Raising Kane (Rough Riders 9)

“Brandt. Thank God you’re here.” She stepped aside and waited for him to remove his outerwear and boots before heading down the hallway. “It’s in the bathroom. I turn on the taps for the shower and nothing happens.”

“How long has it been like this?”

“It worked fine when I showered yesterday.”

“Got water in the kitchen?”

“I did for a while, but now it’s tapered off to nothing.”

Brandt scratched his chin. “To be honest, it sounds like a major problem. If the entire system is frozen, you’ll have to crawl under the trailer and see what section froze up and try to thaw it with a torch.

Chances are good if it’s broken and leakin’, it’s caused more freeze ups down the line.”

“Oh.” Her pretty face fell and she absentmindedly batted a stray strawberry-blonde hair from her face.

“Would it help if I held the flashlight when we crawled under there?”

Jessie just assumed he’d crawl under her trailer? At ten o’clock at night? With the temp stuck at three degrees?

Not likely. Not even for her.

She’s using you. She’s using your guilt about Luke.

“Whatever’s wrong is gonna have to wait until mornin’ and you can get a plumber or another qualified professional out here to take a look.”

“I assumed you could fix it.”

“I can’t fix everything, Jess.” Brandt sidestepped her and returned to the living room.

He paced in front of the pictures—dozens of them, all of Jessie and Luke. The room wasn’t a shrine, but as far as he could tell, it was awful damn close. Thing was, he didn’t blame her. He dropped onto the couch, too keyed up to relax into the puffy cushions.

“Would you like a beer?” she offered.

“Soda, if you’ve got one, bein’s I have to drive back.”

Jessie handed him a Diet Coke.

It didn’t help matters that she sat close enough to him he could reach out and touch her. He cleared his throat. “So, you heard anything from your dad lately?”

She frowned. “He called me from some podunk rodeo in Oklahoma. We didn’t talk long. Why?”

“Just curious. Chase is back for a spell and it reminded me that your dad is still traveling the circuit.”

“Chase does a lot better as a professional rodeo cowboy after just a few years than my dad has in his entire rodeo career.”

Brandt sipped his soda. “How’s your mom?”

“Good, I guess. She’s working at a coffee shop in Riverton.”

“Pretty place, Riverton.” Lame, Brandt.

“She invited me to visit.”

“You should go.” Pause. “So, you guys busy at Sky Blue? Or is January as slow there as it is everywhere else?”

The space between her eyebrows puckered with confusion. “What’s up with all the questions, Brandt?”

He bristled. “What? I can’t ask you about your family? Or your job?”

“It’s not that… it’s just—”

“You prefer to keep the conversation focused on my dead brother? Or whatever chore or ‘favor’ you require of me?”

Her face turned as red as a radish and Brandt felt like a total heel. But his brothers had been right about one thing: it was time to fish or cut bait where Jessie was concerned.

“If you hate helping me out so much then why are you here?”

Brandt locked his gaze to hers. “You know why I’m here.”

Jessie blushed even more furiously. She started to get up but Brandt clamped his hand around her thigh, keeping her in place.

“Are you drunk?” she demanded.

“No. Are you blind?” he countered.

“Wh-what?”

“Why do you think I run right over here every damn time you call me? Because I love fixin’ wiring or haulin’ shit around in my truck? No. I come here to see you. And the only time I can get your attention is when I’m helpin’ you.”

“Brandt—”

“We can talk about this later. At my place.”

“But—”

“No buts. You’re out of water. I want you to come home with me tonight.”

Awareness of the strings to his offer flashed in her eyes. The color drained from her face. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s past time, Jessie.” He brought her hand to his lips. “I care about you.”

“That’s what you came all the way out here to tell me?”

“No, I cut short my poker game because you called me and begged me to come. I had time to think on the way over. Time to get up my courage to ask about you and me…if there is a you and me. Or even a chance for a you and me in the near future.”

Her eyes fairly shimmered with tears. “You thought that you and I…” She swallowed hard. “Brandt, I think of you as my brother.”

Holy f**k that stung.

“I couldn’t imagine us being…”

Jesus, Jessie, just say the f**king word.

But she didn’t.

Brandt snapped, “You can’t imagine us bein’ lovers?”

She shook her head. Vehemently.

Direct hit. She could imagine him crawling under her goddamn trailer house, but couldn’t fathom him crawling into her bed?

Grief, so raw and debilitating, nearly doubled him over.

Enough.

After what seemed an eternity—but was probably only a minute—Brandt managed to stand. He didn’t say a word to her as he slipped on his boots and outerwear.

“I’m sorry,” Jessie blurted. “I just don’t want to give you false hopes.”

Too late.

“It’s not you, it’s—”

He whirled on her. “If you say it’s not you, it’s me, I swear to f**kin’ God I’ll punch a hole in this cheap-ass paneling.”

Jessie was taken aback by his violent outburst. “I wasn’t gonna say me. I was gonna say…it’s Luke.”

“He’s dead.” And again, Brandt felt like a f**king heel for making her flinch.

“I know. But even after more than a year, neither one of us has really let him go, have we?”

Brandt froze.

“You’re upset, I understand. I’ve spent the last year and a half upset.”

“Jessie, I’m—”

“Sorry? Yeah, me too. Go home, forget about this, and we’ll talk later, okay?”

He wanted to tell her it was all or nothing. He couldn’t be just friends and her errand boy anymore.