2
Brandy
Austin, Texas, early August
Several minutes into her journey, the ringtone rudely cut into Chris Stapleton singing about starting over. A quick glance at the device showed Preston Calling. Brandy-Lyn Powers pressed the accept button on her steering wheel. “Y’all miss your momma already?” she asked, smiling.
“We are not staying here,” her fourteen-year-old son ground out.
She banked her frustration. Preston was more melodramatic than his sisters combined and the angriest with his father. “Pres—” she started, but he cut her off.
“She’s living here,” he yelled.
The hell? Brandy pulled off the road, grateful she hadn’t yet left the luxury subdivision where her ex-husband now lived. With his new girlfriend, it seemed. The one he’d only informed them about two days ago.
He could’ve had the decency to warn the kids that she was shacking up with him , she thought bitterly. She inhaled a calming breath. “We are divorced,” she reminded him.
“There’s a baby , Mom. An eight-month-old baby. His baby. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to do the math.”
A baby? “Say what?”
“Richard Springer is a lying, cheating son of a bitch,” he screamed, his anger reverberating in the close confines of the car. She lowered the volume.
“Preston,” a deeper voice sounded in the background.
It was the lying, cheating son of a bitch.
And the son of a bitch part was factual. Her — thankfully — former mother-in-law’s image appeared beside that word in the dictionary.
“Give me the phone,” Richard continued, his voice louder.
“No!”
“Darn it, son. Give me the phone!”
“Don’t call me that. I am no longer your son, cheater ,” Preston spat. “Please come fetch us, Mom.” The call cut out.
She stared through the windshield, dumbfounded.
Richard had cheated while they were married?
And he’d had the audacity to blame her for their marital failure?
“Mother fucking bastard,” she whispered, slamming her fist against the steering wheel. She had the wherewithal to glance in the rearview mirror before executing a U-turn and retracing her earlier route.
The man had made her give up Weeping Willows — the equestrian business she had grown from the ground up — by piling on guilt that she had broken their marriage. Meanwhile …
“ Ugh !” she yelled, slamming to a stop at the intersection. There were no other vehicles, and she gunned the engine, shooting forward. Thirty seconds later she screeched to a stop in front of Richard’s new house, cutting the engine.
Seething, she glared at the dwelling — a riverfront house that cost double of what she received in settlement for their eighteen-year marriage — he now shared with the woman and child he’d kept hidden throughout their divorce proceedings.
Bastard.
She stormed up the flagstone pathway and the extra wide front door swung open as she neared the covered porch. “I can explain,” Richard the Dick said, stepping out, closing the door behind him.
Brandy took a moment to look him over — from his perfectly coifed hair, down over his trim body clad in a blue golf shirt and white chino shorts, to the leather loafers he wore sockless.
Once, she had loved this man. Now she seethed with contempt for the way he had manipulated her before they even got married.
“You impregnated a woman while sharing a bed with me.” She folded her arms and tapped her foot. “Explain that , asshole.”
He stretched out his arm. “Now, Brandy, be reasonable,” he implored.
Oh, hell no, he hadn’t just … “Reasonable?”
The door opened again; their three kids stood clustered together. “We’re ready,” Amelia whispered, wide-eyed.
“You’re not going,” Richard protested.
“Go get in the Yukon,” Brandy countered, stepping closer to her former husband, giving the kids room to move behind her.
“Stop—”
She placed a restraining hand on his chest and shoved him back. “We agreed, before a judge, to give our children the right to decide where they want to be,” she said, sotto voce. “They don’t want to be here right now. Don’t be a fucking prick and distance them further.”
“Still so uncouth,” he muttered.
The angry bawl of a baby drifted from within the house, followed by a wailing, “Riiickieee.”
Richard turned his head to look inside, and his mouth thinned.
A measure of righteous glee surged through her.
If there was one thing Richard Springer detested, it was whining.
“You’re wanted, Rickie,” she mocked. “Better listen to your new woman.”
The baby’s crying increased in volume. He moved sideways across the threshold. “This isn’t over, Brandy.”
“Oh, but it is, Richard. And you’ve only yourself to blame.”
She spun about and walked toward her children where they waited beside the vehicle. “Guess y’all coming to Buchanan Lake.”
“Won’t Aunt Jackie mind?” Amelia asked.
“Never,” Brandy said. Childless and unmarried, Jackie adored her kids — the three musketeers as her friend called them. “Bags in the back?”
“Yeah,” Preston replied.
“Shotgun,” Olivia called out, grabbing the passenger handle.
