The Expert's Guide to Driving a Man Wild

by Jessica Clare

  “I thought you grew up in Bluebonnet,” Brenna told Elise.

  The woman shook her head, looking acutely uncomfortable. “I went away to a private school.”

  “Oh.” Well, maybe that was why she was so shy. Brenna put a hand on Elise’s shoulder, leading her forward. “Come say hello to Miranda.”

  Miranda sat at the manicure table, her hands under the ultraviolet light and a large bridal magazine open in front of her. Her dark hair was beautifully smooth and falling around her shoulders, and her bangs looked as if they’d been freshly clipped. “Hey, Brenna! Come and see the dresses I’m looking at. I’m trying to decide between three.”

  “No, she needs her bangs done first,” Beth Ann decreed. “Honey, your roots are showing something awful.”

  “That’s why we’re here,” Brenna said, dropping into the salon chair with a grin. “That, and I figured Elise might need some girl conversations after being cooped up all day with her parents.”

  “Dane said that Grant’s family was in town,” Miranda commented, carefully turning a page in the magazine. “Are you guys enjoying yourselves?”

  “It’s just like I remember it,” Elise said quietly, and Brenna caught a glimpse of her in the mirror as Beth Ann spun her around in the salon chair and settled a cape over her. Elise had sat down at the back of the small room, in the hair dryer chair. Her long, silky hair had fallen in front of her face again. Grant’s sister was pretty and sweet. Why did she look so terrified of people?

  But then Beth Ann was in her face with foils and a mixing bowl, and Brenna lost sight of everything except Beth Ann’s breasts as she began to fix Brenna’s bangs.

  “You want to go purple again, honey?”

  “How about white? Like a skunk?”

  Miranda snorted.

  “How about no?” Beth Ann gave her a disapproving look. “It’s your head but everyone will know I’ve done it, and I’m not about to have you go around looking like a lost polecat.”

  “What about clown red?”

  “You’re too pale. It’ll look awful.”

  “Green?”

  “Fades to gray too fast. You want pink or purple. Blue if you must.”

  “Purple it is, then.”

  Beth Ann nodded approvingly and began to paint her bangs with highlighting chemicals. “So tell me what’s new,” she said in a sweet voice. “You seeing anyone, honey?”

  Brenna groaned. “Can no one around here keep their mouth shut?”

  “Nope,” Miranda said triumphantly. She turned around from her seat and waved her hands in the air to dry them. “So spill the beans. How long have you and Grant been doing the deed?”

  She watched in the mirror as Elise glanced at Miranda, confusion on her face.

  “We’ve been together a while,” Brenna lied, keeping the story going. “We just haven’t told anyone. It seemed best.”

  “Lordy,” Beth Ann said, wrapping Brenna’s bangs in a foil and then patting it. “We can’t leave you two alone for a minute, can we?”

  “We hired someone new,” Brenna said, changing the conversation. “He’s a smoking hot, tatted-up guy. You seen him yet?”

  Beth Ann’s eyes widened. “No, but I want to hear more.”

  “Elise has seen him,” Brenna said innocently. “What did you think of him, Elise?”

  Elise colored bright red. “He seems nice.”

  “Nice and well muscled,” Brenna teased, pretending to squeeze imaginary buttocks. Of course, Grant was hiding an amazing body under those yawn-inducing sweaters and tailored shirts he wore, so it wasn’t like she was missing out.

  “So are you going to go after him once you’ve finished breaking Grant’s heart?” Miranda asked.

  “No hearts are involved. Just sex and animal lust when it comes to me and Grant. Nothing more.”

  Miranda and Beth Ann exchanged a look in the mirror. “Mmmhmmm,” Beth Ann said. “And this is Grant you say you’re sleeping with?”

  Brenna was getting a little tired of everyone assuming that she had to marry Grant if she was fucking him. “It is, though I might go after Rome. He seems more my type.”

  To her surprise, Elise flinched slightly.

