Wild, Crazy Hearts – the Bradens & Montgomerys (Pleasant Hill – Oak Falls)

by Melissa Foster

  When she came back down to earth, he kissed his way up her belly. Her hands moved to cover her new curves, and he felt a pang of hurt, but his love for her pushed it aside. He moved her hands as he had earlier and kissed the crest of her belly before rising to his feet.

  As he lowered his mouth toward hers, she put her arms around him and began kissing his pecs. He tried to pull her mouth back to his, but she fought his efforts.

  “Let me,” she said. “I’ve missed touching you.”

  With those words, she could do anything she wanted. He buried his hands in her hair, soaking in the feel of her glorious mouth. It had been so long since he’d felt her mouth on him, he could come just from her sucking his nipples, her fingers pressing into his muscles, and the sinful, appreciative sounds she made. She kissed a path down his stomach. Her hands traveled hungrily over his flesh as her wicked lips loved their way directly to his cock. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, and when her eyes flicked up to his and her pretty mouth curved up as she lowered it over his hard length, his chin fell to his chest with a greedy hiss.

  Her cheeks hollowed with every suck, but the smile never left her eyes as she worked him just the way he liked it, tight and slow. Fighting the urge to come, he ground out, “It’s been too long. I’m not going to last, and I want to be inside you when I come.”

  There were women a man fucked and women a man made love to, and then there was Brindle—the only woman he’d ever wanted to do both to. Only there was no fucking with Brindle, because everything he did with her, to her, was wrapped in love.

  She released his cock, still working him with her hand. “I want you inside me,” she said seductively. She sank lower and licked his balls, smiling devilishly up at him as she did it.

  “Aw fuck, Mustang.”

  He hauled her to her feet, turned off the water, and swept her into his arms, making her laugh—a sound he’d never tire of hearing—and carried her into the bedroom. They tumbled to the mattress in a tangle of limbs and fervent kisses. Their bodies took over and the rest of the world faded away.

  A LONG WHILE later they made their way to the shower again, this time lovingly bathing each other. It was as natural as their overpowering, animalistic need for one another. Brindle was the only woman Trace had ever showered with or had in his bed in his cabin. His sanctuary. As they lay together afterward, Trace sitting in his briefs with his back against the headboard, Brindle tucked against his chest wearing his softest T-shirt, he noticed she was strangely quiet. Brindle always had something to say. It was one of the things he loved about her. She was so smart, she was always thinking, sharing her ideas and opinions, which pushed him to think differently about many things. And yeah, sometimes she pissed him off with her opinions, but he loved that, too. He’d always been mind-fucked over her, and he wouldn’t want it any other way. But the last time Brindle went reticent, she’d told him about the six-week trip she’d booked to Paris.

  “Close your eyes,” she said, causing a knot in the center of his chest.

  They only closed their eyes when they needed to have a serious talk. His mind began taking him places he had no interest in going. Was she thinking about the father of her baby? Had she showered with that guy in Paris? Was she going to tell Trace she was in love with that guy and this was a mistake? That their relationship was over?

  His arms were already around her, but now he put his hands over hers, lacing their fingers together, unwilling to let her go that easily. The trouble was, he knew he would never be ready to let her go.

  “They’re closed,” he lied.

  She inhaled deeply and blew it out slowly, and he tightened his hold on her.

  She leaned to the side and tipped her face up. Shit. In all the years they’d been sharing secrets, she’d never once looked to see if he closed his eyes. He was her protector. How could he protect her if he couldn’t see an assailant—especially when sometimes assailants came from within. Brindle was her own worst enemy. He was probably the only person in the world who saw her that way, but he knew how she worried about the things she did, the way she acted. Not that she worried about being judged; she just didn’t like to hurt others. And sometimes that caused her to overthink and hurt herself with blame and guilt in the process. She had been building walls around her true emotions for so many years, showing everyone the brave, untouchable woman she’d taught herself to be, that sometimes even she didn’t see her pain. That was one reason he needed his eyes open, to protect her from those self-deprecating attackers.