“Not so fast, kiddo.” She hooked an arm around Livvie’s neck, turning her girl to face her. “You okay?” Her youngest was the sensitive one. And a daddy’s girl.
Olivia’s doleful stare drifted to the house. “Not really.”
“Today was a shock. Give it time to settle.”
“He cheated on you, Mommy. That’s so wrong,” her precious Livvie whispered.
She dropped her forehead to Livvie’s. “I know, honey,” she replied. Her heart ached. Olivia had lost a part of her innocence today.
*
“Bastard,” Jackie muttered, topping up their wine glasses of the robust red she imported from South Africa.
“Hmm-mm,” Brandy hummed, lifting the glass to her lips.
Her gaze moved beyond the small circle of light the fire provided.
It was a new moon, the sky ablaze with stars, reflecting the glorious heavenly splendor on the still water of Buchanan Lake, and the symphony of frogs drowned out other night sounds.
Well, except for the occasional blast from the cabin where her kids watched an action movie.
Brandy took another sip of the red nectar. So smooth.
Nothing beat an excellent wine. Not even sex.
Not that she’d had any sex in …
She did a quick calculation. Sixteen months since Richard the Unfaithful asked for a divorce.
At least she had her trusty battery-operated friends to take the edge off her needs.
They certainly did a better job than Dickless wonder ever had.
They were loyal and always delivered on their promise.
Except the one time, but that was her fault for not recharging the battery.
Maybe it was time to expand her collection?
Yes, siree, it was toys for her from now on. “I’m done with men.”
“I’m happy to nudge you over to my side, love,” her friend offered.
She gave Jackie a side-eye. “You ever contemplate switching back?”
The canvas creaked, and Jackie leaned forward to throw another log onto the fire. “There was this one man …” Jackie trailed off.
“Ooh, do tell.” Brandy settled back. Campfires, wine, and salacious stories. A soothing trifecta after a wholly crappy day.
Jackie picked up a bundle of sage and twisted her neck. “He was phenomenal.” She paused, a playful grin teased her lips, firelight dancing in her hazel eyes.
“Waiting …”
“The first time I ever orgasmed with a man. Repeatedly.” Facing the fire, she tossed the tied sprigs onto the flames. The musty, earthy aroma from the plant drifted around them.
“ Ugh . Get on with the story.”
“You might not like the story.”
“Won’t know until you tell me.”
“It was in college. The early days of you and Sexy Sull.”
And Jackie paused again.
“Jackie!”
Her friend sniggered like a teenager. “Think broody, bad-boy biker …”
Brandy cast her mind back to that period. She and Sullivan had become a couple toward the end of their second year in college, but she couldn’t recall someone fitting that description hanging out with Jackie.
Unless …
Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. She almost toppled the camping chair as she swung to face Jackie. “No way.”
Jackie’s teeth gleamed. “Yes, way.”
“You did the horizontal mambo with Sullivan’s brother ?”
“And the vertical tango and shower salsa and—”
“St-stop!” Brandy sputtered.
“His stamina was impressive.”
Brandy drained her glass, absorbing Jackie’s shocking revelation.
She had never felt entirely comfortable around Sullivan’s twin when he visited them that one time. Not that he’d made any sexual overtures or said anything inappropriate. In fact, he’d mostly ignored her, and when they had interacted, he’d treated her with utmost respect.
But the moment the man had entered her orbit, she’d been on alert.
And she had never been able to pinpoint why Rafferty Lawson had put her on tenterhooks, and when he’d finally left, she had breathed a sigh of relief.
“He made me uneasy,” she blurted.
“Hmm.” Jackie poured the last of the wine into Brandy’s glass. “I’m not surprised.”
“What do you mean?” she asked and took a generous sip.
“He wanted to … dance with you , love.”
Brandy sputtered, wine spurting out of her mouth and nose. Her eyes watered, and her nasal passages burned. Jackie rescued the crystal from her hand, replacing it with a paper napkin. Brandy wiped her eyes and blew her nose, her mind whirling. “You’re wrong,” she croaked.
Jackie remained silent.
And Brandy thought some more about her interactions with the man. Other than an initial embrace when Sully introduced them, Rafferty had never touched her again, even going to painstaking lengths to never be alone with her. And he’d always looked away when she felt his brooding stare on her.
But what if the brooding had masked …?
“ Shit .”
“Ah, she sees it now.”
“He never …” acted on it , she added silently, looking at Jackie.
Jackie was a mind reader amongst her other annoying qualities. “Of course, he never acted on it, love. You were forbidden. His brother’s girlfriend,” she added softly, placing her hand on Brandy’s arm.