Breaking Brent

by Niki Green

  “I think you’ve met your match with that one,” Hayden said, tipping his hat and covering his laughing eyes.

  Bastard, Brent thought.

  “Maybe if you give her a little time she’ll come around. I don’t see why we have to start today,” Nick stated as he rocked away.

  “Tomorrow might be better. Maybe after a good night’s sleep you can handle her.” Jason’s mocking voice reached Brent’s ears just as he reached the porch and took a seat on the top step. Leaning back, he rested his upper body on his arms and stretched his legs out, letting the tense muscles relax under the denim.

  “I can handle her today.” Pulling the leather gloves from his hands with his teeth one finger at a time gave him a second to think.

  To think about how to handle the mare.

  To think about how to handle Peyton.

  To think about what strategy would be best for breaking the mare.

  And for breaking Peyton.

  His body should be sated, eased, exhausted, but it wasn’t. It was running on all cylinders. This morning he thought that he had worked her out of his system for awhile—he was wrong. She was still there, the scent of her, the feel of her body, the knowledge of what she sounded like when she came. Nope, she was definitely still in his system. Cussing and throwing the work-worn gloves aside did not improve his mood.

  “Speaking of handling,” Jason said, rising from his rocker and taking a seat beside Brent. “Did you happen to notice Anna McCready at the wedding?”

  Shaking his head, Brent knocked the dust from his pants leg and watched it catch the breeze and fly away. He didn’t notice anybody at the wedding, except for Peyton. Only Peyton.

  “How could you not? Damn. She grew up in a hurry. College is doing her body good.”

  Brent wasn’t worried about what college was or was not doing for Anna McCready’s body. “Stay away from that. Her daddy’s a good man and he doesn’t need you sniffing around his baby girl or any of his girls for that matter. It will only cause problems. How do you know it was Anna anyway?” It was a logical question. Anna McCready was part of a pair—a pair of twins. Identical twins.

  “Believe me, I can tell. Besides, Anna McCready is not on my radar. I just know a good-looking woman when I see one, and she and her sister both fall into that category. Beautifully. All them damn McCreadys do.” Laughing and punching Brent’s arm playfully, Jason changed the subject. “So, where’d you get off to last night? We were planning on heading into town for a drink but we couldn’t find you.”

  “Just drove around, not that it’s any of your business.” Picking the discarded gloves back up, Brent went about the task of putting them back on and getting back to work.

  “Until five this morning?”

  Brent only nodded his head and pulled himself to his feet. Maybe Jason would take the hint and leave the subject alone.

  “I’m not buying it.”

  He had driven around—for hours. Trying his best to work everything out in his mind. By the wee hours of the morning he had come up with plenty of reasons for him to stay away from Peyton, but none of them were good enough for his mind or his body. He wanted her, pure and simple, and he would get what he wanted.

  Brent could have responded to Jason’s meddling. He had a smart-ass comment all lined up, but fate intervened. In the form of one Jocelyn Reece.

  “Shit,” Jason muttered to the dirt at his feet. “I thought she went home. What the hell is she doing back here?” Watching Jocelyn drive up the dirt road toward the house was like watching a tornado weave its path. If it were possible, she drove worse than Jason did. Just like a bat out of hell.

  Jocelyn, and all of her dust and glory, flew past them, waved a bit and nestled her jeep in between Brent’s and Hayden’s trucks. It was a tight fit, but considering Jocelyn had done away with the doors of her jeep at the beginning of the summer, she just climbed out. With her came three suitcases and an overnight bag and a few other articles Brent couldn’t identify.

  “What the hell?” the question came from Jason as he stood to take a place next to Brent.

  “Hello there, boys. Long time no see.” Smiling as she drew nearer lugging the cases behind her brought a thousand questions to Brent’s mind. Those questions came out of Jason’s mouth.

  “What the hell are you doing here? And why the hell do you have luggage?” Jabbing a finger through the air in the direction of Jocelyn’s luggage stopped her steps two feet away from them and the house.

