Breaking Brent: Roped, Book 2

by Niki Green

  “Deal.”

  He spit in his palm and then offered the spitty hand to Peyton. She shook his suggestion off. She didn’t want any part of that. She lifted her form from the railing, bent down and kissed his smooth cheek before taking the steps quickly into the yard.

  “Peyton.” His voice caught her before she got too far away. “Just do me a favor, all right?”

  “What’s that, Grandpa?” She couldn’t refuse the ornery old man anything and he knew it.

  “Just protect yourself.”

  Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, she kept walking.

  “I wasn’t talking about anything nasty.” His tone stopped her. “I was talking about your heart.”

  Expelling a breath, she stepped between the shrubs in the flowerbed and laid her chin on the rail.

  “Grandpa, my heart is under lock and key. Nothing can get to it. I won’t get hurt.”

  “I hope you’re right.” He spoke to his hands and then to her.

  “Grandpa, don’t worry. Because one thing you taught me was how to throw a right hook. I still remember.” Winking at him, she stepped lightly through the mulch and made her way back to her own home—her empty home. Evidently her explanation helped ease his mind. When she turned she saw him pick up his stick and begin whittling away. Laughing at his choice of hobbies made her feel better. She did whatever she could to keep his words from filling her head—protect your heart. That wouldn’t be a problem. Her heart was not the part Brent had wanted. She wondered now if he ever had in the first place.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Brent couldn’t help but watch the little dance taking place on top of the main bar at Big Jack’s. Five woman he knew, ranging in ages from about twenty-one to thirty-five, were standing on top of the thick, dark wooden surface and were all doing their best to shimmy and shake whoops and hollers from the crowd at their feet.

  It was hard not to watch as they dipped and swayed and showed a flash of skin here or there, but it was even harder not to watch the figure behind the bar slinging beer bottles and filtering shots.

  Even though the ladies on the bar were dressed to impress, showing a little leg and a lot of breast, she was fully clothed in tight, hip-hugging jeans and a white T-shirt that hugged her form and made his mouth water—his mouth that hurt like hell. Damn Carter and that forgotten left hook he had.

  He watched her work, laugh and cut up with Wade and a few of the waitresses. Her thick hair was styled in two long braids tonight that alternated from falling down her back to hanging over her shoulders. She always wore her hair like that—tied back one way or another. With her hair pulled away from her face, like it was now, she looked younger, made her look like she did that summer everything went to hell in a hand basket, made her look like the girl he’d fallen in love with and the girl who fell in love with him.

  Her lips were one of her best features as far as he was concerned. They were pouty and pink, soft and plaint and always ready to receive his own—at least they used to be. Tonight would tell.

  According to Carter, she still loved him.

  According to Carter, she always had.

  According to Carter, he was the biggest, damnedest fool to ever walk the face of the earth. Carter was a pain in the ass.

  With a groan of defeat, Brent centered his thoughts where they needed to be. On his next move. He had been waiting on her for hours. Her shift usually started at eight on Saturdays, but she had been late this evening. He had thought for a second she wasn’t coming into work at all and that his trip into town—to see her—had been in vain. She had shown up behind the bar a little over an hour ago and since then had been bombarded by visitors.

  Her brother Murphy had come by but he had only stayed a few minutes. Reed had come by. He and Peyton had talked for a minute. Peyton had slugged him a good one in the arm and he’d left. Her cousins Masa and Cada McCready had dropped in and they still held her attention and stopped him from getting close.

  So here Brent was on a Saturday night, watching her like a hawk would watch its prey. It would have been a lot easier if she hadn’t been behind the bar, twenty feet from him. Maybe another beer would ease the night along and get him closer to where he needed to be—next to her.

  “You gonna sit here all night and stare at her or are you gonna talk to her? Lay everything out on the table.” Jason had accompanied him to the bar. Nick and Hayden had also followed in line, but they at least had the good sense to stay out of his way and not keep asking him question after question and expecting answer after answer that he didn’t have.

  “Time’s a wastin’.”

  “I wish you’d shut the hell up and let me think.”

  “You’ve had years and then some to think. If you had thought years ago before going off half-cocked she would have been yours already and you wouldn’t be sittin’ here working up the nerve. It’s your own fault.”

  Brent watched as Jason downed the last of his beer from the bottle and then signaled for one of the waitresses to bring him another.

  “I know it’s my fault. I’ve know it for a long time.” Brent cast his eyes once again in Peyton’s direction, but Jason’s look of disbelief over his words was not lost. He was speechless—like he needed to be.

  “What’s keeping you from gettin’ the show on the road?” Brent heard Hayden’s voice a split second before he and Nick joined him at the table.

  “Is that the reason the three of you tagged along this evening? You thought you were going to see some kind of show?” Brent watched Hayden shrug and saw Nick smile before taking a sip from his beer.

  “Nothin’ better to do,” Hayden grumbled. “Besides, I figure tagging along was better than staying at home.”

  “Didn’t you have a date or somethin’?” Brent asked. It was rare for the boys not to have a date or at least one in the works.

