Part 10 (1/2)

”What's that?” Brent didn't really want to carry on this conversation, not when he was still buried b.a.l.l.s deep inside of Peyton and growing harder by the second.

”You might want to leave separately. Mama is looking for you and there's a few hundred people scattered about.”

Brent heard Peyton's whimper and knew that she was embarra.s.sed to no end.

”Will do, now will you please close that f.u.c.king door.”

Nick nodded his head behind the hand that s.h.i.+elded his eyes. ”Sorry,” he stammered and moved back to close the door, nearly tripping over his feet. ”d.a.m.nit, sorry.” In his hurried retreat, he kicked over a bucket and caused a h.e.l.lacious sound to follow. He might as well tear down the whole f.u.c.king barn on his way out. ”Sorry, I'm gone. Good to see you. I mean, I didn't see you. I've got my eyes covered. I didn't mean that I had seen anything. Just trying to be polite, is all.”

”Would you get the f.u.c.k outta here.” The whole situation would have been funny if Brent hadn't been in such a compromising position.

”Okay, okay. See you later, Brent.”

”s.h.i.+t, just go.”

”I'm gone.” Nick slammed the door and Brent could hear him literally running from the barn.

Brent pulled himself from Peyton's body, removed the handkerchief from his pocket his mother had given him before the wedding in case of tears and proceeded to clean himself up. He watched Peyton as he wiped away the proof of their pa.s.sion.

She stood with her head in her hands, back against the wall, legs slightly quivering beneath her.

When Brent had cleaned himself up the best he could, he hitched his pants back onto his hips, replaced his boxer briefs to their righted position and then zipped and b.u.t.toned the tuxedo pants.

He moved toward Peyton, but she heard his steps and eased away before he could touch her.

”Don't,” she said with a low, shaky voice.

”Don't what? I was just trying to...” He never got to finish. She pushed the tack-room door open and walked through it. He started to go after her, but she put up a hand to stop him.

”We don't need to be seen together. Just stay away.” Brent followed her as she moved from the opening of the door and saw her fixing her appearance before leaving the interior of the barn. He called after her just before she exited.

”Peyton-”

”Don't. Stay away. Just stay away.”

”Like h.e.l.l. We need to talk about what just happened.”

”No, we don't. Just leave it alone. It won't ever happen again.”

”The h.e.l.l it won't.” His voice had gruffness attached to it.

61.

”It can't. Just leave it alone. It shouldn't have happened in the first place. Forget it and stay away.

You know how to do that, right? You've gotten pretty good at it the last few years. I'm sure it will come back to you in no time.”

With that, she was gone. Brent stood in the barn for a long enough period of time for no one to notice that they had been in there together. When he finally rejoined the rest of the wedding guests, he realized that he had almost missed Willa tossing her bouquet and her and Chase's departure.

Standing at the back of the crowd, he searched and searched until he found Peyton. She was in the front of the group of woman, standing next to Jocelyn as they waited to catch the bouquet clutched in Willa's hands.

He saw her face had recovered from its blush and he also noticed how her hair had a slightly tussled appearance. He felt a large swell of caveman pride overcome the inside of him. He had done that. He had made her come undone in his arms and the proof was written all over her body.

From the corner of his eye, he saw his new sister-in-law toss her bouquet, but he didn't realize where it was heading until it landed in a pair of outstretched hands.

Peyton's outstretched hands.

She had caught the bouquet.

According to tradition, she would be the next female in attendance to be married. But to who? Would it be Carter Nash who could never seem to stay in one place long enough to take care of what was supposed to be his? Or would today change everything?

Did he want today to change everything? The thought gave him pause. There she stood not two feet away but miles beyond his reach. He had done that. He had pushed her away.

He wanted her, the proof was still semi-hard and hidden by the d.a.m.ned tuxedo jacket, but he was far past the age of fighting over a woman. Wasn't he? It was kind of hard to fight for a woman who didn't want to be fought over.

Too many questions ran the course of his brain. Peyton was the first thing in his entire life, certainly the first woman, he couldn't have at the drop of a hat. But he could change that.

He wanted Peyton. He wanted what he'd had to begin with, but had lost. He wanted her for however long he could get her.

The grin that crossed Brent's face was the first genuine one that he'd had in a long time. Standing watching her as she took the congratulations from all the jealous females around her, Peyton seemed shy and a bit embarra.s.sed. She had never liked being the center of attention even for all her rip-roaring and wild-haired times. She did things because she wanted to do them. Not because she wanted others to see or know what she was doing. She was a lot like him in that sense.

That was one of the things that had drawn him to her to begin with-Peyton was Peyton no matter who she was around. She didn't conform. She didn't mold herself to fit-she was just Peyton-his Peyton.

62.

Brent watched as she smiled and spoke to his new sister-in-law and then to his brother. Chase spoke as well, but only a few words, before he whisked his bride away. Then she stood in the middle of a crowd, but all alone.

Her attention was taken from the crowd and centered on the bouquet in her hands. The wildflower bundle was a collage of color upon color. She t.i.tled her head, closed her eyes and breathed in the aroma of one of the flowers. The look on her face, that single blissful moment, made Brent smile. He held on to that smile-until she looked his way.

Their eyes locked for more than a moment and Brent felt his heart plummet and his knees get weak.

The look she gave him was the first in a long time without any pain, without any contempt, without anything at all.

The bouquet dropped from her face down to her side and she turned on her heel and walked away without faltering. Brent knew from experience that walking away wasn't as easy as it seemed. Each step was painful and awkward. You never knew whether to walk left or walk right. Whether to look back or to keep forward. He knew what he had done. He hadn't looked back-until now.