The Expert's Guide to Driving a Man Wild (A Bluebonnet Novel)

by Clare, Jessica

  Dead like her freaking heart, now that Grant had stomped all over it.

  She’d confessed her big ugly secret. Finally told someone the truth about who she was, when she had never told another soul. She’d changed her last name to get away from her past, ran away from home at the age of sixteen and cut off contact with all family, all because she’d been so desperate to escape. And once she was gone? She’d hitchhiked to Alaska, started fresh, and lived a life of no clutter and no worries. She’d buried who she was so deep inside she didn’t even talk about it to herself.

  But after years and years of careless living, she’d finally found something she wanted—Grant. And she’d been terrified of what he’d think. Would he be disgusted? Revolted? Permanently unattracted to her since she was a “trash girl” like she’d been called for so many years? Or would he not care?

  She’d never in a million years thought he’d laugh at her.

  And that had hurt so badly. It had been like a rush of cold water in her system.

  So she reacted like she always did when things got to be too much—she ran away.

  Of course, she hadn’t run far. Brenna had contemplated getting in her car and just driving as far as she could. See where the road took her. Start over. She’d done it before.

  Turned out the road hadn’t even taken her as far as Bluebonnet.

  Luck was definitely not on her side. Brenna kicked a rock in the road, and then she noticed the crunch of nearby footsteps.

  She looked up at the same time that Elise Markham turned the corner and waved.

  Brenna groaned inwardly. Elise was the last person she wanted to see at the moment . . . well, second to last person. Not that it was Elise’s fault her brother was such an unfeeling douche. “Hey, Elise.”

  Elise headed for her, her smile fading a little as she studied Brenna’s pajamas. “Why are you walking into town in your pajamas?”

  “I’m running away.”

  Her brow furrowed. “From what?”

  Brenna’s eyes began to water all over again. “From my life.”

  Elise’s soft gaze moved over her sympathetically. She went to Brenna’s side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You want to grab some coffee? We can sit down and talk.”

  “I can’t drive anywhere,” Brenna blubbered. “My car’s dead.”

  “That’s okay. Emily was baking when I left this morning. We can head back to the Peppermint House and have muffins.” She nudged Brenna down the road. “Come on.”

  Numb, Brenna followed her.

  The Peppermint House Bed and Breakfast was only a block away, so it wasn’t a long jaunt. And to Brenna’s relief, Elise wasn’t the kind to ask all sorts of prying questions. She just simply hugged Brenna close and offered quiet support. That was good. That was exactly what she needed right now. No questions, just friendship.

  When they walked in the door of the Peppermint House, Emily came out of the kitchen with a smile on her face. It faltered at the sight of Brenna’s red eyes and wet cheeks. “You poor thing,” she exclaimed, moving forward to hug Brenna. “Are you okay?”

  Brenna sniffed. “Just dandy.”

  “I just pulled some muffins out of the oven,” Emily told her. “Why don’t you sit down and eat? I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee.”

  Brenna nodded and let Emily drag her to one of the barstools in the breakfast nook. She sat down, Elise sitting right next to her. Immediately, Emily pushed a plate heaping with muffins over to her. “I’m making a batch for the firefighters, but you two can eat these and I’ll make some more. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” She began to pull out coffee cups, plopping them on the counter with determination.

  That brought a hint of a smile to Brenna’s face. Every time she’d met Emily Allard-Smith, she was feeding someone. Even though Emily was only a few years older than her, the other woman acted like the entire town was hers to mother and feed. It was cute. All the guys in town loved her because all you had to do was mention your favorite type of baked goods and she’d make you some. Brenna secretly thought Emily had missed her calling of running a bakery shop, but a bed and breakfast was a decent substitute. She plucked a muffin off the heap and bit the top. It was a delicious chocolate pecan.

  “Her car’s broken down,” Elise said softly. “Should we call a tow truck?”

