The Expert's Guide to Driving a Man Wild by Jessica Clare
“Some of us are trying to get drunk, Miranda soon-to-be-Croft.” Brenna glanced over at Beth Ann. “And Beth Ann Waggoner.”
Beth Ann beamed at the mention of her new last name. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
It did, and she was so ridiculously happy that it almost hurt to look at her. She and Colt had moved together seamlessly after their initial clash, and now they were so tight that it seemed like they’d always been a couple, instead of a fairly new one. She’d only been Beth Ann Waggoner for a few weeks now, and Colt’s girlfriend for not much longer. But it was clear that they were deeply in love.
Brenna Markham, she tested on her tongue, but wasn’t unhappy with it. Which only made her feel more jumbled inside.
“What’s bothering you, Brenna?” Miranda asked as the three coffee mugs were set down in front of them.
“I’m just . . . not sure what to do.”
“About Grant? It’s clear he’s crazy about you.”
“He will be until he finds out the truth.” Brenna couldn’t help herself. She looked at Miranda’s wrist to see if she was wearing her purple bracelet. No sign of it. For some reason, that made Brenna sad. She should have kept the bracelet. But keeping stuff led to other things, and those other things terrified Brenna.
Both Miranda and Beth Ann were giving her concerned looks, clearly waiting for her to go on. She didn’t, though. They were her friends, but she couldn’t tell them her deepest, darkest secret. She couldn’t tell them any of it. So she deflected. “Grant told me some stuff about his first wife. Did you guys know her?”
“Heather? We knew her in high school, but they both went off to college together and we didn’t see her again after that.”
“What was she like?”
Miranda glanced at Beth Ann, then shrugged. “She was cute. Cheerful. Easily bored.”
“A bit of a daredevil,” Beth Ann added. “Remember we used to have slumber parties and she’d always be the one to suggest Truth or Dare? Girl never found a dare she didn’t like.”
“But she was nice,” Miranda said. “Really nice. Everyone in town liked her. We were all sad when we heard she passed.”
Couldn’t even bury my own wife, Grant had said miserably. Because her body was stuck somewhere on Mount Everest, where people just climbed past it, heads full of their own daredevil quests. He’d thought he’d somehow not been enough for her and she’d turned to thrill seeking. But it seemed like the seed of it was there all along. She wondered if she should tell Grant. Would that assuage some of his guilt or just bring up old memories that he didn’t want to relive?
“Why do you ask?” Beth Ann prodded, reaching into the chip bowl and nibbling daintily. “Grant say something about her?”
“A little,” Brenna hedged. “He told me he loved me last night.”
Miranda gasped and then clapped her hands in excitement. “Oh my gosh. That is so great! I’ve always wanted you two to be together! So you accepted his proposal?”
“Proposal?” Beth Ann looked shocked. “He proposed?”
This conversation was going from bad to worse. Brenna stared into her now-empty margarita glass, wishing she had another. “It’s not great, and no, I didn’t accept his proposal.”
Miranda’s excited clapping died.
“Why is it not great, honey?” Beth Ann asked softly, her voice gentle.
“Because I’m afraid of hurting him again,” Brenna admitted, misery in her voice. She shoved aside her empty margarita glass and pulled the steaming coffee toward her. “Heather destroyed him. Totally broke him. It’s awful. What if I do the same thing to him?”
Miranda and Beth Ann shared a look. “How would you do the same thing to him, Bren?” Miranda asked. “You planning on climbing Mount Everest?”
“Of course not.” But she had secrets. Big, ugly ones. Just like Heather had. And those secrets were relationship destroyers. She’d seen it happen time and time again. Her mother’s relationships had never survived it, and Brenna had the scars to show for it. “But . . . I just don’t know what to do.”
“About what? You’re confusing me.”
“I’m pretty confused myself, don’t worry.” Brenna sighed. “Let’s say your past sucked, and you don’t want Grant to know about it. What do you do, then?”
