by Jean Oram
“It’s cinnamon. I sprinkled it on our squash so Kurt would eat it at suppertime.”
“Well, it’s making me hungry.” Brant tightened his arms around her and she felt a surge of excitement at the potential of his embrace.
“There aren’t any more seats,” she heard Jackie say loudly, her tone flirty. “But you can share with me.”
April broke the kiss, glancing over her shoulder. Jenny and her chair were gone and Cole was standing in that spot, shifting awkwardly. Before she could react, Brant had clasped her hand and was pulling her onto the dance floor with a command to Cole, “Save our seats.”
Without waiting for confirmation from his brother, Brant tugged her into the throng of moving bodies, holding her close. One thing she loved about country songs was that all the dances involved holding your partner. The musical genre had definitely gotten that right.
With one hand on Brant’s shoulder and the other tucked in his grasp, April allowed him to lead her around the dance floor. She did her best not to check on their table to see what Jackie and Cole were up to.
Unable to resist, she finally took a peek. Cole was leaning back in his chair, looking lost, while Jackie’s smile seemed too bright and tight. That woman needed to find her courage and go for it.
The same could be said about herself.
April returned her focus to Brant, whose warm smile widened when she made eye contact. Suddenly she felt as though she was standing too close, the expectations and desires too much for her to handle. There was so much potential. What if she messed up? She focused on breathing, on looking away and remaining cool.
All she could think about was the feel of his lips on hers.
“What was that back there?” she asked, referring to the kiss.
“You didn’t want to dance?” Brant replied.
“You know what I mean.”
“Opportunity knocked.”
“And so you opened the door?”
He grinned.
They were going to start more rumors, but she was so tired of worrying about what other people thought. Brant was a wonderful man, and everyone in town knew that. He hadn’t broken up her marriage, but maybe it hadn’t been right to be such good friends with a man who wasn’t your husband. Maybe that was why Heath had signed their divorce papers so quickly; he had seen that April and he didn’t have that closeness. But the games? Was his pride taking a hit with the gossip going around about her and Brant?
She shook off her thoughts. She was in Brant’s arms, ready for a new beginning.
“How late are you staying tonight?” she asked him.
“Not sure. You?”
She shrugged, wishing it was already midnight, so they’d have an excuse to kiss again without drawing excessive attention.
“Earlier you made it sound as though you had something planned for me.”
“I did?” Brant’s steps slowed, and she stumbled into him. He held her close until they regained their footing. And even then he continued to hold her tight.
He had a five o’clock shadow, no doubt an animal emergency having prevented him from shaving before coming out for New Year’s Eve. Or maybe he just knew what a turn-on it was and had opted to skip the razor.
“I guess it was just a feeling.”
“You wanted another surprise?”
“Maybe.”
“The kiss didn’t surprise you?”
“Maybe.” She shrugged, feeling shy.
“You want more surprises?”
“I’m greedy that way.”
“What are you greedy for?”
“What are you offering?”
His lips lowered, until his mouth just about on hers. “Everything you’d like.”
This felt like a fantasy.
“You’re forgetting something important, April MacFarlane.” He’d pulled her body close to his, her thin, tight dress doing little to prevent his appetizing heat from warming her soul.
“What’s that?” she asked breathlessly, barely daring to consider how dangerous this bold side of sweet Brant made her feel.
“I know you better than anyone else.”
“Do you?”
“And I know exactly what you need.”
“And what do I need?”
His lips landed on hers, hard, hot and demanding. She wrapped her arms around his neck as they swayed in the middle of the dance floor.
5
Brant continued to kiss April on the dance floor, ignoring the catcalls that echoed around them. Anyone who had a problem could speak to him. He had waited a long time for April, and tonight he wasn’t waiting any longer.
“Can I cut in?” a deep voice asked, as soon as they paused for a breath. They had been locked together, dancing long forgotten.
Brant turned toward the man, his focus hazy. He wanted to get out of here with April. They weren’t paying attention to the outside world, anyway, and the interruptions were very unwelcome.
“No,” April said firmly, causing Brant to focus on the situation. Her ex-husband, Heath, was facing them with a scowl.
“I’d like a second chance.”
“No.”
Brant’s hands were still around April’s waist, and he instinctively swung her to his side.
“I’m not falling for the fake boyfriend thing.” Heath gestured to Brant.
“He’s not a fake boyfriend!” April called over Brant’s shoulder.
Seeing this conversation wouldn’t head anywhere good, Brant pivoted, planning to steer himself and April back to the safety of their table. As soon as he turned away from Heath he realized his mistake.
A powerful hand used to handling rodeo livestock clamped onto his shoulder and spun him around.
Having grown up with four brothers, Brant trusted his instincts and ducked. Heath’s fist whizzed past his forehead, readjusting his hat, which was perched on the back of his head because of April’s wandering hands during that searing kiss. Brant grabbed it with one hand to keep it from tumbling to the sticky floor, and pushed April behind him with the other. As he straightened, another punch came his way, this one a right hook to his ribs. He curved away from the blow, exhaling and avoiding the worst of the impact.
