11
Lurking in hallways
Lawson’s Landing, mid-October
Brandy-Lyn leaned closer to the mirror and swapped out her gold hoops for the diamond drops.
“Third date, huh?” Preston said, folding his arms.
Olivia grinned. “Something you want to tell us, Mom?”
“It sucks that you have a boyfriend, and I don’t,” Amelia grumped.
Her eyes flicked to the reflection of her children arrayed in a row behind her. “Stas is just a friend,” she protested, catching Preston’s amused stare. “And it’s not really a date.”
Her son arched his brows. “Did he ask you out?”
The earring post clipped into place. “That’s beside the point.”
“It’s a date,” Preston asserted.
“We haven’t even kissed .”
“Ew.” Amelia wrinkled her nose. “The idea of some guy kissing you is just weird.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t stand here and pass comments.”
“ You called us in to help choose an outfit,” Amelia pointed out.
Brandy blinked. She couldn’t dispute that charge. In fact, they did more than help her select a top. The girls insisted on a whole new outfit. It was one she bought in Austin on Jackie’s insistence. She waved her hands. “Now shoo. Unless you want to watch me pee.”
“Gross.” Amelia.
“Ugh.” Olivia.
“I’m outta here.” Preston.
Brandy watched them shove through the door, grumbling as they went about what movie to watch first and if they’d order tacos versus pizza for supper. Turning to the bathroom, she caught herself in the mirror.
And groaned.
Why had she let them talk her into this outfit? She was forty, for heaven’s sake, not twenty. The brown denim corset revealed too much cleavage, and the short, flirty skirt too much leg.
“Don’t change your outfit.”
Brandy’s gaze snapped to the doorway.
Amelia slouched against the frame.
“But—”
“Uh-uh, Mom. You look stunning. And you deserve a night out with a handsome and charming man.”
“You’ve never met Stas.”
“I’ve seen him hanging around school.”
“School?”
“Yeah. He’s pulled bodyguard duty for Caitlin and the boys a few times.”
“Oh.”
“Now, let me fix your makeup.” Amelia lifted her arm, dangling her makeup bag from her forefinger. “I know you don’t have much, so I brought mine.”
“Mimi.”
“No arguments, Mom.” She pointed to the chair. “Sit.”
Brandy sat.
And ten minutes later even she had to admit the results were stunning.
“See?”
Her daughter had skillfully blended brown and green eyeshadow, darkened her brows with a pencil, and layered on mascara.
A light dusting of powder toned down the shine of her skin, and her lips were outlined with russet and filled in with matching color.
Her freshly washed and blown out hair hung in a thick fall down her back. “I look …” She trailed off.
Amelia grinned. “Mysterious and alluring. Absolutely gorgeous.”
Their eyes met in the mirror. “Thank you.”
“Jeez, Mom. No tears. And you’re almost late, so hop along.”
She “hopped” along, calling goodbye to the twins slouching on the sectional, but stuttered to a halt when Preston called after her, “I’ve slipped condoms in your purse, Mom.”
Rolling her eyes, she called out. “There will be no sex tonight.”
The first time she went out with Stas, he hadn’t even kissed her cheek.
It had been a fun evening at the popular Italian restaurant but ended when he walked her to the truck.
They parted with him saying, “I had a great time. Drive home safely.” Thinking sex was on the cards tonight was pushing it.
Besides, did she really want to go there with Stas?
You’ve gotta start somewhere, Brandy.
Then the import of Preston’s statement hit her.
Her son was just shy of fourteen . Where the hell did he get condoms from?
She backtracked. “Preston Springer, where did you get the condoms?”
“I asked Raff.”
She gaped at her son. “What?” she croaked.
Preston squinted at her. “I bumped into Raff this afternoon and asked if he had any to spare.”
“And the man just handed you condoms?”
“Of course not. Jeepers, Mom. Calm down. I explained it was for you. That you had a date tonight.”
Her legs gave way, and she set her ass on the armrest and enunciated, “Just to be clear, you asked Rafferty Lawson for condoms this afternoon and told him it was for me .”
“Yeah. Why are you so upset? You need to practice safe sex, Mom. We do not need another baby sibling.”
“I am not having sex tonight. And you, Preston Springer, are grounded for the next twenty years.”
“Harsh,” Olivia muttered.
“Jeez, Mom. Why’re you punishing me? I’m only looking out for you.”
Ugh .