  “I need clothes, don’t I?”

  “For what?” Jason put the most menacing look on his face he could find and then placed his hands on his hips for an added intimidating affect.

  “Well, I’m staying here and I like clean clothes.” She picked the cases back up and walked toward the front porch.

  “The hell you’re not.” Jason blocked her path with his body.

  “The hell I am.” Jocelyn countered dropping the bags, rather heavily, on one of Jason’s booted feet. Cussing and bitching, he stepped away from her.

  “What’s going on, Jocelyn? We thought you went back to your daddy’s last night after the wedding.” Brent spoke over Jason’s hissy fit.

  “I did. This morning I decided that I was fed up with being treated like a child when I am far from it, so I moved out. I’m declaring my independence. Will you help me with these?”

  “That still doesn’t explain why you’re here, kid.”

  Brent winced and rubbed a hand over his face as Jason spoke. He was looking for a fight and he knew he would get one from Jocelyn.

  “It seems that my daddy doesn’t think I am old enough to have a house all to myself, and I can’t take another minute of his bull-headed ways, so I left. It was your mama who suggested that I stay here until Daddy comes to his senses and realizes I am not a kid.” She threw the word Jason’s way and he looked fit to be tied because of it. It didn’t help that when she spoke she batted her eyelashes at him, making his fury mount.

  “You can’t stay here,” Jason interjected as he looked to each of his brothers to back him up.

  Brent saw the uncomfortable look on all of his brothers’ faces. None of them knew what to say. Agreeing to the situation would bring Jason’s wrath down on them and not agreeing would bring Jocelyn’s. Nick and Hayden were between a rock and a hard place.

  Brent had yet to figure out who was the rock and who was the hard place.

  Instead of arguing further with any of them, he started his short walk back to the pen and to the hateful bitch who had her sights set on him and any flesh she could get a hold of. But Jocelyn’s next sentences stopped his steps.

  “I told your mama that you all would be less than enthusiastic with my being here. So I suggested I spend the next few weeks with Peyton. Do you think she would take me in? Just for a little while?” Brent’s heart jumped several beats.

  If Jocelyn stayed with Peyton it would put his plans for seduction on hold for who knew how long.

  If she stayed at the house he would just have to put up with Jason and his foul moods for a week or two until this all blew over and Jocelyn moved back home. Jason’s current mood was throwing him a little off-course. Yeah, he and Jocelyn fought like cats and dogs, but they could also coexist pretty well, or at least they should be able to.

  What the hell was going on with him? What had caused this sudden anti-Jocelyn movement he was currently on? He didn’t know what Jason’s problem was, but he would find out. Jason could be pissy about Jocelyn and her choice of homes for the next few weeks. Brent could handle his bad moods, but not the nights away from Peyton and her body.

  “You can stay here.” He was the oldest so he made the decision that set the next argument in motion.

  “Have you lost your mind?” Jason yelled, kicking the dirt at his feet and spewing it into the air in Brent’s direction.

  “Get over it, you tittie baby. Put on your big-boy panties and deal with it. You won’t even know I’m here.” Throwing a quick smile over her shou
lder, she picked up one of her bags, while Nick took the other two, and made her way into the house, up the stairs and into her temporary room for the next few days or weeks.

  “I’ll know you’re here all right. Wherever you are trouble seems to follow,” Jason flung the insult her way. Brent had no way of knowing if Jocelyn heard him or not, or if she even cared for that matter. “Have you lost your ever-lovin’ mind?”

  Brent moved toward the pen once again with Jason dogging his steps. “It’s just a few weeks. How much trouble can she get into in that much time? With the four of us around? Chase and Willa will be back in a week or so and by then Jocelyn will be so bored she’ll head home anyway.” Placing his foot on the bottom row of fencing, he boosted his body over the top of the fence and into the tiny area. Now it was time to get to work.

  “I’m not a babysitter.” Jason hopped the fence as well—fuming and foaming at the mouth with every passing second.

