Brendon (7 page)

Fuck!

Knowing he was going to be worthless for the day unless he managed to get his head on straight, he picked up his phone, but he didn’t plan to call Cheyenne. He had another call he needed to make first.

Pulling up his contact list, Brendon found the phone number for Zachariah Tavoularis, then called him.

“Holy fuck, bro? How the hell you been?” Z greeted ardently.

Brendon smiled. “Decent,” he replied. “How the hell are you?”

“Fucking fantastic, man,” Z answered exuberantly. Z had always been that way. Quiet most of the time, and when he did talk, people paid attention because he was overly animated. “Haven’t talked to your ass in a long time. What’s it been? A coupla years?”

“At least.” Brendon, Braydon, and Z had been close friends growing up. Z was pretty much the only guy they hung around with other than each other. When they graduated, Z had high-tailed it up to Dallas, but they’d kept in touch. Over the years, they didn’t talk as much, but they tended to text one another from time to time.

“How’s that crazy-ass twin brother of yours?” Z questioned.

“Oh, you know . . . settlin’ down, plannin’ to get married.”

“Are you fuckin’ shittin’ me?” Z questioned.

Brendon smiled. Z had always cursed like a sailor. That was when the guy talked at all. He was silent most of the time, that deadly silence that had you look at him twice, especially for a behemoth like Z. The guy stood six foot six inches tall, weighing in somewhere close to 250 last time Brendon had seen him. He rivaled Beau Bennett in size. And just like Beau, the guy didn’t have an ounce of fat on him.

“Nope, not shittin’ you,” Brendon admitted. “He proposed to Jessie last year.”

“I better get a fuckin’ invite to the weddin’,” Z insisted.

“Oh, you will. They haven’t set a date yet. But that ain’t why I called.”

“Didn’t figure it was. What’s up, bro?”

Brendon glanced out the window, watching Scrap as he sniffed the yard, going in circles around the fenced-in area. “A friend of mine’s havin’ an issue. Police can’t seem to nail down who’s harrassin’ her. I was hopin’ you could help.”

“A friend, huh? A female
friend
?”

Brendon heard the disbelief in Z’s tone, but he chose to ignore it. “You might’ve heard of her. Cheyenne Montgomery?”

He was met with silence on the other end of the line, causing him to chuckle. Finally, Z responded with, “The country music singer?”

“That’d be the one,” Brendon confirmed. “Seems she’s picked up a stalker. Bastard broke into her apartment a while back, tore her shit up. Sounds like an obsessed fan, maybe he figures he’s in love with her. Shit, I don’t know. Anyway, she’s a friend of the family, recently moved to Coyote Ridge. She’s hidin’ out from everyone for the time bein’. I want to find this asshole, Z.”

“Sounds like more than just a friend of the family,” Z mentioned.

“No comment,” Brendon replied. “Think you can help us out here?”

“Yeah. I’ll have to keep it off the radar, but I’ll do some diggin’. See what I can find out. I’ll holler back at ya when I have some intel. Cool?”

“Thanks, man.”

“Anytime. And hey, Bren, it really was good to hear from you. Don’t be such a stranger. Talk to you later.”

The call disconnected and Brendon pulled the phone from his ear. He smiled to himself before pulling up his contact list once again, this time searching for Cheyenne’s phone number. He’d snagged it from his mother’s phone one day when she wasn’t paying attention. Was it devious? Sure. Did he care? Not really, no.

Rather than call, he typed in a quick text.

This is Brendon. You have breakfast yet?

He hoped she wasn’t bothered by the fact that he’d gotten her number without her permission, and while he waited patiently for a response, knots formed in his stomach.

Not yet. Was about to make something. You?

An overpowering wave of relief swamped him, causing him to lean against the counter. His assuagement wasn’t because she hadn’t had breakfast, although he was happy about that, too. No, his consolation came from the fact that she answered quickly without slamming him with questions.

He typed in a response:
Wanna grab a bite somewhere?

Glancing at the coffeemaker, he considered starting a pot, but he didn’t, more so in anticipation of Cheyenne agreeing to let him take her to breakfast.

Sure. Soon, I hope. I’m starving.

