Cowgirls Don't Cry

Cowgirls Don't Cry by Lorelei James

“Goddammit, Jessie, look at me.”

Miracle of miracles, she rolled over, angrily pushed her tangled hair from her face and squinted at him.

Brandt didn’t let his gaze fall below her chin.

Jessie had that glassy-eyed look from too much alcohol, and her reaction time was slower, but she didn’t react like he’d expected. No embarrassment. No trying to cover her naked body. Hell, she didn’t even shriek with surprise. She just stared at him.

He stared back.

“I forgot how much you and Luke sound alike.”


“I wasn’t tryin’ to pretend to be him,” Brandt said softly.

That comment brought her sad smile. “I know. There’s no comparison.”


There was that kicked-in-the-heart sensation again.

“Why did you stick around? I wasn’t very nice to you.”


His thoughts skipped back to Jessie’s bored appraisal of him and her insulting parting shot. “I intended to take off. B-but…” Goddammit. Why was he such a stammering freakin’ idiot around her?

“But you didn’t because you were worried about me.” She held his gaze. “Why? Luke would have left me.”


“I’m not Luke.” Like he needed to remind her of that fact, after she’d already done such a bang up job of reminding him.

“I know that too, Brandt.”


Do you? Do you really?

She frowned, almost as if she’d heard his internal thoughts.

“Come on. Get dressed and I’ll take you home.”


Jessie shook her head. “I’m staying here with Mike.”


“Why in the hell would you do that?” he demanded.

“Because he treats me like I’m sexy.”


“Christ, Jessie. He almost treated you to a gang bang.”


“Maybe that’s what I want.”


“Huh-uh. I know you and that’s not you talkin’.” Brandt pointed to the bottle of Southern Comfort.

“That’s the booze talkin’.”


The camper door slammed.

She tossed her head. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do, McKay.”


The emphasis on McKay, as if it were some sort of disease, had Brandt seeing red.

The instant Mike swayed into the doorway, Jessie scooted to the end of the bed, cooing, “What took you so long?”


“Why? Didja miss me?”


“Yep. Let’s get this party started.”


Enough. Brandt pushed to his feet. “I’m outta here.”


Mike shot Brandt a stoned look. “I thought you were gonna watch us f*ck? You know. Like live porn.”


When phrased that way? Jesus. It made him sound like a loser who couldn’t score his own woman. He looked at Jessie—just as she started to slide off the bed.

Brandt dove for her, snaking his arm around her waist, bringing her naked back against his chest as he anchored himself.

“Dude.” Mike blinked at him. “Talk about Superman reflexes.”


“That’s Brandt. A superhero in the flesh. A boy scout. A real trooper. The ultimate gentleman cowboy, always willing to lend a hand.”


They’d known each other for four years and that’s how Jessie saw him? A damn do-gooder? While some guys might like those comparisons, he didn’t. Not at all. Especially not from Jessie. Especially not tonight when he was skating so close to the edge of disproving that gentleman cowboy remark to her in explicit detail.