  Well now, that was interesting. She got up from the chair, her bangs fully foiled. “Trade places with me, Elise. I have to sit under the dryer for a bit.”

  “I can trim your hair,” Beth Ann offered. “It’s gorgeous the way it is, but a trim is always good for the ends.”

  Elise shook her head, her hair falling in front of her face again. Even more curious, Brenna thought as she sat under the dryer. There was a lot going on behind the scenes that it seemed she wasn’t all that aware of. It made her feel uneasy. Things had been simpler when it had been just her and the boys, and Grant had been there to harass them. Now the boys were paired off and she was sleeping with Grant and getting upset when he wasn’t harassing her.

  Even more, it bothered her that she was bothered.

  Miranda fluttered her nails once more, then stood up. “I’m heading across the street to the coffee house. You guys want anything?”

  “My usual,” Beth Ann said, and turned to Elise. “You want something, honey?”

  “Nothing for me,” Elise murmured politely. “But thank you.”

  Brenna raised her hand. “I do. Hot chocolate. Pay you later?”

  Elise pulled out her purse. “If you need a few dollars, I have some.”

  Miranda shook her head at Elise. “Brenna always does this. She doesn’t have money.”

  Elise looked puzzled. “She doesn’t?”

  “She’s always broke,” Beth Ann said with a faint smile, dropping her combs into the sterilizer as Miranda disappeared out the door. “But on payday, dinner and drinks are on her. We just get her the rest of the time.”

  But Elise still looked concerned. “Does my brother not pay you enough?”

  “Never,” Brenna said solemnly.

  “Oh please,” Beth Ann said. “Honey, don’t let that sweet face fool you,” she told Elise. “Brenna gets paid just fine. She’s just bad at holding on to it. What did you buy this week, Bren?”

  “Nothing.” At Beth Ann’s skeptical look, she amended, “The last time I went to Maya Loco, there was a nice man playing a guitar for tips.”

  Beth Ann groaned. “You didn’t.”

  Brenna shrugged. “It’s just money.” And if it wasn’t in her hands? She couldn’t buy anything. “He was really good, too.”

  Beth Ann just snorted and pulled out her broom, beginning to sweep. Elise just stared at her with wide eyes. “You gave that man your entire paycheck?”

  “Not the entire thing,” Brenna amended. “I filled up my gas tank first. And bought drinks for the house!” She grinned.

  But Elise wasn’t smiling back at her. She looked troubled.

  Time to circle the conversation once more. “So I was thinking about getting more tattoos,” Brenna said blithely. “I haven’t been able to take my eyes off those big guns of Rome’s. Why do you think he’s so covered? Prison tats? Needle fetish?”

  Elise blushed and ducked her head again. “I don’t know.”

  “Prison tats?” Beth Ann sounded horrified. “Does he look like a prisoner?”

  “Not at all,” Elise protested.

  Distraction taken care of, Brenna thought smugly.

  EIGHT

  Grant’s parents insisted on having another big family dinner that evening. The local Mexican food place, Maya Loco, was a favorite growing up, and was still the only restaurant in Bluebonnet that served alcohol, so it was the place of choice. Brenna was her usual effervescent and irreverent self, chatting happily with Elise and his parents about one of their first classes and how Miranda had insinuated herself into Dane’s group, unbeknownst to Dane until it was too late. Her voice was animated, and she squ
eezed Grant’s knee while they sat outside the restaurant on benches, waiting to be seated.

  Watching her, you would think that she’d been his girlfriend for years. She was so easy with him, her posture relaxed and happy, and she had charmed his parents despite her offbeat airs. She was dressed in a cute black dress, the fabric dotted with cherries, and a matching red cardigan tossed over it. He was pretty sure he’d seen Beth Ann in the same ensemble. But while the cool Southern blonde had looked merely pretty and put together in it, there was something about Brenna that made the outfit perfect for her vivacious personality. Her bangs were bright purple and curled into the Bettie Page hairstyle she loved, and with the dress and hair, she looked like a wickedly sexy, sensual rockabilly sort. Totally wrong for him. But then she’d put her hand in the crook of his arm and lean in, and it felt . . . perfect.

