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

Chapter 4: Michael

Michael's pov

Our local bar scene has been packed with the same old sloppy seconds who no longer turn me on. I hate to admit it, but it’s been this way for the past year or so. Traveling the rodeo circuits used to provide a fresh set of bunnies, but whether we’re in Calgary, Williams Lake, Reno, or Cheyenne, they all start to blend into one hot mess. We could be in a trailer, a hotel room or a vehicle. The location doesn't matter, but the scene is the same with clothes peeled off before the door closes.

The free access was alluring when I was younger, but lately, the moment the transaction is done, I can't get out of there quick enough.

Case in point, it’s a Friday night and I'm nursing a beer, sitting next to Matt playing NHL on our PS5. No desire to talk about hitting up the bars. Then out of nowhere, like a planned attack, our phones started blowing up: Kittleman Bonfire. One thing about the Kittleman gatherings: forgotten people will make appearances. A smile crossed my face as I finished my beer in one long swig.

Some of my best memories have come from their property.

Matt perked up, echoing my excitement, then he tossed his controller, “Man, you’re lucky we don’t have time for me to whoop your arse.” Yeah, there was an arse whipping tonight, but it wasn’t mine.

Bonfires never start before sundown, we have plenty of time to gather up the boys, but being the sore loser that he is, Matt would use any excuse to avoid having to admit failure.

Grabbing a hat and flannel, my attitude is upbeat. Usually this time of year, it can get chilly at night, but this month has been unseasonably warm and the bonfire and beer will help to keep us warm. Brushing my teeth, I checked myself in the bathroom mirror.

For once, I’m looking forward to going out. Something feels different but I can’t place it.

Being the local Kittleman resident, the youngest brother Sam is probably organizing things. He’s a year or two younger than me, but rumor has it his older brother Scott, one of my high school friends, is back home after a rough divorce. According to the infamous Hens, our local gossip brigade, the poor guy got duped into thinking his girlfriend was pregnant with his baby only to learn she got knocked up by a guy she had on the side.

My boy will be ready to party.

Before long, ATVs lined our front porch announcing the calvary had arrived. Driving to the party, music blared from speakers, getting us in the mood. It may be just another Friday night for others, but for my boys, wherever we go, we dominate the place, all eyes on us.

As the sun melted behind the mountains, memories of laughter and endless hook-ups flooded my brain, but none of the females’ names rang a bell. Matt asked, “Hey, you remember that red head with the long legs?”

He could be talking about a handful of eager beavers. I looked over my shoulder, waiting for more details.

Attempting to drink from his beer, as I bounced over a rocky area, he wiped his chin, “You know, the one we had a threesome with?” Yeah, I’m lost. Shaking my head, “Sorry, man, we’ve never shared. I don’t cross swords.”

Smacking the dashboard, his memory must have cleared, “Oh, my bad, she brought her friend.” Yeah, this arse likes to brag about the number of girls he's banged.

But I was the same way.

Just like life on the circuit, I pleased many but never stuck around long enough to get serious. If they came back for more, it was on them. Matt was definitely known for one and done, while I had many repeat customers. I’m not ashamed of my ways.

But things are not sitting right with me. Wait. What am I thinking? I'm not the relationship type. I need a couple of beers and a couple of transactions.

Right?

Strutting into the bonfire area with my boys, we made an entrance without trying. Tonight is not about IF we hook up, but HOW MANY. It’s not bragging, but it is a fact.

And like I said, we arrive and let the bunnies flock to us.

On the flip side, snarky looks or middle fingers from females get the point across loud and clear that we’ve been there, done that. Do we care? Not one bit. Their behavior simply tells us to look elsewhere tonight. Forget the fact that there are more polished birds thrown in our direction than ever before.

Come on man, get your head on straight. It's game time!

Greeting friends, or those who want to hang with us, with head bobs, we gather round a couple of large boulders comparing females and swapping stories. Some of these skanks act like prima donnas when, in fact, they’ve rotated through our group more than once. It’s funny how we’re treated like douchebags even though their actions mirror ours.

Double standard for sure.

But, while there are easy pickings tonight, nothing has grabbed my attention. Just like the bars, there’s nothing but sloppy seconds here. As the time ticks by, my motivation to seal a deal fades quickly.

Scott Kittleman saunters over our way looking like a million bucks. He might have been through a brutally publicized divorce, but you’d never know it from his current attitude. His swagger is back, his beard is longer, and I can’t help but notice he’s getting attention from every female he walks by.

It’s hard to tell if he plans to jump back on the horse or lay low and keep to himself tonight. The divorce papers were signed but I learned from my parent's split that the fall out could last for years.

Prior to his wedding, Scott was known for having a short temper like a bull seeing red. I guarantee no one will mention his ex. Who would want to open Pandora's box? If there’s an arse kicking tonight, my boys will be on the same side, not battling each other.

In our group, silence is never overrated. We are definitely not chicks who gab to fill the space. But to my surprise, Scott tipped his cup towards two females walking by, “Damn she looks good.” A growl roared from Matt. Looking over my shoulder, he was punching a text into his phone.

