Cowgirls Don't Cry(33)

“I—I didn’t think it was that hard.”


“Did you knock her unconscious?” Dalton asked.

“I don’t know. She hasn’t moved.”


Tell said, “Maybe you oughta give her mouth-to-mouth or something.”


Jessie gasped and her eyes flew open.

Brandt was in her face, blocking her view of anything but him. Panic darkened his eyes. Distress lined his forehead. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”


“You just knocked the wind out of me.”


“Just?” he repeated. “Where else are you hurt?”


“Nowhere.”


He didn’t believe her. He unzipped her coat and curled his hands around her ribs beneath her breasts.

“What about here? Does this hurt?”


She shook her head. She really wasn’t hurt, but having Brandt so concerned about her and putting those rough hands of his all over her? Well, there was the upside to getting tackled.

His palms slowly slid down her belly. “Here?”


Again, she shook her head.

His big hands slid further down to circle her hips. “Feel like anything is bruised or out of joint?”


“Not really.”


“Hey, bro, why don’t you just cut the shit and volunteer to kiss her all over and make it better,”


Dalton taunted, adding kissing noises.

Tell smacked him in the arm. “Shut it, *.”


Her gaze winged between Dalton and Tell, kneeling beside Brandt. “You saw me pass the goal line, right? That counted as a touchdown.”


“You didn’t pass the goal line,” Dalton scoffed. “See? You dropped the football well short of the goal.”


They all turned and looked at where Dalton was pointing, which was why they didn’t see Landon barreling toward them until he landed on Brandt’s back with a happy shriek.

Luckily Tell and Dalton pulled the boy free, but not before Brandt fell forward, blocking Jessie’s body with his.

Tell laughed. “Seems like someone wants to play football. Maybe you are good at tackling after all.

Come on, squirt.” He stood, tucking Landon under his arm like a football and Dalton gave chase—much to Landon’s delight.

“I’m glad to see you’re smilin’. You scared me.”


“I scared you? You’re the one who hit me like this was the last four seconds in the Superbowl.”


Brandt pushed to his feet and held out his hands. “Come on. Up you go.”


As soon as she was upright, she grabbed his biceps to steady herself, which brought them close. Very close.

When Jessie looked into Brandt’s eyes, he wore the oddest expression. So when he touched her cheek, almost reverently, with a hoarse, “Christ, you’re so pretty,” she wondered if maybe he hadn’t hit his head at some point.

“You guys playin’ or what?” Dalton yelled.

She stepped back. “I think I’ll sit this one out.”


“Good plan.”


“I’ll just go inside and cut the cake.”


“Sounds good.”


“And take some aspirin.”


“Good idea.”


But her feet wouldn’t budge. Neither would Brandt’s. They stared at one another and something just…clicked.

“Come on guys,” Tell shouted.