Breaking Brent (12 page)

Before Kathleen could move, Peyton was on top of her. Kathleen was a bit taller and outweighed Peyton by a few pounds, but she couldn’t do anything to unsettle Peyton’s body from the top of hers.

She flung out her arms and nails and tried to catch Peyton’s other cheek, her hair, anything, but Peyton could fight dirty when the circumstances called for it. This circumstance called for it.

Grabbing Kathleen’s hands, Peyton forced them to the floor. Peyton settled all of her weight and her anger onto Kathleen’s chest and moved her face inches away from her sister-in-law’s cussing and screaming form.

“Get this straight, Kathleen, you’ve only got once to do it. If you ever hit, try to hit or even think about hitting my brother again, I will find out about it. When I find out, I will come back here and rip every last one of those damned false fucking nails you pay so much for from your fingers.” Peyton was serious. She had never been more serious in her entire life. Kathleen must not have thought she was because she started to laugh.

“Look at you. All mad. It’s cute. If your brother were more of a man he wouldn’t have to have his sister fight his battles for him.” Kathleen’s body bucked beneath Peyton, but there was no unsettling her.

“It’s because my brother is
more of a man
that I’m doing this. He would never hit you, Kathleen, no matter what you say or do, but I would. I will if I ever see, hear or think you’ve pulled this shit again.” Peyton started to release Kathleen’s arms and go about her business of collecting Lucas and his things, but she was stopped. Kathleen stopped her. Peyton had released Kathleen’s hands for the briefest of seconds but it was enough for her to get one more lick in. The second slap to Peyton’s face didn’t hurt, it only made her temper go beyond the point of no return.

“Who the fuck do you think you are talking to me that way?”

Peyton let her temper get the better of her. One minute she had Kathleen’s arms and the next her hands were clutching the stupid robe the woman was barely wearing as she pulled her back off the floor. When Peyton had her where she wanted her, she let Kathleen have the answer to her question.

With all her strength, her might and her love for her brother, Peyton reared back and sent her fist flying. It connected with Kathleen’s face with a smack that echoed through the once-immaculate living room. Kathleen was done.

Peyton pushed herself to her feet and watched as Kathleen rolled to her side, clutched her face and rocked her body. When she was at her full height, she saw Kathleen peek up at her from behind her hands.

“I’m Peyton James, bitch.” Peyton shook her head at her mess of a sister-in-law lying curled in a ball on the floor. She shook the sting from her fist and then looked at her brother.

He looked tired. He looked defeated. He looked like death chewing on a cracker. Peyton stopped her thoughts from rolling out of her mouth and simply asked, “Is Lucas upstairs?”

Murphy nodded as he continued to stare at his wife. Peyton said nothing else as she ran up the length of the staircase and into Lucas’s room. The little blond-headed boy who looked just like his daddy sat in a miniature rocking chair with his favorite stuffed animal clutched to his chest.

Peyton shut the door and shut out the outside world. She walked slowly to him and fell to her knees. They were face to face—eye to eye. What she saw staring at her made her heart hurt and her eyes well up with tears she couldn’t shed.

Lucas’s little body was shaking slightly and his face was streaked with new and old tears. Peyton didn’t think, she just acted. She opened her arms and surrounded Lucas as he flew into them.

“Come on, buddy. You’re coming home with me.” He didn’t speak, but Peyton felt his head bob beneath her chin. She stood, taking Lucas and his threadbare animal with her. There was no need to pack a bag—he had plenty of clothes at her house.

All Peyton thought about was getting the boy out of the house and away from his mother. Peyton kept his eyes sheltered as she descended the stairs and was glad to see that only Murphy was there.

As she passed him, he reached out and ran his hands through Lucas’s hair and then ran ahead of Peyton to open the door. She walked through the doorway with steadier legs than she should have had, but she made it.

“Thanks, Peyton. I’ll come by tomorrow and check on him.” She nodded and carried Lucas farther away. When he was buckled into the booster seat she kept in the back of her car he finally spoke.

“Is my mommy mad?”

Peyton swallowed the knot she had in her throat and answered him. “No, baby. Your mommy’s not mad.” She kissed his forehead and swept the hair from his eyes before closing the door and walking toward her own door. A little white lie never hurt, but the truth could do some serious damage. The truth was Kathleen wasn’t just mad, she was the craziest bitch Millbrook had ever seen.

Chapter Ten

After three hours of battling with the most stubborn two-year-old mare he’d ever encountered, Brent decided to take a break. Letting the mare run, buck and show her temper in the round pen would hopefully calm her down and wear out her spirits a bit. Then she and he could have a nice long talk about her behavior. He climbed the fence and hopped over, landing soundly on the other side.

The sun was beating down on his back and he wished he could rid his body of the sweat-soaked shirt, but he knew better. The bitch had turned on him twice, trying to take a piece of the flesh from his shoulder. The more between her mouth and his skin the better. There was also the other reason he kept the shirt on. The twin lines of scratches down his back were a tale-tale sign of the time he’d spent with Peyton in the barn. Somehow or another her fingers had worked their way under his shirt and scratched him as he’d driven into her. Or maybe she had marked him through his clothing. Who knew? He just wanted the proof of his tryst to stay between him and Peyton—and Nick. Damnit.

Speaking of his brothers, there they were, all three of them, sitting side-by-side on the front porch, legs anchored across the railing, rocking back and forth with the wind. All three of them were watching, analyzing and throwing suggestions between them and to him while he wrestled in the pen with a mare he didn’t even want to take on. Chase wanted her. Wanted her for Willa. They were off on their honeymoon and Brent was stuck here fighting a losing battle with his brother’s wife’s hell bitch.

“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.