“Yes,” he replied, trying desperately not to bite her head off in the process.
Before she could pelt him with more questions, the front door flew open and in stormed Braydon.
Oh, hell. He was pissed.
Brendon watched him, as did Cheyenne. They watched him stomp from the front door all the way to his bedroom. Brendon kept his eyes trained on Braydon’s bedroom door while his twin slammed around in his room doing God knows what. A second later, he was stomping back across the living room on his way to the front door.
And then he was gone. Vanished without a single word, but the scowl on his face had been enough.
“He okay?” Cheyenne asked, still staring at the front door.
The sound of Braydon’s truck starting up, followed by him revving the engine unnecessarily and ending with the familiar ping of gravel spraying the front of the house, was her answer to that question.
Brendon forced himself up off the couch, heading for the bathroom to wash his face.
His mother had come over to make sure he wasn’t at death’s door. After he had finally assured her that he was just a little light-headed, she had talked to Cheyenne while babying him as much as she could. Brendon had wanted to fight her off, but he knew better. His mother was the one woman Brendon made a point not to piss off.
Not that he usually made a point of pissing off any woman. Just Cheyenne, it seemed.
When he emerged from the bathroom a short while later, he found Cheyenne still sitting on the couch, looking just as gorgeous as always. With her long, dark hair flowing down her back, the smooth creamy softness of her face, the sexy way she rocked a pair of jeans . . . Brendon knew he couldn’t be left alone with her without running the risk of doing something incredibly stupid.
Which meant he needed to do something else.
“I need to go talk to Jessie,” he blurted, unsure just what prompted the idea, but he was going to run with it.
“Right now?” Cheyenne asked tentatively.
“Yeah. Right now.” Brendon swayed on his feet but managed to right himself, hoping Cheyenne didn’t notice.
“Fine. But I’m gonna drive you,” she stated firmly.
Her forest-green eyes penetrated him as she waited, probably expecting him to argue.
He wasn’t going to argue. Not with her. Not right now.
“Sure. Why the hell not,” he muttered as he snatched his hat off the table where he’d tossed it at some point and grabbed his keys off the hook near the door. He slipped his feet into flip-flops before turning back to where she was still sitting on the couch. “I meant now.”
“Okay,” she said huffily, “give me the keys.”
Brendon turned toward the door, a small smile on his face. What was it about this woman? She drove him completely insane, as he did her, but her mere presence was one of the most reassuring feelings he’d had in a very long time.
Less than two minutes later, they were pulling into Jessie’s driveway. Cheyenne behind the wheel of his truck was probably the hottest thing he’d seen in . . . maybe ever. After she tossed the truck in Park, he bolted. It was that or lose what was left of his common sense. Sure, there were plenty of times when he’d thought long and hard—more like fantasized, really—about being close to Cheyenne again, but having her that close, it was fucking torture. The sweet scent of her perfume, or maybe it was just her hair, had filled the interior of his truck, and that sudden light-headedness had threatened to overwhelm him.
Out of habit, he walked around to the driver’s side, ready to help Cheyenne out. She had already opened the door, leaving him the only option of reaching up to help her out of the jacked-up truck. When her hand touched his, the silky smoothness of her fingers against his palm was nearly his undoing. He knew that if he wanted a chance in hell of not doing something stupid, he wasn’t going to be able to touch her. Even without touching her, he knew the chance was pretty damn low, so he made a mental note to stay as far from her as physically possible.
Brendon led the way to Jessie’s front door and rapped his knuckles lightly on the wood.
He could hear the sound of footsteps moving across the floor. When the door flew open, he was face-to-face with Jessie.
“I’m gonna wait out here,” Cheyenne said from behind him. “Hi, Jessie.”
“Are you okay?” Brendon asked Jessie before glancing over his shoulder at Cheyenne. She’d already perched on the railing, and he took that to mean she really was going to stay outside.
“Fine,” Jessie sobbed.
Just fucking great. A crying woman.
As though Brendon’s day hadn’t been shitty enough.
“Mind if I come in?” Brendon asked, trying to keep his tone from leaking the hostility that continued to course through him.