“You tell him,” Miranda said.
“Let’s say telling him is not an option.”
“You tell him,” Beth Ann said, reaching for another chip. “And if he’s the one for you, he won’t hold it against you.”
“But what if he can’t help but be freaked out by it? How can he not look at me differently?”
“This isn’t about an STD, is it?” Miranda looked concerned. “Because you really need to tell him if that’s the case.”
“Gross! No. Not an STD.” Brenna cupped her hands around her coffee, thinking. “Just something . . . unsavory in my past. I don’t want him to look at me differently.”
“Are you in love with him, too?” Beth Ann asked. “I was under the impression that things were just casual between you two and that was how you wanted it. No strings, no nothing.”
“I thought that was how I wanted it,” Brenna said glumly. “And then he told me he loved me and told me about Heather and now I can’t stop thinking about things being different, and what it means for me.”
“You have cold feet,” Miranda announced.
Brenna straightened in the booth, frowning. “What do you mean, I have cold feet?”
“You are commitment phobic,” Miranda told her with a grin. She grabbed a few packets of sweetener for her coffee and tore them open. “I feel the need to throw in a ‘duh’ here but thought that might be unfair.”
Beth Ann gave a ladylike snort and sipped her coffee.
Brenna glanced at both women, uncertain. “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not . . . unless you fall in love.” Miranda’s mouth quirked. “Take it from someone with experience.”
“I never said I was in love,” Brenna protested.
“You never said you weren’t,” Beth Ann told her in a softer voice. “Honey, if you think it’s a big deal, just tell him about your past. Whatever it is, he’ll accept it because he loves you. And if he doesn’t, then he wasn’t the man for you anyhow.”
“Easy for you to say,” Brenna muttered. “Colt doesn’t have a shitty past. Pop’s awesome.”
Beth Ann gave another ladylike snort. “Are you kidding me? His past is weirder than you’ll ever know.”
“Oh?” Miranda perked up. “How so?”
But Beth Ann only shook her head. “It’s Colt’s story and he wouldn’t want me telling it.”
Miranda looked curious, but only shrugged. “The past doesn’t determine everything. Heck, look at my past. I wanted to get out of this town because everyone talked to my chest and called me Boobs of Bluebonnet. And so I left, and then I came right back because I missed it anyhow. It wasn’t that I missed being called Boobs. It was that I’d lose more than I gained by leaving. Like friends and family and Dane . . .” She had a pleased look on her face at the latter. “No one’s called me Boobs since I got engaged. Having a big, muscular fiancé puts a new perspective on things for most people.”
“Mine’s worse than being called ‘Boobs’,” Brenna said glumly. “But I’ll think about it.”
“What do you have to lose?” Miranda asked.
Everything, Brenna wanted to reply, but she simply shrugged. Because she’d seen it happen too many times in the past. There were things people could get past. And there were things that some people just couldn’t get past no matter how much they claimed differently.
And she suspected she knew how things would fall if she exposed her past to Grant.
But it was either that, or continue as they were. In stasis. Grant confessing his love for her
Not long enough. Glum at the thought, Brenna stared longingly at her empty margarita glass.
“None of that sad face now,” Beth Ann told her with a pat on her hand. “So when are you going to come by and let me play with your hair?”
“Hmm?”
“Oh, I suggested to Elise that if she stays in town for a while, we try a joint venture. Pin-up photography. We agreed that since you have the Bettie Page bangs, you’d rock a serious retro look. We want you to be our test subject.” She grinned and reached for another chip. “Basically we’ll do your hair and makeup and dress you up in some glam clothing and take sexy pictures of you. Sound like fun?”
“What did you have in mind?”
Beth Ann popped the chip into her mouth, chewed, and then turned to play with Brenna’s bangs. “We could curl these into a roll, or give you a retro upsweep. We’ll experiment a bit.”
Brenna shrugged again. “Sounds like fun. Can I wear it home? Surprise Grant?”