  Even if it was a lie.

  His thoughts kept him occupied even when they were seated in the restaurant. As soon as they were, the waiter rushed off again. He stood. “I’ll get drinks from the bar. The usual for everyone?” When his parents nodded, he looked to Brenna. “What would you like?”

  “Get me something fruity with an umbrella,” she told him, grinning. “I feel fancy tonight.”

  “I’ll join you, Grant,” Elise said quickly, and got up as well.

  They made their way through the crowd—Maya Loco was always packed to the gills—and headed to the counter. He flagged down the bartender to let him know they needed to be served, but the man was at the far end of the bar.

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way,” Elise said under her breath. “But I have some concerns about Brenna.”

  Grant frowned and glanced over at his sister. “Oh? Why is that?”

  She smiled at him. “Please keep smiling, Grant. They’re looking over here and I don’t want them to know we’re talking about Brenna.”

  He forced a smile to his face, though it felt false. His stomach had clenched up hard at Elise’s words. “What’s going on with Brenna?”

  His sister tilted her head and then said, after a long pause, “Are you sure she’s not with you for your money?”

  He couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m pretty sure she’s not. Why do you ask?”

  Elise dragged a finger on the scarred wooden bar, digging a fingernail into an old scratch. “She just seems . . . careless with her finances. I worry that she latched onto you because you’re grieving and you’re wealthy. That’s all.”

  Grant stared at Elise. He moved closer to his sister, turning his shoulders so the others couldn’t see their discussion. “Brenna’s careless with everything. What did she do to make you worry?”

  Elise chewed on her lip, thinking. “I know you like her a lot, Grant, and I’m so happy that you’re dating again . . .”

  “But?”

  “But she gave away her entire paycheck to a street musician. And her friends say she never has any money on her, no matter when she’s paid.” Her brows knit together. “Is it possible she has a drug habit?”

  “I don’t think she does.” But he wondered. Brenna was so open with almost every aspect of her life. It was possible that she was hiding things simply because of omission. He’d had no idea that she lived in such an empty cabin. He’d had no idea that all the items on her desk belonged to other people. She drove an old beat-up car and seemed enthusiastic about her job, but did he truly know her? He made a mental note to ask Dane and Colt more about her when he got back to the lodge. The others had known her since their days in Alaska. Grant hadn’t.

  Was it possible that he was missing a big piece of the puzzle?

  “I’m pretty sure that she’s not using me for my money, Elise.” Grant patted his sister on the shoulder to reassure her. It was almost comical. He would have loved it if Brenna were using him for his money, because that meant she was interested in something long-term. If anything, Brenna was the opposite of a gold-digger. She didn’t want anything from him. But he couldn’t tell Elise that. “I’ll be careful. If it’ll make you feel better to know it, I’ve never bought her anything.”

  Elise relaxed a little. “I’m glad to hear that. I just don’t want someone taking advantage of you while you’re still vulnerable.”

  Vulnerable? It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what she meant by the puzzling comment, and then he realized she was talking about his widowhood. Except for the first time in five years, he felt like a regular guy, not someone who’d been ripped in half and left bleeding. For the first time, he could safely say he’d truly moved on from Heather. He still loved her and always would, but it was time to move forward, and he was more than ready.

  “I’m doing just fine, I promise.”

  A hint of a dimple shone in Elise’s face. “You do seem happier than I’ve seen you in a long time. Is it because of Brenna?”

  “She infuriates the hell out of me,” he admitted. “Half the time I want to strangle her for her hare-brained ideas. And she seems to thrive on antagonism.”

  “You seem to be thriving on it, too.”

  Maybe he was. But now he was curious if there was something ugly about Brenna that he needed to know about before losing his heart to her entirely. Because the sex was incredible. When they were together? It felt right. She was smart and funny and quirky, and she constantly kept him guessing. She never bored him. She was sexy and wild in bed.

