by D. L. Roan
She crossed her arms over her chest to contain the odd mixture of feelings his perusal induced. If any other man had looked at her the way he was she’d feel insulted, but he wasn’t any other man. Carson McLendon found her attractive and a part of her beamed with pride despite what he was insinuating.
“You’re not a kid anymore,” he said, his gaze meeting hers once more.
But I’m still a Youngblood.
Neither of them said what she knew both of them were thinking. If he knew the truth she wouldn’t even be standing there. It wasn’t fair. She’d worked hard to pull herself out from under the Grunion and Youngblood legacies of greed, shame and bigoted hatred, and here she was being colored right back into the box by the one person she’d always believed above such things.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the small kitchen table across from her. “Even if that night had never happened, I’ve screwed up everything, Breezy. I’m sure you’ve seen the news about what happened on our last tour stop.”
She nodded, having seen the videos on the news and read the tabloid headlines at the supermarket. No matter what he thought of her, she refused to believe he’d ever intentionally hit a woman. Sleeping with another man’s wife, however...
“I need time to make things right—with Papa Joe, with Connor, with everyone—and I can’t do that with you here. And now you’re moving into my grandparents’ house?”
She shook her head, disregarding her disappointment that she wasn’t included in that list of amends to be made. “What does my being here have to do with you getting drunk and punching a woman in the face?”
“Nothing! Everything!” She watched as he fought for the words to explain his confusing point. “Breezy, please,” he begged, caging her between his tanned arms against the counter. “Coming home is hard enough. With you here, looking like you do,” his expression morphed once again from agitated to smoldering and back again, “and with everything that happened, it’s too much. I can’t focus on what’s important and I’m running out of time. You can’t move in here.”
She cursed her body’s immediate reaction to his close proximity, taking a calming breath before she tilted her head back and looked up into his eyes. Torment and pain and lust—so many conflicting emotions swirled in their green depths and chipped away at her resolve.
He needed to know the truth about Ford. Regardless of blame or guilt, he deserved to know that he was wrong, and why. Her head fell forward on a sigh, breaking their electric connection. She stared at the buttons on his shirt and worked up the courage to tell him something she hadn’t told another soul.
“Car, Ford didn’t—”
“I will pay you to leave,” Carson blurted out.
Breezy stiffened against the counter, her head snapping up to read the sincerity in his eyes. “You’re serious?”
Carson nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. “Name your price.”
Disbelief offered a temporary reprieve from her jittery nerves. Had he just offered to buy her? She crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring his stubborn pose. “Let me get this straight. Prejudices aside, accusing me of lying and trying to intimidate me into leaving town was a dick move, but offering to pay me to leave and jeopardizing your grandfather’s recovery, isn’t a dick move?”
“See? You made my point.” Carson pointed an accusing finger at her. “I can’t think straight with you here.”
Breezy arched an incredulous brow. She hadn’t thought he could have shocked her more than he already had, but she’d been monumentally wrong. “You’re blaming me for you being a selfish jerk?”
“I’m not blaming you,” he groaned. “It’s official, okay? I’m fucked up, but you’re not helping!”
“Fine,” she huffed. This entire conversation was ridiculous. “A million dollars.”
“A mill—are you crazy?” His eyes narrowed as he glared down at her. “Need I remind you that I know what we’re paying you?”
“What you were paying me,” she corrected him. There was no way in hell she’d let him pay her now, and no, he didn’t need to remind her. “A million dollars, a letter of recommendation and you seek therapy with a highly skilled psychiatrist.” she added.
“Ten thousand,” Carson countered. “And that’s my final offer.”
“Final offer for what?” Connor asked as he bounded around the corner and snatched up the bag on the counter.
Breezy unfolded her arms, her head shaking in disbelief. Well, at least now she knew what she was worth in McLendon dollars. The price of a used car.
“Nothing,” she said and shouldered her purse. “I’m starving.” With a strained smile, she ignored Carson’s gaping expression and followed Connor from the kitchen. She didn’t know if she was doing the right thing by staying, but one thing was for certain. No amount of money in the world would make her leave Grassland now.
Chapter Thirteen
“Thanks,” Breezy said when Connor opened the passenger door to the truck and motioned for her to climb inside; climb being the operative word. Good lord, she’d need a ladder to get out without breaking a...
She froze when she saw the folded red blanket draped across the center console. The same red blanket with yellow flowers she’d seen that day in the forest. The same red blanket on which Connor and Carson had almost had sex with Charlotte.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, still holding open the door.
“Uh,” Breezy lowered herself into the seat and dragged her gaze from the intimidating piece of fabric. “No, I—it’s nothing,” she finally managed.
“You say that a lot,” he said with a questioning grin after he’d climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Say what?”
“Nothing,” he said as the truck started rolling.
“Tell me,” Breezy insisted.
“No,” Connor laughed. “You say the word ‘nothing’ a lot,” he explained. “What was that about back there with Car? You seemed upset.”
She shook her head, unwilling to give Carson’s absurd offer another thought. “It was nothing.”
“See?” he teased. “You said it again.”
