7. Brandy

7

Brandy

I t took all my willpower not to peek out the blinds to see if Reed was fucking my Bronco up like I thought he would. Just because he’d worked on old trucks a time or two didn’t mean he was certified, let alone allowed , to work on my car. But instead of going out there and trying to make him leave again, knowing that it was no use—Reed did whatever the fuck he wanted anyway—I stayed inside.

No matter how many times I told him, he never got the sense to leave me the fuck alone.

A light knock sounded, but before I could get the pleasure of telling him to go the fuck away, my front door creaked open, announcing he was coming inside. I didn’t give him the respect of getting out of my seat.

“Radiator’s installed and the car is running fine. No leaks,” Reed said, rounding the corner into my kitchen to find me seated at the small dining table. He was wiping his hands on a rag, the movement causing my eyes to stray to his tattooed arms and the way his tan skin flexed over the tendons. He had the sleeves of his button-up rolled to his elbows, stains of grease smudged across parts of his forearms.

He cleared his throat and I darted my gaze away, not wanting to see the damn satisfaction on his face over me studying him. If Reed Bronson could even show such an uplifting look.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” I muttered.

In my peripheral, he gestured to the door. “Go right ahead.”

I sent him a glare. “Not with you here. Last thing I need is to give you another excuse to stay. Plus, I have somewhere to be.”

He fisted the rag, keeping his stone exterior in place when he said, “You know, Brandy, one day, you’re going to have to drop it.”

I pasted on the fakest smile I could and raised my brows. “Drop what?”

He gave the barest shake of his head, dropping his arms to his sides. “Try not to end up stranded again.” Then he disappeared. The only indication that he left the house was the door clicking shut and his truck starting up outside.

I sat there for a good five minutes to be sure he was gone before I stood and grabbed my bag off the kitchen counter. Digging in the fridge, I grabbed two ready-to-eat salad kits and headed out, making sure to lock the door behind me.

After tossing the salads and my bag on the passenger seat, I opened the hood to make sure everything was in the right spot. To my surprise, it looked as it had before, but with a brand new radiator.

I wouldn’t give him the mental praise yet, though. I wasn’t sure if it’d even run.

Hopping behind the wheel, I started up the engine, then got back out to make sure there were no leaks. I let it run about ten minutes before calling it good and closing the hood.

I supposed I should thank him for fixing it, but we both knew that wouldn’t happen. I hadn’t thanked him for that night seven years ago, and while I probably should have after much thought, I couldn’t get past what he did.

Getting back in the car, I dialed my mom and set the phone on speaker next to me while I pulled out of my driveway.

“Hey, honey,” Mom answered.

“Hey. I’m coming over with lunch,” I said, turning onto the main road.

“I thought your car was down?”

“It was, but it’s fixed now. Running like new.”

Mom’s tone raised a pitch. “Oh . Was your blind date a mechanic?”

“Mom,” I chastised.

“What?” she asked innocently.

“I know what you’re doing,” I said as I clicked on my blinker to turn toward town.

“I want to know how it went! Is it so wrong for a mother to be curious?”

When it was my mom, yes. We were close, sometimes probably a little too close, which meant we knew everything about each other. Well, aside from my dad hitting her well before I’d first witnessed it.

She’d learned to keep that hidden from me well.

“No, he wasn’t a mechanic, and it went terrible,” I answered.

“Terrible? What happened?”

Just the question I didn’t want her to ask.

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” I said.

“Come on, I’m begging,” she pleaded. Someone’s muffled voice sounded in the background, but I couldn’t make out who it was.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

“Oh, about that. I’m not home. I meant to tell you, I’m out with some friends.”

I adjusted my grip on the steering wheel, trying to hear who it was. Whoever she was with stopped talking as soon as she mentioned them.

“No lunch, then?”

“Rain check?” she asked.

I glanced at the salads on my passenger seat, letting out a small sigh. “Sure.”

“Sorry, honey. Promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“That’s okay, Mom. Have fun. I’ll call you later.”

“Love you,” she said.

“Love you, too,” I replied, then reached over to press the end button on my phone. As I looked back up, a truck was coming straight toward me on the road, and I quickly swerved as they blasted their horn, getting back in my lane and pulling off the road before slamming to a stop.

“Shit,” I muttered, heaving a breath as my heart pounded out of my chest.

I needed to get my shit under control. Between the blind date and my Bronco being out of commission, I was losing myself. Just because things weren’t going as planned didn’t mean the world was falling apart.

Once I got my bearings, I made a U-turn and headed toward Bottom of the Buckle Ranch. I figured if seeing my mom was out of the question, I could at least work some horses for the Bronsons. I’d just give Lettie the extra salad. Bailey would love that, given Lettie had a bad habit of forgetting to eat and take her iron supplements for her anemia.

About twenty minutes later, I pulled up the dirt driveway to the Bronsons’ property. I parked in my usual spot outside the rescue barn. For safe measure, before turning off the engine, I got out to double check that the radiator still wasn’t leaking.