The music was still pumping through the warm saloon, but people had crushed together to create a ring of space around the fighting duo. Over the roaring in Brant’s ears, he heard April yelling at her ex.
Brant kept his focus on Heath, barely aware of the men who flanked his sides, two on each side. His brothers.
The five of them were certainly going to hear about this from their mother in the morning, if not sooner.
“She’s mine, you interloper,” Heath growled, his words slurring. Brant exhaled. He’d had a feeling this would happen, especially getting involved with April so soon after the breakup. Heath would assume it was a game, or that the two of them had stepped out behind his back. He might not consider that it was only about April and her happiness.
Brant kept his mouth shut, not wanting to escalate the situation and humiliate her. He watched Heath’s moves, ready to block or swing if need be.
“He didn’t steal me!” April yelled from behind Brant.
“He’s been trying to steal you for years, but you’re too dumb to see it!” Heath retorted.
“Hey, now,” Brant said, struggling for calm. Then his hackles rose again when Cole positioned himself slightly in front of him.
“Their relationship isn’t your business,” his brother said firmly.
“Yeah?” Heath replied with a sneer. “Maybe I should scare this Wylder off, too.”
Brant growled at Cole and pulled him back. He didn’t need his brother coming to blows with Heath like they had the night before Cole left town. He had disappeared with a shiner, a swollen lip and his truck, leaving behind plenty of speculation.
Brant also didn’t need his brother whisking in and saving April like he used to when bars got rowdy during their rodeo days.
“I’ve got this,” he
said, and Cole backed off, his stance making it clear he was still ready for a fight.
“But Cole’s right. Who April dates isn’t your business,” Brant declared.
“You made your life my business when you gave April a house so she could leave me.” Heath jabbed a finger in Brant’s direction. “We were working things out. Her beloved horse is still at my place. That means something, you know. She still has one foot in the door.” He moved close, and his breath was hot like his anger. “My door.”
Brant inhaled slowly, trying to reject the possible kernel of truth in Heath’s words. April did have a tough time letting go. First with Cole, always going back for another round. Now with Heath. She’d struggled to pull the pin on their marriage for almost two years, and Brant feared that for Kurt’s sake she really might try to patch things up, even though she’d never truly loved the man.
“Leaving Cookies at the farm doesn’t mean a thing,” April said. “You refused to work on our relationship. Nothing ever changed. You gave me nothing but lip service for almost five years.”
“If you loved me, you wouldn’t need to change me.” Heath focused back on Brant. “You told her to leave. You were always there, then hiring her some lawyers, and showing up at the custody hearing. Now you’re telling her to ask for money.” Heath’s posture straightened, as if he planned to chest-bump Brant right out of the saloon. “You need to back out of our business.”
Heath stepped forward to shove Brant, who sidestepped, leaving the man stumbling into space. Brant reached out and righted him before he could fall against April.
A wall of Wylders protected her from the fray, but she pushed her way through to glare at her ex as if she wanted to rip the brown curls from his head. “Be a dad to your son or increase your child-support payments.”
“How am I supposed to do that? I’m on the road trying to make a living. I don’t see you working as hard as I am. You’re out partying with this home-wrecker.”
Brant heard someone behind Heath give a grunt of agreement.
“She’s working hard so she can afford to feed and clothe your growing son,” Brant said, his fury building. “You agreed to your current custody and support arrangement. Be a man and honor it.”
“Why don’t you just marry her so I can stop paying through the nose?”
“Maybe I will,” Brant said, squaring off, a sense of calm cooling him.
“I don’t recommend eloping,” Ryan said, his voice flat. The warning was heard by all. This was Old Man Lovely’s night to marry two people who were operating on a whim.
Brant knew it wouldn’t be him and April.
But there were a lot of reasons why it should be.
Heath rushed forward and Brant’s brothers stepped together to block him before he could reach Brant.
“Get her out of here,” Myles said, as they pinned Heath in place. Brant took April by the elbow, turning them away from the wrestling match.
He hated to back out of a fight and run, but Myles was right. April didn’t need to be here, especially not if the humiliating scene erupted into something even bigger. She needed peace and the ability to move on with her life, not more town gossip centered around her.
“Let’s go,” he said, and she nodded as they hustled toward the bar’s front door. On the way past their table, Brant lifted April’s jacket from the back of her chair. Jackie and Jenny watched with open mouths as they hurried by.
The cool December air hit them and the old light above the saloon’s entry flickered, causing Brant to nearly trip over Rusty, who was sleeping on the sidewalk. The dog gave a sigh and rolled over, no doubt hoping for his usual belly rub.
“We’ll take my truck,” Brant said, figuring Heath was upset with him, not April. He’d leave her SUV alone if it was parked on the street, but maybe not Brant’s expensive mobile veterinarian unit.
As they hurried to the vehicle, he sent his mom a quick text, giving her a heads-up that Heath was on the warpath. If he wanted to pursue his vendetta, he’d likely check the Sweet Meadows Ranch as well as April’s house.