She bolted up and stormed from the house as if the hounds of hell were behind her.
And cast a glare at the large home mere minutes away.
For the last ten days (she was not counting) he’d come by the stables early in the morning and spent time with Elsa.
She never joined them but surreptitiously watched as he walked the horse — with halter and lead — around the paddock.
He always had treats in his pocket, and the mare accepted them from his hand without fuss.
And she was glad. Truly.
If the horse bonded with him, she’d gladly relinquish ownership.
But.
The man knew she was going out tonight.
Her son had procured condoms from him.
For her.
And he — Rafferty, that is, not Preston — had condoms at the ready to dish out.
Out of the three revelations, why did the final one disturb her the most?
He was nothing to her beyond a thorn in her flesh.
They were both adults.
She was allowed to have sex.
And so was he.
It just would never be them .
Brandy did not like the surge of disappointment flooding her.
No siree, not at all.
Dammit.
She backed out of the carport and slammed the Yukon into drive, pulling away with a burst of speed.
*
Brandy-Lyn found a spot to park at the end of the parking lot behind Daisy’s Saloon and texted Stas she had arrived as he’d requested when she had warned him that she was running late.
She did not, however, wait in the SUV for him to fetch her, and hit the sidewalk on Second.
He met her halfway, his hand fisted on his hips, shaking his head.
“God protect me from stubborn women. But” —his eyes swept over her — “you look absolutely stunning, and I cannot find it in me to be annoyed because it gave me an opportunity to watch you strut toward me.”
Her eyes drifted over the man. He wore dark jeans — ironed, mind you, which she could use against him — and an untucked black shirt, top two buttons undone.
He looked mighty fine. “You clean up well, too.” On impulse, she grabbed hold of his upper arms, stretched onto her toes, and placed a kiss on his cheek.
A grin slashed across his face. “I think we can do better that that.” He tilted his head. “May I?”
For a beat she regretted her spontaneous action.
You’ve gotta start somewhere, Brandy.
Okay, then. Here goes.
She nodded.
He gave her a searching look. “Yes?”
“Yes.”
He bent forward and claimed her mouth with a firm press of his lips.
She opened beneath him, tangling her tongue with his, tasting the beer and something salty he’d recently consumed.
His hand cupped the underside of her jaw, and he eased away, lifting his head.
“Good evening, Brandy,” he murmured, sliding his thumb over her chin.
“Hello, Stanislaw. And for your information, I do not strut.”
Her snippy comment earned her another flash of teeth from him. It also masked her disappointment at her body’s lackluster response to his kiss.
“You strutted.” Stas stepped back, and his gaze swept her from head to toe. “And babe, that’s an outfit made for strutting.”
She wrinkled her nose. “My kids made me wear it.”
“Smart kids.” He moved beside her and slung an arm across her shoulder, drawing her closer.
The small purse with its procured contents hanging from the crossbody strap rubbed against her hip with each step.
You’ve gotta start somewhere, Brandy.
But was it right to take advantage of Stas in that way?
*
“Having fun, Red?”
Her head jerked up, and her eyes clashed with Rafferty’s hooded gaze as he emerged from the dark.
“What are you doing here?”
“If you mean Daisy’s, it’s Friday, and the music is good. If you mean here, in the restroom hallway, well, I’m lurking,”
“Lurking?”
“Yeah. Waiting for you.”
“Waiting … Why?” she wailed, heart hammering.
“Honestly, I don’t know.”
The bright overhead light picked up the midnight glints of his black hair.
She took in his broody countenance enhanced by the dark scruff of his beard and the tight black tee. He looked … haggard. “Are you okay?” She took a step closer and peered into his eyes. Had he been using?
Rafferty compressed his lips. “I’m clean, Red.”
“Good.” Brandy refused to apologize for her concern. God help her, but she cared about what happened to him.
“So, you and Stas …” He trailed off, the words hanging between them.
“What about me and Stas?” His comment reminded her that he had supplied the condoms in her purse. And dammit, she couldn’t stop her cheeks from heating up.
And double damn, he noticed. A smile ghosted over his lips. “Nothing to be ashamed of, Red. He’s a good man.”
“He is.” She frowned, not liking the way he unsettled her.
It was one thing to interact with him in the wide, open space of the ranch, but the confines of the narrow hallway enhanced her senses, making her ultra-aware of him.
It was as if his mere presence consumed all the air, making it hard for her to breathe. “I need to go,” she muttered.