  “Nobody’s asking you to be.” He slapped the gloves against his thigh and knocked most of the dust away for the time being.

  “Well, get ready, because that is what every last one of us is about to turn into. Fucking babysitters.”

  “I bet we don’t even know she’s here.” Maybe they wouldn’t. Hopefully.

  “Oh, bullshit. Let me ask you a question. You like worrying about that pecker of yours?” Jason asked but never gave Brent the chance to answer. “You spend a lot of time worrying about where to put it, where not to put it, and shit like that?” Brent could only shrug at his brother’s questions.

  “Because let me let you in on a little secret, now that she’s here—” he jabbed a finger toward the house and indicated Jocelyn with the snide she, “—your dick is going to have to take the back seat. Because now that you’ve let her stay here, we’re going to have to worry not only about our own dicks but every fucking dick in this county. Congratulations. You’ve turned us all into fucking monks for who knows how long.” Frustrated and cussing up a storm, Jason hopped the fence once more and headed toward the barn.

  Whatever was bothering him had come out of nowhere. A few days ago, they had all been life-long friends, kidding and cutting up together. But today was totally different.

  Thinking about this decision did not change his mind. Either way Jocelyn was going to put a damper on his plans, but that would change. Brent had Peyton on the mind and all the positions he wanted her in and there was nothing, not a fucking thing, that was going to get in his way. Not this time.

  He had wasted enough time where Peyton was concerned. He’d had years to sit and stew over where he had gone wrong and now he was going to do something right. He was going to give it one more shot. Yesterday in the barn was all the encouragement he needed. Peyton may have thought it was only his body that wanted her, but she was wrong. He wanted Peyton. Pure and simple. He just had to convince her of it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Peyton stood at the kitchen counter in a daze. The sun was shining, she could see a slight breeze catch the hanging baskets suspended from the roof of her back patio, and she heard the cling-cling sound from her wind chime. It was another beautiful day. But Peyton’s mind was not locked on concentrating on the scenery. It was locked on something much more pressing.

  She’d slept with Brent. Scratch that, she and Brent had had wild, naughty oh-so-good sex. Nothing more, nothing less. She’d had a couple of days to think, a few hours of sleep and plenty of time to let the realization of what she had done sink in, and boy had it ever.

  The recreation of the event made Peyton’s mind and body work overtime. Since the wedding and the whole barn incident, she’d had plenty of time to think about what had happened. She had thought that Lucas’s presence would keep her mind occupied, but it hadn’t. Instead, at every turn she saw Brent’s body pressed to hers, his lips lingering in close proximity to her own, and she remembered vividly how he felt as he pounded inside of her.

  There was obvious sexual attraction between them. It had been there for years, but it should have diminished long ago. It should have gone away when Carter asked her to marry him and promised her the world and everything else along with it. Those promises he had made took a backseat to all the ones Brent and his tongue had ever made. She had been a fool for ever thinking Carter and his ring could make her life complete. In the end, the ring had caused more problems than it had fixed.

  With a sigh, she grabbed her keys and sunglasses and headed for the door. It was Tuesday afternoon, which meant it was Peyton’s day to deal with her grandfather. Glenn Peyton James, her namesake, and the thorn in her side more often than not, lived just past her mother and father’s home. They all took turns checking in on Grandpa Glenn. At seventy-two he was still spunky and spry and liked to believe he could still do all the things a man twenty years younger could do, but he couldn’t.

  In order to keep him in line, Murphy, Reed and herself, along with all of her McCready cousins, looked in on him from time to time. It took a group effort to keep him in check. He was still wily and cunning enough that he could pull the wool over some of the others’ eyes, but not Peyton’s. She knew him. She anticipated him. She could head him off before he took a step in the wrong direction.

  She hadn’t been able to go over on Saturday afternoon because of the wedding and then the hell that had taken place after it so her cousins had.

