5. Braxton
brAXTON
The storm rolled in fast the way summer storms always did in Mustang Mountain. One moment there was clear sky above, the next moment thunder shook the ground and rain hammered on the roof like gravel.
Ruby called thirty minutes after the first lightning strike, talking loud enough I could hear her through Addison’s phone. "Evening events are canceled. We're not risking contestants in this weather."
Relief filled Addison's voice. "Understood. I'll check in tomorrow morning."
"Are you staying out at Braxton’s ranch?"
"Yes."
"Good. Stay put. Roads are already flooding."
Addison set her phone down and looked at me. "Guess we're stuck here."
"You don’t sound disappointed."
"It will be good to have a night off. I’m tired.”
She looked it too. Dark smudges sat under her eyes despite the makeup she'd reapplied after we'd left the community center. Her shoulders carried tension she couldn't quite hide, and her smile had slipped twice in the last hour.
I made sure the front door was locked and checked the windows while Addison walked through the downstairs rooms like she was in a fog. I didn’t blame her. How much more could one woman take?
She paused at the mantel, studied the dusty frames, and moved on.
The lights flickered once. Twice. Then the power went out. Emergency lighting kicked in downstairs. Thank fuck for the battery backup I'd installed years ago and never bothered to rip out. Pale blue LEDs lit the hallway and kitchen enough to get by.
Addison stood in the living room doorway, backlit and still. "You’re prepared for this?"
"Always."
"Of course you are."
Thunder cracked close enough to rattle the windows. Rain pounded harder.
I found the storm lanterns in the kitchen pantry—propane, reliable, the kind Dad used to keep for calving season emergencies. I lit two and carried one into the living room.
Addison had moved to the bookshelves. She traced the spines without pulling anything free, her fingers light and careful.
"Your family left all this behind?"
"More or less."
"Why?"
"They moved closer to town after Eli died. Mom couldn't stand being out here."
She glanced back at me. "Eli?"
I set the lantern on the coffee table. "My brother."
Addison turned toward me, her expression open and waiting for me to say more.
I hadn't talked about Eli in years. Hadn't said his name out loud to anyone except family, and even then, only when necessary.
But Addison was looking at me like she saw past the controlled bodyguard routine, past the discipline I'd built to keep people at a distance, past all of it. And something in me splintered.
"There's a picture of him on the top shelf."
She followed my gaze and reached up to pull down the frame I'd almost forgotten was there.
Dust coated the glass. She wiped it clean with her sleeve and studied the image.
I already knew what she’d see. Two boys. One seventeen, already broad-shouldered and serious. One fourteen, grinning like the world was his for the taking.
"That's you."
"Yeah."
"And the other must be Eli."
"Yeah."
She carried the frame to the couch and sat down. The picture rested in her lap. "What happened?"
I stood by the window and looked out at the storm while I tried to decide how much I wanted to tell her. "It was a summer storm just like this one. I was seventeen. Eli was fourteen. Lightning hit the barn."
Thunder punctuated the end of the sentence like the universe had a wicked sense of timing.
"Fire spread fast. The barn was full of hay and dry as hell despite the rain. I got Eli out. Got the horses out. Thought we were clear."
"But you weren't."
"One of the mares panicked. She was trapped in the back stall. Eli heard her screaming and went back inside before I could stop him."
Addison's voice was quiet. "You followed him."
"Hell yeah, I did." The guilt threatened to pull me under like it always did.
"What happened?"
I didn’t answer right away. I’d already said too much. But Addison didn’t push, just sat there and waited. Finally, I took in a deep breath and told her. "The roof came down. Beams, tin, the whole damn thing. Eli was under it before I got halfway across the barn floor."
I heard her suck in a breath, then let it out steady and controlled.
The same way I'd taught myself to breathe after it happened.
"I pulled him out. Tried CPR. Tried everything. The fire department got there ten minutes later. By then it didn't matter."
"Braxton—"
"He went back for a horse. A goddamn horse. And I couldn't stop him."
She stood and crossed the space between us, stopping close enough that I could feel her there.
"You were seventeen."
"Old enough to know better."
"Old enough to blame yourself."
I looked at her finally. "Aren't you going to tell me it wasn't my fault?"
"Would you believe me if I did?"
"No."
"Then I won't waste my breath."
Something about that honesty hit me harder than comfort would have.
She moved back to the couch, pulled her knees up, and wrapped her arms around them. "Evie taught me early on that people don't like it when rodeo queens admit they're scared."
The shift in subject caught me off guard. "What?"