She gave him an uneasy smile, swiping her sweaty palms across her shorts. “I guess I do.”
The truck bounced over the grassy field and she stared out at the beautiful landscape as an awkward silence filled the cab. Her brain raced to find something to say. Her effort was pointless as she was sure anything she said would come out twisted into unintelligible gibberish anyway.
“Are you nervous?” he asked, turning his charming smile in her direction.
Breezy blushed. “Who wouldn’t be?” She snorted. Snorted! O-M-G. If it had been physically possible to disappear through a crack in the floorboard she would have found a way to do it.
“Come on!” He gave her a playful shove. “It’s me! I’m the same guy who plastered you with mud bombs at the creek on Sundays.”
She couldn’t help but laugh, sans the snort, thank goodness. “I remember.” She remembered everything about those days at the creek.
The truck stopped. She flinched when he reached over and squeezed her hand. “Same guy,” he said, giving her a flirtatious wink.
Her stomach flip-flopped. Yup. Same guy. Same butterflies.
“Look,” he said, releasing her hand. “Carson’s messed up. I know he’s being a pain in the ass, but he’s taking Papa Joe’s stroke pretty hard. I’ll talk to him if—”
“God, no!” The last thing she needed was for Carson to think she’d run and tattled to his twin. “He’s fine, really. It’s nothing.”
Connor’s eyes narrowed. His lips twisted into a pucker as he studied her. “I’ll make you a deal.”
Breezy nodded. Anything was better than him running to Carson with whatever disastrous intervention plan he might have.
“You stop being nervous, and I’ll hold off saying anything to Car,” he proposed. “But you’d better tell me if he steps over the line.”
Too late. “Deal,” she said anyway, though she had no idea how she was going to keep her end of the bargain. For her, being nervous and talking to Connor McLendon was one in the same.
“And you can’t say ‘nothing’ again,” he threw in with a smoldering grin.
“That’s cheating!”
“My truck, my rules,” he retorted, his dimples winking with his broad, devious smile.
She lowered her head to hide her own smile. His exuberance was so effortless, so different than Carson’s brooding manner. Connor nodded and hopped out of the truck to open a pasture gate that stood closed in front of them.
“I thought you might be taking me to the creek,” she said ten minutes later when they pulled into a golden pasture on a hill that stretched into the lush green valley below. “This is amazing.” She’d never seen this part of Falcon Ridge. She knew the McLendon’s owned a lot of land, but from this perspective it seemed like they owned the world.
“I like it up here,” Connor said. “It’s peaceful, calm. The grasslands sing a soothing kind of song I thought would be perfect for a day like today.”
“The grass sings?”
Connor drew his bottom lip between his white teeth, his lips curling into a self-conscious smile. “Yeah,” he said with a hesitant laugh. “Everything sings. We just have to listen.”
“Wow.”
“You think it’s corny.” Breezy glanced over to find him watching her, a rueful expression on his face. “It’s stupid, I know. I—”
“No! I think it’s probably the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”
Connor’s beaming smile returned, his gaze bouncing between her and the open fields ahead. “Really? I mean...thanks.”
“So, what’s your favorite?” She asked. “Song, I mean. If everything sings...”
Connor was silent for a moment. “Honestly?” He shrugged. “No one’s ever asked me that before.”
Her back wedged against the passenger door, she watched and waited for him to answer. “Well?” she prodded when he didn’t respond.
“I...” He shrugged again, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip. “I’d have to say the silence,” he finally said.
“Silence?”
“Yeah.” Connor sighed. “The world can get pretty loud sometimes, all the songs running together until it’s all just white noise. Every once in a while, I find a place where the world goes quiet and it’s like...the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.”
Breezy took a deep breath, closed her eyes and tried to imagine such a place. It would be amazing to be able to shut everything away like that.
“My second favorite would be the rain,” he added. “It has so many tunes and notes, no two songs are ever the same.”
She turned and looked at Connor and the oddest feeling came to life inside her; like déjà vu and serendipity all wrapped up into one. She’d known Connor for almost as many years as she could remember, but she’d never really known him.
“Hold up,” he said when the truck rolled to a stop, jarring her from her thoughts. “I’ll come around to get you.”
He hopped out and sprinted around the front of the truck. Her throat worked hard to swallow the sudden bundle of nerves that had lodged there. He was going to help her out of the truck. That meant he was going to touch her again. A scene from one of the romance novels she’d read as a kid sprang to mind. Stories where the hero plucks his girl from her horse, her body sliding down his, igniting sparks between them that could only be quenched with a lusty kiss. Her skin crackled to life when the door opened and he wedged himself between it and the cab.
“What’s wrong?” Connor asked when he looked up at her.
“N-nothing.” He dipped his chin and peered warningly over his sunglasses. “I mean, I’m fine,” she quickly corrected.
“Good.” With a nod, he spun on his heels and turned his back to her. “Hop on,” he said, his arms bent out to the sides ready to guide her onto his back, the unexpected twist destroying the lump in her throat and easing the knot in her stomach.
