Cowgirls Don't Cry(11)

Brandt couldn’t believe Jessie had snuck out.

He really couldn’t believe she’d sucker punched him.

Not a sucker punch if she warned you.

True.

Fifteen minutes after she’d socked him a good one, he’d noticed she hadn’t returned to the reception.

He checked the parking lot and saw her pickup was gone.

Brandt had left immediately.

The drive to her place had been little more than a blur. He knew when he’d cut the truck’s headlights and pulled into her driveway that she hadn’t gone to bed yet. Even if her trailer had been completely dark he’d still be standing on her porch, ready to rip the damn door off the hinges if she didn’t answer his knock.

A knock, which she’d ignored for the fifth time.

Screw it. Jessie already thought he was heavy handed, so he used that heavy hand to beat on the aluminum siding. “I ain’t leavin’ Jessie, so open up.”


Lexie barked inside and Jessie shushed her as the door swung inward.

His braced himself, half-expecting she’d be aiming a shotgun at him.

Why that thought heated his blood just proved how twisted he was when it came to his conflicted feelings about his former sister-in-law.

But Jessie wasn’t packing heat. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him through the screen door. “Did you bring the ropes to hogtie me with?”


“Funny. I’m comin’ in.”


She muttered, “Typical McKay macho bullshit ,” and unlocked the screen door.

Any relief that she’d relented to listen to him vanished when he remembered what he had to tell her.

Inside, he absentmindedly patted Lexie’s head and watched Jessie grab two beers out of the fridge.

She passed him a bottle on her way to sit on the couch.

She’d changed out of the slinky gray cocktail dress and into baggy red sweatpants and a black sports bra that molded to her upper torso, emphasizing the slenderness of her shoulders, the gentle curve of her breasts and the flatness of her belly. Damn woman looked good no matter what she wore.

Or didn’t wear. The image of her naked in his arms had been permanently burned into his memory banks, but oddly, that wasn’t the first thing that popped into his head whenever he saw her. Usually the word mine flashed behind his eyes in big red letters, and that was just all kinds of f*cked up.

By the time she faced him, he’d managed a bland expression.

Jessie’s gaze dropped to his stomach. “Sorry for punching you.”


“No, you’re not.”


Her smile was there and gone. “Why are you here?”


“Because I need to tell you something.” At her uncomfortable look, he held up his hand. “I promise it doesn’t have nothin’ to do with the embarrassing way I threw myself at your feet last year.”


She frowned.

“You don’t remember?”


“Of course I remember. I just…didn’t see it that way.”


“Thank God for that,” he muttered, swigging his beer.

“What’s up, that you had to chase me down at eleven o’clock on a Saturday night?”


Blurt it out.

No, break it to her gently.

“Brandt?”


“It’s…” Fuck. This was gonna suck ass.

“What? You’re scaring me.”


“I came across some information… Well, that ain’t exactly true. I wasn’t the one who made initial contact… Ah hell. I’m doin’ this all wrong.” He chugged another drink of beer. “Last month a woman called me. She said she knew Luke.”