"I was sixteen. It was my first big appearance at state finals. There was an older guy who kept showing up wherever I was. He'd leave flowers at my trailer. Wait by my truck. Ask questions about my schedule."
"What did Evie do?"
"She told me smiling through it was part of the job. That if I made a scene, sponsors would worry I couldn't handle pressure. That rodeo queens who fall apart in public don't get invited back."
"So you learned to hide it."
"I learned that admitting I'm scared makes people uncomfortable.
Someone always steps in. Cancels things.
Changes schedules. Decides I'm not capable.
And suddenly the problem isn't the guy following me, it's me for noticing.
" She said it so matter-of-factly, like she was telling me something simple instead of sharing something that had shaped her entire life.
"So I smiled. And I kept smiling. Because that's what you do when you wear the crown."
I sat down across from her. "I knew you were scared the first time I saw you."
Her smile appeared in an instant.
I leaned forward and touched her mouth with my thumb. "Don't."
She froze.
"Don't smile at me like that. Don't perform. Not here. Not with me."
Her lips parted under my thumb, and her breathing changed. I should have pulled back. I didn't. She leaned in. I met her halfway.
The kiss was gentle but honest in a way that scared the hell out of me because I'd built my entire life around control and distance and never getting involved with clients. And Addison Blake tasted like everything I'd always told myself I couldn't have.
She made a sound low in her throat and her hands came up to my shoulders, gripping hard enough to hurt.
I pulled her closer.
She climbed into my lap without breaking contact and kissed me like she'd been holding back for days.
Maybe she had. Maybe I had too.
Her fingers tangled in my hair. Her body pressed against mine. Her mouth opened and I was gone—completely, dangerously gone.
I pulled away before I couldn't.
Her breathing was ragged. Her pupils blown wide. Her lips swollen. "Braxton—"
"I don't get involved with clients."
"You just did."
"That was a mistake."
"Was it?" She stayed in my lap, her hands still on my shoulders, her green eyes holding mine without flinching.
"I don't do this, Addison."
"Do what? Kiss people? Feel things? Let someone in?"
"All of it."
"Why not?"
"Because I can't protect you if I'm distracted."
"I'm not asking you to stop protecting me. I'm asking you to stop pretending you don't want to kiss me again."
Hell, she was right. I did want to kiss her again. I wanted to carry her upstairs and find out what she’d sound like when she let go of that perfect smile completely.
But I also wanted to keep her safe. And I couldn't do both.
Before I could say anything, the security system reconnected. My phone gave off a high-pitched beep…. a notification from the motion-activated camera I’d set up at the community center.
Addison scrambled off my lap and grabbed my phone from the coffee table. “Does that mean someone's there?”
I took the phone from her and pulled up the app. Grainy night-vision footage showed a figure moving through the storage area with a flashlight. They had on a rain jacket with the hood up, making it impossible to see their face.
"We need to go." Addison was already moving toward the door.
I grabbed my truck keys and followed.
The roads were slick and flooding in low spots. I drove faster than I should have, hydroplaning twice before we hit the main stretch into town.
Addison gripped the door handle but didn't tell me to slow down.
The community center parking lot was empty. Whoever had triggered the motion sensor was either still inside or had already gotten away. I parked close to the entrance and got out.
The front door was unlocked. Inside, the heritage storage area door stood open. Emergency lighting cast everything in sickly yellow.
The album was gone, along with whoever had taken it.
Addison walked past me into the storage area like she was wading through deep water. She knelt where the album had been and touched the empty shelf.
"She wouldn't."
I checked the back exit. It was still locked from the inside. Which meant whoever took the album left through the front and left before we even arrived.
"Addison. Look at me."
She did. Her eyes were too bright. Her hands shook.
“The tracker was in your crown case. Evie had access to it. She knew you were working with the heritage material, and she knew about the photograph before most people did.”
“That doesn't mean she took it.”
“No.”
I blinked at him.
Braxton’s expression stayed hard. “It means I’m not taking her off the list because you don’t want her on it.”
“She’s my mentor.”
“I know.”
“She’s the only person who’s been there for me since I started this.”
“I know that too.”
“Then stop looking at me like I’m stupid for believing her.”
“I don’t think you’re stupid.” His voice softened. “I think you trust her. Those aren’t the same thing.”
"So why would she do this?"
"I don't know yet. But we're going to find out."
Addison's phone buzzed. She looked at the screen. Then showed it to me.
You should have left it alone.
The number was blocked, but the photograph attached wasn't.
It was a grainy image of Addison and me in the storage area five minutes ago. Like someone had tapped into the feed. Someone had been watching. And they wanted us to know it.