His mom replied, saying she and Kurt were at her house. In other words, if Heath ventured as far as the ranch tonight, Kurt would miss a show where his father melted down. That was good.
“Mom and Kurt aren’t in the main house any longer,” Brant told April.
“I’m sorry,” she said, as she slipped into the passenger seat.
“There’s nothing to apologize for.” He started the engine, one arm over the seat back as he looked out the rear window while reversing onto Main Street.
“How are your ribs?” April asked with a wince.
The adrenaline hadn’t allowed the pain to register until now. Thinking about it, Brant could feel where Heath’s knuckles had connected. There would be a bruised and tender spot, but nothing as bad as if he hadn’t moved or exhaled at the right time.
“They’re fine.”
She looked skeptical, but didn’t push it. “Now what?”
Now that they’d started some fresh gossip? He wasn’t sure.
Brant thought for a moment. He didn’t want Heath to ruin their night, and midnight was still two hours away. But where could they go and what could they do so they could bring in the New Year together?
“Swimming hole?” he suggested. As teenagers, they’d slipped out in the middle of the night for a dip sometimes. That was during the full heat of a Texas summer, not on a December night that was threatening frost. But if they parked on the bluffs, they could watch the town’s midnight fireworks and likely avoid seeing anyone else.
“I am not swimming in this weather,” April said with a shaky laugh.
“We could watch the fireworks from there,” Brant explained as he drove past the outdoor swimming pool and only motel, heading out of town.
“Romantic evening,” she said with a watery smile.
“I’m full of surprises like that.” He glanced over, judging whether a romantic spot would be okay. She was studying her hands, her glance darting to the side mirror every so often as though she expected Heath to pursue them. Brant knew his brothers would keep her ex occupied until he’d cooled down, or at least until they figured Brant and April had enough of a head start.
“Are you okay?”
She sighed, silent for a long moment. “I’m trying to protect you, you know.”
Brant chuckled. “I thought that was what I was doing. Protecting you.”
She shifted to watch him in the dashboard’s glow. “I don’t want the choices I make to ruin the way people see you.” Her tone was sincere, full of worry, making Brant’s heart ache.
“You won’t.” He slowed the truck, turned onto a gravel road, then glanced in the rearview mirror, on the lookout for headlights following them. It grew dark behind them as the town disappeared in the distance. The truck bumped and hummed, while bits of gravel hit the undercarriage with pinging sounds.
As they rounded a bend, they spied a miniature white chapel on the hill, its windows lit up. Was someone up there right now, becoming Sweetheart Creek’s couple of the year as they were wed by Old Man Lovely? Or was the man still waiting? In all his sixty-three years of doing this, not a single New Year had been missed.
As they passed the illuminated chapel Brant noted there were no vehicles parked nearby. Grant Lovely was still waiting.
“But the friends-to-lovers thing?” April asked, her brow furrowed as she turned back around, after watching the chapel retreat from view. “What happens if it doesn’t last? You lose your best friend.”
Brant was silent for a long moment, allowing himself to envision the friends-to-lovers part, and she let out a frustrated huff. “Brant?”
“Sorry, my mind stopped working when you said ‘lovers.’”
“You’re such a guy.”
“I thought you found that attractive.”
She smiled, shaking her head. “Is it possible to be on the rebound even though Heath and I were never really crazy in love?”
“I’ve never really subscribed to the rebound idea.”
“What if I’m unable to maintain healthy relationships?”
“Who said that?”
“My past.”
Brant mulled that over. “I’m not a volatile man, April. The last two guys you were involved with could get a little testy.”
“So you’re blaming them?” She shifted, and he knew he had her attention. “Even though I’m the common denominator?”
“Have they been able to keep relationships with other women?”
April’s nose scrunched as she thought that over.
“You’re not the same wild child you used to be,” Brant said. “You’ve settled your demons.”
“What if they’re just in hibernation?” There was a lightness to her voice. She wasn’t quite teasing him, but was getting close, her worries and insecurities ebbing like the day’s heat after the sun set. She seemed ready to let go of what was haunting her, make a shift.
“They could be,” he acknowledged, turning down the ragged dirt trail that led to the swimming hole. It was almost faster to walk from town than to drive, as you could take shortcuts through yards and meadows.
“For real, I could be on the rebound.” Her tone became thoughtful. “Except mostly I just feel relief.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d expressed that to him. Originally, she’d said she felt as though she was in the quiet period after a storm, the stillness after a shock. When she’d first left Heath, she would often chew on her lower lip, doubts clearly gnawing at her. But Brant had noticed that since then, every time Heath misbehaved, whether it was yelling at her in the lawyers’ offices, calling her out in court or failing to live up to their agreements, it seemed to steel her resolve to leave him behind. And each time, she seemed to grow lighter, her spine straightening, more of her old spark returning.
Her leaving Cookies at his place was unexpected, though. She’d said she would find somewhere for her horse when Brant had helped her and Kurt move out five weeks ago.
He rubbed his chin. Had it been only five? Things had moved so quickly it felt like longer than that.
“You know what I want for the New Year?” she asked.
