Braydon (39 page)

God, she was acting like such a fucking girl. A brat, to be exact. And now he was calling her bluff.

“Good night, Jess,” Braydon said softly as he stepped out onto the porch. When he turned to face her, Jessie noticed the sadness in his gaze. “If you ever decide you want to talk, give me a call. But until you actually trust me . . . until you can finally let me in . . . I mean
really
in, then I don’t see how this is gonna work.”

Neither of them knew how this could possibly work. If it
could
work. And it was clear that after a few days in one another’s company, Jessie had allowed herself to be overtaken by fear and insecurity.

Unless, of course, they were naked.

And Jessie knew that being naked wasn’t always an option.

No matter how much she wanted to pretend otherwise.

Without another word, Jessie nodded her head and then shut the front door as gently as she could manage. She stared at the wood for a long time, even after she heard the roar of Braydon’s engine as he left.

Her valiant attempt to remain strong, to pretend that her entire life hadn’t just crumbled at her feet thanks to her own stupid reaction, didn’t last long. Just like earlier, the tears began to fall. And instead of admonishing herself for being overly sensitive, she let them. She gave in to all the emotional turmoil as she broke down and cried. Cried for the loss of a man who she would love until the day that she died.

JESSIE HAD JUST
changed into her pajamas when her cell phone rang. Her heart kicked into overdrive as she snatched it off the table, hope flaring in her chest.

But that hope died on impact when she realized it wasn’t Braydon.

It was her father.

Not that she didn’t want to talk to her dad; she did.

“Hey, Daddy,” she greeted him solemnly as she slid into the oversized chair in the living room.

“Baby girl,” he greeted her back. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” she said, hoping it didn’t sound like the lie that it was.

“When did you start lying to your father?” he asked, a tiny bit of humor in his voice.

“I’m fine. Really. Just tired.”

“Do you always cry when you’re tired?” he asked.

“How do you know that I’ve been crying?”

“I didn’t know until you just confirmed it. What’s going on, baby girl?”

“Nothing, Dad. Nothing that you need to worry about. I’m just . . . emotional.”

Either her father was content with her answer or he really didn’t know how to respond to that. Whatever it was, he changed the subject. “How are things with you?”

“Good,” she said, thinking about work. “Kylie has taken on a huge new project here in town and she’s working through the logistics of getting it finished in the next few months. We’re gonna be busy.”

“That’s good to hear. Still liking your job?”

God, she didn’t know how to answer that. Just a short while ago she’d been packing her things, fully intending to leave town and never look back. Granted, there was one major flaw in her plan. Her car was DOA and she hadn’t heard from Kylie to find out whether Gage could actually fix it or not.

Instead of sharing all of that with her father, she said, “Of course. What’s not to like? I spend most of my day alone in an office with the only thing to keep me company being the sound of the phone every now and again. I’m catching up on some serious reading, that’s for sure.”

“Jess . . .”

“I’m kidding, Daddy. It’s good. I’m serious.”

“How’s Brendon?”

Oh, God.
She did not want to answer that question. Her father believed that she was dating Brendon Walker. It didn’t have anything to do with Jessie telling him as much, either. It was an assumption so many people had made over the months. Of course, it didn’t help that no one bothered to set anyone straight about that.

“He’s fine,” she said evasively, wanting to change the subject. “How are you? How’s Melissa?”

“We’re staying busy.”

Jessie got the sense that her father wanted to tell her something, but he was stalling. Usually when she asked about her father’s girlfriend, he wasn’t quite so tight-lipped.

“Is something wrong?”

“Depends on what you consider wrong.”

“Daddy,” Jessie said, sitting up straight in the chair. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, actually. Melissa and I have finally made a big decision.”

Jessie held her breath, waiting for her father’s news.

“We’ve decided to move to Coyote Ridge.”

“Are you serious?” she exclaimed, shocked.

“You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“Of course I do,” she said suddenly.

“We figure now that both of you girls have decided to call Coyote Ridge home, we have no reason to stay up here. We want to be closer to you both. And since I’m gone so often, it’ll bring Melissa closer to family.”

Her father was an airline pilot, so he was gone a lot. And yes, Jessie could totally see how Melissa would be tired of being alone. It would be nice to be able to see her father from time to time. And she wouldn’t have to plan her trips around his schedule. Not to mention, her little piece-of-shit car wasn’t going to make the trek to Dallas much more, if at all.

“When?”

“We’ve put in an offer on a house. I had Kylie pull some information and she went to check it out. Travis and Gage weighed in. If the offer is accepted, we’ll come down to check it out within the seven days we have to back out.”

“Wow, that’s . . . great.”

“Is it?” he asked, his tone concerned.

“It really is, Dad. I’m very happy to hear that. It’ll be great to see you both more often.”

Their conversation continued for several more minutes, but before long, her father ended the call, just as he always did. Jessie was hesitant to let him off the phone, fearful that she’d end up in another ball of tears and snot once she had no one to talk to, but she didn’t want to tell him that.

After she hung up the phone, she glanced around the room. That was the moment she realized she had just lost her only reason for leaving town. Which meant . . .

It meant that she was going to have to figure out what she really wanted.

And how to get Braydon back.

chapter
TWENTY-FIVE

“A
re you really feeling better?” Cheyenne asked him for what seemed like the hundredth time.

It felt as though Cheyenne had been grilling him endlessly, but that was only because Brendon was feeling the repercussions of the concussion mixed with a significant amount of guilt. On top of that, his normally sunny disposition had taken a one-way trip to the Bahamas and he didn’t see it coming back anytime in the near future.

“Yes,” he replied, trying desperately not to bite her head off in the process.

Before she could pelt him with more questions, the front door flew open and in stormed Braydon.

Oh, hell. He was pissed.

