Breaking Brent Part 19

She was making him burn. Burn to be inside her. Deep inside her. The effects her kiss and her body had on him were making his head spin and hammer. The hammering noise continued until he couldn't ignore it. It wasn't until he felt Peyton pull away that he realized the knocking wasn't in his head, but at the front door of the bar.

Looking a little guilty, she pushed him away and pulled her bra up and her shirt down. Hopping down from the bar, she made her way toward the door, tucking her shirt in as she went. Brent drew in a deep breath, readjusted the ma.s.s of hard, throbbing flesh in his jeans and replaced his Stetson.

"s.h.i.t."

Hearing Peyton hiss the word made Brent wonder even more who the h.e.l.l was at the door and why the h.e.l.l they were here in the first place at this time of night. Two seconds after she opened the door he understood the reason for Peyton's curse. He muttered a few of his own.

Standing just inside the door, duffel bag over his shoulder, Stetson pushed back carelessly on his head, was none other than the fiance himself-Carter Nash.

In that moment, Brent felt something he hadn't felt in a long time as far as Carter was concerned-guilt. It consumed him.

All those feelings he had felt toward Carter were now reversed. He had felt betrayed. He had felt angry and hurt at both of them for what they had done. He was no better now than the a.s.shole he had accused Carter of being years ago. At least Carter hadn't gone after Peyton when he had been with her.

Carter had waited until Brent was out of the picture. That wasn't the case this time. Brent had gone after Peyton because he wanted Peyton-no matter who or what was in his way. Carter was well in the picture and Peyton was his.

Brent felt like a b.a.s.t.a.r.d. He felt like the lowest son of a b.i.t.c.h ever to walk the face of the earth. He should have known better. He should have known that guilt would tag along with the other feelings he had been having. He just never thought the guilt would outweigh all those other feelings raging inside of him.

117.

Chapter Nineteen.

"Carter?" Peyton thought at first that her eyes and her mind were playing tricks on her-horrible tricks, unthinkable tricks, mean and downright nasty tricks.

"I went by the house but you weren't there, and it seems I've lost my key. How you doing, girl?

Brent." Peyton watched as Carter moved in front of her and extended his hand toward Brent.

"Carter," Brent said, tipping his hat, but not accepting his hand. Peyton waited for someone to speak-anyone. She wasn't surprised when neither of the two men spoke. They only stared each other down. Peyton watched the two with a cautious eye. The last time they both had been in the same room for any length of time they had gone at each other, fists drawn and ready to beat each other to a pulp-they nearly had until Chase and Jason Kiel had torn them apart. Peyton didn't think she could muster the strength she would need to pull them off each other.

She watched as Brent looked from Carter, who had stepped back to her side, and then back to her before he spoke.

"I need to be going. Good to see you, Carter." He tipped his hat. "Peyton." He walked past them, turned the k.n.o.b on the door, opened it without pause and disappeared into the darkness.

Peyton had no earthly idea how long she stood rooted to the spot, staring at the closed doorway he had exited. It could have been a minute. It could have been an hour. She didn't know. All she knew was that he had walked away. Again. He had left her confused, wanting and angry.

So angry.

Angry with him.

Angry with Carter.

And more than anything-angry with herself. She had done it again. She had allowed herself to feel.

She had allowed herself to want him. She had allowed herself to think, to dream and to want what she couldn't have.

Peyton didn't remember much after Brent left. She remembered her and Carter riding to her house together. She remembered exiting the car and entering the house. She remembered unlocking her front door and then knocking Carter Nash flat on his a.s.s. After that everything was a bit fuzzy.

Chapter Twenty.

"Knock, knock." The cheery voice made Brent wince and wish he had left the house before everyone else did.

"Am I disturbing you?"

Brent looked away from Jocelyn and her bright and happy-go-lucky smile and resumed his silent staring out the window. There was plenty to see from his hiding spot. Jace was working Willa's new mare in one of the pens. Nick and Hayden were tossing a football back and forth between them and chasing one or two of the stray mutts that had taken up residence at the ranch when they got lucky and stole the ball.

