Promises to a Stallion. Deborah Fletcher Mello

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      The taxi driver, still trying to make small talk about the political issues currently in the headlines, pulled his taxi past the gated entrance of Briscoe Ranch, maneuvering the circular driveway to the front entrance of the large home. With a quick nod of gratitude, Travis pressed two twenty-dollar bills into the man’s hand and made a quick escape from the backseat of the vehicle.

      As Travis watched the car make its way back off the property, he turned around to take in his surroundings. Briscoe Ranch was well over eight hundred acres of working cattle ranch, an equestrian center and an entertainment complex that specialized in corporate and private client services. The ranch housed two 20,000 square-foot event barns and a country bed-and-breakfast. With the property being central to Austin, Houston, Dallas and Fort Worth, Briscoe Ranch had made quite a name for itself. Travis was duly impressed.

      Turning back toward the steps and the front door, he grinned widely when it suddenly swung open and his cousins Matthew, Mark, Luke and John Stallion all came barreling down to greet him.

      The noise and banter was reminiscent of when they’d all been under the age of ten racing from one end of their late grandparent’s home to the other. Each and every summer the cousins would come together and play until they were all exhausted. Those had been some of the best times in their young lives.

      Travis couldn’t help but note the deep family resemblance. The four brothers were the spitting image of his uncle, their father, David Stallion, and David’s brother Joseph, Travis’s father. All the men boasted imposing statures, black-coffee complexions, chiseled jaw lines and charismatic smiles. That striking family resemblance had skipped Travis, with him inheriting his mother’s café au lait complexion and her light hazel-green eyes. But even with their differences, side by side he and his kin looked like chocolate and vanilla reflections of each other.

      “Yo, soldier boy!” Mark Stallion bellowed, wrapping the large man in a big bear hug.

      Luke slapped his cousin’s palm. “Travis, my man!”

      “Isn’t he pretty in his uniform.” Matthew laughed, his tone teasing as he embraced his cousin.

      “Exceptionally!” John responded, he and Travis shaking hands as they bumped shoulders. “Welcome home, family!”

      “It’s good to be back.” Travis grinned. “And look at you guys! I see this good life has been treating you four very well,” he said as he patted Mark’s abdomen.

      John laughed. “That’s sympathy weight. Mark’s wife is expecting a baby, and for every pound she gains, Mark is gaining five.”

      Mark flipped a finger at his older brother. “Maybe two, but definitely not five.”

      “When did you get married?” Travis said, surprise showing on his face. “Weren’t you going to be a confirmed bachelor forever?”

      The large black man laughed, his head shaking. “I was, but then I met Mitch. I just couldn’t help myself. The woman just took my breath away,” Mark exclaimed, joy shimmering in his eyes.

      Travis nodded, the memory of his encounter with Tierra Braddy suddenly intruding on his thoughts. He could fully understand how a woman might take a man’s breath away, because Tierra had clearly left him gasping for air. He turned his focus back to the conversation and his cousins, who were regaling him with info about Mark’s mechanic wife and their whirlwind romance.

      “My girl tamed this Stallion man big-time,” Mark said, his laugh a deep rumble that flowed from his midsection.

      Matthew shook his head in agreement. “Brother finally had to turn in his little black book. But you know how Mark is,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Once John does something, he has to go and do it, too. Just like when we were kids.”

      Travis locked eyes with John. “Your wife’s not pregnant, too, is she?”

      John shook his head vehemently. “Oh, heck no!”

      A soft voice called down from the top of the steps. “Why do you say it like that, John Stallion?” Marah Stallion asked, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared down at her husband and his brothers.

      John’s wide smile gleamed back at her. “I was just saying that we weren’t pregnant, baby! I didn’t say it like it was anything bad!”

      Marah laughed, a wry smirk filling her face. “I bet you didn’t! You better watch yourself, John Stallion. You know I don’t play like that!” She turned her attention to their arriving guest. “Hey, Travis! Just leave those jokesters standing right there and come on inside here. We’ve been cooking all afternoon. I hope you’re hungry.”

      Travis laughed as he tossed his duffle bag into Luke’s arms. “I’m starved. How are you doing, Marah?” he queried as he made his way to the top of the steps, leaning to kiss the woman’s cheek.

      “I’m doing just fine. I know you must be good and tired after your trip.”

      “I am. A good meal, a hot shower and a few hours of sleep and I might actually feel normal again,” Travis said with a wide smile.

      Marah patted his back. “I think we can take care of that for you,” she said. She glanced over her shoulder, her husband shaking his head.

      “You better be on top of your game tonight, Mr. Stallion. I’m not going to forget that ‘heck no’ comment anytime soon.”

      John pretended to groan, still grinning as he and his brothers made their way behind Travis and Marah. “Don’t be like that, baby,” he said, his voice a low whine. “You know I didn’t mean anything by it.”

      Marah giggled. “I don’t know anything of the sort.”

      John leaned to kiss his wife’s mouth as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. “Let me make it up to you,” he said, his voice dropping to a low whisper as he nuzzled his cheek against hers.

      Travis laughed. “I can certainly see what marriage and this good life has done to you!”

      The sumptuous midday meal had left Travis full and satisfied. Marah had piled his plate high with fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, collard greens, corn bread and peach cobbler and had supplied freshly brewed and sweetened tea. He’d eaten well and was still stuffed from the experience.

      He stepped out of the shower, wrapping his muscular body in an oversize, plush white towel. A stark contrast to the rough army towels he’d been using, the soft cotton fabric felt luxurious against his skin. Travis closed his eyes, relishing the sensation. An image of Tierra Braddy suddenly flitted through his mind, and he couldn’t help but imagine how she might feel in his arms, her body pressed tight against his naked flesh. The imagery sent a spark of heat straight to his southern hemisphere, causing every muscle in his body to tense with frustration.

      Moving to the sink, Travis turned on the faucet and splashed his face with cold water. This was getting out of control. He had only met the woman for a brief moment, and here he was starting to fantasize about her. Besides that, she had a man, and chasing another man’s woman was not something he would ever contemplate. It had just been way too long since he’d enjoyed some female companionship on an intimate level. He was suddenly acting as if he were fifteen again, when raging hormones controlled his male impulses. He needed to regain some serious control.

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