Brendon watched him, as did Cheyenne. They watched him stomp from the front door all the way to his bedroom. Brendon kept his eyes trained on Braydon’s bedroom door while his twin slammed around in his room doing God knows what. A second later, he was stomping back across the living room on his way to the front door.

And then he was gone. Vanished without a single word, but the scowl on his face had been enough.

“He okay?” Cheyenne asked, still staring at the front door.

The sound of Braydon’s truck starting up, followed by him revving the engine unnecessarily and ending with the familiar ping of gravel spraying the front of the house, was her answer to that question.

Brendon forced himself up off the couch, heading for the bathroom to wash his face.

His mother had come over to make sure he wasn’t at death’s door. After he had finally assured her that he was just a little light-headed, she had talked to Cheyenne while babying him as much as she could. Brendon had wanted to fight her off, but he knew better. His mother was the one woman Brendon made a point not to piss off.

Not that he usually made a point of pissing off any woman. Just Cheyenne, it seemed.

When he emerged from the bathroom a short while later, he found Cheyenne still sitting on the couch, looking just as gorgeous as always. With her long, dark hair flowing down her back, the smooth creamy softness of her face, the sexy way she rocked a pair of jeans . . . Brendon knew he couldn’t be left alone with her without running the risk of doing something incredibly stupid.

Which meant he needed to do something else.

“I need to go talk to Jessie,” he blurted, unsure just what prompted the idea, but he was going to run with it.

“Right now?” Cheyenne asked tentatively.

“Yeah. Right now.” Brendon swayed on his feet but managed to right himself, hoping Cheyenne didn’t notice.

“Fine. But I’m gonna drive you,” she stated firmly.

Her forest-green eyes penetrated him as she waited, probably expecting him to argue.

He wasn’t going to argue. Not with her. Not right now.

“Sure. Why the hell not,” he muttered as he snatched his hat off the table where he’d tossed it at some point and grabbed his keys off the hook near the door. He slipped his feet into flip-flops before turning back to where she was still sitting on the couch. “I meant now.”

“Okay,” she said huffily, “give me the keys.”

Brendon turned toward the door, a small smile on his face. What was it about this woman? She drove him completely insane, as he did her, but her mere presence was one of the most reassuring feelings he’d had in a very long time.

Less than two minutes later, they were pulling into Jessie’s driveway. Cheyenne behind the wheel of his truck was probably the hottest thing he’d seen in . . . maybe ever. After she tossed the truck in Park, he bolted. It was that or lose what was left of his common sense. Sure, there were plenty of times when he’d thought long and hard—more like fantasized, really—about being close to Cheyenne again, but having her that close, it was fucking torture. The sweet scent of her perfume, or maybe it was just her hair, had filled the interior of his truck, and that sudden light-headedness had threatened to overwhelm him.

Out of habit, he walked around to the driver’s side, ready to help Cheyenne out. She had already opened the door, leaving him the only option of reaching up to help her out of the jacked-up truck. When her hand touched his, the silky smoothness of her fingers against his palm was nearly his undoing. He knew that if he wanted a chance in hell of not doing something stupid, he wasn’t going to be able to touch her. Even without touching her, he knew the chance was pretty damn low, so he made a mental note to stay as far from her as physically possible.

Brendon led the way to Jessie’s front door and rapped his knuckles lightly on the wood.

He could hear the sound of footsteps moving across the floor. When the door flew open, he was face-to-face with Jessie.

“I’m gonna wait out here,” Cheyenne said from behind him. “Hi, Jessie.”

“Are you okay?” Brendon asked Jessie before glancing over his shoulder at Cheyenne. She’d already perched on the railing, and he took that to mean she really was going to stay outside.

“Fine,” Jessie sobbed.

Just fucking great. A crying woman.

As though Brendon’s day hadn’t been shitty enough.

“Mind if I come in?” Brendon asked, trying to keep his tone from leaking the hostility that continued to course through him.

“Sorry,” Jessie said as she took a step back, “come in.”

“Have you been crying?” Brendon asked, the answer obvious, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“No,” Jessie answered a little aggressively. “How are you feeling?” Jessie finally asked when Brendon closed the front door.

“Just fucking peachy,” he answered as he made his way to the couch. Dropping down, he crossed one leg over the opposite knee and propped his hands on his flat stomach as he watched her.

“Why are you here?” Jessie asked, sincere bafflement in her eyes.

“I wanted to talk,” he admitted.

“Oh.”

Yeah, oh. “About damn time, huh?”

That earned him a small smile from Jessie. “I’ve been meaning to come talk to you, too.”

“We should’ve done this months ago, Jess, I know that,” he finally told her, glancing down and studying his lap.

“It might’ve helped,” she said.

Figuring it was time to suck it up and clear the air, Brendon met Jessie’s gaze. “Look, I’m really sorry. I’ve been shitty to you lately and you didn’t deserve it. I . . . I don’t know why I’ve become such a selfish asshole lately, but—”

“It’s because you’re scared,” Jessie interrupted. “And I owe you an apology, too. I should’ve, uh”—Jessie glanced over at the front door briefly—“I should’ve talked to you. After Braydon was gone. That was hard for me, too.”

Brendon didn’t want to openly admit he was scared, but Jessie had nailed it. He was terrified. Life had taken a turn he hadn’t been ready for. Instead of acting like an adult, he had taken the feelings of everyone he knew and cared about and crushed them as a way of dealing with his own personal shit. Jessie had been caught in the cross fire.

“I really want things to work for you and Braydon. I’m not sure if he told you, but . . .” Again, Brendon focused his attention on his hands, twisting them together as he tried to find the words. “I knew how he felt about you. I’ve known for a long time. Truth is,” he said as he met her blue eyes, “I didn’t know what to do about that. It’s out of the norm for us.”