Brendon grinned. He knew he was overreacting, getting his hopes up more than he should, but he couldn’t help himself. Rather than dwell on that though, he replied with:
I’ll be there in fifteen to pick you up. Cool?

The response was almost instant:
I’ll be out front waiting. Sixteen minutes and I’m making my own breakfast.

Shit. Brendon raced to the back door, called for Scrap, leaving the door open while he grabbed the dog food from the cabinet and poured some kibble into one of the empty bowls. He filled the other with water and by that time, Scrap was inside, his tail wagging excitedly.

“I’ll be back, boy. You be good. Hear?”

Not waiting for an answer, Brendon grabbed his boots, yanking them on as he walked around his bedroom, retrieving his wallet and his Mossy Oak cap from the top of his dresser. Somehow he managed not to fall flat on his face, and he considered that a good sign. He grabbed his keys from the hook near the door and then hauled ass to his truck.

He had twelve minutes to go and it would easily take ten minutes to get to her place. He only hoped there weren’t any cops this morning because . . . well, because they’d just have to chase his ass and give him a ticket when he got to Cheyenne’s.

chapter
EIGHT

C
heyenne was perched on the front porch rail, sipping her coffee, when she heard the squeal of tires, followed by an engine being gunned—hard. Glancing down to the end of the street, she saw Brendon’s enormous black Chevy with its bloodred flames turn the corner nearly on two wheels and she couldn’t help but laugh.

She didn’t have a watch and her cell phone was inconveniently inside on the counter, so she didn’t know whether he was on time or not. She hadn’t bothered to look to see what time he should’ve been there, either. Truth was, it didn’t matter. She was happy—quite possibly overly eager—to see him, but she’d wanted to give him a hard time. It had been difficult enough not asking how he’d gotten her phone number. There were a number of ways he could’ve found it—from Travis or Kylie, or possibly from Lorrie—so she wasn’t all that worried about it. However, she fully intended to find out eventually. Call her curious.

The most surprising part had been the text in the first place. She had just finished getting dressed when she’d heard her phone buzz. Being that it was Saturday, she hadn’t really been expecting anyone. These days, she could pretty much count on two hands who had her phone number: her grandmother and the nursing home where she was staying, Preston (her agent), Clayton (her record producer), Travis, Kylie, Lorrie, Curtis, Cooper, and Dalton. Oh, and apparently Brendon. When she’d pulled up the message, her heart had skipped a beat or two before her fingers had gotten with the program. Her grin hadn’t dimmed since she’d read his first message.

But now, Brendon was pulling into her driveway, the sun glinting off the windshield, making it impossible for her to see him. When he climbed out, Cheyenne hopped down from the railing and smiled at the handsome man approaching her. Wearing his customary boots and jeans, he’d paired it with a navy-blue Carhartt T-shirt and a camouflage Mossy Oak ball cap on his head. In a word, Coyote Ridge’s notorious bad boy looked delicious.

“Let me put my mug up and I’m ready,” she informed him before stepping into the house.

Cheyenne realized he had followed her inside when the front screen door didn’t slam behind her, and her heart rate multiplied when she heard his booted footsteps close behind her. After depositing her mug in the sink, she turned and found herself practically plastered up against his enormous body, pinned between him and the counter.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled softly, the deep bass of his voice sending signals to all of her pleasure receptors.

Before she could return the greeting, Brendon had tilted her head up and his mouth was on hers. He tasted like mint and he smelled so damn good. Cheyenne inhaled the intoxicating scent of him. He wasn’t wearing cologne as he had been the night before. No, this was just pure male, mixed with laundry softener. Unable to resist, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her nails into his back, her body igniting from the unexpected, yet definitely reciprocated, kiss.

By the time he was drawing back, Cheyenne was ready to climb his body. Based on the mischievous gleam in his eyes, he knew that as well.

“What was that for?” she asked, her words coming out in a harsh whisper.

“Just because,” he replied, a slow grin forming on his lips.

She studied him for a moment and followed with, “I like ‘just because.’ ”

His grin lit up his face, his eyes sparkling, and once again, she found herself mesmerized by how incredibly handsome he was. He didn’t give her much time to admire him though before he was taking her hand and pulling her toward the front door. She had to stop him on the way so she could retrieve her own ball cap and the sunglasses she wore when she went out in public, along with her cell phone. Fixing the cap atop her head and pulling her ponytail through the back hole, she tried not to dwell on the fact that he was still staring at her.

