Braydon (8 page)

Even angry, she looked just as pretty as always. Her golden-brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, accentuating the soft line of her jaw and the smoothness of her skin along her high cheekbones. Jessie wasn’t exactly short, but she wasn’t tall, either. Average was probably appropriate. He still had to look down at her, especially when she wasn’t wearing her favored footwear—sexy high heels.

“What’s up?” he asked as casually as he could manage. He didn’t feel at all casual when this woman was around. Not after their last encounter.

For three months, he’d been avoiding her, mainly because he was a selfish bastard and he was pissed that Braydon had disappeared. He’d even gone so far as to blame her, knowing good and damn well that Jessie wasn’t the reason Braydon left. Hell, if anything, Jessie would probably be the only thing that would get Braydon to return.

Not that he’d told her that, either.

“Call him,” she demanded.

“Call
who
?” he asked, pretending he had no idea what she was talking about.

“Call Braydon.”

“Why?” he probed, stepping back out of the doorway to allow her entrance. To his shock, she didn’t move from her position.

Yeah, it was safe to say she hated him.

“I’m not coming in,” she insisted. “Call him. Tell him it’s time to come home.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so!”

Brendon couldn’t help it; he started to laugh. His amusement died instantly when he realized Jessie had tears in her eyes. “What’s the matter?” he asked, pulling her into the house and shutting the door behind her.

“He’s not coming back,” she sobbed as he pulled her up against him, wrapping his arms around her. It was second nature for him to want to comfort her. It didn’t matter that they’d had a falling-out; he still cared about her. He wanted to believe that beneath all the hurt he’d caused her, they were still friends.

Fuck.

“Did he call you?” he asked, his breath fanning her hair.

“No. I was at my sister’s. Travis told me.”

Sonuvabitch.

As much as he hated to admit it, Jessie’s demand that he call Braydon might not be such a bad idea.

But getting Braydon to answer might be another issue altogether.

chapter
FOUR

B
raydon dropped the pitchfork and wiped his forehead with his T-shirt, which had been hanging over the stall rail.

Summer in Texas royally sucked. With temps soaring into the high nineties by ten o’clock in the morning, the air thick enough to choke a man, he wanted nothing more than to find a cool place to sit for a few minutes. And to think, it was only seven.

But he had things to do, which was why he was in the barn early.

Today was supposed to be his day off, but since he couldn’t sleep, he’d opted to pull on his jeans and do something constructive. Pitching hay into one of the empty stalls had seemed like just what he needed to burn off some excess energy.

It wasn’t helping.

Grabbing one of the three water bottles he’d brought with him, he twisted off the cap and swallowed half the water in one gulp as he peered out the open doors. He could see Cooper and Tessa’s house from where he stood, and just a short while ago, he’d noticed the couple sitting on the back porch. He knew the two of them usually had breakfast together after handling their early-morning chores, and it looked like today hadn’t been any different.

Finishing off the first bottle, Braydon tossed it into the wheelbarrow that sat empty beside him. Reaching for the pitchfork, he let the scent of fresh hay fill his mind as he forced everything else out. That was one of the benefits of manual labor: he could spend hours working and not thinking about how screwed-up his life had become.

Braydon had no idea how much time had passed, but he’d worked his way through three stalls, dumping hay into each one and then spreading it across the floor. By the time he heard someone clear their throat behind him, he was ready to drop.

“What are you doin’ up this early on a Sunday? Today’s supposed to be your day off.”

The deep bass, accompanied by a heavy Southern drawl, had Braydon glancing over to see Cooper Krenshaw. Turning, he came face-to-face with Cooper, who was standing behind him, one booted foot on the bottom rung of the stall door, his forearms resting on the wood beam, hands hanging limply over. His expression was one that Braydon had grown used to in recent weeks: concern was etched across his face.

Cooper was Tessa’s famous husband and the man who’d given Braydon a job several months ago. It was kind of strange how close the Walker clan had become with Tessa and their other cousins during the past year, considering they hadn’t had much contact with her growing up, but as time continued to pass, they were becoming quite close to her and her family.

