Cowgirls Don't Cry (Rough Riders 10)
Which was why he had to stay away from her right now.
He texted Jessie, letting her know he’d be late without going into detail. Then he called his mother, who was watching Landon at his house, telling her he had to finish a couple of things. She didn’t complain or ask questions, but then again, she never did.
Brandt gave his mother’s car a cursory glance and parked his truck behind his barn.
Too bad he didn’t have backbreaking tasks like splitting wood or digging new postholes that would exhaust him. He shucked off his coat and let his anger lead him into total destruction mode. Grabbing a sledgehammer and a crowbar, he began to rip apart the last stall with the loose and broken boards. He couldn’t afford to upgrade to metal and they were too damn dangerous as is.
The sledgehammer came down, the loud thwack followed by another thwack thwack thwack until he couldn’t hear anything besides the blood pounding in his ears. Sweat poured down his face. When he had the boards loosened, he used his hands to break them free. The muscles in his back screamed. Slivers penetrated his holey gloves, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Not until it was done. Not until this consuming fury was gone.
He finally took a break when he was down to one long board on the backside. Placing the heels of his hands above his knees, he bent over, sucking in huge gasps of air, half-wondering when he’d started heating the barn because his skin was on fire.
The hinge on the barn door squeaked and he blinked the sweat from his eyes as he glanced up.
His mother stood in the doorway.
No one he cared about should ever see him like this. Embarrassment had him snarling, “What?”
“Jessie called about thirty minutes ago when she couldn’t reach you on your cell. She’s on her way here.”
What the f**k? “I told her I was gonna be late.”
“Something tipped her off to your mood.” Her gaze darted to the destroyed stall and back to him.
“Which is a little destructive.”
“This piece of shit needed to be torn down.”
“I’m not worried about the stall, son. I’m worried about you.”
“It’d be best if you went back on up to the house and let me finish this.”
Her eyes focused on his cheek. “You’re bleeding.”
“Where?”
“Your face. Come inside with me and I’ll clean it up.”
Brandt shook his head. “I’m sure it’s just a scratch.”
“Made by a rusty nail. When was your last tetanus shot? Just let me take a quick look—”
“No,” he practically bellowed. “Don’t you understand? I cannot be around anyone right now.”
Her face registered surprise, then hurt. “Why not?”
His entire being quaked and words poured out a stilted mess. “I hate that he still has that much power over me. I hate that he can get a reaction out of me when no one else can. I hate it’s a test to see if I’m strong enough to fight this…fucking rage I inherited from him. I’ve tried so hard not to end up like him. So f**king hard and when I act this way, I’m exactly like him and I hate it. I hate myself.”
Her eyes overflowed with pain, not tears, which was harder for him, because he suspected she’d cried herself out over the years.
“You’re nothing like him, Brandt. Nothing. Don’t ever give yourself an excuse to act like him by saying it’s inevitable that you will end up like him, because it’s not. You’ve chosen to be different. Even when you’re like this you’re different. Remember that.”
For the millionth time he wondered how this caring woman had coped with Casper McKay’s bitterness for so many years.
“Anyway, I thought I’d give you a heads up about Jessie, so you can, you know…”
“Get it together before I see her?”
She nodded.
“Thanks. I’ll be right there. Just give me a minute.”
“Don’t take too long, because she will come looking for you first thing.”
Not an accusation; a fact.
She left.
Despite the agony in his arm and the muscles screaming in his back, he lifted the sledgehammer. But it was a half-hearted swing at best.
He wasn’t calm, but he wasn’t in that dark place either. He snagged his coat off the floor and walked outside, breathing in the fresh air to cool him down.
Jessie waited for him by the steps, wearing an anxious expression.
He couldn’t muster a smile, but he went on the offensive. “Didn’t you get my text?”
“Yes. That’s why I’m here.”
“Because I said I was gonna be late?”
“No, because I knew something was wrong.”
“You got that from my text message?”
Jessie placed her hand on his chest. “I had a feeling something wasn’t right, and seeing you, I see my gut instinct was dead on.”
Far as he knew, no woman ever had a gut feeling about him. Certainly no woman had never cared enough to follow through with it and make sure he was all right. He held her face between his gloved hands and kissed her. “Jess. I’m fine. Now let’s go inside. It’s cold out here.”
“Then how come you’re sweating?”
Woman was too damn intuitive for her own good. Brandt pressed his lips to hers, bestowing several soft smooches. “Because you’re so hot, baby, just lookin’ at you makes me sweat.”
She smooched him back. “I don’t buy it, cowboy charmer. I’ll let it slide for now, because I’m sure your mom is anxious to get home.”
“I highly doubt that,” Brandt said dryly. He took Jessie’s hand and led her inside.
His mother put her finger to her lips. “Landon just went down a half hour ago. I know it’s late for a nap, but he had so much energy today. I tried to get him to lay down with me on the couch, but he wasn’t having any of it.”
“I know how that goes, so no big deal,” Jessie said.
“Thanks for watchin’ him today, Mom.”
“I enjoy him. He reminds me so much of you.”
“Me? Not Luke?”
“In looks he’s nearly identical to his father.” Joan slipped on her coat. “But in temperament, he could be your son.” She leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Take care of yourself, Brandt. If you need anything, call.”
Brandt ditched his outerwear and headed to the refrigerator. Might as well have a beer if he was sticking around until Landon woke up. But he hadn’t been here much the past few weeks and he was out of beer.