling into the bakery, the best greasy food in town, we stumbled inside like a ragtag bunch of soldiers. Greeted by Emma, the bakery owner, she handed out coffee mugs as everyone nodded their heads, knowing she had our orders memorized. It’d be easy to say we’re all-that-and-a-bag-of-chips to get this kind of service, but to give credit where it’s due, Emma’s personalized approach to her customers makes everyone feel at home.

After placing our orders, we claimed tables in the back and quietly nursed our hangovers with Irish coffee, unaware of our audience.

“Well, good morning, Magic Man,” an older female voice announced. Looking over my shoulder at a table of Hens, the town’s nosey gossipers, staring in our direction with eager smiles, made an eerie chill climb up my spine. Keeping a stoic face, my normal response to these wenches, because I refuse to be pulled into their twisted games where one reaction sparks bullsh*t that spreads around town like wildfire, I turned back to my coffee.

The bakery door chimed, breaking the awkward silence as Tennessee, a MC bunny, walked in with a smile looking like she had just walked off a catwalk. Thank gawd she has no shame prancing around in public showing off her goods because right now we could use the distraction.

“Well, my, my, my Ms. Kentucky, you look ready to earn a couple rolls,” sneered a Hen. Placing her order and turning with a smirk, Tennessee winked in my direction before facing the firing squad. “Excuse me, I’m from Nashville, Tennessee, not a po-dunk town like Plains.” Yeah, that was directed at the mayor’s current girlfriend who raised up the societal ladder on her knees. Putting Angela and Tennessee in the same room was like pouring gasoline on a fire. It’s always entertaining.

Turning to watch the performance, Angela flipped her hair acting unphased, but we all know the truth hurts. “Well, at least I don’t strip for a living.” A couple of Hens giggled as the entire bakery was glued to the showdown. Tennessee stood tall with her arms crossed across her chest lifting her fake boobs, “You’re right, I will never hide who I am. I’m a stripper at Sally’s, and I live as a bunny at the clubhouse. I will never be ashamed of who I am. Unlike those who sneak around with married people.”

Yeah, that was directed at Angela, who became the mayor’s flavor of the month after their affair became public. But Tennessee was not done, “Oh, and I might share my bed with different MC men, but at least they don’t hide their affairs. In fact, we had a public figure visit the clubhouse recently and I heard he had a really good time.”

Angela’s eyes popped out of her head. Everyone knows her husband is a womanizer and childhood friends with Tank, and a frequent visitor to the clubhouse.

Smirking at Tennessee’s tactics, she has no shame. With her way of verbally tearing people down, you’d think she baited Angela, but the mayor’s w***e made the mistake of messing with Tennessee. Angela never stripped but she bounced through many bedrooms, single and married men. How she thinks she can judge others is hilarious.

Speaking of Tennessee and the club bunnies, it’s well known that only club members can claim her. However, any pass-arounds hoping to become club bunnies are often gifted to visitors. And it’s not a secret that the mayor might be considered a tester of the pass-arounds. Everyone knows how he is and yet he continues to get elected.

Why? Who knows?

Angela grabbed her purse and stomped towards the door of the bakery to leave, but not before Tennessee but a nail in the coffin, “I could get you a trial run at Sally’s, just give me a call.” Yeah, it won’t be long before the mayor dumps her for his latest flavor.

Cocking her head to the side as she stared at the remaining wenches, knowing she had not only won that round but squashed any interaction with her, Tennessee paused before turning around to wait for her order. Walking up to refill my coffee, I bumped shoulders with the victor, “Nice to see you again Tenn.” Smirking, she took the mug from my hands, filled it halfway with Jameson and coffee then took a long sip. Where did she get the bottle?

“If I don’t stick up for myself, who will?” she commented before handing the mug back, leaving a red smear from her lipstick. No longer phased by her flirting, I smiled, knowing we’d have each other’s back no matter what. She’s the type you call your ride-or-die type of friend. She might be a club bunny and stripper, but she has dirt on everyone, dirt that would destroy most of the Hens.

“So, how was your night, cowboy?” Tennessee teased. Wondering why a night of cards and drinking would interest her, I tried to change the subject, “Don’t y’all make breakfast at the clubhouse?” Bating her fake eyelashes, a couple of times, she leaned up against the edge of the counter before tilting her head towards the front of the bakery, “I’m picking up an order for Misty.” Keeping my eyes on her face, I wondered why I once thought fake boobs were attractive?

Placing a hand on the counter, allowing the front of her boobs to push forward, she whispered, “So, how much was made last night? I’m guessing more than you realize.” Keeping a blank face wondering how my two winning hands of poker were any of her business, I waited for her incessant banter to continue while I figured out what she was getting at. Typical Tennessee, beating around the bush and not making sense.

“I can pull in a thousand on a good weekend, but rumors have it, more than that was pulled in with just one song.” Letting my eyes drift quickly down her front, I noticed the shirt she was wearing, “Sally’s Slick Rides.” Staring at the cartoon face reminded me of the owner, Sally. Then I heard her voice in my head, “I’ll take care of you.”

