24. Reed

24

Reed

T he morning air held the promise of an early winter, the last few days of somewhat warm weather quickly turning into a brisk chill. The fog that clung to the fields had slowly dissipated as we tacked up the horses at Al’s ranch, getting ready to push his family’s cattle to another field for the winter.

They’d called my dad last night, asking for our help with the task, and as us Bronsons do, we couldn’t turn them down. We’d shoved aside our own tasks for the day, all of us showing up in the early hours of the morning to get ready to head out.

Callan had brought Avery along for the day, letting Sage get some much-needed alone time at the house. Since she was pregnant, riding wasn’t the best option for her right now, but in typical Sage fashion, she’d loaded Callan up with a truckload of food to bring out for everyone to enjoy.

Lennon passed out sandwiches to the group, making sure everyone had hot coffee or water along with their breakfast. Everyone was socializing, except for Beckham. He stood off to the side, pretending something was wrong with the cinch on his saddle.

I set my wrapped sandwich on the tailgate of my truck, about ready to walk over to him and ask what the fuck was wrong, when a hand rested on my arm, stopping me.

“That look on your face is never a good sign,” Mom said, pulling my focus away from Beckham.

“What look?” I grumbled.

She dropped her hand. “The one you wear all the time.”

I shot her a frown before cooling my expression. “I don’t want you to worry yourself to death over whatever he’s going through.”

She set a hand on her hip, that typical really think about what you said look taking shape on her face. “Is it me doing that? Or you?”

I heaved a sigh, shifting my boot in the dirt. “I just don’t get why he won’t tell us what’s bothering him.”

Her eyes softened. “The same reason you don’t.”

“Nothing’s bothering me,” I clipped.

She crossed her arms. “You think I don’t know when something’s upsetting my kids?”

I moved my gaze out to the field, wishing this conversation was over. “You know, you don’t have to have heart-to-hearts with all of us.”

She set a callused hand on my cheek, turning me to face her again. Those rough patches only reflected a fraction of the hard work she’d done in her life. “Yes, I do. That’s a mother’s job.”

“Have you talked to him since he moved into that double-wide?”

She dropped her arm, leveling my gaze despite her being inches shorter. “Briefly. But I’m not pushing him. He’ll open up when he’s ready.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that,” I mumbled, glancing over at where he was still fucking with the cinch.

“No one will say words worth speaking if you force them, Reed. They have to want to open up on their own. All you can do is be there for them in the meantime.”

Her words nearly made my breath hitch. Was she talking about Beck? Or Brandy? It was no secret Brandy had a rough relationship with her father, but no one really knew the extent of it like I did. But maybe my mom sensed that. When we had big dinners, it was no question she was invited. A family event, she’d be there. But the one thing my mom never did was pressure Brandy to talk. She never mentioned her attitude or her inability to open up. She accepted her as she was, welcoming her into the family with open arms. If someone needed a place to stay, my mom gave that to them, no questions asked.

I had a feeling that’s what she was doing with Beck now. We lost him for years before, and she was just glad he’d come home.

Maybe I should be, too.

We could all worry about him, sure. But all it really did was put a weight on his shoulders when he already had a boulder of thoughts pulling him down to begin with.

I just didn’t know if I was capable of letting it go.

I was a closed-off asshole sometimes, I wouldn’t deny that. I kept my feelings bottled inside like the rest of them, but that was me. Call it a double standard, but none of this behavior was like Beckham.

What the fuck happened while he was gone?

“Why don’t you go on home. Take the day for yourself,” Mom said, interrupting my thoughts.

I looked at her. “I’m fine.”

She gave me a pointed glare. “I’m not asking, Reed. We can do this without you. Go relax, have a beer.”

“Only after five,” I said, reciting her rule. “But why? You don’t want me around?”

She dipped her chin in a nod, picking up my sandwich and placing it in my palm. “I don’t want you killing your brother out in that field.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“You’re wastin’ your breath. Go on.”

She patted me on the chest twice before turning to head back to Dad, where he was lost in conversation with Al.

With no other choice but to listen, I shut the tailgate and rounded the truck to the driver’s side door. Leaving my Carhartt jacket on, I got in, starting up the engine and heading back to the ranch.

Since Al owned the property about ten miles away, it only took a few minutes before I was pulling up the driveway. I planned to go straight to my house on the far end, but a particular Bronco sitting in the driveway had me continuing toward the barn. I pulled to a stop, letting the engine idle for a second to see if Brandy would appear. When I saw no movement aside from the horses in their paddocks, I turned off the truck and slid out.

I pivoted to close my door, but as soon as I did, something bright pink in the distance caught my eye. Shoving it shut behind me, I narrowed my gaze, trying to focus on whatever it was shining through the cluster of trees.

Once the distraction came into focus, my heart skipped a beat, followed by the blood in my veins turning to ice.

What the fuck was she doing?

I crossed to the pasture, not bothering with the gate, instead jumping clear over the metal fence. My boots stamped down the grass as my pace quickened, beelining it for the trees.