“We’re gonna have to get you a real hat if you’re gonna be wearin’ ’em round these parts,” Brendon informed her after she had locked her front door and followed him across the yard.

Now that it was on her head, Cheyenne tried to remember which hat she’d grabbed from her closet earlier. She had an assortment in various colors—pink, purple, yellow—and all boringly plain. Sporting the hat, although familiar, wasn’t a fashion statement, that much was for sure. No, her reason for wearing ball caps and sunglasses was more to disguise herself than anything else. No matter where she went, someone usually recognized her and as much as she loved her fans, her privacy was pertinent at this point.

“Oh, yeah?” she responded to his statement when he climbed into the driver’s side.

“Yep. We’ll take care of that after we eat.”

“Will we, now?” Cheyenne grinned at the gorgeous man throwing the gearshift in Reverse and glancing over his shoulder as he backed out of her driveway.

Okay, so she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a man look so freaking sexy while driving a truck, but Brendon did. Oh, he so did.

Cheyenne figured that he would’ve taken her to Mama’s Diner for breakfast, so she was somewhat surprised when he headed out of Coyote Ridge. A few minutes later, they were pulling into an IHOP restaurant in a neighboring town.

“Nice choice,” she told him after they’d both climbed out of the truck and met up at the rear.

“Think so? I figured it’d be less conspicuous than somewhere in town. This way, there’s less of a chance that someone recognizes you.”

“I appreciate that.” And she really did. Going out in public wasn’t her favorite thing to do, but living as a shut-in wasn’t an option either, so there were times she had to deal with the repercussions of being noticed.

Once the waitress had seated them and offered menus, Cheyenne pulled off her sunglasses and replaced them with a pair of fake reading glasses. When she looked up at Brendon, she noticed he was watching her with a big-ass grin on his face.

“Nice touch,” he said, leaning forward so only she could hear him. “I’m thinkin’ I like this look on you.”

Cheyenne knew what she looked like. She had zero makeup on, her hair was pulled into a ponytail that stuck out through the hole in the back of her hat, and she had on a pair of glasses with thick black rims. She didn’t look like herself, but again, that was the point.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll have to remember that.”

“Me too,” he mumbled as he studied his menu.

Once the waiter came and went, delivering coffee and taking their order, Cheyenne opted to see what his response would be to the question she’d been curious about earlier.

“So, how is it you got my phone number?” She couldn’t hide the amusement in her tone, nor could she conceal her smile when he appeared sheepish.

“Don’t recall,” he answered simply, but she could tell he was lying by the smirk on his lips.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m kinda glad you got it.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. If not, how else would I have ended up at this fine establishment having breakfast with you?”

“Or goin’ to get a replacement for that pitiful hat afterward. Don’t forget that part.”

“How could I?”

“I was thinkin’ maybe we could take my mother’s horses out tomorrow, if you want,” Brendon offered, his eyes meeting hers tentatively.

“I’d love that,” she told him. “My cousins have a working dude ranch not too terribly far from here. Half an hour, maybe. Last time I rode was when I stayed with them as a teenager.”

“What’s the name? Of the ranch?” Brendon inquired, curiosity brimming in his blue-gray eyes.

“Dead Heat Ranch,” she informed them. “My mother’s brother, Jerry, has five girls and they all work there.”

“I’ve heard of it. Could it be a coincidence that Travis has mentioned schedulin’ a family reunion down there?”

It was Cheyenne’s turn to look guilty. She’d actually been the one to make the suggestion to Travis when she’d heard him talking to Kylie and Gage about an upcoming family reunion. She figured the ranch would be just the place for those rough-and-tumble cowboys and their families. “I still keep in touch with my cousin Faith. We didn’t exactly grow up together, but we did spend a coupla summers hangin’ out. I made the suggestion. Anything past that is Travis’s doing.”

“Well, if and when that comes to fruition, I’m bringin’ you along, just so you have to experience the pain with me.”

