Brendon (6 page)

Which was why Cheyenne had severed ties with them a few years back. It had been as a means of survival. After her grandfather passed away and her grandmother’s mind began to deteriorate, Cheyenne hadn’t been complete. Her father had come in and cleaned his mother out, leaving Cheyenne with no choice but to move her grandmother to a nursing home to keep her safe from her own son. And when Cheyenne’s mother and father burned through what they’d ultimately stolen from her grandmother, they moved on to demanding that Cheyenne take care of them.

“I . . . uh . . . I don’t see my parents,” she confessed.

“Oh.” Brendon’s tone was laced with compassion. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m not,” Cheyenne retorted, feeling the ever present anger and hurt churn in her gut whenever she thought about them.

“What about your grandparents? My mother mentioned they used to live in Coyote Ridge.”

“They did live here. Before I was born,” Cheyenne informed him. “They moved to West Texas when my father was still young.” The sadness swamped her. “My grandfather passed away three years ago. My grandmother’s in a nursin’ home. Advanced-stage dementia.”

Brendon’s brow creased and Cheyenne could sense his sympathy. As much as she wanted to be held, for someone to help her ease the pain of her loss, she knew that wasn’t going to happen, so she went on to explain. “I moved here with the intentions of bringing my grandmother here. As soon as the house is finished, she’ll live with me and I’ll hire a nurse to help. It’s not the idea of her bein’ in a nursin’ home that’s so hard. I just can’t stand the thought of her alone without any family to come visit.”

“So, a few more months?”

“Yeah. If I can’t get it to move along faster. That’s why I’m workin’ on some of it myself,” she informed him. “Also to keep myself busy.”

Brendon nodded his head as he glanced around, but he didn’t say anything more.

“Well, let me know what you find out. And if I can help, just tell me what I need to do,” Cheyenne told Brendon as she eased out from between him and the counter, moving to the refrigerator. She hadn’t had dinner yet and she was starving.

Now for the question of the hour . . . Did she invite him to stay or did she ask him to go?

chapter
SIX

B
rendon stared blankly at the back of Cheyenne’s head. He wasn’t sure what the hell was going on between them at the moment. There were several questions running through his own head while he watched her yank open the refrigerator door, bottles clanking and rattling in the door as she peered inside. Was she pissed at him? Did she want him to stay? Was she hoping he’d leave? Should he?

God, why the fuck couldn’t he just be smooth and confident around women the way his brothers seemed to be? This should not be so damn hard. It was one of the biggest reasons he’d always made certain to have Braydon close. His twin knew how to talk to women on a nonsexual level. Brendon knew how to get them in bed.

Realizing that was the problem—it was too hard and if it was meant to be, it wouldn’t be—Brendon decided to go.

“I’ll call my buddy tomorrow and let you know what he says,” Brendon informed her when she turned back to face him, closing the refrigerator door empty-handed.

“No worries,” she told him, moving to the pantry.

“Okay, then.”

Cheyenne’s sparkling green eyes met his and he saw her confusion as well. Shit, she was probably wondering why he was still there.

He had two choices and neither of them were easy for him. One, he could tell her what his issues were. Two, he could walk out the door and talk to his buddy, get this situation fixed for Cheyenne, and move on with his life.

“Bren?”

Brendon looked up at Cheyenne once again and sighed heavily. “Look, Chey. I . . . Damn. I don’t even know how to do
this
.”

“This what?” she questioned.

“This,” he answered, using his hand to motion between them. “I have no fucking clue how to have a civil conversation with a woman I want to sleep with.”

“You . . . uh . . .” Cheyenne’s eyes widened. “You want to sleep with me?”

Brendon laughed and the sound reflected the discomfort he was feeling from this entire conversation.

“Yeah,” he answered, as though that should’ve been clear in the first damn place. “Since the first day I met you.”

“Oh.”

Now it was Brendon’s turn to stare at her openmouthed and incredulous. “Oh?”

