“It’s not my fault she doesn’t put locks on her doors.”
A fact that had completely slipped Reese’s mind, although he wasn’t sure how. For the two days they’d been here, Maude had proven she cared not for their privacy, walking in uninvited whenever she felt the need.
“Come back to bed,” Brantley urged. “Finish what you started.”
Reese glared at him as he tugged his shirt over his head, then stabbed his arms into the sleeves. “Not a chance.”
“Fine. What about on the plane?” Brantley asked, strolling toward the adjoining bathroom.
Reese shot him a get real look. “It’s gonna take me some time to get over that.”
Brantley stopped in the doorway, frowned. “Like what? A few minutes? Hours?”
Reese dropped into the chair to pull on his socks and boots. “Try days, Walker.”
“Days?” Brantley’s expression reflected his incredulity, as though Reese couldn’t possibly hold out on him for a lengthy period of time.
Reese sat up straight, met Brantley’s gaze. “Maybe weeks.”
The look on the other man’s face was absolutely fucking priceless, and seeing it made Reese feel a tad bit better.
But only a tad.
“Where the hell’s the parlor?” Reese muttered, snatching his phone on the way to the door.
*
“Maybe weeks, my ass,” Brantley muttered, walking into the bathroom and flipping on the shower.
He didn’t bother with hot water, knowing cold would have to do the trick since the last thing he wanted was to go downstairs sporting a hard-on. Interacting with these women was awkward enough; no way would he add an internal struggle to the matter.
“Weeks,” he snorted indignantly, stepping into the tiled enclosure. “I’d like to see him try.”
After dunking his head beneath the spray, Brantley glanced down at his cock. For grins, he circled it with his fist, stroked firmly.
Okay. Not so bad.
He exhaled slowly, reaching for a sense of calm.
Closing his eyes, he took himself back in time to that moment when Reese had been kneeling between his legs, those full lips gliding effortlessly over him. Up, down, slow, easy. God, he fucking loved Reese’s mouth. The hesitancy mixed with the eagerness… He wasn’t sure Reese was even aware of it, but Brantley was, and he fucking loved that about the man. Yes, Reese was still unsure of himself in many ways, despite the fact he could so easily rock Brantley’s world—sometimes with merely a look—but that only made their encounters even hotter.
For long seconds, he was lost in the fantasy, almost able to imagine Reese’s mouth was still on him, so hot, so—
Up and at ’em.
Aw, fuck. The fantasy was obliterated by the sound of Maude’s voice in his head. Always interrupting.
“For fuck’s sake,” he growled, releasing his cock as the damn thing deflated.
Although there was some discomfort from the lack of satisfaction, Brantley found he could keep the soft-on going as long as he thought about Maude, so he finished with the shower, dressed, and made a quick call to the pilot to confirm their flight back to Texas. As far as he was concerned, they’d wasted enough time here in Mississippi hoping Juliet Prince might emerge. The theory being the woman would come out of hiding to see her daughter at some point during the holidays, so they were keeping a close eye on things now.
Clearly she wasn’t ready to poke her head out of the sand just yet. But Brantley had made a promise to his cousin Travis, and he fully intended to follow through until they found the vile woman who’d kidnapped Travis’s daughter a few months back. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen right now. The woman was underground—rightfully so, since she was wanted by the FBI—and if he had to guess, she would remain in hiding for some time. At least if she was smart, anyway.
As for him and Reese, it was time to get back. They had holidays to celebrate, then it was back to the grindstone. Or it would be, right after he had breakfast with Maude and her mother, whose name appeared to be simply Mother.
When Brantley made his way downstairs a short time later, he found everyone had vacated the parlor in lieu of the fancy formal dining room with its heavy gold drapes and gilded-frame photos of people Brantley assumed were relatives. Now that he thought about it, it was creepy to have all those eyes tracking him.
And to think, these people had meals in there often.
He could hear the soft murmur of voices and the clang of silverware and wondered if he’d get a slap on the wrist from Maude for being late.
Running a hand down his shirt, he pulled himself together and resigned himself to joining them.
The chatter ceased almost immediately, all eyes shifting to him as he stepped down into the room.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Maude greeted cheerfully, peering up at him with a glint in her eye before patting the chair to her right. “Please, join us.”
If only he had another option.
It was slightly awkward that the chair she’d allocated for him was at the head of the table. Okay, a little more than slightly, but he solved that problem by taking the seat directly across from her, the one beside Reese.
“Mornin’.” He acknowledged each person with a smile and a nod, pulling out the chair and easing into it.
He glanced over at Reese, waiting for him to look his way. He didn’t.
Maxine spoke up from her spot beside Maude. “Reese tells us the two of you will be leaving today.”
“Yes, ma’am.” And not a minute too soon.
“Well, that’s a shame. We were hoping to spend more time with you both.”
Brantley liked the way Maxine spoke, her voice soft, her words dripping with southern sweetness, so prim and proper. A contradiction to Maude’s loud and boisterous personality. But like they said, opposites did attract. Evidently that went for lifelong friendships as well.