  “Or something,” Brent heard Hayden say under his breath and then noticed his attention was on the bar just as Brent’s was.

  “You have some sorta plan or you just gonna play it by ear?” Jason’s question was a logical one, and Brent wished like hell he had some sort of plan. He wished the answer to all of his questions would just fall from the skies right into his hands, but he knew that was a long shot. The first thing he needed to do was get close enough to talk to her. Close enough so that he could tell her he wanted to talk to her. Close enough to smell her, to touch her—just close enough.

  He didn’t feel like the best plan of action was to approach her while she was surrounded by her cousins. He figured she’d be more likely to listen to him, to respond to what he had to say, if the McCreadys were occupied elsewhere. A plan started to form in his head.

  “I need your help,” he told his brothers before downing the last bit of liquid courage he had.

  “How’d you mean?” Jason asked.

  “You feel like dancing tonight?” Brent watched his brothers look from one to the other.

  “I’m game.” It was Hayden who spoke up first.

  Brent smiled and motioned the three closer so they could hear what he had in mind. Step one in his efforts of getting closer to Peyton was getting Peyton away from her cousins—that’s what his brothers were for. What was the sense in having three younger brothers if they didn’t do your bidding from time to time?

  “You know you could have told us. You didn’t have to go through this by yourself.” Peyton felt her inside contract as her cousin Masa took her hand and squeezed it.

  “I know that. I just didn’t know how to tell anyone.” That was the truth. Telling everyone she was no longer engaged was hard enough. Telling them that she hadn’t been engaged for a number of months was harder than anything.

  “What did your mama say?” Cada, another one of her McCready cousins, asked and then made a face that made Peyton snort and smile.

  “I haven’t gotten around to that yet so if you two can keep it under your hats for a while I would appreciate it.”

  “I thought you said you
told Grandpa?” Cada asked.

  “I did, or rather he already knew. It’s all very confusing and a little blurred at this point.” And it was. Everything was a blur and it had been that way since she and Carter had last spoken. Things were so blurry that she had been late for work—which she never was.

  “Well, if he knows, you can pretty much bet that your mama and daddy know as well. I swear he’s like an old woman sometimes—he’s worse than one every now and again.” Peyton knew what Cada was talking about. Grandpa kept a secret if you told him to, if you didn’t all bets were off.

  “I’m not gonna worry too much about it. By the way, thanks for coming by tonight. I really appreciate it.” And she did. As soon as she’d walked into the bar and seen the crowd she’d felt like she needed a few friends in her corner.

  “Anytime, love. Anytime.” Masa smiled at her and squeezed her hand once more. She was always doing that even though they were only a year apart in age, Peyton being the oldest. Masa’s motherly side tended to come out when she knew they needed it.

  “Evenin’, ladies.” The voice stopped Peyton’s heart and her actions. When she looked up to see the owner of the voice, she was both relieved and not in the same breath. Hayden stood behind Masa with Jason to his side behind Cada. She watched as Cada turned and graced the two with one of her famous full-faced smiles and at the same time saw Masa tense in her seat.

  “Well, if it isn’t a couple of the Kiel boys. What can we do for you?” Cada asked, her perfect smile set in place.

  “Just wonderin’ if you ladies would do us the honor of dancin’ with us.”

  Peyton narrowed her eyes at Jason as he spoke, but it did little to stop his actions. She looked from Hayden to Jason and watched the younger of the two shift on his heels a couple of times and saw the nervous energy teaming inside of him. What were they up too?

  “I don’t see why not,” Cada said as she slid from the stool and took Jason’s hand that was offered.

  “Masa?”

  Peyton looked from Hayden to Masa, who sat rooted to her seat. Hayden’s lowered voice had taken on a seductive tone.

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  “It’s just a dance, darlin’,” Hayden said in the voice that had made more than one Millbrook female melt over the years. Peyton couldn’t help but smile a little to herself. Masa should know better than try to refuse. Hayden Kiel rarely took no for an answer, especially when he had his mind set on something—and it seemed he had his mind set on dancing with one Masa McCready.

  In the end, Masa slid her hand into Hayden’s and Peyton watched both of her cousins take the dance floor with the Kiels. She wondered if it was a coincidence that the band started in a slow subtle tune just as the couples took to the floor. It didn’t really matter. She needed to quit putting off the inevitable and retreat to the walls of the office and finish the paperwork that had been piling up for days on end.

  She moved from her resting spot behind the bar and walked toward Wade, who was inspecting the crowd and watching for any problem that might arise.

  “Hey, think you can handle this for awhile?”

  “I don’t see why not.” He never looked at her as he spoke. He kept studying the crowd and rolling his always-present toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.

  “Just holler if you need me,” she said as she walked around him and ducked under the divider.

  “Will do,” he called as she started her descent down the darkened hall that held the restrooms, stockrooms and her office. She moved to the side when a group of women exited the bathroom and made their way back to the main room. They giggled and talked among themselves and never seemed to notice her presence. Typical. She was invisible.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The music was loud, the crowd even louder, but Brent paid no attention to either. His attention was focused on one thing and one thing only—finding Peyton. Scanning the area behind the bar revealed Wade and a young frazzled-looking blonde who seemed to be in over her head, but no Peyton. Brent felt bad for the little blond. It was hard to tend the bar at Big Jack’s on a Saturday, especially during the summer. Everyone wanted a cold drink, a cool place and plenty of excitement. Big Jack’s offered just that.