“Yeah,
oh
,” she replied, a smile forming on her pretty pink lips.

He was not supposed to be looking at her lips. Damn it.

“I didn’t think you even liked me,” she told him, and the sincerity in her tone also stunned him.

“I think the problem is I like you
too
much.” The words just tumbled out of his mouth and he couldn’t call them back.

“
Too
much? Is that why we’re always fighting?”

Hell, he had no idea why they were always fighting, but they were. At every turn, Brendon had made an effort to piss her off or make her jealous. Anything to get a rise out of her, some sort of reaction, because she was so good at hiding her feelings. And fuck it all, he just wanted her to feel something for him.

“Look, Cheyenne. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know the first damn thing about women, aside from how to get them naked. I’m thirty-one years old and I’ve never had a serious relationship with a woman.”

“That’s what I heard.”

Brendon caught the amusement in her tone and his bewilderment only multiplied. “Why are you smiling?”

“Because I think you’re cute.”

“
Cute?
You seriously did
not
just call me cute.”

“I did.”

“I’m not cute.”

“Oh, but you are.”

Brendon frowned. He wasn’t cute, damn it.

“No one said we had to get serious, Brendon. Why don’t we try bein’ friends?”

“Friends?” That was as bad as being called cute. “I don’t
want
to be friends, Chey.”

“No?” She wasn’t smiling anymore.

“You know what I mean.” He hoped, because shit, he didn’t even know what he meant.

“No, I don’t. Enlighten me.”

Brendon stared back at her, his eyes grazing over her flawless skin, her soft pink lips, all of that silky, dark hair falling over her shoulders. Before he knew what he was doing, he was moving closer. When he was within touching distance, he found himself reaching for her, cupping her face in his hands, letting his thumbs graze the smooth skin of her cheek.

“Unless friends do this, I don’t know that I can be friends with you,” he told her as he leaned down. He met her gaze until their faces were too close together, her breath fanning his mouth. When he pressed his lips to hers, he felt the heat generate between them. Her pulse kicked against his fingers as they pressed lightly beneath her jaw.

He’d meant for the kiss to be chaste, just a light peck to get his point across, but the next thing Brendon knew, Cheyenne’s hands were fisting in his shirt and she was kissing him back. When she opened for him, allowing his tongue to slide past her lips, he was in heaven. And when her tongue met his, tentatively at first and then with the same wild abandon that’d consumed him since the first day he met her, Brendon was lost.

Her soft moan sent shards of electricity scattering throughout his entire body. His dick pressed against the zipper of his jeans, all the blood making a detour to his groin. But he couldn’t stop kissing her. Tasting the sweetness of her lips and tongue, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips, and the urgency with which she pulled him to her. It was more than he had expected, but not enough at the same time.

“Chey.” He said her name on a breath when he finally managed to pull away. He kept his hands on her face, not sure where else to put them, and met her gaze. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“You could’ve fooled me,” she said, sounding just as breathless as he felt.

Brendon smiled down at her. She was so damn cute, so fucking sweet. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he couldn’t figure out how to stay the fuck away from her. Cheyenne deserved so much better than him, but the mere thought of another man touching her made him see red.

It was a no-win situation. For her at least.

“And you’re right,” she said softly, her eyes searching his. “Friends don’t do that.”

“Now you know why I can’t be friends with you. I’ve wanted to kiss you again for so fucking long. It’s all I think about.”

“But you wanted to share me with your brother,” she said dubiously, and he sensed something darker in her tone. She might’ve accepted that as the truth, but she didn’t like it.

“I did. Hell, I don’t know how to do anything else, Chey. But it’s not even an option.”

“No, it’s not,” Cheyenne said firmly as she took a step back.

Brendon allowed his hands to fall to his sides as he kept his eyes locked on her face.

“I don’t
want
to be shared, Bren. It’s not on my bucket list and I have no intention of adding it.”