“I assume you’ve got time for breakfast,” Maude implored, her gaze pinned on him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said politely, then accepted coffee when the housekeeper offered. “We don’t need to leave for a couple of hours.”
“Vacations are never long enough.” Maxine winked at him as she reached for her coffee, which he suspected was spiked with her favored Irish whiskey.
“No, ma’am. They’re not,” he agreed, letting them continue to believe they were here on vacation, mistaking Maude’s house for the Airbnb they had thought they were getting.
Initially, Brantley hadn’t been sure how he was going to insert himself into the neighborhood in order to stake out the Prince residence. He’d figured they would get comfortable in their rented SUV but learned that wasn’t an option because the gated community didn’t allow parking on the street and had twenty-four-seven security guarding the place.
At that point, they’d had to get creative. Hence the reason they’d ended up here.
“Well, that’s a shame. I was enjoying your company.” Maude fluttered her lashes then shifted her gaze to the woman pouring coffee into Brantley’s cup. “Anna, have a seat. Stop fawning over these boys.”
“I don’t think I’m the one fawning,” Anna muttered under her breath, offering a forced smile over Brantley’s head.
“You know you’re welcome to join us,” Maxine suggested, evidently chiming in to get Anna on board.
“Not on your life,” she said with a dramatic sigh, followed by an eye roll as she backed out of the room.
According to Maude, Anna had been with her and Mother for going on thirty years now, and the ornery woman with the hair-trigger temper—Mother’s description—was more family than staff. She’d made it sound like they were close, but he wasn’t so sure Anna felt the same. Then again, putting up with someone for thirty years did require some serious commitment.
“You’re not eatin’?” Brantley asked Maxine before picking up his fork.
“Not this morning, no.” She took a sip of her spiked coffee, smiled sweetly. “I have an
appointment.”
Mother snorted, a sound that made Brantley chuckle. He’d learned that Mother thought Maxine to be somewhat of a hussy. Her exact words, actually. Which was an interesting twist considering Mother’s own daughter was more than willing to talk about her midnight trysts. Yes, that was how Maude referred to her overnight guests, and in the short time they’d been there, Brantley had found himself on the receiving end of more than one of her many sordid stories. Not by choice, mind you.
“So, tell me,” Maude prompted. “How long have the two of you been working together?”
“I wanna know how long they’ve been sleeping together,” Mother blurted, her voice that of a two-pack-a-day smoker, although she swore she’d never smoked a cigarette in her life.
Maxine laughed.
Reese choked, then attempted to cover it with a cough. Based on how red his face was and how much he was clearing his throat, his toast had gone down the wrong way.
“Mother,” Maude chastised, shooing her with a flail of her linen napkin. “I told you. They only work together.”
“Like hell,” Mother snipped, her blue eyes peering into Brantley as though she was searching his soul.
He offered her a wink, which earned him a thin, wrinkled grin in return. He liked the old lady. She had spunk. He figured she had been a spitfire when she was younger.
“The task force we manage is relatively new,” Brantley informed Maude, setting down his fork and picking up his coffee. “We’ve only been workin’ together for a few months.”
“And you were both in the military prior to this?”
“Yes, ma’am. Reese was air force, I was navy.”
“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” Mother said under her breath, grinning at her plate.
“Mother.” Maude sighed. “I told you—”
“Yeah, yeah. They only work together,” Mother echoed, her sarcasm dripping like molasses. “Shows how perceptive you are.”
Only because he didn’t want to embarrass Reese did Brantley not clarify that, yes, they were, in fact, in a relationship. He wasn’t ashamed of it, but it wasn’t something Reese was comfortable discussing. Considering the man was still wrapping his head around the fact that he’d gone from believing he was straight as an arrow to learning he had the hots for a man, Brantley figured it would take some time.
“Tell her it’s not true,” Maude pleaded, wiping the corners of her mouth with her napkin.
“It’s not anything to be ashamed of,” Mother said, her attention on the glass of orange juice she was working to pick up with her gnarled hand. “My third husband was gay.”
“Mother!” Maude huffed at her.
Brantley couldn’t help but grin.
“What? It’s true.” Mother looked at him. “I didn’t learn that until we were married. Back then, it wasn’t appropriate to fornicate before the I do’s.”
She sure had a colorful way of explaining herself.
“Of course, I went against the rules after that,” Mother continued. “No sense wasting anyone’s time if my fertilizer wasn’t gonna make the tree grow.”
Brantley barked a laugh. He saw that Maxine was grinning but trying to hide it, while Maude was shaking her head. Clearly she was used to Mother being so illustrative.
“How many times were you married?” he asked, taking a sip of what he’d learned was coffee with something called chicory added to it. Not his favorite, but it was palatable.
“Six,” Mother said proudly. “Married for money.”
“Really?” He picked up his fork, poked at his eggs.
“My money.” Mother grinned. “When you have it, they line up. Found love a couple of times even. I learned it was fun to make ’em work for it.”
They came from old money, that was what Maude had said. It explained the enormous historical home, the elaborate grounds, and the framed photos of ancestors.
“It’s more fun, Mother, without the marriage,” Maude announced, this time laughing. “Either of you boys ever been married?”