Of course, they had known about Tessa, but due to a family rift in generations before theirs, they had never been close with her. But lately, they’d all sworn to rectify that, everyone agreeing that family was the most important thing. Despite Tessa’s initial resistance to opening up to a long-lost part of her family, she and her brothers, Adam and Jack, had been relatively positive about embracing the new friendship. And now Braydon owed her so much for helping him through his tough time these last few months.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Braydon told Cooper. Not that his insomnia was a new development. That had started many months ago and hadn’t let up in recent days.

Cooper pushed off the rail, walking to the opposite side of the wide path that split the stable in two, and returned with one of the remaining bottles of water. Without a word, he tossed the plastic toward Braydon. Catching it with one hand, Braydon leaned the pitchfork against the wood wall and resigned himself to having to talk. Apparently Cooper intended to stay awhile.

“You’re gonna work yourself into the ground, you know that?”

Braydon laughed as he tipped the bottle to his lips. That wasn’t the first time Cooper had mentioned that.

In the three months Braydon had been hanging out with Tessa and Cooper, they’d pelted him with more questions than he cared to answer. And every time they dug just a little too deep, he brushed them off. That hadn’t swayed either of them in their quest to get him to open up.

“I’m good,” Braydon lied. He wasn’t good. Far from it. But that was the same song and dance he had endured for the past few months.

Physically, he’d never been better. Apparently working from sunup to sundown did a body good. But it didn’t do a damn thing to help Braydon sleep at night, which had been his hope when he first arrived at the ranch.

“Brendon know where you are yet?” Cooper asked, reaching for the last bottle of water once Braydon finished the other and then tossing it to him.

“Not unless my dad told him,” Braydon answered, looking directly at Cooper.

“You still not plannin’ to go home?” Cooper questioned, sipping coffee from a thermos he’d brought with him and peering at Braydon from beneath the rim of his Stetson.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do,” he admitted in defeat.

Just last night, after falling into bed, Braydon had asked himself the same question. After hours of tossing and turning, he’d come up with the same answer he just gave Cooper. As much as he wanted to go back, he didn’t know if he could just yet.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go home. He did. At least to visit. According to his father, that was a must in the next couple of weeks, and he understood. He really did. Braydon missed his family. But at that moment, he was so fucking confused over what he was doing, the thought of going home didn’t sit well with him.

Chances were, he wouldn’t leave if he went back. And nothing had changed since he left. He knew that much. Jessie would never forgive him for leaving without saying a word, and he didn’t blame her.

“You know you’re gonna have to go back, don’t you?” Cooper stated, his voice low.

“I know,” Braydon confirmed. The question was when. Not in the mood to get into a long, drawn-out conversation, Braydon came up with an excuse. “Once I’m done here, I’ve got a couple of errands to run. Need anything while I’m out?”

“Naw,” Cooper answered in that thick drawl. “Tessa and I have to run into town later.” Pushing away from the wall he’d been leaning on, Cooper nodded his head, obviously accepting Braydon’s brush-off. “Tessa asked me to come down here. She said if you’re still around, stop by the house for dinner tonight.”

That was the way Cooper ended almost every conversation these days. It was as though the man expected Braydon to head out at any moment. And hell, maybe that was a safe assumption because half the time, Braydon didn’t even know what he was going to do.

Tossing the last of the empty bottles into the wheelbarrow, Braydon grabbed his shirt from the rail and pulled it on over his head. “I’ll do that,” he assured Cooper.

When Cooper disappeared out into the bright morning sun, Braydon finished up before heading out the same way the other man had.

By the time he reached his truck, his cell phone was ringing. He glanced at the screen and sighed. He let the call go to voice mail. When would Brendon get the hint? Braydon had no desire to talk to him, hence the reason he ignored every one of his calls. Braydon wasn’t going back, and he damn sure didn’t want to talk about it. As it was, Travis had called him late last night and given him hell until he finally broke, letting his oldest brother know that he was
never
going back.

“Mom wants to know when you’re comin’ home,” Travis barked.