“I know,” he huffed, thrusting his hands through his hair and putting several feet between them.

“And I don’t want to be with a man who wouldn’t want me all to himself.”

Her admission made him spin around to face her again. “Honey, don’t fool yourself there. I want you all to myself. The thought of another man’s hands on you makes me wanna kill someone. That’s not the problem here.”

“But you just said—”

“I know what I said,” he interrupted. “The idea of making you come a million different ways is a top priority for me, Chey. Sharing you with . . . Whatever. It’s what I know, what I’m familiar with. So, don’t go thinkin’ I’m a nice guy just because I helped you to bed when you had too much to drink. Or because I don’t want to see some lunatic hurt you. That doesn’t change the fact that I still want to strip you naked and fuck you right there on your kitchen counter, and whether or not I call you tomorrow is the last damn thing on my mind.”

He stalked her, causing her to back up against the exact counter he was referring to. Her eyes were like saucers, but he didn’t see an ounce of fear reflecting back at him.

“And then I want to carry you into the living room, bend you over the couch and fill you with my cock from behind.” He was once again standing directly in front of her, his finger crooked beneath her chin as he tipped her head up to look at him. “And after that, after we’ve showered and I get you in your bed, I’d have you suck my cock until I was hard again. Only then,” Brendon leaned closer to her ear, lowering his voice, “I’d slide my dick into your sweet, tight ass and make you beg for more.”

Her body shuddered, but she didn’t pull away, so he did.

Shoving his hand through his hair again, Brendon paced the kitchen.

“I told you I’m not a nice guy. And no, I don’t want to share you. But it’s all I’ve ever known, Chey. I don’t know any other way. I don’t know how to talk to women, how to make them feel special. And I want all that shit with you. I’m just fucking clueless as to how I go about that.”

The silence lingered between them for a moment and Brendon figured he’d pushed her too far.

“Take me on a date.” Cheyenne’s words were so soft, he barely heard her.

Was he hearing things? Surely she hadn’t suggested that he . . .
“What?”

“Take me. On. A date,” she repeated, slowly.

“After all that I just told you, all the things I want to do to you . . . you still want me around? Hell, why would you even trust me to take you on a date?”

“Trust has never been an issue,” Cheyenne admitted.

Brendon’s body went rigid. That simple acknowledgment was more than he ever expected to hear from her. He didn’t know what to say to that, but his body knew what it wanted.

Not that he could do a damn thing about that right now. As it was, he’d pushed things too far and he really needed to get away from her before he ended up doing something stupid. He might not be the most sensitive man when it came to women, but he knew for a fact that one night with Cheyenne Montgomery would never be enough for him.

“A date?” he mused.

“Yes.”

“Like movies and shit?”

“No,” Cheyenne said quickly. “If we don’t have to go out in public, we’ll be better off. People recognize me when I’m out and I just don’t . . .”

She didn’t finish the statement, but he didn’t need her to. He knew exactly what she was saying. He’d seen the way the people in Coyote Ridge responded to her. He’d seen firsthand how mobs of women would crowd Dalton Calhoun and Cooper Krenshaw, their good friends and two of country music’s hottest artists at the moment, when they were anywhere out in public. People knew them, they loved them all, wanted just a minute of their time. So yeah, he understood.

“Do you know how to ride a horse?” he asked when an idea came to him.

Her smile was radiant. “I do.”

“Good.”

“That’s it?” Cheyenne asked, her forehead creased, her dark eyebrows slanting downward.

It was Brendon’s turn to smile and he did as he looked at her. He might not know how to react around her, how to treat her, but he knew for a fact that he wanted her. And for the first time in his life, he knew that he’d do whatever it took to make her like him back.

And then, if he was lucky, maybe that would turn into something more.

Moving back to Cheyenne, he slid a strand of her hair behind her ear and looked into her eyes. “You can help me figure this out. If you want. We’ll take it slow and see how it goes from there.”

“I like that idea,” Cheyenne replied. “But I only have one condition.”

