Belonging to Bandera Read Free

Mason had less strangeness about them than Cousin Mike, but he figured that might not be suave. “We’ll be off, then.”
    “Thanks for the offer, though. ’Bye, cowboy.”
    Bandera nodded, tipping his hat. “Best of luck to you.” Putting the truck in Drive, he pulled away.
    “Thought you were going to do it there for a minute,” Mason said.
    Bandera watched the rearview mirror. Holly was getting on the back of the giant motorcycle and putting a helmet on. Even from this distance, it was easy to admire her nice long legs.
    “I never kiss women who practice seduction on the rebound,” he said.
    “Not when they have a Cousin Mike attached to them, anyway,” Mason said. “That seemed like a high-risk scenario.”
    “Wonder why her fiancé was such a dope? Why do girls always hook up with losers?”
    Mason grunted. “I think any comment at this point should be a sonnet from Wordsworth, but I can’t think of one.”
    “Maybe Shakespearean tragedy.” The motorcycle was coming up behind them, traveling at a good clip. It passed them, and Holly waved, one long blond curl flying out from underneath the helmet. “I hate tragedies.”
    “A runaway bride is a tragedy.”
    “A runaway anything is a tragedy. Trains, horses, brothers. All four-hanky events.” Bandera stepped on the gas, and was soon gaining on the motorcycle once more. Watching it carefully, he passed, wondering why it was slowing. Holly waved at him, then raised her fingers and shot something through his open window.
    He snatched it from his lap. All white. No black polka dots. His gaze flew back to the road, and to her, as she rode off up the highway once more.
    Mason sat up to stare over the seat at the lacy white missile. “It’s that thing the groom is supposed to throw to his groomsmen,” he said, shocked. “Whoever catches it is next to get married, so the legend goes. I’ve known grown men who wouldn’t be in the same room with a garter.”
    Bandera met his brother’s wide gaze in the mirror, his heart thundering harder than it ever had in his life. The satin felt slippery and unusual between his rough fingers.
    “You caught it,” Mason said. “Hope you’re ready.”

Chapter Two
    Bandera hastily dropped the garter into his shirt pocket. “I don’t believe in superstitions.”
    “Maybe you should,” Mason said. “What about the Jefferson family superstition? The Curse of the Broken Body Parts? If something hurts, you’re in love? You could be in for some pain. Be forewarned.”
    Bandera grunted. “Nothing of yours hurts, and you’re in love.”
    Mason sat back, silent. Bandera rolled his eyes. He couldn’t concentrate on Mason and his problems with Mimi when the garter lay in his pocket. He didn’t dare remove it and stare at it in front of Mason. That garter had been on Miss Holly’s leg at one point, and he dearly wanted to take a closer look at any article of clothing that had adorned her. It was just curiosity, he told himself, but he wouldn’t be a man if he didn’t have a healthy dose of male interest revving his motor.
    “Why do you think she threw it at me?” he wondered.
    “Either she no longer wanted it, and thought you might like a souvenir of meeting her, or she was extending an invitation.”
    “To?”
    “To follow her. Luckily, we don’t fall for female wiles in our clan.”
    “Spoken too soon,” Bandera murmured. “Looks like we have Harley trouble up ahead.”
    Mason stretched up to look. “I’m not one bit surprised. That garter is bad luck, and you’d be wise to hearken its warning unless you want a trip to the altar.”
    “That kind of trip I don’t want,” Bandera said, stopping the truck alongside the motorcycle. His heart beat with pleasure at the sight of Holly. He really hadn’t figured he’d ever see her again. “And I don’t believe in bad luck charms.” Switching the engine off, he got out of the truck. “Need a hand?” he asked Cousin Mike, his eyes on Holly.
    Mike