Brother's Canadian Cowboy Friend (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 107)
BROTHER’S CANADIAN COWBOY FRIEND
AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE
_______________________
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 107
FLORA FERRARI
CONTENTS
Copyright
A Man Who Knows What He Wants Series
Brother's Canadian Cowboy Friend
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Series
Newsletter
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2019 by Flora Ferrari.
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS
Book 1: Baby Lust
Book 2: Veteran
Book 3: Built
Book 4: Bambino
Book 5: Rescued
Book 6: Leader
Book 7: Professor
Book 8: Burned
Book 9: Worldly
Book 10: Pistol
Book 11: Policed
Book 12: Driven
Book 13: Lucky 13
Book 14: Lumberjacked
Book 15: Protector
Book 16: Carpenter
Book 17: Italian Stallion
Book 18: Gardener
Book 19: Budapest Billionaire’s Virgin
Book 20: Billionaire’s Babysitter
Book 21: Cocky CFO
Book 22: Fireman’s Filthy 4th
Book 23: Mechanic
Book 24: SEAL’s Secret
Book 25: Police, Pooch, and Smooch
Book 26: Fireman’s Fake Fiancée
Book 27: Billionaire’s Virgin Ballerina
Book 28: Bitcoin Billionaire’s Babysitter
Book 29: Veterans Day Daddy
Book 30: Cowboy’s Christmas Carol
Book 31: Police Officer’s Princess
Book 32: Statham
Book 33: Bodyguard
Book 34: Greek God
Book 35: Billionaire Single Dad's Babysitter
Book 36: Mountain Man
Book 37: SEAL’s Justice
Book 38: Royal Romance
Book 39: Doctor Mountain Man’s Special Delivery
Book 40: Crocodile Dan D
Book 41: Mountain Man’s Secret Baby
Book 42: Doctor Bad Boy’s Secret Baby
Book 43: Cop’s Babysitter
Book 44: Nanny for the Cop Next Door
Book 45: Small Town SEAL’s Saving Grace
Book 46: Cop’s Fake Fiancée
Book 47: Billionaire’s Nanny
Book 48: Cowboy’s Babysitter
Book 49: Steamy
Book 50: Brother’s Best Friend
Book 51: Possessive Professor
Book 52: Firefighter’s Babysitter
Book 53: Soldier’s Secret Baby
Book 54: Ward’s Independence Day
Book 55: Doctor Next Door
Book 56: Possessive Policeman
Book 57: Coached by the MMA Fighter
Book 58: Boss’s Babysitter
Book 59: Virgin in New York
Book 60: Rock Star’s Baby
Book 61: Possessive Protector
Book 62: Possessive Australian
Book 63: Best Friend’s Brother
Book 64: Possessive Cowboy
Book 65: Summer Romanced
Book 66: Possessive Prince
Book 67: Lovers’s Enemy
Book 68: Cop’s Best Friend
Book 69: Possessive Firefighter
Book 70: Football Next Door
Book 71: Doctor December
Book 72: Possessive Canadian
Book 73: Blue Collar Billionaire
Book 74: Possessive K-9 Cop
Book 75: Possessive Brazilian
Book 76: Hockey Obsession
Book 77: Possessive Boston Irish American MMA Fighter
Book 78: Halloween Next Door
Book 79: Possessive Russian
Book 80: Baseball Mine
Book 81: Cop’s Caribbean Captive
Book 82: Instalove Island
Book 83: Dad’s Best Friend
Book 84: Thanksgiving with Dad’s Boss
Book 85: Possessive Italian Neighbor
Book 86: Possessive Portuguese
Book 87: Possessive Christmas Cop
Book 88: Russian’s Obsession
Book 89: Possessive Doctor’s Christmas
Book 90: Possessive Parisian Pilot
Book 91: U.K. Boxing Day
Book 92: Jealous Russian Stalker
Book 93: Italian Mountain Man
Book 94: Aggressive Russian
Book 95: Possessive Valentine
Book 96: Possessive Hunter
Book 97: Dad’s Russian Mafia Friend
Book 98: Russian Teacher
Book 99: Australian Obsession
Book 100: Russian Next Door
Book 101: Dad’s Irish Friend
Book 102: Nanny for the Russian Mafia
Book 103: Best Friend’s Dad
Book 104: Basketball Babymaker
Book 105: Possessive Veterinarian
Book 106: Brother’s Fireman Friend
Book 107: Brother’s Canadian Cowboy Friend
BROTHER’S CANADIAN COWBOY FRIEND
The name’s Maverick, and that’s exactly what I am.