Like a firecracker exploding, flashbacks of last night plagued my mind. It must have shown on my face because she giggled, “That’s right, you became a local hero overnight. But I must say, the videos don’t do justice to the live performance.” Videos?

Unable to speak as I relived hungry eyes staring at me, Billy chimed in, “You were there?” Where did he come from? Tennessee’s smile grew wide as she stood tall, “Of course, we needed something more than the traveling gay guys who flaunt their oiled bodies.” Looking at Matt, who showed up from nowhere, she winked, “Your girl pulled through.”

Looking at my best friend who replaced his smirk with a scowl, Tennessee looked like she added fuel to a fire when she looked at Matt, “I must admit, when Ashley bragged about getting the one and only Michael to agree to go on stage, I had to see it with my own eyes. Years of being on stage and I’ve never seen the crowd so engaged and willing to pay top dollars for a novice. But Mike, there was nothing novice about your moves.”

She turned her attention to the small group that had gathered behind us, then back to me, “Let me know when you’re ready for an encore, I’ll let you keep the money you make, no percent to the house.”

It all started to come back in waves. Ash in trouble. The strip club. Bills stuck to my body. “Tennessee,” was called from behind the counter. Leaning in, she whispered, “Keep your chin up, the storm may be rough but, in the end, only survivors will prosper.”

Not knowing what she was talking about, I nodded, watching her bounce out the door. I returned to my table, pushing past my nosey friends.

Bored with the lack of drama, the Hens paid their bills and left, all except Heidi, Rianne’s computer-savvy cousin and YouTube channel partner. And sitting next to her was my older stepbrother, Kemper.

Could this day get any worse?

Before I could talk to Matt, our food was delivered, allowing me to eat in silence and ponder on Tennessee’s words. A couple of years back, the MC became part owner with Sally after her husband passed, which explains why Tennessee was not only there last night but had inside information.

Scraping the last of the grits off my plate, I commented to Matt, “Tennessee seemed interested in you.” Looking up, he masked his emotions a little too late, he was hiding something. Billy piped up from across the table, “Don’t you remember? Our boy Matt hit the stage a couple of years back but,” he paused, leaning back ready to reveal top secret information, “He didn’t wow the crowd like you did.”

Pushing his chair over when he stood, Matt stomped off towards the bathroom, refusing to engage. Billy rubbed his hands over his face, continuing his rant, “Man, I can’t believe I missed it. I figured she was talking about a different night.”

Wait, what?

Slamming my hand on the table, a little louder than I had intended, I questioned, “You mean you knew she was going to get me on stage?” With his head leaned back in a defeated pose, he complained to the ceiling, “She wouldn’t shut up about having to talk to you. I overheard her say she had to get you out of there, something about a time limit.” My hand hit the table again.

Billy jolted up in his chair, “Look man, I figured y’all had something going on. You’ve kept her around for years.” I barked, “It’s never been like that.” My scowl made him put his hands in front like he was surrendering, “Hey, it’s no secret that she’s become friendlier with most of us. For all I know, you two have been knockin' boots too.” Shaking my head, I admitted, ‘I’m probably the only one who hasn’t touched her.”

My past with Ash was never shared. I can’t blame Billy, but WTH? I’ve been so focused on helping Ash with her dysfunctional family that I pushed aside the rumors of her sleeping around. To be honest, she was the type I used to f*ck, so Billy had a point, but I’m too pissed to admit it.

Watching Matt saunter back, I was prepared to question him about Tennessee but got interrupted by Heidi and Kemper, who chose to visit our table. Oh, good gawd. “Good morning or should I say afternoon Michael,” Heidi said with a bite of sarcasm. Responding with a grunt, playing her games was the last of my worries. She used to be nice until dating my stepbrother.

Turning my attention to Matt, Kemper interrupted, “We spent this morning helping Rianne load up.” Nodding my head while keeping my attention on Matt, I hoped Kemper would get the hint and leave, but the i***t continued, “She waited and waited, even though I told her it was a loss cause.” Taking a sip of coffee, I noticed Matt’s brows crinkle trying to decipher Kemper’s hints.

A soft hand touched my shoulder, as Heidi’s voice explained, “Ri waited but couldn’t wait all day and left town.” Letting out a sigh, the memory hit me like a brick wall. I was supposed to have breakfast with Ri. With a hard smack on my shoulder, Kemper laughed, “She actually thought she meant something to you. But you, my brother, will never be good enough for Rianne.”

Matt stared at me but had mixed emotions. Why is he so calm?

Spilling the Irish coffee as my mug dropped to the floor, I rushed outside and pulled out my phone to call Ri, but it went to voicemail. Leaving a message, then texting her, I looked up her schedule and decided to meet her in Texas. Matt and I had decided to skip the Houston Rodeo while Ri meets and greets the young idiots, but if she wasn’t going to answer me, I was going to her.

I can’t lose her.