Everyone was outside doing their own thing, leaving him alone-except for one.

Jocelyn entered the room, closed the door quietly behind her and then flopped on the bed. Brent didn't have to look at her to know that she was staring at him. He could feel it.

"Can I do something for you, Joss?" He turned and saw that he was indeed correct about her staring.

Staring might have not been the best word for what Jocelyn was doing. She wasn't just staring. She was studying. She was a.n.a.lyzing every inch of him. "Something on your mind?"

"I hear Carter's back in town."

"You heard right."

"Seems he's been here for a couple of days."

"That sounds about right." He knew it was right. If she had asked him he could have told her almost down to the minute how long Cater had been back in town. That was also the exact amount of time he had been without Peyton. True, he had stayed away from her a few days here and there to give her s.p.a.ce, to give her time, but it was by choice. His choice had been taken away from him now thanks to Carter and his decision to show back up in town. It was his right though-she was his.

"I never took you for the stupidest of the bunch." Jocelyn's words caught him off-guard and he turned to glare at her-it didn't have the effect he wanted it to. She kept on talking. "The hardest to get along with? Yes. The one I was always the most wary of? Without a doubt. But the stupidest? That possibility never entered my mind, but everyone makes mistakes right?"

"I'm not stupid." He said in reb.u.t.tal to her short monologue concerning his att.i.tude and faults as she saw them.

"Really? Coulda fooled me."

"Why are you really here, Joss? Did you just decide to let me know all my faults in alphabetical order today? Because if you did, I can save you some time. I know what my faults are. I've known what they are for years." He started to move from his room to another that had one less occupant, but her words stopped him.

"Was stupidity on your list too? Cause its topping mine right now." Brent saw red. Never in the entire time Joss's dad and his mom had been married had he been mad or even anything near upset or bothered by her, but he was beginning to understand Jace's disdain for the imp relaxing against his pillows.

"I get it okay. You and Peyton are friends and you think that I-"

"You're f.u.c.king everything up! Just like you did the last time."

Brent stopped and stared and his mouth might have dropped open as well. Jocelyn had a temper, that was an understatement, but he had yet to be on the receiving end of it-until now. Her scowl and narrowed eyes made her look less angelic and more like the red-headed fireball she really was.

"You need to just stop now. You don't know what happened between Peyton and me. On top of that, whatever happened is none of your d.a.m.ned business."

"She loves you. She's in love with you."

He started to speak, to rebuff what she'd said, but stopped himself. Her words were wrapped in what she thought was the truth. What she thought was real.

"She loves her fiance."

"And you know this how? There is a big difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. There is a huge margin for interpretation between love and in love." One of her auburn eyebrows quirked above the green of her eyes as she stared him down and held his body in place.

"She's still wearing his ring isn't she?"

"Yes, she is. But the last time I checked you were the one sharing her bed up until a few days ago."

"It's just s.e.x, Jocelyn. Nothing more."

"That is the one thing I hate, absolutely hate, about you men."

Brent thought he actually saw her snarl her lip when she spat out the word you.

"I hate that you think s.e.x, any and every kind of s.e.x is just that. It's never more. It's never less."

"Sometimes it's not more."

"And sometimes it is. Tell me something. Does Peyton strike you as the type who randomly goes around having s.e.x with just anyone? You know as well as I do that she doesn't. As far as I know she has been with you and with Carter and then with you again. She's not scratching an itch or trying to work out her frustrations or doing whatever it is people seem to do when they have s.e.x. She did it, she made love to you, because she wanted to. It could have all stopped after that little episode in the barn, but I know good and well that it didn't. You've disappeared too often from here lately for you not to have been with Peyton.

I know it and so does everyone else."

120.

"It doesn't matter what happened. It won't happen again. Carter's here now, where he should be.

Things are how they should be."

"You love her."

"Maybe once."

"You're in love with her."

"Not anymore."

"Always."

"It was a long time ago, Joss. Things change. Some things...some things are just better as a memory."