  The other reason was simpler. He never knew when she’d fly the coop, and he didn’t want to miss a second of their time together.

  “Your eyes are open,” she said with a hint of surprise and a lot of annoyance.

  He was caught, and he wasn’t going to talk his way out of it. He shrugged.

  She turned and crossed her arms, accusations flaming in her stormy eyes. “Have you ever closed your eyes? This is our thing. We close our eyes to talk.”

  “You close your eyes, darlin’. I never have.”

  Her jaw dropped, and a sound of disbelief escaped. “Never?”

  “Not once. I don’t want to miss a second with you.”

  Her mouth twitched, as if she was going to say something, and then her lips pressed into a thin line and her shoulders slumped. Her dark brows knitted over her beautiful, tormented eyes, tightening the knot in his gut.

  “Well, I can’t talk to you like this,” she said. “Not about something this important.”

  He reached for her, but she leaned out of his reach. “Mustang, you can talk to me about anything.”

  She shook her head, the torment in her eyes turning to sadness so ripe he pulled her into his arms despite her struggles.

  “What’s going on, Brindle?”

  She shook her head again, tears welling in her eyes.

  He was a proud man, raised to work his fingers to the bone and to keep his head held high even if his world was crumbling around him. He thought he’d feel rage at the idea of Brindle telling him she wanted someone else, but as he gazed into her sad eyes, his heart broke into a million pieces. Nobody had ever taught him what to do when Brindle’s world—the world of the person he loved most—was crumbling right before his eyes.

  So he did the only thing he knew how to do, protect her from the hurt of having to say it herself.

  “You’re in love with the father of your baby,” he said, to save her from having to tell him.

  She nodded, tears sliding down her cheeks.

  Pain like he’d never known slammed into him, crushing his chest until he could barely breathe. He gritted his teeth to keep his own damn unexpected tears at bay, but all-consuming loss swept through him like an evil villain.

  “That’s why you didn’t call me when you were in Paris,” he said through clenched teeth. “I knew I never should have let you go alone. Is that why you went in the first place? Did you know that guy before? When we were together?”

  “Yes! But not like you thi—”

  “The fuck it’s not!” he hollered, anger intertwining with his hurt. He flew to his feet, unable to stop the pain from exploding from his lungs. “Why’d you come back at all? Because he didn’t want you? He tossed you and the baby away and—”

  “Stop!” She stepped toward him, trembling all over. “Stop accusing me of horrible things!”

  “Accusing you? I love you, and you trampled on that love.”

  She stood with her mouth agape, sobbing, her chest heaving, but he was in too much pain to stop the words from coming out. “Do you know how it felt when you planned a fucking six-week trip without me?”

  “I had to figure out if what I felt for you was real!” she cried.

  “Well, guess what. If you needed to go halfway around the world to figure that out, then how real can it be? I was fucking miserable without you. Even the thought of you going had me all messed up. And then I get a text telling me you’re not coming back for even longer? Like I’m enough when yo
u need a warm bed, but—”

  “Stop! Please!” She covered her face. “I reached for the phone a thousand times to call you!”

  “But you never made it happen. I don’t need an explanation, Brindle. I might be just a dumb cowboy, but I get it this time.”

  “No, you don’t!” She dropped her hands, her entire body shaking as she stalked toward him in a furious rage and poked her finger into his chest as she yelled, “You want to talk about accusations? The minute you found out I was pregnant, you accused me of spreading my legs for another man. Who does that to a woman they’ve spent years with? Who they supposedly love? You didn’t even give me the benefit of the doubt and ask if it was yours.”

  “Why would I? Every time we fight, you run off and hook up with another guy.”

  “Oh yeah,” she said sarcastically, oceans of tears streaming down her cheeks. “That’s exactly what I do. Just like you fucked Heather and you’re not the father of my baby.”

