Brody

Evernight Publishing ®

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright©
2015 Vanessa Devereaux

 
ISBN: 978-1-77233-607-8

Cover Artist: Sour Cherry
Designs

Editor: Lisa Petrocelli

ALL RIGHTS
RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized
reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
 
No part of this book may be used or
reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the
case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction.
All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.

BRODY

Big Sky County, 8

Vanessa Devereaux

Copyright © 2015

Chapter One

Brody
Williams took a sip of his beer while glancing over the top of the bottle in
order to see each man’s face. First time he’d been to Riker’s Creek and his
first time in Big Sky County, once home to his mother. It sure was beautiful
with its high mountain peaks and deep lush valleys. So different from the
eastern side of the state, but he was such a homegrown Montana boy that he knew
every single inch of it was better than anywhere else in the world.

He
put the bottle back on the bar and hoped his journey here wasn’t going to be a
total waste of time.

“Are
you going to the lighting of the Christmas tree on Friday?”

At
first he thought someone was talking to him, but when he glanced over his
shoulder, he noticed two middle-aged men standing at the bar with two shots of
whiskey in front of them.

“Sally
always insists we go, so I guess the answer is yes,” said the taller of the two.

 
“Looks like we’re getting snow for the event,”
said the other man. He studied both men on the sly, trying to guess their ages
and if by coincidence they were two of the three men he’d traveled across the
state to track down.

One
of the men looked back at him. Damn, he wasn’t really great at being subtle.

Brody
turned back toward the bar and looked into the mirror that hung above the
lineup of bottles. Maybe he could do some spying in that. He soon forgot about
the men, because he’d zeroed in on a young woman who’d just entered the place.
She didn’t look like the type who usually hung out at this sort of place. This
bar was for cowboys and farmers, maybe the odd biker or two. This woman was all
charm and femininity with curves and a pretty face. She was at the bar beside
him before he knew it, her arm suddenly brushing his and her perfume bringing
his senses alive. The bracelets on her right wrist jingled as she slid onto the
stool.

“What
can I get you?” the bartender asked her.

“You
have any tequila?”

The
bracelets tinged again as she swept back the hair from her face.

“We
sure do.”

“I’ll
have one of those for starters,” she said.

The
bartender exchanged glances with Brody. Both of them clearly knew what the “for
starters” part of the sentence meant. This was a customer who wanted to forget
something.

“Coming
right up,” said the bartender.

A
three-piece band began to play as she tapped her fingers on the badly scarred
wood on the bar top. Brody was impressed with the way she kept in perfect time
with the music. Maybe she played in a band or at least knew how to play a
musical instrument.

Brody’s
stomach rumbled, and he patted his belly foolishly thinking that might quiet
it. The bartender brought the tequila and placed it on a mat in front of the
young woman.

“Is
it okay if I pay at the end of the evening?” she asked.

“Sure
thing.”

“Sir,
can I get you a refill?” he asked, turning his attention to Brody.

“Yeah,
another one of these,” said Brody, sliding the bottle toward him. “And how’s
the food in this place?” Sometimes these small-town bars were a hit or miss.
Either the food was just like your mother made, or it was the kind that forced
you to sit on the john all night.

“It’s
pretty good, and I can recommend the turkey club sandwich and house fries.”

“I’ll
take one of those,” said Brody.

“And
another tequila shot for me,” said the woman, sliding the glass toward him, the
bracelets tinkling again.

“I’ll
put that order in and be right back with the drinks,” said the bartender.

Brody
wanted to tell her to slow down with the liquor but it wasn’t any of his
business. He didn’t need to get involved, because he had enough of his own
problems to deal with. He glanced in the mirror again, seeing that a few
couples had now gotten up on the dance floor as the music picked up a beat. He
tapped the toe of one of his cowboy boots against the leg of the stool.

“Tequila
for the lady, and a beer for you, sir,” said the bartender, placing the
prospective drinks in front of them.

Brody
took the bottle and downed two mouthfuls. He’d been told to limit or even quit
drinking alcohol, but life was now short. The lady downed the shot in one noisy
gulp and then coughed.

He
was about to pat her on the back but stopped himself in time, reminding himself
not to get involved or into a conversation…or anything. He needed to focus on
why he was in Riker’s Creek. No getting sidetracked or worse still, derailed
from his mission.

“Turkey
sandwich and fries,” said the bartender.

Way
too much food sat on the plate he put in front of Brody, but he could always
take a doggie bag with him and eat the rest later in his motel room.

“You
have anything else that’s great to make someone forget?” said the woman,
lifting the shot glass high in the air.

“You
won’t find that sort of cure in the bottom of a glass,” said Brody. Shit, he’d
said that without thinking. Him and his big mouth and the shortness of his
memory.

“You
let me decide that,” she said without looking Brody’s way.

“How
about a nice mojito, but take it slow and enjoy the music while you sip it?”
asked the bartender.

Brody
took the first bite of the sandwich, tasting the turkey and sliced bacon that
had been surprisingly cooked to perfection.

“Okay,
but make it a double one,” she said.

“If
you’re going to do some serious drinking, you should think about ordering some
food or you’ll regret it in the morning.”

Damn
his mouth. Words were falling out without him realizing it.

“You
really can’t mind your own business, can you?” she asked.

He
normally could, but there was something about her that made him want to protect
and nurture her.

