Page 37

Rebeka

“YOU'RE TAKING ME ONa personal reacquainting tour,” I mumbled and kicked a dried cow patty as hard as I could, sending it rolling a few feet to the right. “Asshole. Thinks he can boss me around. He's not the boss of me. I'm the boss of me.”

The truth was I wasn't all that disappointed about the additional alone time with him. When we weren't talking about the past, when I wasn't being forced to remember, I had fun with him. A lot of fun. A few times the nasty nagging memories attempted to break through, but I pushed them away like I'd done for years now. And by the way his eyes would narrow when my mind drifted to what that wreck cost me, I knew he could see it, sense my mood shift.

Even if my loss was a direct result of his actions that night, I couldn't hold it against him. The man didn't remember a damn thing, so how was that fair to him? That’s why I was moving on.

Moving on from the years of hurt, resentment, and, honestly, a little bit of self-loathing. And maybe I was letting go of the old Brenton. Based off what I'd seen the past twenty-four hours, young Brenton was long gone. Past Brenton was who left me lying in a hospital bed with nothing more than a few hurtful words from his father and a twenty-page legal document. The old Brenton chose his trust over us when ordered to make a choice.

This new and improved Brenton was stronger, sober, and intimidating as hell. Mix the new Brenton with the somewhat warm coals of feelings from the past and... well, I needed to keep my head on straight with him.

The guys I dated in school and the few after weren't like him—and not just compared to his ungodly good looks. It was his confidence, which drove me just as batshit crazy as it turned me on. The way he held a look longer than what was comfortable, or how he demanded things like the thought of someone not complying never crossed his mind.

Damn the demanding earlier.

A shiver shook my shoulders at the memory of his deep voice directing me to take off my pants before things went to shit.

There was also the way he moved and held himself, which told everyone in the vicinity he could hold his own.

All in all, Brenton Graves was perfect—besides being a royal asshole. Which actually made him hotter, as terrible as it was to admit.

I sighed and picked up a tumbling piece of trash from the grass.

We were good together back then, but with Brenton 2.0, we could be great. But he was going back to Kentucky, and I was staying here. He made that very clear.

End of story.

End of our story.

“Right,” I muttered, then stormed through the wide-open doors of the barn, keeping my eyes to the ground. “Don't fall for him, you idiot woman. I bet he's terrible in bed or has some unknown STD that the doctors are still trying to cure. That's the real reason he wouldn't whip it out earlier. Gentleman, my ass.”

“What did you just call me?” Bradley said from the other side of the stall he was cleaning.

With a curse, I stumbled back and pressed a hand over my racing heart. “Fuck, Bradley, you scared the hell out of me. Jackass. And I wasn't talking about you. I was talking to myself.”

His gaze darted to the open barn doors and lingered. “What are you doing out here? Figured you went back to Midland considering Dad's hateful response to you sticking around.”

I shrugged and leaned against the wall to peer over the side. A strong whiff of sawdust, horse manure, and urine filled my nose. “Nah, just had to run and get some clothes. I'm here for a few days.” Brenton's comment on not caring who knew about our arrangement hummed in the back of my mind, but I said nothing. No need to bring it up until necessary.

Every few seconds, Bradley glanced back to the front door.

“You waiting for someone?” I asked.

“Nah, just wondering when you were leaving so I can get my shit done.”

My brows pulled together as I watched him work. All these years of him using, I came to recognize the signs when something was up, and something was definitely up.

“Right,” I muttered.

Again his gaze flicked up, but that time stayed. Craning my neck around to see what captured his attention I found Brenton marching through the doors, looking sexy as hell in his new ranch gear. Bradley probably wasn't taking in the stunning visual of pure masculinity, but I sure as hell was.

Damn. Wranglers looked good on him. And again with the visible tats. That man would be the death of my vibrator.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Bradley said loud enough for most of Texas to hear. “Want me to get rid of him?”

It had been a while since the overwhelming urge to hug Bradley had hit me, but his statement drove me around the stall door for just that. I wrapped my arms around him in a bear hug and squeezed. “Thanks, but he's the reason I'm out here. He wanted a tour of the ranch since it’s been a while.”

“Beka,” he started, still focused on Brenton. “Is that a good idea? What that fucker put you through—”