  “You know I didn’t fuck Heath—” Understanding crashed into him, and he stumbled back with the impact. “Are you saying…?” It’s mine? Your kid is mine? Our kid?

  She crossed her arms, her lower lip trembling. “It’s yours, but I know you don’t want a kid right now, so it’s not a big deal. I can handle this on my own.”

  “Not a big deal? You’re pregnant with my child. You’ve lied to me for, what? Weeks? Months? This is a very big deal. How long have you known?”

  “Why does it matter? You don’t want it, and that’s not going to change based on how long I’ve known.” She reached for her leggings and he reached for her, but she yanked her arm free and started getting dressed. “Don’t, Trace. This is so messed up.”

  “You’re fucking right it’s messed up,” he hollered. “How can I know what I want? You’re giving me thirty seconds to commit to wanting a child, when you have had more than a decade to commit to being mine and you couldn’t even do that.”

  “Really? That’s what you think?” She closed the distance between them, glowering up at him. “I have been with only one other guy, and that was years ago, when I was at college and we were on a break! We fight, we break up, we make each other jealous. That’s who we are, and it obviously doesn’t work, because I had to get away from us to figure out that what made my life full was having you in it. And you know why that was?” she hollered.

  He was too stuck on one other guy to form a response.

  “Because when I’m with you I can’t think. I love you so damn much everything tangles together in my head—love, jealousy, happiness, hurt—like one big spiderweb. I had to get away to figure out if I was the spider or the prey. But all it took was one night in Paris and I knew what I felt was real, and after more time I realized I’m not the spider or the prey. I’m the fucking web itself, and I’m trying to change that. I know I suck as a girlfriend. I’m not easy, and just in case I ever forget,” she said through her tears, “everyone around here reminds me all the damn time. I may not be capable of loving in the same way Morgyn or Grace do with their men, where everything is fluffy and flowery. But I love you, Trace Jericho, and I fucked up big-time by lying to you about it when you accused me of sleeping with someone else. But that doesn’t change the fact that my love is real, and I know that when I walk out that door I will never love anyone like I love you, because you own all of me—the good, the bad, and the frustrating.”

  BRINDLE STORMED TOWARD the bedroom door in a fit of anger, hurt, and relief from finally telling Trace the truth. But she didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to be that person anymore. She stopped and spun around—smacking right into Trace’s chest.

  “You can’t just drop that bomb on me and walk out,” Trace said as he hauled her back into the bedroom.

  “Stop saying what I’m thinking! Why do you think I turned around?”

  He sank to the edge of the bed, pulling her down beside him, still holding her wrist. “You lied to me, Brindle, for a long-ass time. How can I trust anything you say?”

  “Want to go one for one? How can I trust that you don’t think I’m a whore after you’ve accused me of sleeping with someone else?”

  The sadness that twisted his face cut through her like a knife.

  “I never have and never would—ever—think of you as a whore. Even if you had been pregnant by someone else, I wouldn’t have thought you were a whore. Don’t you get that? If I thought you were a whore, do you really think I’d have had sex with you again? Damn it, Brindle! You’re the only woman I have ever wanted to be with, and I guess that screws with my head. I’ve spent so many years playing by your rules, convincing myself I didn’t want a commitment because you didn’t want one, that I don’t know what I want beyond spending my life with you.”

  He was talking so fast, she couldn’t get a word in.

  “Did I say something shitty?” he said with fire in his eyes. “Hell yes, I did. Do I regret it? More than you can ever imagine. Do I want a kid? Who knows? I’ve always seen a future with you any way you’d let me have it. I have spent years hoping that one day you’d realize you’ve got the best man around, and I was ready to tell you as much months ago. Then you dropped the news about having booked your solo trip to Paris. I was going to tell you again the night before you left, but you made it perfectly clear that you’d miss our sex—not me—and that hurt, Brindle, more than I care to admit.”