Satisfied with the way it looked, I closed the hood and came around the driver’s side to turn off the car. With being on the Bronsons’ property, I didn’t bother locking it after grabbing the two salads.

“What are those?” Lettie asked, coming out of the barn.

I turned to her, holding them up. “Salads. Want one?”

“Did Bailey put you up to this?” she questioned with a skeptical raised brow.

“If you want to be suspicious of anyone, let it be my mom,” I said.

She stepped forward, taking one of the bags from me. “I take it she canceled?”

I nodded, tossing my bag back on the seat. I wasn’t in the mood to eat. “Says she’s with friends or something.”

The hint of a smile played on Lettie’s lips. “Are you jealous?”

“Of my mom’s friends?” I scoffed. “Please.”

She shrugged. “She did choose them over you.”

I frowned. “I highly doubt it’s really friends she’s with.” I walked past her, heading into the barn.

She followed right behind. “Who do you think it is?”

“Probably some new boyfriend.” I grabbed a halter from the hook and a bag of apple-flavored horse treats off the wood counter by the tack room.

“Not one of the others she’s seen in the past few months?”

I shook my head. “Definitely not.”

Lettie set the bag of salad down where I’d grabbed the treats, then followed me out to the round pen. My mom didn’t stick with one boyfriend very long, and it was never a mystery as to why. At least to me, it wasn’t. Deep down, even after my father left for good, she was afraid a man could do what he did, so she never let it get too serious. A few dates, and she’d break up with them. I wish she didn’t think she had to do that, but if I brought it up, she’d tell me she was fine, that she was getting old and wanted to have fun.

The way she put it, it sounded more like a midlife crisis than anything else.

I opened the gate, stepping into the round pen and latching the chain behind me. Lettie had rescued a gray quarter horse from an auction about a year ago, and the progress with the gelding had been slow. I was determined to get him to at least trust me, though. I didn’t want him to go through life afraid of any hand offering to help him.

“Well, I hope this one works out,” Lettie said, her tone sympathetic.

“It won’t,” I deadpanned, grabbing a fistful of treats and setting the bag in the dirt by the gate. I looped the halter around my shoulder, and all the while, the gray stared at me. He had a fire in him, and I didn’t want to put it out. I just wanted him to let us burn together.

“You know, naming him might help,” Lettie said.

“It’s your horse,” I reminded her without looking away from the gelding.

“I don’t think he’s mine anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

“You two seem to get along just fine.”

I rolled my eyes, though I knew she couldn’t see it from where she was standing against the fence behind me. “I think you need your eyes checked.”

“Oh, I can see just fine.”

I held the handful of treats out toward the horse, then took a slow step forward. He didn’t move as he kept his wide eyes trained on me, though I could tell he was nervous with the way his nostrils flared slightly.

“It’s alright, buddy,” I murmured.

“Buddy would be a good name,” Lettie said behind me.

“Not helping, Lettie.”

“I’m just saying. Name him and see how far you get.”

“Who’s the horse trainer here?” I asked, not looking back.

“I had to ask myself the same question,” she joked, then her footsteps sounded as she walked away from the round pen.

“Good riddance, huh?” I said to the horse. “She never stops talking sometimes.”

His ear twitched as a fly landed on it, his tail swishing on impulse to bat the insects away.

“Unless you like the talking?” I asked him. “You know, I could get some fly spray on you and take care of that problem real quick.”

Every few seconds, I’d take another slow step toward him. It wasn’t much, but it was progress that he hadn’t tried to move away from me yet. Typically, he’d stay as far away as he could, always trying to point his ass toward me.

Horse 101? Don’t let them disrespect you with their body, whether it’s on the ground or in the saddle.

This guy, however, could be named Disrespect with the way he’d been acting for the last year. I’d given him a few months off in the pasture, hoping he’d get it out of his system, but when I took him out, he was just as hateful toward me as the day I put him in there.

“Maybe you don’t like apple-flavored treats,” I said.

“Are you talking to that horse?”

In a flash, the gray spooked, darting away from me. He kicked up dust in his wake, doing a few laps for good measure.

My nostrils flared as I inhaled deeply, trying to calm myself before I acted.

I spun on the person who ruined the little progress I had been making. The man who ruined everything .

“What the fuck, Reed?”

He kicked a boot up on the bottom of the fence, crossing his arms over the top. He was wearing a black t-shirt that hugged his biceps just fucking right, and his typical black cowboy hat cast a shadow over his face. “You’re dancing with the devil, you know.”

I give up.

Today was not my fucking day.

I grabbed the bag of treats from the ground, tossing the ones in my hand to the dirt, then hopped over the fence, not bothering to go through the gate. As I jumped to the ground, dust kicked up around my boots.

I barely glanced at Reed as I headed toward the barn. “Only one that close to the devil is you,” I said over my shoulder at him.

I’d never get anywhere with this damn horse if he kept popping up like this. He was already pissed I was attempting to gentle the gelding, so he was doing everything he could to sabotage it.

Well, newsflash: you don’t get everything you want.

The world was cutthroat, and you had to work for it, no matter the obstacles.

I’d just have to figure out how to get past the one in front of me.