  “Don’t bother,” Brenna told her, her mouth full. She swiped at her lips with the back of her hand, then took the napkin that Emily pushed in her direction. “It’s dead. I’ll just leave it.”

  “Leave it?” Emily looked scandalized at the thought. “Is someone coming by to pick you up, then?”

  “I sure hope not.” Brenna took another big bite of muffin to forestall any questions.

  Emily and Elise exchanged glances.

  “You want to talk about it?” Emily asked.

  “Not really.” Brenna shrugged miserably. “Don’t know what there is to say.”

  Emily gave Elise another look and passed two cups of coffee. “Why don’t you two finish eating? I have decorators coming by in about an hour and I want to make sure I have my swatches ready for them.” She gave the counter a little pat, and then bustled away. “Just yell if you need anything.”

  Elise watched Emily disappear into the back of the old Victorian. She said nothing until the door shut behind her, then glanced back at Brenna again. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I thought Emily was renovating this place on her own.”

  “She is. She’s just lying to give us some time to talk if you need it.”

  “Oh.” Brenna’s lower lip stuck out despite herself, and she couldn’t help but confess just a teeny bit to Elise. “Your brother’s kind of a dick.”

  “He can be,” Elise said with a subtle smile. “What did he do?”

  Oh God. She was not telling Elise the full story. Not at all. She’d learned her lesson. Uncomfortable, Brenna grabbed another muffin off the plate and began to slowly peel the wrapper down the sides. “I told him a really personal secret and he laughed in my face.” She crammed the muffin into her mouth and began to chew, her cheeks ballooning out like a squirrel’s. She knew she was acting childish, but she didn’t care. “He’s a jerk,” she said between chews, her mouth full.

  Elise sipped her coffee, seemingly calm, though her brows drew together in a faint frown. “That doesn’t sound like Grant.”

  Brenna snorted.

  “I’m serious,” Elise said. “Grant is a lot of things. He’s kind of a control freak and completely unmovable when he thinks he’s right. He can be incredibly overbearing. And he’s arrogant at times. But he’s never out and out cruel.” She shook her head. “That really doesn’t sound like him. I’m sorry.”

  The delicious muffin stuck to the roof of Brenna’s mouth, and she had to work to swallow. She grimaced and then shook her head. “I didn’t mistake it. There was a definite laugh.”

  “So strange.” Elise gave her a helpless shrug. “Maybe you bring out the worst in him?”

  Well, that was certainly true. Brenna said nothing, just slid another muffin toward her. Maybe she could take some with her for the road. “It doesn’t matter. I’m done here.”

  “Done here?”

  “I’m leaving. Maybe I’ll go back to Alaska.”

  Elise looked her up and down. “In your pajamas?”

  “I don’t have anything I want to take with me.”

  “How about a pair of pants?”

  Brenna shrugged again.

  Elise looked concerned. “You sure you’re okay?”

  She wasn’t okay. Not by a long shot. But she’d scraped herself off the floor before and started over. No reason why she couldn’t do it again. “I really just don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Fair enough. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Brenna thought for a mo
ment. “Wanna give me your pants?”

  • • •

  Goddamn it, where were his keys?

  Grant tore through the main lodge, digging through his desk drawers again and then tearing through Dane’s normal spot and then Brenna’s desk. They were nowhere to be found, which meant she’d probably hidden them in one of her playful pranks.

  Except she hadn’t seemed playful. She’d seemed betrayed. And he desperately needed to find her. Grant growled under his breath and headed into the kitchen, digging through the dishwasher and any bowls he could find. She’d hidden his keys in a bread pan once.

  The kitchen door swung open and Grant looked up, hope in his eyes. But it was only Colt and Dane, somber expressions on their faces.

  “Have you seen my fucking keys?” Grant tugged out the silverware drawer, and then slammed it shut again. “I can’t find them anywhere and I’ve got to go after her.”

  Silence.