Brendon’s stomach muscles tightened when her hands flattened against him, sliding up his chest. “What’s that?” he asked, his voice rough.

“We don’t take things too slow.”

Before he could respond, Cheyenne slipped her hands behind his neck and pulled him down to her. When she planted her sweet lips on his, slow was the last damn thing on his mind.

chapter
SEVEN

C
heyenne was up with the sun the following morning. Not out of bed, but definitely awake.

She’d tossed and turned most of the night, her dreams infiltrated by Brendon. The kisses they’d shared in her kitchen had lingered in her thoughts throughout the evening and long after she’d closed her eyes to sleep. Even now, as she lay in her bed and stared at the slow-turning, 1980s-era ceiling fan, she found herself touching her lips, remembering the way his mouth felt against hers.

His lips were as warm and firm as she’d remembered, his kiss just as demanding. The bristle of the short stubble along his jaw had made her skin itch with the desire to touch more of him. Throughout the night, she’d replayed that kiss over and over, her lips still feeling the sweet tingle from his touch.

A chill ran across her skin as she thought about what he’d told her. All the things he said he wanted to do to her . . .

That doesn’t change the fact that I still want to strip you naked and fuck you right there on your kitchen counter.

She could practically imagine that exact scene: her propped up on the counter naked, Brendon buried inside her, his hips driving forward, lodging himself deep inside her. Her nipples hardened at the thought.

After we’ve showered and I get you in your bed, I’d have you suck my cock until I was hard again. Only then, I’d slide my dick into your sweet, tight ass and make you beg for more.

Her pussy clenched with anticipation.

She’d never had anal sex. In fact, she’d always heard that it hurt and she’d never had the desire to try it. Then again, her history of average, plain-Jane sex left something to be desired in her life. She knew from talking to Kylie and Jessie these last few weeks that their sex lives weren’t lacking, and a small part of Cheyenne wanted to experience the euphoric feelings that they’d referred to. Okay, not a small part. A
big
part. Hell,
all of her
wanted to know what it felt like to be taken by a man whose passion for her couldn’t be rivaled.

And she had a feeling Brendon was that man. Never in her life had she been attracted to someone the way she was to Brendon Walker. He was . . . Hell, he was more than even her most enthusiastic fantasies could compete with. She desired every single thing about him. From the way he made her feel so small, so feminine. The hungry look in those beautiful blue-gray eyes. The sexy way his lips quirked at the corner when he didn’t want to smile but couldn’t help himself.

She was even intrigued by the passion she saw in his gaze when he was angry.

Of course, she’d seen that fury plenty of times over the last couple of years since she met him. They’d never gotten along, but now she knew why. Or at least she thought she did. He wanted her, but he didn’t want to want her.

It made sense.

Sort of.

But Cheyenne had known the instant she met him that Brendon wasn’t the type of guy to get involved with a woman for more than one night. It had been during that very first at-length conversation they’d shared at Moonshiners that she had picked up on his nontraditional, playboy ways.

“What you did for my mother, that was really nice of you.”

Cheyenne turned to the sound of the deep, gruff voice that came from behind her. She instantly recognized the man standing just a few feet away as one of Travis’s brothers. One of the twins to be exact, although she had no idea which one. They looked so much alike, she couldn’t tell them apart, and when she’d been introduced to them earlier, she hadn’t paid attention to what each of them was wearing. Although, this one, she’d remembered him over the other, merely by the interest she’d seen in his eyes. She just wasn’t sure which one he was.

“Brendon,” he finally said, obviously picking up on her lack of recognition.

Cheyenne smiled at the reintroduction. “Yes, Brendon.”

“Can’t tell us apart, can you?”

“Busted,” she admitted. Remembering that he’d said something as he walked up, Cheyenne responded in kind. “And I was happy to do it. Your mother’s a very sweet lady.”

“So how do you know Travis anyway?” Brendon asked, his tone matter-of-fact and ringing with curiosity.