Many have tried to tame me and tie me down, but none ever will. No way. No how. Not now. Not ever.
But when our three-man cattle penning team for the Calgary Stampede suddenly becomes two, we’re hard up to find a qualified rider who can safely and competently pick out the correct yearling beef cattle from the herd…until my eyes pick out her.
This younger woman is nothing like the herd of women who are trying to lasso me everywhere I go.
For the first time in my life this older man knows he’s found the woman of his dreams…but what he doesn’t know is that she’s my best friend, and cattle penning partner’s, little sister.
*****
Harmony’s my name…and that’s exactly what I’m going to have to bring to the table when I see the way my brother’s older man best friend looks at this much younger woman…and more importantly the looks I see my brother making out of the corner of his eye as he watches his Canadian best friend try and lasso me as his…forever.
Canadians are known for their easy-going, agreeable ways…but I know one thing’s for sure. My brother and my brother’s best friend won’
t agree on Maverick’s plans to make me his.
And that could pull them, and us, apart forever…ruining their dream of a cattle penning championship at the Calgary Stampede that they’ve worked for their entire lives…if Maverick risks it all for a life with me.
*Brother’s Canadian Cowboy Friend is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.
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CHAPTER 1
Maverick
Monday, July 1st, 2019
“Tex?” I breathe in deep before exhaling through puffed out cheeks.
“Can’t get a flight out,” Hank replies as he purses his lips.
“Big Country?”
“Up in Fort McMurray, pulling oil out of the ground. Even if we tried calling him we wouldn’t be able to reach him…not for at least another four months that is.”
I turn my head to the side and scratch my temple.
“Big Sky?”
“Says he’s too old for this. Just wants to fly fish Clark Fork River these days.”
“I finally get what your namesake was talking about.”
“My namesake?” Hank’s face pulls back at my cryptic reply.
“Hank Williams, Jr. Seems like all our rowdy friends have settled down, or are at least off somewhere chasing a buck. What happened to boys being boys?”
“Danger and play, as Friedrich Nietzsche said.”
“No time to be wasting brain cells on psychology, Hank. We need to find a replacement for the cattle penning contest this year at the Calgary Stampede. We’ve been planning on this since we were kids.”
“Next year, Mav.”
“We’re not getting any younger ourselves, buddy. And with your wedding and honeymoon around this time next year, and knowing you and Suzy are gonna start in on a family right away, this might be our last chance.”
“I guess that’s why it was always our dream. It was a long shot that was gonna take a miracle to make happen.”
“Miracle my ass. We’re finding a third,” I say, slamming my fist on the table causing foam to spout out from the top of my can of Molson.
I grab the can and take a big swig before the handmade table Hank and I carved out when we were younger gets sticky and possibly stained. We met one summer in 4-H and the next year entered the woodworking competition together and won straight away our first year…with this table.
Considering there were contestants up to eighteen years old, and our ages combined didn’t reach that high, it was quite an accomplishment.
And years later, here we are, both thirty-two and no closer to the most elusive goal that I thought was finally in reach.
“It might just be time to admit we’re shit outta luck, Mav,” Hank says, tipping back the last of his whiskey, before looking down at the bottom of his glass at that ever elusive heeltap, the term for that last drop of liquid, usually alcohol, that you just can’t seem to get out of the bottom of a glass. I only know what it’s called because I saw Dennis Lehane say it was his favorite word in an interview once. Nothing beats being a cowboy, but when I’m not on the back of a horse I’m reading mystery novellas and Lehane is my go to.
And like most mystery novels the answer is often right in front of your face, or at least the clues. The only real question is will the solution come in time or too late?
I squeeze the back of my neck with my free hand, holding my five percent alcohol beer in the other hand, wondering why it’s so hard to get a real beer south of the border and why I’ve had to resort to ‘smuggling’ my own out of Canada and into Sweet Grass, an unincorporated community sitting smack dab on the U.S. side of the U.S. - Canada border.