His hand reached for the doork.n.o.b once more, and with his back turned he never saw her approach him. He twisted the k.n.o.b, but her hand covered his and stopped all movement.

"And some things aren't." She barely whispered her piece of twenty-two-year-old-never-been-in-love wisdom.

He left on that note, but her words lingered in his mind, in his body and in his soul. Jocelyn's words struck a chord in Brent's heart, a cord that hadn't been stricken in a long time. They would do little good though.

Carter Nash was back.

Back in town and back to claim what was rightfully his-Peyton.

Brent didn't waste any time. He left the house and headed toward the barn, praying none of his family would choose to follow him. He just needed some time. Time to think. Time to himself-just a little bit of time.

Once he entered the barn, he had one of the horses saddled and ready in no time at all and then he was off. He rode the gelding hard for the first few miles-harder than he should have. When they finally stopped, Brent dismounted and left the horse content and comfortable under the shelter of some trees and walked. His boots took the terrain easily. This was his land. He knew it like the back of his hand and he moved across it at will.

When his feet finally stopped, he realized he hadn't gone as far as he would have liked. In the end he was standing in front of the largest pond on the property. The largest pond with the clearest water. The pond where he and Carter and Peyton used to end up on the hottest summer days when the sun threatened to burn flesh from the bone. The cool water was always waiting with open arms. This pond had also seen a few drunken and giddy nights where all three of them would lie beneath the stars and dream about the what-ifs in life and what the future held for them.

It was also the same place they had ended up at that night-that night that changed the dynamics of their group. Brent took a deep breath, thinking it would clear his mind, but all it did was bring back memories, one memory in particular. He stood there on the banks, eyes shut against the ever-present sun and remembered.

121.

He watched as she poked the sleeping form sprawled out in the bed of his pickup truck. Carter had pa.s.sed out a good thirty minutes before and since then he and Peyton had taken turns tormenting him while he slept off the whiskey they'd consumed in honor of her eighteenth birthday.

"He's gone. You can quit poking him now," Brent said as he swatted at one of Carter's booted feet that were dangling off the end of the tailgate. Carter stirred a bit, grumbled and then went still once more.

Brent laughed and watched Peyton cover her mouth with her hand in an effort to stifle the giggles threatening to roll from her. It didn't help.

"I shoulda known he'd be a lightweight on my night." She stood from her crouched position and swayed a bit on her feet, but before she could tumble and fall, Brent was there to catch her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let him ease her down from the bed of the truck. When her feet touched the ground, Brent expected her to let go of his neck, but she didn't. Immediately, he felt a surge of l.u.s.t rush through his body. He prayed like h.e.l.l she was too drunk to notice the bulge in the front of his jeans.

"Can you walk?" he whispered against her mane of hair that always seemed to smell like apple blossoms.

"Well, now that all depends," she countered with a laugh attached to her voice.

"On what?"

"On just how far you plan on travelin'." She let her head fall back and Brent watched her eyes slide shut and a smile cross her face.

"Not far, darlin'. Just a few feet." He tilted his head and indicated the quilt they had laid out earlier in the evening closer to the water's edge.

"I think..." she said as she pulled away from him to stand on her own, "I can make it that far." She laughed again, grabbed the half-empty bottle of whiskey from the tailgate and made her way toward the pallet. Brent checked on Carter one more time, saw he was breathing all right, enough to snore like a bear, and followed the same path she had taken.

He stood next to the edge of the blanket and smiled as she brushed away the nonexistent blades of gra.s.s from the quilt. When she had finished, she cut her eyes toward him and patted the empty place beside her. He did as she asked.

Brent sat down and pulled his long legs up so that the heels of his boots were embedded in the earth and his arms rested on his bent knees. The two of them were quiet for a few long moments as they watched the wind make ripples on the water.

"I love it here," she said in a lazy, slurred fashion.

"So, how was your birthday? Was it everything you expected it to be?" She was silent for a second, and from the corner of his eye Brent could see her pondering his question.

"I don't feel eighteen. Aren't I supposed to feel like an adult now?"