“Just don’t have sex in the clothing,” Beth Ann said. “Or you’re paying the dry-cleaning bill.”
“Great, now I’m picturing Brenna and Grant having sex, and I really didn’t want to,” Miranda lamented. “Now I need a margarita.”
“So why all the business plans?” Brenna asked, sliding her bowl of salsa closer and digging into the chips. “I thought you and Colt were heading off to Alaska for a few weeks as soon as Rome’s trained.”
“We’re leaving in two weeks,” Beth Ann said breathlessly, practically bouncing in her seat. “I’m so excited to have a month of alone time with him. Between our schedules, it seems like one of us is always coming or going. It’ll be nice to have a few days of nothing but lounging in bed.”
Miranda gave her an odd look. “Clearly you have never been camping with one of these boys. I have, and I can assure you that lounging in bed is the last thing that Colt will have on his mind. He’ll have you up at the butt-crack of dawn to go fishing or build a fire or something.”
“I can be pretty convincing,” Beth Ann said cheerfully, undeterred at the thought.
“What about your clients?” Brenna asked. “Can you leave without getting them all pissed off at you?”
“I’m stacking them and getting cuts in ahead of time,” she told Brenna. “So I’m super busy this week and next week, but it’ll be worth it.” Beth Ann gave Brenna an amused look. “Since when did wild and careless Brenna start caring about business responsibilities?”
“Since I started sleeping with Grant,” Brenna told her wryly. “Trust me, I’m as disturbed by it as you are. It’s a good thing the man eats a fierce pussy, or he wouldn’t be worth it.”
Both Miranda and Beth Ann groaned as if in pain. Miranda pretended to scrub her eyes with her hands. “And there’s yet another visual I’ll never be able to shake. Thanks for that.”
Brenna giggled. “You’re so welcome.”
• • •
“You sure you can’t stay for longer?” Grant pushed his mother’s designer carry-on into the trunk of his Audi. “I’m sure there’s room at the Peppermint House if you wanted to stay another week or two. And it’s good to have family around.”
“You’re sweet, Grant,” Justine said, patting his cheek as only a mother could do to her grown son. “But Reggie wants to meet some friends for deep-sea fishing, and then we’re heading to Florida to shop for beach houses.”
Oh, to have such problems, Brenna thought wryly as she stepped forward to wave good-bye to Grant’s parents. They were nice people—really nice—but they lived such a different lifestyle that she couldn’t quite grasp it at times. Why did you need more than one house for only two people? It was bizarre to her, but she supposed that was what you did with your money when you had a lot of it. You bought stupid shit.
Which, of course, made her uncomfortable to think about. She watched Grant head into the main lodge to retrieve one last bag, thinking about all that money and how much pointless crap Justine and Reggie probably owned.
But Reggie and Justine were so very nice, and normal-seeming. Justine moved to hug Brenna and, to her surprise, she was immediately hugged by Reggie as well. “We’re so happy that Grant has you in his life,” Reggie told her, patting her on the back. “You’re good for him.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, pulling away from the hug.
“I’m glad you worked out whatever it was,” Justine told her with a beaming smile. “We like to see you two together.”
“Thank you,” she repeated again, because what could she really say? Your son won’t like me once he finds out the real me, so don’t get too attached. But all she said was, “I think he’s pretty great, too.”
Brenna turned to hug Elise, who was standing next to the car. But the quiet woman lifted a hand and grinned, seeming more at ease than when she’d first arrived. “You don’t have to hug me. I’m staying.”
“You are?” She couldn’t hide her pleasure at that. She liked Elise.
“There’s still the photo shoot to do, of course,” Elise told her. “And I’m working on, um, a few other projects in the meantime. I can fly back whenever.”
“Oh right. Beth Ann mentioned the pin-up photos.”
“Yes!” Elise’s face lit up with enthusiasm, light sparkling in her eyes. “They’ll be a lot of fun.”
