2. Reed

2

Reed

I should’ve known Callan and Bailey would set me up like this. My brother and my best friend were happy with their girls, so naturally they had to butt into my love life. Or attempt to create one, at least. I didn’t date.

I had no time for the petty drama on top of everything else going on in my life. Between balancing horseshoeing, my mother’s horse rescue, and my parents’ ranch, I barely had time for a damn beer at the end of the night.

I’d started learning how to horseshoe long before I probably should have been around those types of tools. I was always intrigued by the farriers that came to the ranch and learned as I went, following in their footsteps. Then, when I graduated high school, I jumped right into it. It didn’t take me long to build a clientele, and now it only seemed to grow every month. But for me, that’s where my enthusiasm ended. I’d happily go shoe horses all day, break my damn back doing it, just to shut out the world.

You couldn’t live a peaceful life if you filled it with nonsense.

It shouldn’t have taken me by surprise to see Brandy sitting at an empty table in that restaurant. From the get-go, I knew Cal and Bailey were up to something the moment they brought up the idea. My family was always meddling, but this was the one thing that was off-limits.

Brandy fucking Rose.

I’d left the restaurant shortly after Brandy. God forbid that woman see me following her. She’d blow a damn gasket, telling me off for the hell of it.

Though she’d blame me for that, given I’d supposedly ruined her life.

As I drove, my truck’s headlights lit up a familiar orange Bronco, but rather than it being on the road, it sat in the dirt with a certain woman standing beside it.

Speak of the damn devil.

I pulled in behind Brandy’s car, not bothering to turn my truck off. I got out to face her standing there, her glaringly demonic attitude aimed right the fuck at me—just like it always was.

“Get in the truck.”

Her lips pursed together. “Not a chance.”

Given the angle in which we were positioned, I assumed she could barely make me out with the headlights aimed at her, but me? I could see her clear as day, like a goddamn angel standing in front of a midnight field. The stars blared bright in the sky behind her, sparkling just as bright as her damn gold hoop earrings.

“Get in the damn truck.”

She uncrossed one of her arms for the briefest moment to hold her phone up. “Callan’s coming to get me.”

“Is that right?”

She nodded as she returned her arms to their defensive position across her chest.

Good . She didn’t need to let her guard down for me, or anyone, for that matter.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, her sass still evident in her tone.

“That’s funny,” I started, mimicking her position by crossing my arms as well, “because he’s with Sage in the next town over shopping for baby clothes.”

She held her position. If Brandy was anything, it was determined. “Well, they got done early.”

I knew damn well they didn’t. They were both head over heels for this baby. They’d be shopping until the store closed, and even then, the employees would have to kick them out.

“I’m only going to say it one more time. Get in the damn truck, Brandy.”

She turned, planting her ass against the driver door of her car. “I’ll wait.”

This fucking woman.

“Suit yourself.”

I wouldn’t stand here all fucking night begging for her to listen for once in her goddamn life. I got back in my truck and pulled onto the street. But because it was Brandy fucking Rose standing on the side of the road in nothing more than a white tank top and those damn flared jeans that hugged her ass just right, I didn’t gas it.

Instead, I cruised up next to her and rolled the window down.

“One last offer, or you’re standing here all night.”

She wouldn’t look at me. Just stood there gazing down the road like I wasn’t even there. Oh, how I wished that was true.

“Jesus Christ, Brandy. If you don’t get in the fucking truck—”

She dropped her arms, took two steps, and yanked my passenger door open. She slid onto the black leather seat, slamming the door closed.

I thought maybe she’d cooperate and buckle her damn seatbelt, but no. I waited, and waited, and waited.

I had enough of fucking waiting.

I reached across her, ignoring the hitch in her breath and how her long, brunette hair brushed my arm, grabbed the strap, and pulled it across her. There was no avoiding my fingers brushing her hip, and no overlooking how she didn’t scoot away.

She was like a goddamn rock in my boot, both impossible to ignore and irritably annoying at the same time.

Once she was buckled, I straightened and eased my foot on the gas, reaching the speed limit quickly.

“What’s wrong with the Bronco?” I asked, not surprised it had yet another problem.

“Not talking to you,” she said, her gaze trained out the window.

I pressed my lips together, giving a tight nod. “Great.”

The fields on either side of the road were pitch black as I drove, my headlights illuminating only a small strip in front of us.

“I can bring you back tomorrow if you think it’s drivable—”

“No, thanks,” she interrupted.

My hand gripped the steering wheel harder than it was before. I’d trade places with anyone on this damn planet tonight. Anyone .

Brandy reached forward, twisting the knob on the radio to turn up the volume on some pop country station. I fucking hated this new music they claimed was country.

I suffered the rest of the drive until I pulled into Brandy’s dirt driveway that led up to her small house. Not many people knew where their little sister’s best friend’s house was, but I did. I knew too damn much about Brandy. More than anyone else, I reckoned.

But that’s what made me and Brandy so toxic. I knew shit she didn’t want anyone knowing, and she hated me for it. Granted, I was the reason for some of it, too.

Before I even stopped the truck, Brandy was unbuckling and opening the door to get out. I stomped a foot on the brake right as she swung a leg out.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered as she slammed the door behind her.

I threw it into park and pulled a few bills out of my wallet before getting out and following after her.

I caught up quickly, grabbing her arm and twisting her around. She yanked it away, but I’d already let go. “Don’t pretend to be the gentleman you aren’t and walk me to the door,” she spat.

I grabbed her hand, forcing it palm up, and put the cash in the center.

“What’s this for?” she asked, doing her best to keep the anger in her tone, yet the confusion seeped in. Brandy never let her guard down, let alone around me. She always kept it fortified in place, each brick caked with so much mortar, not even a jackhammer could penetrate it.

“I was your date, wasn’t I? Wouldn’t be very fucking gentlemanly of me if I didn’t pay for your drink.”

“Wouldn’t be much different from your usual behavior.”

I snorted right as she let the bills fall to the ground. Then, she turned on her heel, stomping to her front door. I shook my head as she disappeared inside and turned the porch light off. Instead of leaving, I picked up the money and walked to her door, tucking it under the corner of her doormat. It was fitting that the cursive scrawled across the jute material spelled the words go away .

There was no need to knock. She’d find the money tomorrow and hate me all the more for simply leaving it—only for the fact that it gave some evidence that tonight happened and she was my supposed date.

Speaking of, I had a conversation I needed to have with Bailey and Callan.

They weren’t getting away with this scot-free.

I walked back to my truck without a single glance over my shoulder. She was home, that’s what mattered.

Away from anyone or anything that could harm her.

Just like I made sure of the night I ruined the sliver of friendship we used to have.