Cheyenne wasn’t sure she wanted to get into that. If Travis had wanted his family to know that they were friends, he would’ve told them. But then again, they were just friends, so she could easily tell Brendon as much. Wasn’t like she had to elaborate.

“At a point in my life when I needed it most, Travis helped me. We’ve been friends ever since.”

Not that she was going to go into detail. Especially considering she didn’t think Brendon really wanted to talk.

“I take it you’re single,” Brendon mentioned, his gaze straying to the bartender as he signaled for another beer.

“What makes you say that?” she asked. Yes, she was single, but she was nosey as to why he automatically assumed. If he happened to read the tabloids, that would be the last conclusion he’d come to. She’d been noted to have dated some of the hottest men in country music, although most of them she’d never even met.

“I’m sure if you had a boyfriend, he’d be beside himself to know you came to entertain Travis’s mother and his family.”

“If I had a boyfriend,” Cheyenne annunciated slowly, “I’d make sure he understood my friendship with Travis. And if he couldn’t accept that, we wouldn’t be together.”

Call it weird, or call it whatever you want, as far as Cheyenne was concerned, her friendship with Travis Walker was steadfast and no one was going to have a say in the matter. Especially not a man.

Brendon’s dark brows angled downward briefly before a grin replaced the frown. “Well, I can assure you that I’m quite content with you bein’ friends with my brother. It doesn’t affect our relationship at all.”

“
Our
relationship?” she questioned, grinning as she took a sip of her drink. She found it amusing that this man had already made reference to a relationship. And she knew without a doubt that he wasn’t talking the long-term, monogamous sort, either.

“Yes. The one that involves you and me naked in the very near future while we pleasure you in ways you could never imagine.”

The term
we
did not escape her, but she managed to hide her immediate reaction by continuing to study the hard angles of his incredibly handsome face.

Cheyenne stepped closer to Brendon. Close enough that she could see the dark gray striations in his intriguing blue eyes, smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne. “First of all, you and I won’t be naked. Second of all, there will never be a ‘we’ that pleasures me. If you’re not man enough to do it on your own, then you’re not the right guy for me.”

Cheyenne remembered Brendon’s expression as though it was yesterday. She was pretty sure he hadn’t anticipated her comeback, but she’d needed him to understand from the get-go that she wasn’t interested in being shared. With anyone. Which was why she’d pushed him away. Not to mention, she wasn’t in the market for a one-night stand; however, she wasn’t really looking for anything more than that, either.

Between her life on the road, the major renovations under way at her house, and her plans to get her grandmother settled in with her, Cheyenne had enough on her plate. Add to that the crazy stalker she was trying to steer clear of, not to mention her avaricious parents, and she didn’t have much time to think about anything else.

Which was a reminder as to why she shouldn’t be thinking about kissing Brendon, no matter how good it’d been.

Forcing her legs over the edge of the bed, Cheyenne stretched before getting to her feet. For now, she needed to focus on getting things done. Starting with a shower and then maybe breakfast.

Hopefully by then, all thoughts of Brendon would be exorcised from her brain. If not . . . well, then she doubted she was going to be all that useful.

“HEY. I’M HEADIN’
out.”

Brendon rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head, trying to block out the light of day and his twin brother’s cheery voice coming from the other side of his closed door.

He had no idea why Braydon bothered to stay at the house, considering the only thing he wanted to do was spend time with Jessie; but it didn’t seem to matter how much Brendon told him that he would be fine alone, Braydon didn’t appear to believe him.

Not that Brendon had put much conviction behind trying to convince Braydon to stay away. Fact of the matter was, he needed Braydon around. There was an odd sense of security that he had knowing that Braydon was close. Brendon had no idea whether that was the twin bond they shared or if it was just him being needy. According to his mother, he’d been like that since he was born.

Why he had to be the insecure one, he didn’t know. Regardless of the reason, he damn sure didn’t like it.