“It’ll be good to have you around,” Brenna told her. “We can have a girls’ night out this weekend. Or next weekend. Or every weekend.”
Elise chuckled, the sound soft and shy. “How about we start with this weekend.”
“Works for me.” Brenna raised a fist for a fist bump.
After an awkward, almost-too-long moment, Elise fist bumped her back. Getting somewhere, at least.
Grant emerged from the lodge with the last suitcase, and his parents practically beamed with pride at the sight of him. Brenna had to agree that he was gorgeous. Silky brown hair fixed perfectly, wire-rimmed glasses perched on a perfect nose over sculpted cheekbones, and clothes that would make a model in GQ weep with envy. He always looked so perfect and put together, just like his parents.
His rich, rich parents with lots of stuff. Her stomach churned.
But the way that Justine and Reggie watched him? Their eyes were full of pleasure at the sight of their son, and happiness at his happiness. And Brenna realized with a sinking feeling that he would never understand where she’d come from.
But she needed to tell him anyhow. Because leading these nice people on wasn’t fair. She liked all of them. They’d made her feel welcome and accepted from day one.
It was only right that she got all of her dirty laundry out in the open.
• • •
Something woke Grant from a sound sleep the next morning. He continued to lay in bed, still in a half doze, wondering what it could have been that woke him. The cabin was silent, the only sound the chirp of birds in the early morning light.
A finger poked him in the stomach again, then lightly tickled his sides. “Wake up, Grant.”
Brenna. Delicious, warm, curvy Brenna. He dragged her closer, nuzzling her neck in a sleepy embrace. “It’s early.”
“I can’t sleep.”
He cracked an eye open, surprised at the tension in her voice. “What’s wrong?”
Her troubled face gazed back at him, her purple and brown hair tousled. There were shadows under her eyes. She chewed on her lip, but was silent.
He was instantly awake, the need to soothe and protect her rising in him. To keep her safe from everything that upset her. Grant leaned up on one elbow and rubbed her shoulder. “What’s wrong, love?”
A tear trickled out of her eye, falling onto the pillow. “We need to talk.”
A horrible ache started in his gut. He forced himself to remain calm. “T
“About me. With you.”
Immediately, Grant knew. He’d fucked this up again. He’d shown Brenna his vulnerable side the other day, in the shower. He thought things had been okay, but she was skittish when it came to commitment, and he’d been a dumbass and confessed his love to her. Still, when she hadn’t panicked, he thought things were okay with them. That she was okay with him being in love with her as long as she could still say that she was in a no-strings-attached relationship. And he hadn’t pressured her to say it back. He knew it was just a matter of time before she felt the same way.
Or so he’d thought.
But seeing her so distraught now? It tore at his heart. He wanted to make things better for her. Hell, he wanted to silence her with a kiss and make her forget whatever was worrying her. Anything to stop her tears.
“Brenna.” He forced her name out of his throat and gently brushed away her tears. “Don’t cry. It’s okay. I’m not trying to pressure you at all. How I feel about you doesn’t mean that you have to reciprocate. I know you don’t feel the same way about me, and it’s all right.”
She stared at him, confused, and then burst into a few watery sounds that he couldn’t quite tell if they were giggles or choked tears. “Oh Grant. Would you shut up for a moment? I said it’s me, not you.”
His heart stopped for a moment. “Then we’re okay?”
“We’re not okay,” she said, and tears slid down her face again. “There’s something wrong with me.”
And just like that, his heart began to trip again, rapidly. Relief mixed with unease. She was talking and he still didn’t know what to think. “What do you mean there’s something wrong with you? What’s wrong?”
“I . . .” Her throat flexed, as if she couldn’t say the words. “It’s hard to explain.”
Oh God. She was dying. He’d finally found the perfect woman for him—a woman who infuriated him as much as she made him happy. A woman as abandoned and easygoing in bed as she was out of it. A woman who made him feel like the king of the world instead of a worthless sack of shit that wasn’t enough for her.