“Your brother TP’d the sheriff’s house?” Cheyenne laughed.
“Trust me, he’s done worse. We all have.” They were a mischievous bunch, always had been. He’d heard plenty of times growing up that the Walker brothers managed to keep the town on their toes. As far as they’d been concerned, that was a high honor.
“What’re you doin’ out here?” he asked, leaning back in the chair and trying to get comfortable.
It wasn’t the chair’s fault that his body was tense though. That would all be due to the woman sitting less than three feet away from him, looking as relaxed as he’d ever seen her. He could smell strawberries lingering on the breeze and knew if he sniffed her hair he’d find the source of the sweetness.
“They finished the floors earlier today and the odor’s pretty strong. I opened all the windows downstairs hopin’ it’d help. Figured I’d sit out here for a while instead of gettin’ high inside.”
“Wise choice,” he told her as he peered out at the road when an old, beat-up Ford passed by the house, driving suspiciously slow on the tree-lined street. “I’ve seen you under the influence.”
“After that last time, I don’t think I’ll ever drink again,” Cheyenne said, laughing. “Thanks, by the way. For, you know … takin’ care of me that night.”
“Not a problem.” He wasn’t about to tell her that he hadn’t minded it, but that was what he was thinking.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, the sounds of the evening settling around them. Crickets chirping, a few birds chattering in the large oak trees that stood guard in Cheyenne’s front yard, a dog barking in the distance. Pretty soon, the nights would be suffocating. Once the temperatures soared into the hundreds during the day, the evenings would be in the eighties and sitting on the porch to relax would be futile. But this was nice.
“I take it the house is comin’ along,” Brendon stated, still not looking at Cheyenne.
“Yep,” she answered readily.
When he heard amusement in her tone, he had no choice but to glance over. He noticed she was looking at him, smiling into the dark.
“What?” he questioned.
“Nothin’. Can’t a girl smile? You know, just because.”
“No,” he answered testily, hating that he got so defensive around her but unable to help himself.
“Brendon, why’re you here?” Cheyenne’s tone turned serious.
“Wanted to check on you.” Directing his attention back to the yard, he hated admitting as much, but he didn’t know what else to say.
“On me? Why? Don’t you have somethin’ better to do on a Friday night?”
“Not really, no.” He didn’t bother answering her first question of why. Hell, he didn’t even know what that answer was. He was there because he wanted to be. It was as simple and as complex as that.
“Kylie came by Monday,” Cheyenne said after a few minutes of silence.
“To check on the house?”
“Yeah. That’s all she talked about.”
Brendon turned his head, once more looking her way. “Huh?”
“You didn’t tell Travis about my stalker.”
Brendon shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Yet?” Cheyenne’s tone remained relatively calm, although he sensed her anger. She didn’t want him telling Travis, but Brendon couldn’t keep that information to himself. He wanted someone watching over her. Hell, he wanted to do it himself, but he knew how well that would go over.
Brendon sighed, feeling her eyes boring into him. “Chey, this is serious.”
“I know how serious it is,” she said defensively, her feet falling to the wood porch floor as she sat upright.
He turned his head to look at her, but didn’t move from his relaxed state. She was sitting on the edge of her seat, her hands wrapped tightly around her glass. Brendon thought she was going to say something else, but then she surprised him when she got to her feet and stomped inside.
For whatever reason, he couldn’t help but smile.
But damn she was cute when she got pissed off.
Too cute.
CHEYENNE KNEW SHE had no right to get pissed off at Brendon. Especially not for caring about what happened to her. He was sweet, if not a little overbearing.
Still … Her irrational reaction couldn’t be helped. After all the shit they’d been through together, the fighting, the arguing, the jealousy …
And to think, they’d done nothing more than share a single kiss so very long ago.
He wasn’t supposed to care about her. And maybe he didn’t, but Cheyenne got the distinct impression that he did. Which wasn’t helping her case, since she felt the same about him. Between wanting to slap him and hoping to kiss him again, she could hardly get her thoughts together.