What's his problem? Taking a double take, I stood up to get a better look as everyone in our group was staring at long legs and curves from head to toe in all the right places.

Who is that?

The female friend pointed to our group of creepers staring with mouths dropped, causing both of them to look our way. Before I could react further, a whistle from behind me showed someone’s appreciation of the long-legged beauty. Touching the bill of her hat, she smiled in our direction, causing a strain in my pants.

Damn, she has a gorgeous smile.

Snapping the tension in the air, someone asked, “Hey Matt, isn’t that your sister?” They're step-siblings but everyone considers her Matt's sister, especially with his overprotectiveness. Without looking up from his phone, he nodded his head, “Yep, and don’t think about touching her.” Remembering the last time I saw Rianne, I pictured her knobby knees, mouth full of metal and thick rimmed glasses.

The awkward duckling has blossomed into one fine piece of arse.

Fingers flying across his phone, I peeked over Matt’s shoulder. Yep, he’s texting his sister. Searching for her, I spotted her stopping by the cornhole area focused on her phone as a tall blonde-haired guy talked to her.

Matt: What the hell?

Rianne: Don’t you have bunnies to entertain?

Matt: WTF? This. Is. Not. UR. Crowd.

I missed the next response when I stood up and charged in Rianne’s direction after the guy wrapped his arm around her shoulders. If Matt wasn’t text-yelling at his sister, he would have witnessed what was happening in front of him. That's right, boys and girls, we would have had our first fight of the night. Scott stormed off like he was on a mission.

Go get em’ brother.

Keeping my eyes on Rianne, a text on my phone arrived from a close friend.

Tank: Got a job

Mike: Tomorrow morning

Tank: Shop

Tank and I have known each other for years. After reuniting with my stepdad, my mom moved us to this small town. Growing up on the Richland’s property, with Tank being the oldest cousin, he was unofficially my babysitter. But to be honest, I idolized him.

I would shadow him on the ranch doing grunt work such as caring for animals and harvesting alfalfa, apples and wheat, anything to impress him. He knew it too but never gave me a hard time. He's close to my stepdad and has always kept me under his wing.

After graduating college, Tank left the competitive rodeo scene, ventured into the MMA world, then joined a motorcycle club (MC). I’m not going to lie; it brought a lot of tension in his family because the MC was known for their illegal activities.

While I was in high school, Tank would have me do odd jobs for the MC. But nothing dangerous or illegal. It paid well, so I always accepted the work and never told my parents.

Back at the bonfire, approaching Rianne, I wrapped an arm around her waist and gently pulled her into my side and out of the unknown guy’s arms. Looking in my direction with a shocked face, he was speechless by my actions. The fact that I had at least fifty pounds of muscle and four inches of height on him was helping my point.

Tipping my hat with a smirk, I walked her to a secluded area. Looking over my shoulder to verify the i***t didn’t follow us. I shook my head at her girlfriend, who was mesmerized by the cornhole games and didn't realize Rianne had left.

Guiding Rianne away was too easy. In this small town, everyone knew everyone, but that didn’t mean you should trust them.

Reaching a boulder, she pulled back with a smile, “Well, hello to you too, Michael.” Man, even her voice turned me on. Stepping into her space, I looked down into her gorgeous eyes, “If Matt saw that i***t touching you, he would explode, and you know it.” Tilting her chin and challenging me, she responded, “Oh you mean my brother who was blowing up my phone trying to get me to leave? Maybe he needs to find a bunny to keep him busy.”

I had to laugh, “First, a bunny will be a quick transaction, giving him plenty of time to keep an eye on you.” Pausing, I noticed her brows bunch before rolling her eyes. Then I continued using Matt’s words, “Second, this is not your crowd.” Standing tall, she challenged me, “And what if I was a bunny?”

Yeah, that is never going to happen.

Leaning in, my hands rested on her hips. It felt natural and caused her to breathe in quickly. Yeah, I was affecting her the same way she was affecting me.

Her phone buzzed but she ignored it. Placing a palm on my chest, my breathing hitched. Damn it, I can't show how much she affects me. Out of the blue, she whispered, rising on her toes, so our lips were centimeters apart, “Matt can’t control everything about my life.”

My eyes dropped slowly down her face as I watched her white teeth bite into her bottom lip. Damn, what a turn on. Shocked by the turn of events, I froze. Stepping back, her hand grazed down my chest as she winked, then walked back to her friend.

What.

Just.

Happened?

Tilting my head to the side, I watched her fine arse sway. A hand on my shoulder pulled me out of a trance as I watched her walk away. “Hey, Michael, how ya doin’?” Coughing as a strong flower cloud choked my senses, I turned my head to find a town bunny rubbing her boobs on my arm. Rather than feeling like soft pillows, they felt like rough shin guards. Pulling away needing distance, I walked towards my guys, unable to keep my thoughts off Rianne.

What.

The.

Hell?