“No, ma’am.” Brantley glanced at Reese, who still wasn’t looking at him but was politely paying attention to their hosts.
“Ever come close?” Maude was directing the question at Reese.
Reese met her eyes, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. He remained like that, on the spot as the silence became thicker. Brantley probably should’ve saved him, but he was curious as to the delay. How hard was it to say—
“Once, ma’am,” Reese said softly.
Brantley’s hand paused halfway to his mouth, his fork suspended, his breath suddenly lodged somewhere in his sternum.
He hadn’t known that. Reese had never mentioned it before.
“What stopped you?” Mother inquired.
Yeah, Brantley thought. What stopped you?
“She did,” Reese said, his attention diverted back to his plate.
There was a strange sensation filling his chest, one Brantley wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. Jealousy? Fear? Could’ve been either because he wasn’t used to feeling such emotions. Until Reese, he’d never really known love, never taken a chance on it after his one and only serious relationship when he was a teenager.
Realizing he was staring at Reese, Brantley forced his gaze away. He noticed Maude was watching him, those light blue eyes fixed on him, and Brantley could feel the scrutiny. But like a true southern woman, Maude kept the question to herself.
As they said in the south, bless her heart.
Two hours later, once he was settled on the private jet that would deliver them home, Brantley was still battling the strange emotions churning in his gut. They hadn’t abated, but they’d almost been drowned out by an overwhelming curiosity. He wanted Reese to explain, to elaborate, to tell him that his almost marriage hadn’t really been anything, that he’d said it just to appease the women.
“First stop is to pick up Tesha, right?” Reese asked when he eased into the seat across from Brantley.
He answered with a nod, staring out the window as they taxied to the runway.
“I figured I’d run to the grocery store,” Reese continued.
Another nod, his imagination threatening to run away from him with thoughts of Reese waiting for some woman at the altar, preparing to pledge his life and love to her.
“Thought I’d make lasagna for dinner.”
He didn’t even bother to nod this time, surprised that he’d been able to keep his thoughts to himself for this long. And he damn sure wasn’t going to sit here and talk about what they were having for dinner when what he wanted to know was why the fuck he hadn’t known Reese had almost been married.
Brantley turned his attention to Reese, cocked an eyebrow. “Engaged?”
“What?” Reese cleared his throat as though he was shocked by the change in subject. “No, uh… No, I wasn’t engaged.”
Patiently waiting for Reese to elaborate, Brantley continued to hold his gaze.
“Never made it that far,” Reese added. “I asked. She turned me down.”
Brantley swallowed the hot ball of emotion lodged in his throat, letting it sink in, hating that there was a gnawing jealousy in the pit of his stomach.
“It was a long time ago, Brantley.”
Sure it was. “How long?”
Reese’s gaze lowered. “Two years. Almost.”
“Two—?” They’d been seeing each other for a little more than four months now, living together for the past two. And it had been almost two years?
“How almost is almost?”
Reese’s attention remained on his lap. “Sixteen months or so.”
Sixteen months? Sixteen. Freaking. Months. That meant—
Brantley swallowed hard. “A year before—? You were engaged a year before I met you?”
“A little more than,” Reese countered, then sighed and added a subdued, “But no, I wasn’t engaged.”
Right. Because she’d turned him down. Otherwise…
“And you didn’t think thi
s was somethin’ I should know?”
Reese’s head snapped back like Brantley had slapped him, his eyebrows slamming down. “I don’t remember you askin’.”
Touché. “Who is she?”
“You don’t know her.”
Brantley waited for Reese to look at him, then hardened his stare. “Who?”
Reese sighed heavily, obviously resigned to answering. “Her name’s Madison Adorite. We dated for a while. Long-distance. She lives in Dallas.”
“How’d you meet her?”
“Through Travis.”
Fucking figured. “And it got serious enough that you asked her to marry you?”
“No. It didn’t.”
Okay, now he was confused.
“That was the problem,” Reese continued, his voice rougher. “She was breakin’ it off because she needed to focus on … the family business.” Reese stared at him for several long seconds before finally saying, “She’s an Adorite. As in the Adorite crime family, also known as the Southern Boy Mafia.”
Brantley had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn’t actually matter who this Madison was. The simple fact that Reese had asked her to marry him was what he was hung up on. Not necessarily because Reese had had a near-miss with getting hitched, but more so that he’d been nearly engaged to a woman. Key word being woman. Brantley was used to competing for what he wanted, but when it came down to it, there was no competing in that arena.
And that fucking bothered him.
“And what? You panicked and asked her to marry you?”
Reese shrugged one shoulder. “Basically. Yeah.”
Wow.
Just wow.
“Brantley?”
He continued to stare at the table. “What?”
“Say somethin’.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Are you pissed?”
“No.” That much was true. He wasn’t angry, he was confused. Worried, maybe. He’d go so far as to say he was hurt, even. Although the last one made no sense at all. It wasn’t like they’d shared all their deepest, darkest secrets with one another. Hell, there were some big ones neither of them had revealed yet.
But for some reason, this particular secret felt … enormous.
Deadly Coincidence (Brantley Walker: Off the Books Book 4) Page 2