The
bartender put the mojito down in front of her.

“Everything
tasting okay?” he asked Brody.

“Everything’s
perfect. You think you could bring me another plate?” Brody threw another fry
into his mouth.

“I’ll
be right back with that,” said the bartender.

“I’m
not eating anything you’re thinking of offering me,” she said.

“You’re
assuming the plate is for me to put food on it to offer to you. Is that it?”
asked Brody.

“Well,
isn’t it?” she asked. She swirled the straw around and took a slurp.

“Guess
you’ll have to wait and see,” said Brody just as the bartender placed the plate
in front of him.

Brody
didn’t do anything for a few minutes besides eat his sandwich. He always liked
the act of surprise. He took a drink of beer, ate a fry, and finally took
another sip of beer. He didn’t even look at her, but he knew she been observing
him since the bartender had brought him the plate.

“You
are a typical man,” she finally said. The bracelets made their tinkling sound
again.

“Really,”
he said.

“Oh
yeah, think you damn well know everything.”

“Yeah,
I guess you could describe some men like that. Some women too, for that
matter.”

He
put some fries onto the plate but said nothing. She took another sip through
the straw, making a clearly exaggerated slurping sound which he knew signaled
she already had too much to drink.

He
purposely turned the other way, rested his elbow on top of the bar, and drank
his beer. More people were up on the dance floor. He glanced slyly back over
his shoulder. The fries were gone, but he didn’t say anything.

“If
you’re wondering where those fries went, some guy behind the bar took them,”
she said when Brody finally turned back.

Yeah,
like hell they did. The grease glistening on her fingers as she swirled the
straw in what was left of her drink told him the whole story.

“Maybe
I should have a word with him about it. You mind pointing him out to me?” asked
Brody.

She
burst out laughing. She had a cute laugh. Could you have a cute laugh?

“You
have brightened up my evening, cowboy,” she said, putting her purse on the bar
top.

“Glad
I could do that. And offer you some of my fries.”

She
looked at him, and he winked.

“Bartender,”
she called.

He
came over to her a few minutes later.

“I’d
like to settle up my tab.”

He
pulled a receipt from his pocket and slipped it across the bar top to her.
 
She squinted and then pulled out a twenty-dollar
bill.

“Tell
him he can keep the change,” she told Brody. She almost fell to the floor as
she slid off the stool. Brody caught her arm, making her bracelets rattle again.

“You
going to be okay?” he asked.

“Never
better.”

“Hope
you’re not driving?” he asked.

“Nope,
have a horse waiting outside for me.”

It
was Brody’s turn to laugh, knowing she was messing with him.

“See
ya, cowboy.”

Brody
nodded to her, watching her slowly make her way to the door. When she was out
of sight, he turned back to the bar.

The
bartender walked by. “She said to keep the change. And if I could also settle
up my bill.”

He
pulled out Brody’s tab and placed it in front of him. Brody set down the exact
amount and a five-dollar tip before heading toward the door. He opened it to
see a horse tethered to one of the poles by the front entrance. The woman who’d
sat next to him was trying to untie it but having no luck whatsoever because
she was swaying so bad. She hadn’t been joking. She had ridden a horse to the
bar.

The
horse looked like it was beginning to get restless. Horses sensed when people
were acting funny. Brody also knew them well enough to sense she was going to
get kicked and maybe knocked on the ground and hurt very soon. The vow to not
get involved in someone else’s problems had to go out the door. He rushed over
to the horse.

“Hey
there, boy, what a pretty horse you are,” he said stroking its nose.

“First
of all, you butt in when I’m drinking, and now you’re trying to take my horse.”

“Miss,
that’s the last thing I want to do, but this horse is getting antsy and you’re
about to get your ass kicked from here to next week.”

Brody
untied the horse in one easy movement and led him over to the side of the
parking lot to try and calm him down some more.

“Hey,
that’s my horse, and how the hell am I supposed to get home?” she called to
him.

“Don’t
you know riding a horse under the influence is against the law in Montana?”
Brody called back.

She
walked over to him, almost falling twice. “You really are a funny man. Now let
me mount my horse, and I’ll be on my way.”

“How
about I ride him for you, and you can hang on to the back of me?”

“I
don’t need your help, cowboy. This lady doesn’t need any man’s help.”

She
slurred her words and swayed from left to right.

“I’ll
count to five and then I’m putting you stomach first over this horse, and
you’ll ride home like that,” said Brody.

“How
dare you speak to me like that?”

“One,
two, three, three and a half, four, coming for you soon…”

“If
you lay a finger on me, I’ll scream so loud they’ll hear me clear in Canada.”

“Five.”

Brody
took three strides over to her, lifted her up, and then as promised placed her
facedown on the horse.

The
lights in the bar’s parking lot lit her ass in those tight jeans. He knew he
shouldn’t have done it, but he smacked it.

“Did
you just do what I think you did?” she asked, her voice muffled, partly from
hanging over the horse, but mostly because her words were still slightly
slurred.

“If
you think I slapped your butt, then yes, yes, I did.”

He
was waiting for her to tell him how disgusting that was, but there was nothing,
no protests, nothing until she finally said, “I sort of liked it.”

“How
about I ride you home?” asked Brody. “That’s assuming home isn’t that far,
because if it’s more than half a mile, we might have to come to a different
arrangement.”