“Did you hear me?” Braydon hollered, his voice even louder than before.

“Fuck!” Brendon growled and rolled over once more. “I heard you. Go the fuck away.”

“That was all you had to say,” came his twin’s response, followed by a chuckle.

Brendon rolled his eyes and then smiled despite himself.

He heard the front door shut and knew he was alone with the exception of Scrap, who was currently twisted up in a blanket on the floor at the foot of Brendon’s bed, snoring. How the little mutt could sleep through Braydon’s obnoxious wake-up call was beyond him.

Brendon’s thoughts drifted back to Cheyenne and the kiss they’d shared in her kitchen the night before. Well, multiple kisses, to be exact. Multiple mind-blowing, earth-shaking kisses.

Lord have mercy.

Once again, the sweet, sexy country star had invaded his dreams, much as she had for the last . . .
Shit.
He had no idea how long he’d been dreaming about her, but it’d been a long damn time. Needless to say, the hard-on he now sported wasn’t strictly morning wood. Thanks to all the lascivious thoughts that ran through his head where Cheyenne Montgomery was concerned, it was a wonder his dick wasn’t stuck in a perpetual state of arousal.

He thought about what he’d told her last night. More importantly, the way she’d responded. He had fully expected her to be appalled at the way he’d spoken so candidly about all the things he wanted to do to her, but no, she’d seemed almost . . . willing.

Sliding his hand beneath the comforter, Brendon gripped his semi-hard cock in his fist and stared at the ceiling. As he began gliding his hand over his erection, he closed his eyes, bringing up an image of Cheyenne in his mind. All that tanned skin showcased in those short denim shorts and skimpy tank top. Last night, she’d been barefoot and so goddamn gorgeous, he still wasn’t sure how he’d kept his hands to himself at all, but now that mental image of her was one of his favorites.

Stroking his cock slowly, Brendon gave himself over to the many daydreams he’d had of her over the last couple of years. Oddly, these days, his fantasies no longer involved Braydon. No, these were just the two of them, him and Cheyenne alone. This particular one involved Cheyenne on her knees at his feet, looking up at him with wide eyes, an eagerness glistening in the molten green depths, while he held her hair, his cock tunneling in and out of her sweet, hot mouth.

Brendon teased the sensitive head of his cock briefly, then stroked again. Up, down. Up, down. God, he wished it was Cheyenne’s soft lips wrapped around his dick, sucking him into the furnace of her mouth, teasing his balls with her lips, her tongue, her fingers. It wasn’t long before his orgasm snuck up on him and he was reaching for the boxers he’d discarded last night to keep from making a mess on the bed.

“Fuck,” he moaned as he rolled over once his dick decided to settle down. It wasn’t that he was sated. Not by a long shot, in fact.

No, ever since the one night Brendon had given in and ventured out on his own to a hotel room with the pretty redheaded stranger he’d picked up at Moonshiners—back when Braydon had skipped town—he’d sworn off women altogether. His first and only one-on-one sexual experience with a woman had made his head whirl to the point that he hadn’t known how to deal with what he felt. The only company he had these days was his hand combined with his ever intensifying fantasies of Cheyenne. He wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to do this. Although he came, his cock was once again thinking about Cheyenne, hardening despite Brendon’s need to ignore the damn thing.

Knowing it was pointless, he forced himself out of bed and padded naked to the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later he had showered, shaved, and dressed. Calling Scrap, who was, of course, still asleep, Brendon snatched his cell phone from his nightstand and headed out of his bedroom toward the kitchen. He opened the back door to let Scrap out to do his business before he made his way to the coffeepot.

Setting his phone on the counter, Brendon stared down at it briefly. He couldn’t help but wonder what Cheyenne was doing. Was she thinking about what happened between them in her kitchen last night, too? Or, fuck, was she doing what he’d done a short while ago? Was she sliding her hand inside her panties, her fingers dipping into her pussy . . . ?