Cheyenne didn’t bother to tell Brendon that she’d actually welcome the invite. It was enough that he’d said it.

The waiter brought their food to the table and they spent the next few minutes eating in silence. Cheyenne couldn’t help but admire him while they ate, doing her best not to ogle him too much. The fact that he was consistently stealing a look at her only served to make the silence that much more intriguing.

Now she was curious as to how the rest of the day would play out.

BRENDON WALKED CLOSE
to Cheyenne as they entered the sports and outdoors store an hour later. He’d been serious when he told her he intended to replace that girly-looking cap with something a little more . . . redneck. Oh, she could keep the girly look, he didn’t have a problem with that, but he definitely wanted to get her something that would help her to fit in a little better.

Their arms brushed against one another and Brendon glanced down, tempted to take her hand in his, but his nerves got the best of him and he didn’t. He allowed his pinkie to brush the back of her hand. Strange feeling that. Definitely foreign, considering he’d yet to do something like this before. Technically, it could’ve been considered two friends going out to grab a bite to eat, but this felt oddly like a date. Or what he’d expect a date to feel like. Most people didn’t believe him, but in all his thirty-one years, he’d never been on an official date. Not like this. Not one-on-one. If and when the occasion arose, he had always ensured he had Braydon along with him to keep things interesting.

“What’d you have in mind?” Cheyenne questioned when they reached the hat section of the store, grabbing one off the rack and showing it to him. It was a plain pink camo cap that held little appeal.

He shook his head and began searching. She was on the right track, but when he looked at Cheyenne, he saw something a little bolder, more daring. Sexier. He snatched one up that was regular outdoor camo, but with a pink Browning symbol in the center and pink trim around the bill. “I’m thinkin’ this,” he informed her.

Cheyenne took the hat from his hand, the brush of her hand against his sending an instant chill from his fingers to his dick. He had no idea what it was about her, but just her touch was enough to set him off.

“It’s all right, I guess,” she said, sounding not at all thrilled, but the tone belied the grin on her face.

“What about this one?” he asked, handing her another.

She took that one from him as well, looking it over.

Ten minutes later, Cheyenne was holding seven hats in her hand, her gaze darting back and forth between each and every one. They’d probably looked at fifteen or so, and what was left were her favorites, or so she had told him.

“Okay, fine,” he said, pulling one last cap from the rack. “What about this?”

Brendon turned the hat around so she could see the saying on the front.

“ ‘I’m the pink in his world of camo,’ ” Cheyenne read.

He waited to see what she’d say, but her reaction said it all. Her green eyes widened and sparkled as she met his gaze.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment as the meaning settled in. Yes, he was telling her exactly what she thought he was, but Brendon didn’t know how to admit it. This was hard for him, but he’d come to terms with the fact that he liked this woman. More than he’d ever liked
any
woman. So, maybe that was a redneck way of telling her what he felt, but she understood him. And that in itself was something.

“I like it,” she finally whispered, her eyes locked with his.

“Good.” Taking the other hats from her hands, he set them back on the rack, although he kept two additional ones that he liked as well.

While she continued to look at the one in her hand, Brendon took her other hand in his, linking their fingers together slowly. Yep, something had definitely changed in the last few minutes and he welcomed the feeling.

“You ready to go?” he asked.

Cheyenne looked back up at him from beneath the bill of her hat. She didn’t say a word, but her nod was the only answer he needed.

“Good. Now let’s get outta here. I’m dangerous in this place. Before you know it, I’ll have a cart full of shit that I don’t need.”

Cheyenne chuckled, her fingers tightening around his. She still wasn’t talking, but there really wasn’t anything to say. What he’d done might not have been the most romantic thing in the world, but something had transpired between them. Something small, yet significant at the same time.

Brendon insisted on paying for the caps, since he’d been the one to suggest them. Once they were through the line and out the door, he motioned for her to change the one on her head. Cheyenne did so without argument and when she had, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was, by far, the most beautiful woman in the world. With no makeup on, wearing the Browning camouflage cap with the hot-pink symbol, a black tank top, denim shorts, and those sexy-as-fuck cowgirl boots, Cheyenne looked more appealing than any woman Brendon had never seen before.