Braydon pulled the phone away from his ear briefly and stared at it. Was Travis serious?

“I talked to Mom this mornin’,” Braydon informed his brother when he settled the phone against his ear once more.

“Then you know she’s worried. When are you comin’ back?”

“Don’t know,” Braydon answered, dropping onto the worn sofa in the small house he was renting while he was in Devil’s Bend.

“You need to figure it out. You’ve got a job here and you’ve abandoned that. And the rest of us.”

“I haven’t abandoned anything,” Braydon countered. “I talked to Jared and he said things are fine.”

“Braydon,” Travis growled again, and this time Braydon heard the warning in his brother’s tone. He hated when Travis tried to control everything.

“I’m not ready to come back, Trav,” Braydon said softly.

“It’s been three goddamn months, Bray. It’s time you stop acting like a fucking child and come home.”

“Fuck you. If that’s the way you want it, then I’m never comin’ back. How’s that?”

It had been childish and it had also been a lie, but at the time, he’d been so furious that he let the words roll right off his tongue. A heated argument had ensued, but in the end, Braydon had convinced Travis that this was his choice. Travis hadn’t been happy, but he’d let it go. Or at least Braydon thought he had. Knowing Travis, the man was cooking up something.

Right now, Braydon just needed to get in his truck and head back to the small house he was renting from Tessa and Cooper so he could shower. And by renting, Braydon was actually helping out at the equestrian center the couple had opened last year and they were providing him with a place to stay free of charge. While Dalton Calhoun, their partner in the center, was on tour, Braydon had offered to help out. The timing had been perfect. They had offered to pay him, and Braydon hadn’t refused. Arriving in Devil’s Bend had been his way of starting anew, which meant he had to have a job. And money. Initially, Braydon had asked for room and board in lieu of money, but they’d insisted on paying him something as well.

His phone rang again as he steered his truck down the dirt road that led to the small house. A quick glance at the screen said it was Brendon again.

Damn.

Once again, he let it go to voice mail.

When his phone started ringing for the third time before he even stepped foot in the front door, he punched the Talk button and put the phone to his ear.

“What?” he barked into the phone.

“Get your ass home,” Brendon said by way of a response.

Braydon sighed. “Is that why you’re blowin’ up my phone?”

“Yes, God damn it.”

“Why? Is something wrong?” Braydon asked, suddenly worried.

“No. It’s just time to cut the shit and get your ass home.”

“I’m not comin’ back,” he informed Brendon, trying to force away the mental picture of Brendon and Jessie together. Anytime he thought of home, he thought of Brendon and Jessie, consoling one another in his absence. The thought made his stomach roil.

“The fuck you aren’t,” Brendon bit out. “Either you get your ass back here, or I’m comin’ to get you.”

“You don’t even know where I am,” he argued.

“You’re wrong,” Brendon said sternly. “I’ve known from day one that you hauled ass to Devil’s Bend. I was tryin’ not to be an asshole and drag you back, but this is fucking ridiculous. Everyone’s worried about you. Not to mention, you’ve got a job here. Walker Demo ain’t gonna run itself.”

“Jared’s doin’ a fine job, from what I hear,” Braydon retorted. Around the first of the year, his cousin Jared had come in like a tornado and whipped the place into shape, picking up where Travis left off when he’d gone to manage the Alluring Indulgence Resort.

But that wasn’t the point.

Braydon knew they could go on like this all day. Neither of them ever backed down. Well, that wasn’t exactly true.
Brendon
never backed down. Eventually, Braydon would have to cave on an argument or they would go on for hours. His twin had managed to take the majority of the Walker hardheadedness gene in utero.

“Bray, this is bullshit,” Brendon said, lowering his voice as though he was trying to keep someone from hearing.

“Is Jess there with you?” Braydon asked abruptly. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to kick himself. He didn’t want to know.

“Yeah. She’s here.”

Of course she was. Where else would she be? The two of them had probably been seeing each other for the last three months while Braydon was out of the picture. At this point, going back home to Coyote Ridge would probably cause more problems than there had been before he left. And that was the last damn thing Braydon needed.