  Grant looked up, only to find that both Dane and Colt had their arms crossed over their chests, and they were both scowling at him.

  “What exactly did you do to Brenna?” Dane asked.

  “I know you blow hot and cold on her, but she’s like a little sister to us,” Colt added.

  “And Miranda just got a text from Elise saying that Brenna’s been crying. She’s in her pajamas and she’s crying.”

  Grant raked a hand through his hair, that frantic panic billowing up in him again. “That’s why I need my keys. I have to go after her and explain. I wasn’t laughing at her—”

  “You were laughing at her?” Dane’s normally easygoing features were set into a scowl.

  “No,” Grant snapped. “But she thinks I was. I was just fucking glad that she didn’t have cancer.”

  “Cancer? What the hell are you talking about?” Colt’s tone was irritated. “You’re not making any fucking sense.”

  “I know. I don’t care. I just . . . I need to find her and explain.” He didn’t want to share her secrets. The way she’d reacted when she’d told him? He knew that if he ever told a word of it to Colt or Dane, it’d be unforgivable in her eyes. And he wouldn’t do that to her. “I can’t talk about it.”

  “And what makes you think that we’re going to let you off the hook without explaining what’s going on?” Colt asked in a surly tone.

  “Because you’ve known me for twenty goddamn years,” Grant snapped. “And I don’t say this sort of shit lightly, but I love her and want to make things right. And I’m not telling you her secrets, because they’re hers, so fuck off about it. Either help me find my keys or get out of my fucking way.”

  “Hoo-rah,” Colt said, apparently pleased by that response.

  Dane grinned and held up a hand. Grant’s keys were dangling off his finger.

  “You stole my keys?” Grant’s hands curled and he stormed toward Dane. “You asshole! I’ve been looking for them for twenty minutes!”

  “Wanted to make sure your head was in the right place before you took off after Brenna,” Dane said simply. “You want us to go with?”

  He snatched the keys from his buddy. “Hell, no. I can talk to my girl myself.”

  “Cause you did so well in the past?” Colt drawled.

  “Fuck off.”

  His friends just laughed.

  • • •

  Grant tore into Bluebonnet at top speed, his tires screeching at every stop sign. He slammed to a halt in front of the Peppermint House, just as Brenna and Elise were heading down the front porch stairs. Brenna still wore his Tulane shirt, but her hair had been tugged into a clip at the back of her head, her purple bangs brushed, and she wore a pair of jeans that were too loose on her and sagged.

  Both women looked his way as he jumped out of his car, and he could have sworn Brenna’s jaw dropped in surprise.

  She looked over at Elise with a betrayed look. “You told him I was here?”

  “I didn’t tell him to come over here,” she protested, putting up her hands. “I just gave him a little text-shaming from afar for making you cry.” But she didn’t look displeased at all.

  “Likely story,” Brenna told her with a faint scowl.

  Grant was so relieved to see her that he bounded up the stairs, reaching for her . . . and stopped when she shied away.

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” Brenna told him in a cool voice. “In fact, I was just leaving.”

  “Leaving? Where are you going?”

  “Anywhere that you’re not!”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to be around you anymore!” The look on her face was stubborn. “I thought I could trust you and it’s clear to me that I was wrong. So I’m done here. Time to scope out the wild blue yonder once more.”

  Panic assailed him anew. She was pulling up roots and leaving? Then again, this was Brenna. She didn’t believe in roots. “You can’t leave.”

  “Why can’t I?”

  He moved toward her again, ignoring the fact that she shied away from him. “Because I love you and I want to be with you.”

  “You have a funny way of showing love, Grant Markham.”

  He looked over at Elise, who stood watching their exchange, a faint frown on his sister’s face. “Can you leave us alone to talk, Elise?”

  “Will you be long?” his sister asked.

  “We might,” he admitted. “However long it takes to get through to Brenna’s stubborn brain.”

  “Insulting me is not the way to win me over,” Brenna announced.