“That’s probably for the best.”
Yet her feet stayed rooted.
The woman who had entered the ladies’ while Brandy had been washing her hands exited, her focus on her cellphone, not even noticing the two of them. A blast of noise reverberated off the walls as she pushed through to the main bar area, then dimmed as the door swung closed behind her.
“I saw you and him,” Rafferty said. “Earlier. Outside. When you kissed.”
Her frown deepened to a scowl, annoyed he’d observed something she did trying to exorcise him from her mind.
“And I’ve sat all evening, in the shadows, watching the two of you.”
Her body snapped to attention. “What the hell, Rafferty?”
“It’s all kinds of wrong. I know.” He huffed a breath that could only be described as frustrated. “Red, you’ve turned me into a stalker.”
“Why?” she wailed.
“Because I want to be the one kissing you,” he yelled back.
Her mouth dropped open.
He gave a rough laugh. “Ah, come on, Brandy-Lyn. Don’t act all surprised. We’ve been dancing around this attraction for weeks now.”
“It’s wrong,” she croaked.
“Yes. And therein lies my dilemma.”
“Dilemma?”
“Should I drag you into the shadows and kiss you senseless, erase all memory of him on your lips, or should I do the right thing and walk through that door and find the woman who slipped me her number earlier?”
Kiss me. Kiss me.
“Dammit, Red,” he growled, taking a step forward, desire alive in his eyes.
Then he shook his head and pushed past her, slamming through the swing door. Noise blasted around her, then receded. Blasted again. Receded.
The door settled in place.
And Brandy battled acute disappointment while staring at the barrier.
“It’s for the best,” she whispered, echoing his earlier words.
Stas insisted on walking her to her truck when she returned to him pleading a headache and said she wanted to go home. She hated lying, but there was no way she was in any mood to continue the farce of the evening.
It wasn’t fair on him. Nor her.
“Thanks for the escort,” she whispered when he opened the truck door.
“I am a protector.” He gave her a wry smile, and leaned in. “But I know you don’t have a headache.”
Her eyes widened. And dammit, the telltale flush of hers bloomed. She dropped her head in shame. “I’m sorry.”
He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head, his eyes meeting hers. “Does your leaving have something to do with Rafferty Lawson?”
She drew in a sharp breath. It seemed to be her night for men shocking her. “No,” she squeaked.
Stas merely lifted his brows.
“Maybe. It’s … complicated,” she muttered, dropping her gaze.
“Are you leaving now to meet him?”
Her eyes flew back to clash with his, horrified at his question. “No! Why would you even think that?”
“He stormed out moments before you returned from your long bathroom break.”
“Oh.”
“And he was at the bar, watching you, all evening. Followed you to the ladies.”
How had she not noticed? “We had words in the restroom hallway.”
Stas’s eyes narrowed. “Is he harassing you, Brandy?”
“No!”
You’ve turned me into a stalker .
“No,” she repeated, softer. “Nothing like that. It’s just …” How did she explain something she didn’t understand herself?
“Complicated?” Stas supplied, using her earlier word.
“Yeah.”
“He’s been to hell and back.”
“I know.”
“And needs time to heal before starting a relationship.”
“There will never be a relationship between us.”
“Because of you having dated Sullivan?”
“Exactly. And I part-own Blaze Canyon Stables. I’ve already lost one business to a failed relationship, not risking this one, too.”
“Hmm.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just strange how you ended up here.”
Brandy bit back an outburst of frustration at his cryptic words. “Stas, I am tired. And a headache, a real headache, is forming. I need to get home.” She placed a booted foot on the runner board and hopped up into the seat.
He leaned in. “Brandy, I don’t think you should dismiss the” — he gave a half-grin — “complication between you and Lawson. But not yet. He needs to learn how to live free first.”
“Live free?”
“I’ve done undercover work. A few months here and there. It changes you in a fundamental way, and it’s a battle to regain your footing. Rafferty Lawson spent years living a lie, becoming the lie. It’s going to take a while for him to be ready for a healthy relationship.”
“You’re assuming I want to go there with him.”
Time will tell. In the meantime, if you need a sounding board, I’m here. As a friend — just a friend. We both know there’s no spark for anything more.” Stas stepped back. “Drive safely, Brandy. And text me when you’re home.” He closed the door and slapped a hand on the roof.
Brandy gave him a crooked smile and pressed the starter, more confused now than earlier.