Brant's Return

For a moment my heart clenched as my mind went immediately to Brant.

“He try to bite you again yesterday?”

A laugh bubbled up my throat and May gave me a confused glance. She was talking about Scout Leader, the generally pissed-off stallion I was still training. “No, I think we’re past that.”

“Well good. Onward and upward. He’ll be putty in your hands in no time at all.”

If only men of the human variety were as easy to read. I nodded distractedly, taking a sip of my coffee. I wanted to ask May if she’d heard from Brant but refused to. I was still hurt and angry—confused—about the way he’d left without saying goodbye, the way he’d snuck out like some sort of thief, leaving me two scrawled lines on a piece of printer paper. Belle, I’m sorry for not saying goodbye in person. Something came up. If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to call me.

That was it. That was it? After the night we’d shared together? After I’d bared my heart to him, he couldn’t even be bothered to seek me out and say a proper farewell? He hadn’t even signed his name, and why that made it all the more offensive, I wasn’t sure, but it did.

Still . . . I didn’t regret sharing my tragedy with him. In fact, since I’d done so, my heart had felt . . . lighter. Stronger. And I didn’t regret sharing my body with him either. It’d been, well, truth be told, it’d been glorious. I’d never known sex could be like that.

My husband had rolled over, done his thing, a few pleasure-filled grunts, and then rolled off, all in the span of about three minutes, maybe less. But I hadn’t known to expect more. When I’d met him, the extent of my sexual knowledge had been watching the animals in the field, and they seemed to make it a pretty perfunctory experience too. It was just what sex was, I supposed. And yet, even so, I’d been . . . disappointed each time. I’d lain there in the dark, time after time, listening to him snore, my blood pulsing, a pent-up frustration coiled inside me. No wonder.

Sex with Brant had been an awakening. A revival. Brant’s pleasure had also included mine. Was that normal? Even though I was hurt and angry at Brant, a shiver of remembered pleasure rolled through my body each time I thought of that night in front of the fire. If I never had sex again, that night would see me through to my old age.

Or maybe I’d want more. Now that I knew what it could be like, why not experience it as much as possible? My upbringing had taught me that sex was there strictly to serve a purpose—the begetting of children—but now that I realized how wonderful it could be, I just couldn’t accept that. Certainly a merciful God wouldn’t make something so pleasurable and only mean us to do it every two years or so. Oh, who was I kidding? Even as wonderful as it’d been, I would never be a girl who shared my body with just anyone for the fun of it. No, the truth was, I wanted more of Brant, and that made me angry right to the tips of my hair.

So no, I didn’t regret it. I’d just thought what we’d experienced together warranted more than a scrawled note and a quick getaway.

“Earth to Belle.”

I shook my head, clearing the Brant fog I’d been in. “Sorry, May.” I let out a small laugh. “There’s a lot to do today, and I’m trying to sort through it in my mind before I get started.”

“Why don’t you take the weekend off?” she said. “You’ve been working like a dog these past couple of weeks. I could stay here this weekend in case Harrison needs anything and you take a rest. See if Paige wants to join you for a spa day or something.”

I took the last sip of coffee. “I really don’t need a rest, May. I’m fine. You know I like to stay busy, and Harrison depends on me.”

“Too much,” May mumbled.

“Oh I know,” I said. “It’s true, May, he does, but . . .” My eyes welled with sudden tears. It wouldn’t be forever. He likely wouldn’t be here at all this time next year.

The truth was, he was a persnickety, crotchety, grumpy old fool, but I loved him. I loved him like a father—maybe because I missed my own so much. Harrison Talbot had burrowed his way into my heart like one of those stubborn, cantankerous horses and remained there.

I chatted with May for a few more minutes and then bid her a good day, heading for the office. I fired up the computer and answered a few emails regarding Graystone Hill business. My finger hovered over the mouse, white arrow poised on the tiny x in the corner of the screen when I brought the cursor to the search bar and typed in Brant’s name. I knew it was a bad idea, I knew it, and yet I seemed unable to stop myself. I’d just been thinking about him and he was still tickling the edges of my mind. A quick look at his picture would remind me that he’d gone back to his life being that untouchable businessman with the distant eyes and reserved smile. I’d brush my hands—and clear my brain—of him

and feel better.

Instead, my heart plummeted when I saw a new picture at the top of Google images—a picture of him with the same woman he’d been in the other recent pictures with, the pictures I’d looked at before I’d ever met him. Sondra Worthington. Was she also the woman who’d answered his phone when I’d called?

I clicked on the web page and read that he’d been at some sort of celebrity fundraiser. My throat felt clogged and my skin felt prickly as I zeroed in on Brant in a tux, looking . . . completely gorgeous. And Sondra next to him, wearing a gold dress that dipped so low I could almost see her navel. Her arm was looped through Brant’s, her head tilted as she flirted with the camera.

That was his life. His life was not here. Not in an old bourbon distillery on a rainy night. Not with a bedraggled, unworldly woman who would never be the glamor girl he expected on his arm. That was not reality—only a misty dream, part of his past now. Just like me.

I shut down the computer, feeling sad, bereft, but even so, my mission had been accomplished. There was no point in pining for Brant Talbot. He was clearly not pining for me.

Had he taken her home and made love to her after the fundraiser? Had he dragged his tongue down her stomach like—

“Stop it, Isabelle,” I hissed softly to myself. A sudden knock at the front door jolted me from my masochistic thoughts, and I stood quickly, furrowing my brow. The people who worked here just let themselves in.

“I’ve got it, May,” I called before walking to the front door and pulling it open. Paige stood there. “Paige,” I greeted, pulling her in for a hug. “This is a pleasant surprise. I didn’t know you were driving out here.”

“I wasn’t sure I was, actually. I just—” Her face crumpled slightly and I pulled her into the house, shutting the door behind us.

“Paige, what’s wrong?”

“I left Aaron.”