She lowered herself down onto his back and wrapped her legs around his hips. She hadn’t ridden piggyback since before her momma had passed away. Connor turned around and grabbed the blanket and the paper sack that held their lunch.
Her nerves forgotten, she laughed until her sides hurt as he took off at a gallop through the tall grass, screaming when he twirled unexpectedly, making the golden fields spin until they both crashed to the ground in a heap.
“Are you okay?” he asked between gasps for breath.
“Oh yes!” she said between giggles and her own gasps, pushing herself up onto her elbows. “That was the most fun I’ve had in...ever.”
Connor jumped to his feet and she took his offered hand, allowing him to pull her up. “We’ll have to repeat it, then,” he said, catching her when she stumbled into him. Her hands splayed across his broad chest. She could feel his racing heartbeat against her palm, along with well-defined ridges of muscle.
“Yeah.” She took several steps back and then turned to look out over the field below. “Sounds good.” Great. Could she sound any more like a dork?
“Here, grab a corner.” He pushed the end of the red blanket into her hand.
After it was spread, they took a seat, the entire width of the material between them, which wasn’t much. He passed out the sandwiches and handed her a can of orange soda. She took it with a questioning sideways glance. “I feel like I’m a kid again,” she said, popping the top on the can.
“To orange soda and PB&J’s,” he said, holding up his can for a toast.
Breezy clinked her can against his and watched as he tilted back his head and gulped down at least half the soda, his masculine throat working up and down with every swallow.
“So, do you always eat like this?” she asked when she regained the use of her tongue.
Connor chuckled as he dug out a divot in the tall grass beside him to rest his can. “Sometimes worse,” he confessed. “Healthy choices are few and far between when you’re on the road.”
She took a swallow of her soda. “Doesn’t sound like you like being on tour.”
He let out a huff and took a bite of his sandwich, seeming to consider his reply as he chewed. “It’s not my favorite part, that’s for sure,” he finally said, taking another swig from his can. “I love the music. Touring is just an obligation that comes with it.”
“Huh.” She’d never imagined that he and Carson might not enjoy their success. She sure couldn’t tell when they were on stage.
“I love coming home the most, though,” he added.
“I wish I could say the same,” she said before she could think better of it.
Connor set his soda down and turned to look at her. “Breezy, I know what Car said in the hospital. It was all bullshit. No one blames you for what happened that night.”
She nodded silently, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. She shouldn’t have said anything. The last thing she wanted to talk about was what happened that night, but if she was going to be staying with the McLendons, they would have to address the elephant in the room sooner or later. She wished it was later.
“I’m not so sure about that,” she said eventually, the turn in their conversation giving new life to her uneasiness.
Connor reached out and took her hand in his, idly tracing her palm as he spoke. “Car’s always had a flare for drama. Add that to his astonishingly bad habit of lashing out before he thinks, and he can do some real damage. But, he’s not a bad guy, he’s just...” His thumb drew another circle on her palm and then paused. He raised his head and she nearly drowned in the depths of his emerald green eyes and the regret she saw there. “I’m sorry enough for the both of us. Does that count?”
“Me too. I never got to say that before I left.”
“Aren’t we a pair? You apologizing for your brother, me apologizing for mine.” She smiled in agreement and Connor smiled back, the sight doing funny things to her
stomach again. “Where did you go?” he asked her. “After that night, we never saw you again.”
Breezy told him about the Brightons, leaving out the skips between foster homes before they’d taken her in. She also left out the part about her pa being arrested and what he’d done to Ford.
“So, the Brightons,” he shrugged. “They were good to you?”
“The best,” she sighed. “They still live in Clarkston. I hope to go see them while I’m here.”
“That would be fantastic. I’ll give you a ride. I mean, if you want,” he added when her brows rose in surprise.
“No, I’d like that. I mean...I never imagined you’d be interested.”
“Of course I’m interested,” Connor chuckled and gave her a playful shove with his shoulder. “I’m interested in everything about you.”
An easy silence fell between them, calming her nerves enough for her to take the first bite from her sandwich, the clump of gooey goodness sticking to the roof of her mouth. Connor turned to look at her, reaching up to swipe a smudge of jelly from the corner of her mouth. A clump of peanut butter lodged in her throat and nearly choked her as he popped his finger into his mouth and sucked.
Was he doing that on purpose? Did he know what he was doing to her? She didn’t know. She was so out of her element. To keep from giving herself away, she turned and peered out over the sprawling landscape and took note of the moving speck in the distance. “Funny,” she said, pointing at the tractor. “From here it looks like there’s no driver.”
“That’s because there’s not one.”
“What?” She shielded her eyes from the sun and squinted at the mowing tractor again.
“All the haying is automated now. Driverless tractors are the new thing, something about the price of grain going through the roof and having to cut back on the labor force, or something like that. You’d have to ask Dani how it all works. She’s on track to be the youngest ranch manager Falcon Ridge has ever had.”
“That’s crazy!” She watched as the tractor reached the end of the field and made a smooth turn, lining up perfectly for the next pass. She was mesmerized by the pattern until something in the sky snagged her attention. “What is that?” She pointed at the slowly approaching object.