I’ve never clammed up in front of a female. Rianne stirred emotions I had never felt before. Was she hitting on me? Where did that side of her come from? She was always shy, wasn’t she? Did I like it? Hell, yeah, I did. She turned me on in a matter of seconds, but I froze up. Why?

Because there’s nothing I can do about it. Matt would kick my arse.

Returning to my guys, Drew handed me a beer and I sipped it slowly, lost in my thoughts until the music was turned up. Streaming from various ATV speakers encouraged drunks to make complete arses out of themselves attempting to dance. It didn’t take long before people lost their balance and landed face first on the ground.

To say it’s not entertaining would be a lie.

Within minutes, our group started to slim down as my boys found prey. Too many females have no shame of getting down and dirty while others watch. I could have jumped into the ring, but my mind kept returning to the untouchable long-legged brunette.

Is that why she's got my attention, because I can't have her? Well, that sucks arse.

Acting like I was scanning the crowd, I saw little as my mind replayed my interaction with Rianne. Damn, her actions turned me on. Bumping my shoulder, Scott must have returned, as he dropped on the boulder next to me with a loud umph. I asked, “Slim pickings?” Staring at the stars, he responded, “Same old sh*t, different day.” I smirked knowing the feeling.

And then there’s always Matt. He walked up with a shiny pink gloss on the edge of his mouth. Angela’s trademark. She is by far the busiest female in town. She’s given more rides than Greyhound. If she was smart, she’d work at the w***e house on the edge of town and make bank.

Needing a refill on my beer, I walked towards the kegs. Locating Rianne, I watched as she said something to her girlfriend, then walked backwards before turning around with a smirk.

Wait, is that Trevor kissing Rianne’s friend?

Rianne must be leaving; this was my chance. Stepping out of line, I followed as she walked away from the large crowds. What am I going to do when I reach her?

Stopping to talk to someone, her smile made me appreciate her orthodontist’s handy work. Damn, that smile is gorgeous. Her brief delay gave me time to text Matt.

Mike: Heading out

Matt: Wear your coat. (If only he knew which white tail I was tracking).

Reaching Rianne’s side-by-side, I approached slowly as she sat in the driver’s seat occupied with her phone. Clearing my throat, I leaned against the passenger door, “Hey, can I get a ride?” Looking up as Cheap Shots by Mason Horne started playing, she flashed her gorgeous smile and nodded.

Yep, I'm speechless.

Singing the lyrics, she dropped it into gear and rolled out without kicking up dust. I joined in on the chorus, surprised that she not only knew the words but had a decent voice. As she sung, I had to adjust my pants, imagining her lips around my d*ck.

Leaving the area, we grabbed the river trail and I struggled to keep my eyes off her. I could explain her driving was the cause, but she had complete control while I had none. Captivated by the woman she has transformed into, I held onto the oh-crap-handle and soaked in her confident behavior.

Where did this side of her come from?

As the song ended, a phone call came through the speakers, she yelled over the roar of the engine, “Hello!” A female voice answered, “Hey Ri, you won’t believe what happened?” Slowing down to decrease the noise, Rianne laughed, “It wouldn’t happen to involve a handsome guy from the cornhole area, would it?”

A giggle bounced around the speakers, as a soft voice yelled, “Yep!” Rianne hollered, “It’s about time girl!” The friend responded quickly, “Hey, I should be mad at you for outing me, but I know I should thank you. Oh, and Dylan is here asking about you.”

Pushing her foot on the gas pedal while the engine was in neutral, pebbles ricochetted off nearby boulders. I observed Rianne's reaction from the corner of my eye.

Was Dylan a boyfriend?

Shocking me, she laughed, grabbing her phone and searching for another song, commenting, “There are plenty of bunnies to distract him.” Her friend said, “No doubt. Be safe.” Rianne yelled, “Be good.” She hung up as the song County Line by Chase Mathew bumped into the speakers as the wheels kicked up rocks.

Sounds like this Dylan guy is out of the picture.

Reaching my house, she pulled to a stop in the driveway with the gear in neutral. I need to find a way to spend more time with her. “Want a beer?” I threw the question out, reaching for hope. Turning the engine off, she paused then said, “Okay.” Not sure if she wanted to be with me or to get over an ex, I took the chance for what it was, an opportunity.

****

Rianne’s pov

Driving to Mike’s house, I wondered if I was ready for a regretful situation due to feelings resurfacing from an old childhood crush. The beer earlier gave me the confidence I needed to flirt with him, but my buzz was gone and with it returned my self-doubt.

As I pulled up his driveway, I noticed a female figure sitting on the front porch. A reality check sobered my thoughts like being drenched by a bucket of ice-cold water.

Do I want to be another notch on his bedpost?

Remaining in my seat, I turned the key and started the engine. His concerned look let me know he had no shame in his countless hook-ups. Turning in my seat, I said, “It’s been a long day, I’m going to head home.”

Staring at me like he wanted to say something, he eventually tapped the roof and nodded his head before turning around.

Did he look disappointed?

Returning home, I felt there might have been something between us tonight, but the female on his porch forced me to accept the fact that I would never be his type.