  And every time he saw her, he could see himself with her for the long term.

  Just as soon as he found out what her secrets were. The next time he got into a relationship? He didn’t want any surprises.

  • • •

  The next day, despite his confident words to his sister, Grant found himself wondering about Brenna.

  Not that he thought she was after him for his money. She’d never mentioned it and money seemed to be the last thing on her mind. But she had this weird hang-up about stealing things. He’d woken up that morning after a night of wild lovemaking to find out she’d borrowed another T-shirt from him and was drinking out of his favorite coffee mug when he’d gone into the main lodge.

  He’d almost think she was a klepto, except she never seemed to notice when he took things back. That, and she didn’t seem to own anything of her own. Was that normal kleptomaniac behavior?

  So he’d decided to test a few theories. She liked his coffee mug so much? He’d buy her one. He’d driven his family into Houston that day to meet up with friends, and had gone shopping. By the end of the day, he had a personalized purple mug with her name on it, a multi-colored bead bracelet that had been so garishly ugly that he knew she’d like it, and a few pairs of sexy panties that would cling to her cute little ass and drive him crazy.

  When he’d driven back to Bluebonnet that night, she’d been the only one still working in the office, a pencil stuck through her messy bun of hair and pretending to type, even though he knew she was just watching videos on YouTube. He’d given her the bags of presents and watched her reaction.

  He was pretty sure most women liked presents. His first wife, Heather, had loved to get gifts. She’d laughingly insisted on being “surprised” with presents for every holiday she could think of, and back then, he was wild enough about her to do so, not caring about how much money it cost them. Money had never mattered to him.

  But Brenna? She’d acted like he’d dropped a snake on her desk. She recoiled visibly, then looked up at him in horror. “What’s this?”

  “A couple of presents,” he’d told her.

  She reached for the bag with a look of revulsion on her face. She’d softened for a moment at the mug and the bracelet, as if she’d been somehow pleased—despite herself—in the gifts. The lingerie had brought a knowing smirk to her face. “Presents for me, huh?”

  “Mostly for you.”

  And then she’d dragged him back to his cabin and showed him her thanks—predominantly by straddling him
and riding him like a cowgirl for most of the night. She’d said such filthy, wild things that he was pretty sure he’d been blushing at some point . . . and had never been more aroused. She’d seemed happy about the gifts.

  But the next day? He’d found Colt drinking coffee out of the purple Brenna mug and Miranda had shown up wearing that godawful ugly bracelet.

  He’d asked about the mug. Turned out that Colt had rescued it just as Brenna was about to throw it away. The bracelet? Miranda said Brenna had seen her this morning and offered it to her first thing, because she was “going to toss it out.”

  There was no sign of the panties he’d bought her. She’d gone commando that day, too.

  Which was downright weird.

  So he’d gone through the duffel bag of clothing she’d brought with her . . . and had been surprised.

  One bra.

  One pair of panties.

  One pair of jeans.

  One sweater.

  One T-shirt.

  One towel.

  That was it. Necessities, but no more than that.

  And Grant was pretty much flummoxed. Brenna wore different bizarre outfits every time he saw her. Then again, most of them did seem to be from castoffs and piecemeal junk that most people would only wear on laundry day.

  He wondered how much of it was borrowed. And then he wondered where the rest of Brenna’s stuff was. Something about all of this just wasn’t right. What kind of person went around with no possessions, no clothing, and gave away her home?

  • • •

  That night, when she came to bed, yawning and stripping her clothes off, he didn’t pull her to him and begin to kiss her. Instead, he watched her, waiting for her to say something. But when her hands went to the waistband of her pants and she pushed them down, he wasn’t surprised to see that she was naked underneath.

  And instead of turning him on, it infuriated him. “Not wearing the panties I got you?”

  She snorted, as if the idea was ridiculous. “I can pick out my own clothes, thank you very much.”

  “So you’d rather go around with no panties than wear something I bought you?”