  Brent kicked himself for losing sight of her. He had watched Jace and Hayden waltz Masa and Cada onto the dance floor. Seen Masa give Hayden more than one warning about his hands and where they belonged and where they didn’t, and then looked up to see Peyton talking to Wade. After that he had lost her. He walked steadily across the dance floor, slid smoothly onto the leather barstool and brought his chest against the wooden bar. He clasped his hands and waited for either Wade or the little blond to come his way.

  He silently wished Wade would stop and say hello and then take his order. Making small talk with Wade for a minute would give him the chance to casually ask about Peyton’s whereabouts.

  “Evenin’, Brent,” Wade said as he popped the top on Brent’s preferred bottle of beer.

  “How you doin’, Wade?”

  “Can’t complain.” One thing Brent had forgotten about Wade Vaughn—he wasn’t into small talk.

  “Is Peyton around?” He waited for a questioning or intrigued look from Wade—he didn’t get either one.

  “She’s in the office. Paperwork.” Lifting his thumb, he motioned to the back of the bar. Brent knew the office was back that way. Past the restrooms and the storage room was a red door marked Private and behind that door he would find what he was looking for.

  “Thanks.”

  Wade lifted his hand in a wave, almost, and grunted a goodbye. Brent took his time. He measured his steps and avoided almost everyone he knew there. It was a small town with only one watering hole so it wasn’t hard to run into someone you knew or someone who knew you.

  His feet grew heavier the closer he got closer to the red door. The door to the ladies’ room flew open and two giggling females emerged. Each one of them more drunk than the other. One smiled shyly his way and the other blew him a kiss. He smiled and continued on. The slight boost to his ego unburdened his steps considerably. He raised his fist to knock and then lowered it. What the hell am I going to say? He didn’t actually have a game plan. Plans never went as expected so he usually just went with his gut, which at the present moment was tied in knots.

  Better just to bite the bullet and get it over with. Quick and dirty. He groaned a little at the thought and knocked on the door, hoping that the noise of the wood rapping would cover the muffled sound from his throat.

  “Come in.”

  He turned the knob and entered the office. He noticed her instantly. Among the clutter of paperwork, some in files and some not, some on the floor and some on the desk, Peyton reclined in a battered green chair that may or may not have been from the early seventies. The nicest thing he could say about it was she looked good sitting in it.

  “Hi.” He probably should have said more but nothing came to mind.

  “Hi.” She smiled, almost, but it was full of questioning confusion.

  “Uh…I’m not interrupting am I?” He pointed to the stacks of paperwork in front of her.

  “No. I was just trying to catch up.”

  “Oh, well, I can do this another time if you’re busy.”

  “What are you doing here, Brent?”

  “I need to talk to you.” While he spoke, he closed the door behind him, shutting them both inside, and rested his frame against it.

  “About what? I think we said all we had to say to each other years ago. In this very office if memory serves.”

  Memory served all right. This was the scene of the original crime. He hadn’t forgotten that fact—he just didn’t want to remember it. “Carter came by to see me today.” That was the best way—lay everything out on the table.

  “Did he?”

  “Yeah, he told me the two of you had called it quits.” They both stared at each other and Brent could tell Peyton was working her next sentence over a
nd over in her mind.

  “So that’s why you’re here? To see if he was telling the truth? Well, he was. We called the engagement off. We’re friends now it would seem.” She tossed the pencil to the desk, relaxed further into the beaten chair and focused all of her attention on him. “Did you come by to gloat? Did you come by to see who was the next in line? Did you want to throw your hat in the ring? Oh, wait a minute…you’ve already had your turn, repeatedly. While you thought I was still engaged.” Her cynical tone and hard stare told Brent he needed to get to the point and get to it fast before Peyton’s temper took over her rational side—if she even had one at this point.

  “I don’t want to be the next in line.”

  “Well, thanks for telling me. Now I really have a lot of work to do.” She stood and moved to the door and started to turn the knob and push him out—just as he had done to her.

  “I want to be the only one in line.” That was the truth. No holds bar. No stepping around it. He wanted Peyton for his own. Brent saw her take a deep breath, close her eyes and start to speak.

  “Sorry. You were saying?”

  “I don’t want to date you.” Stunned. She looked stunned. Brent figured the look on his face matched the one on hers. Then she laughed.

  “I tell you what, today has been the day for everybody to just let whatever they have rolling across the front of their brains come straight out of their mouths. It must be something in the water, I don’t know.”

  “I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. It just came out.” Rubbing his hands over his face did nothing to relieve the heat he felt pouring from it.

  “That happen a lot?”

  “No. I’m usually much better at this.”

  “At what? Insulting me? Lowering my self-esteem? This? This what?” He could see her temper flaring. He could see it in her eyes, in her body. Hell, he understood. He would probably be pissed at him too.