As I got closer, more of Brandy became even more exposed—as if that was even possible when all she was wearing was fucking lingerie and boots .

She must’ve not heard me coming as she set her hands behind her on the horse’s rear, arching her back to show off her tiny, perky tits. The image had my cock hardening in my jeans, but I shoved the jaw-dropping sight away, focusing more on her being out here in the fucking cold, wearing nothing .

When I was less than ten feet away, she finally turned her eyes on me, those bold brows pulling together. I didn’t give her a chance to speak as I closed the distance, only stopping when her knee-high boot hit my stomach and my hands grabbed her waist.

She let out a shriek as I lifted her off Dessie. “Reed!”

I ignored her, pulling her clean off the horse and hefting her over my shoulder.

Fists pounded on my back, but the thickness of my jacket lessened their blow. “Reed fucking Bronson, put me down right now!”

My lips rolled together before I landed a hard smack to Dessie’s ass. The horse took off at a gallop, racing toward the barn. Only once the horse was out of sight did I set Brandy down in front of me.

“I was in the middle of something!” Brandy said, her cheeks blazing a deep cherry red. From the cold or her anger, I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have to fucking guess between the two.

“It’s fifty fucking degrees,” I muttered, shucking off my coat.

She watched the movement, sensing what I was about to do, and took a step back. I stormed her, whipping the jacket around her shoulders and pulling it tight in the front. I yanked her to my chest, the zipper digging into my palm as I stared down into twin flames of fury.

“I’m not cold,” she spit out.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I demanded.

Her eyes turned to saucers. “What am I doing?”

“You’re out here in fucking lingerie , Brandy. I can see your piercings clear as day.”

Her hard gaze melted, a smirk pulling at her mouth in turn. “You looked.”

I drew her even closer, so close she had to stand on the tips of her toes. “Is that what you want? For me to stare at your body? You want to tease me with it? Flaunt it around, knowing I won’t touch you?”

Her nostrils flared, and she twitched like she wanted to move her hands, but she kept them stiff at her sides. “I’m not out here like this for you,” she seethed.

“Then who? Huh? Some fucking guy who wants your body and nothing else?”

Those cheeks darkened a shade, and I knew I’d set her off.

Her hand flew to the side, drawing my attention to the phone sitting perched on a branch. Instantly, I dropped the coat. She took a few steps back, keeping herself from falling without my grip on the jacket. She kept it tight around her, though, telling me she was fucking cold.

Stubborn woman.

I stormed over to the phone, grabbing it in a tight fist. I glanced down to see the camera was on, and fury ripped through me like a fucking riptide. I stomped back over to her, shoving it at her chest.

“Who’s it for?” I asked, my voice louder than I’d like it to be.

“Not for you,” she remarked.

“I didn’t ask if it was for me.” I crowded her space, causing her to step back again. “Who the fuck is it for?”

“For me.”

I searched her eyes for the truth. “Bullshit.”

“What? You never take pictures of yourself to feel good?”

“Fuck no.”

Her gaze flicked over me from head to toe. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

I shook my head, her words settling in. “You don’t feel good about yourself?” My voice was quieter now, losing its bite.

She shrugged, the act almost nonexistent under the size of my jacket on her. “I do.”

I took another step closer, and her neck arched to keep those eyes on me. “So let me get this straight. You came out here in the fucking cold wearing nothing but lingerie and boots, sat on a fucking horse, and posed in front of a camera to feel good about yourself ?”

She nodded, confident as ever. But when I didn’t let up on my expression—which I was sure was anything but comforting—her gaze fell. “You think I’m some kind of slut.”

Pure fucking feral rage hit me in the chest. I grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at me. “Never fucking say that again.”

A sheen took over her eyes. “Why? You wouldn’t be the first.”

My jaw clenched so hard I thought it might break. “The only one you will ever be a slut for is me, Brandy Rose. Anyone else wants to see you that way, and I’ll break their fucking neck.”

Some of the sadness left her eyes, that typical lilt lifting the side of her lips. “That’s kind of violent, Satan.”

“That’s how the thought of anyone seeing you like this makes me feel,” I admitted, dropping her chin and stepping back. “Besides, you’re beautiful whether you take photos of yourself or not,” I added on a mutter.

“Was that a compliment?” she asked, humor lacing her tone as she lifted a hand to her ear, as if she didn’t hear me properly.

“Take it however you want,” I mumbled, my eyes catching on her bare legs above her boots.

She dropped her hand. “Do you want the photos?”

I snapped out of her intoxicating trance, glaring at her. With a scoff, I turned, heading back for the ranch. I could only take so much Brandy for a day, and I’d already reached my limit. It wasn’t even nine a.m. yet.

“Is that a no?” she called after me.

I ignored her, not able to say out loud that secretly, I did want those photos. But the next time I saw Brandy in that way wouldn’t be through some phone screen.

It’d be on her fucking knees before me.