  But Elise grinned and wiggled her fingers at him, turning around and disappearing back into the bed and breakfast. After the door swung shut, it was just him and Brenna, alone on the big wooden stairs.

  Brenna crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a blatantly unhappy look.

  “Just let me talk,” Grant soothed. “I promise I’ll explain everything.”

  “This should be good,” she muttered. But she didn’t leave. That was a start.

  “You were right to slap me for laughing,” he told her, since he knew that would get her attention. And he was correct because she perked up a little after that. “But,” he continued, “you should have heard my reasoning before you ran off.” When she said nothing, he decided to plow ahead. “It wasn’t that I was laughing at you. It was just that you and me were too perfect together. I guess it reminded me of how things were back when Heather and I first got married. I was so happy with her, and then it felt like everything turned upside down overnight. I suppose I was worried that it would happen again. Once your life goes down the drain once, you get gun-shy and afraid it’ll happen again.”

  She still said nothing. But that scowl was gone from her face.

  “This entire time, you’ve been telling me that you can’t commit. You won’t commit. That there’s no future for us except for no-strings-attached sex. And I kept wondering why, because I’ve fallen for you so hard that my head is spinning, and unless I missed my guess, I thought you had fallen for me, too.”

  “You know what they say about assuming, Grant.” She tried to make her voice light, but there was an unsteady wobble in it. And she glanced away, avoiding eye contact.

  “I know,” he told her. “I am assuming. But that was how I felt. And then you woke me up in the middle of the night, crying, and telling me that you had a massive secret. And I thought my heart was going to splinter right in my fucking chest.” He clenched a fist against his breastbone as if to demonstrate. “What could be so awful about someone as wonderful and vibrant as you? What on earth could possibly destroy what we’ve got together? What would make you so miserable that you’d be unable to sleep and make you cry? So I thought it must have been something fatal. Like cancer. Or a terminal disease.”

  She looked confused. “Cancer?”

  “Cancer,” he agreed. “My mind went right there, assuming
the worst possible. How could I know?” He shrugged helplessly. “So when you showed me the video about—” he glanced around to make sure no one was nearby “—about hoarding, I was so relieved that you weren’t dying that I couldn’t help it. I laughed.”

  Her face softened a little. “I thought you were laughing at me.” There were leagues of hurt in her voice. Hurt that he’d caused.

  He reached for her, and she didn’t pull away. Thank God. He stroked her arm. “Brenna, I would never laugh at your past. I was laughing because I was so damn relieved that I could hardly stand it.”

  She stared at him. “Cancer,” she repeated.

  “Crazy, I know. But I kept thinking, what possible reason could you have for not wanting a permanent relationship?”

  “Because there’s no such thing,” Brenna exclaimed. “Not for people like me.”

  “I watched all those videos. You’re not like your mother. Not like any of those people.”

  “Because I fight it,” she told him, her posture stiffening again, as if she could protect herself. “I fight it every day. Did you know that most children of hoarders grow up to be hoarders? Because they don’t know any better. Because that’s how they’re raised.”

  “And yet you live in a way that would make a Spartan envious. I’ve seen your possessions, Brenna. I know you have hardly anything.”

  “Because people don’t need a lot of stuff to be happy,” she told him patiently. “Surrounding yourself with pointless garbage is stupid. Even your cabin is filled with all kinds of knickknack crap that makes me uncomfortable. That’s why I’d rather live in the main lodge.”

  “With no place where you can possibly acquire a bunch of crap,” he said, suddenly starting to understand how her mind worked.

  “Exactly,” she told him with relish.

  “And that’s why you borrow everyone else’s stuff,” he guessed. “Because they’ll always want it back.”

  She nodded triumphantly. “None of it sticks around.”

  “It’s actually a pretty genius system,” he said slowly. “But there’s one major flaw in the plan.”

  “I know,” she told him, looking disgruntled. “Oil changes.”