  Since bringing Lucas home with her with the strictest of orders not to involve her mother and father in any of Murphy’s goings on, she and Lucas had lived like hermits, barely leaving the confines of her house. That tended to make a kid stir crazy—it didn’t do much for Peyton’s nerves either.

  Murphy had shown up the night before, still carrying wounds so much like Peyton’s on his face, and collected Lucas. He hadn’t spoken of what had transpired on Saturday afternoon and volunteered no information about the current situation at home. He had simply gotten Lucas and his things, kissed Peyton on the forehead like a good child and left. His departure left too many unanswered questions for her wondering mind.

  She pulled the door closed behind her, jogged to the car, jumped in and started the engine. In three days time her life had gone from being predictable and uneventful to being filled with drama plus a naughty should-never-have-happened roll in the hay with an old flame.

  That’s what you get for being a smart-ass.

  Her father’s words echoed in her head—he was right though. Laughing at herself and sending the dust of the road flying behind her, she sped to her grandfather’s house. Maybe an afternoon with him would cancel out the mess her head was making of itself.

  Glenn James’s house sat on the same land as her own—just on the opposite side. It was a ten-minute walk through the pasture to get there and a minute or two’s drive. Peyton had spent most of her childhood and even some of her adult life running through the pastures and napping beneath the old oak tree that sat on a hill in the middle of the property. Lazy days, that’s what Grandpa Glenn called them. Today might just turn out to be a lazy day. A nice nap beneath the trees would be relaxing.

  Pulling into the driveway, Peyton noticed she wasn’t the first James to arrive. The SUV her parents drove was there next to her grandfather’s thirty-year-old pickup. There was one other truck Peyton recognized. Reed’s. Reed was there. Her family, the whole lot minus Murphy. Great.

  Peyton bided her time walking across the gravel toward the front porch steps. She felt like a child walking into her parents’ house after doing what she knew she shouldn’t have been doing. She totally expected a spanking as she entered the front door.

  She swallowed the knot that had formed in her throat and pulled the screen door open. The foyer was dark and her eyes had to adjust from light to dark and then back again. When she was focused once more she didn’t like what she saw. Perched on the arm of the chair, looking less than enthusiastic and a little afraid, was Reed. When he turned his head and looked at her, she stopped dead in her tracks and read his lips.

  “Run.”<
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  For a split second, she started to do just that. Her feet turned and her body followed, but before she could take a half a step her father’s voice stopped her.

  “Peyton.” Big Jack James had a voice that could force a yellow streak down a hero’s back. Peyton’s insides froze for a second along with all of her muscles. Maybe, just maybe, if she stood there long enough he would forget that she had arrived. Maybe she could retreat and run like she wanted to. No such luck.

  “Peyton Elisabeth, I know you’re there. Come on in here, baby girl.” This wasn’t good. Her father’s voice had a tone attached to it that she had only heard a few times before in her life. Retreat was not an option. She took a quick breath, turned and walked toward the living room.

  As she rounded the corner and stood next to Reed she prayed for strength. On the older-than-dirt couch that had barely any color left, sat her father and grandfather. Neither looked happy. As a matter of fact, Reed looked a little rough for wear.

  For longer than she could stand her father and grandfather sat silently and looked at her and Reed. No one spoke and the silence was worse than anything. After another few moments, her father took a deep breath and started to speak.

  “Incoming. Hold on to your panties.” Reed’s words made Peyton’s body jump. She jerked her gaze toward Reed and then back to her father.

  “Who wants to tell me why I have been banned from my son’s house?” His stare was a thing of legends. Neither Reed nor herself uttered a word. She didn’t know if she could’ve if she had wanted to. “Why he won’t take my phone calls and why in the hell this one—” her father stabbed one of his large fingers Reed’s way, “—has been the good and dutiful son for the last few days without any questions asked. And why you look like you brawled with an alley cat? What happened to your face, Peyton?”

  Peyton’s hand flew to her face and she winced when her fingertips came in contact with the bruises that lay beneath the ugly, scabbed marks Kathleen’s fingernails had caused.