  “I told you I’d miss you, and you looked at me like you didn’t believe me,” she snapped. “How do you think that felt?”

  “I didn’t believe you. Why would I? Nobody forced you to put thousands of miles between us for six weeks. That was your doing.” He ground his teeth together, rubbing his hands over his thighs, pressing his fingers into his skin, as if he needed to channel his anger.

  “I just told you why I needed to go alone,” she said, trying to process everything he was saying and feeling more overwhelmed than ever before.

  “But you didn’t tell me why you extended your trip if you realized you loved me after one night. What are you so afraid of?”

  “Everything,” she said honestly. “I knew I loved you, but then I found out I was pregnant, and that’s a lot to take in. I don’t want to be with anyone else, but I’m so afraid of things changing. I love to dance and hang out with our friends, go to creek parties. That all makes me happy, but I realized in Paris that it’s not those things that make me happy. It’s doing them with you. And that was another thing that scared me, because I never thought I needed a man.”

  “No shit,” he said sharply.

  “I was wrong, Trace. I might have a full life with my own career and a great family, but without you my life feels empty. I want you, Trace, and I need you. I’m not afraid to admit that anymore. But I can’t put myself or my needs ahead of this baby. I can’t be with you at the expense of a baby you don’t want. And I really don’t want to end up being one of those sad, boring couples who fall out of love, carry around resentment, and take each other for granted.”

  “Jesus, Brindle,” he said more calmly. “We do take each other for granted. It’s just who we are. We fight, we walk away, and we come back knowing damn well we’ll fall into each other’s arms again. We’re both too damn stubborn to be sad or boring.”

  “And resentment, Trace? Should we add that to the list? What if you resent me for getting pregnant? You already gave up a shot at playing pro ball, doing the thing you loved most, because of me. Do you have any idea how much guilt I have because of that? Do you think I don’t live every day knowing that at some point you’re going to stop getting all hot and bothered over me and see me as the person who held you back? Add the baby to it, and…That is not a role I want to star in, and I’m already freaking there. It’s like a ticking time bomb. And then to find out from Sin that you are getting involved in coaching? I am thrilled about that, but why did it take me going away for you to finally do it? Why didn’t you talk to me about it? I’m no relationship expert, but I think that needs fixing, too.”


  “Why are you always pushing me to get involved with football? Let it go already. And as far as helping Sin goes, I’ve helped him out a couple times. That’s really not a big deal.”

  “It’s a huge deal, and I push you because you love it, and you turned down the scholarships because you didn’t want to be far away from me.”

  He raked a hand through his hair and ground out a curse. “That wasn’t completely true, but it sounded a hell of a lot better than the rest of the truth.”

  “You lied to me?”

  “No. I honestly didn’t want to be away from you. But with my father’s arthritis, who would run the ranch? If I went away, Jeb or JJ would have had to give up their dreams of running their own businesses to help him out, at least until he could have hired the right people. I wasn’t about to put that on their shoulders. Besides, I like football, but I love my family more than any stupid game.”

  “That’s even worse,” she said absently.

  “How is that worse?”

  “It’s loyal, but if you can’t negotiate or fight for your own happiness within your family, the people who love you most, then not only can you never really be happy, but how can you ever fight for your wife or child’s happiness?”

  “Are you kidding me? All I’ve done is try to make you happy. Letting you leave instead of fighting things out? Not chasing you to Paris? Living by Brindle’s no-commitment rules? That’s fighting for your happiness, darlin’. But none of what you just said explains why you stayed in Paris longer than you originally intended.”

  She looked down at her lap to keep from tearing up again. “Because I wanted to break the patterns we’d fallen into. I thought I might be pregnant when I left, but I wasn’t sure. After a week I took a pregnancy test. Several, actually. I wanted to call you so many times, but I knew our relationship needed help and I didn’t know how to fix it. Mostly because I knew I was the problem. I’m impulsive, and when I get hurt or jealous I react without thinking, and that caused you to get hurt or jealous.”