I look off in the distance seeing the sun just starting to set along the horizon, knowing that tomorrow at high noon kicks off the cattle penning qualifying round up in Stavely, Alberta, just over an hour south of Calgary, where the Stampede will get underway just three days later, or two if you count the sneak a peek night where people get into the grounds early for a few hours. This year the sneak a peek night is the 4th of July meaning this year’s event will be absolutely out of control…and the perfect year for us to win.
But right now we’re less than a day and a half away from not even competing.
I lean back, kicking up my boots along the wooden two by four railing in front of us, the sound of my spurs a constant reminder of the only lifestyle I’ve ever known.
I tip back my hat, and then the rest of my Molson, and stare off across the horizon, knowing there’s no way in hell I’m giving up.
And just as my back starts to mold into the deck chair my boots jerk back from the railing, finding firm footing on the wooden boards of the deck below as my body flies forward and my ten-gallon hat falls right back into its place.
“Maverick?”
I hear Hank’s voice, but I don’t process the words, nor do I care.
“Mav?” he continues, but I just block him out.
Right now nothing can take my eyes off…her.
My grip tightens as I hear my beer can crumple and the wooden arm of my deck chair crack under my grip as deadly as a steel trap, forged from years of working with my hands.
The calluses on my hands have calluses, and right now all I want to do is run my rough, sun-weathered hands across that oh so sweet skin of hers.
She’s a tall drink of milk, or at least she is when she’s perched up high on that horse.
With a back that’s ramrod straight all I can think of is ramming something that’s just as hard and as straight as her spine right into what is no doubt the finest woman to ever set foot on the face of this earth.
My thoughts are primal, but not in a lustful way. Yeah, no doubt about it I want to rip her clothes off with my teeth and devour her in one big gulp, but this isn’t about some quick, hot sex…this is so much more.
This is the only woman in my life I’ve ever seen and immediately known I wanted to be the mother of my child. Scratch that…children. I don’t just want to have a son with her, my first-born and namesake, but a whole barn full of little buggers who learn to live off the land and embody the true meaning that a country boy, and girl, can survive.
My eyes run across that body of hers as my mind races a mile a minute, my future never so clear in my entire life.
I picture us holding Mason jars running around barefoot in our backyard on those hot summer nights chasing lightning bugs with our children.
But she’s the one who’s lightning in a bottle and nothing is going to stop me from catching her the way she just sent a shot of electricity through every part of me, from my body and mind.
Her black “Calgary Stampede 101 - Hell or High Water” T-shirt clings to those curves of her, and with every trot that saddle horse underneath her takes, all I can think about is how badly I want to ride her bareback, filling her with my seed, and making her mine forever.
The trot turns into a canter and my eyes turn to those ample breasts of hers which bounce up and down, my eyes following them like some sort of vertical tennis match.
I don’t know much about tennis, but I know the term for zero in that sport is ‘love’, and I also know, without a doubt in the world, that I’ve never experienced love before…and was sure I never would…and just the thought of that word entering my head is the scariest thing in the world…and contradictory to every belief I’ve ever held to be true…just as damn exciting too.
No.
My nostrils flare. Fuck that. Maverick Carter doesn’t love. I’m a cowboy through and through and I’ll cowboy up till my dying day, never settle down.
Then how come I can’t settle down right now?
I can’t lean forward anymore and I can’t lean back either. My dick is trying its damnedest to punch through my Wranglers and is li
able to succeed at any second.
But where that twitching fucker really wants to succeed is inside her, painting her womb like a Jackson Pollock, as I shoot everything I’ve got deep inside her, filling her so full she’ll feel my juice leaking out of her for the next week.
Not happening. Because I’m not letting one ounce of my baby batter slide from her. And as her eyes turn and catch mine, the amber hues of the sunset behind her, I can see that I have nothing to worry about.
She locks in on me in a way that shows me her greedy pussy will put my cock in a vice grip and not allow a single drop to spill from her slick channel.
Is she as wet now as I’m making my briefs sticking, thanks to the precome that’s got me primed and ready to go…right…fucking…now.
They sold those T-shirts she’s wearing back in 2013 when there was a terrible flood just before the Stampede. They raised well over half a million dollars, not to mention morale, just days before the Stampede.
And she’s raised a whole helluva lot inside of me right now.
She pulls back on the reins and maneuvers the horse sideways and only now do I see the T-shirt is tied off just below her chest, her stomach on display and more importantly the tops of those child-bearing hips.