Brendon’s rough laugh made her heart flip over in her chest. Until recently, she hadn’t known Brendon to smile often. Now, she was hoping she could always make him smile. The sound of his laugh, although rusty, made hope fill her chest.
“I ain’t scared,” he said huskily, the hint of a dare in his tone.
“Fine. We’ll see about that.”
Without preamble, Cheyenne relied on old memories and the way the horse had felt beneath her for the last hour. Giving her a nudge, she held the reins tightly and leaned forward when the enormous animal began to trot. Of course, Brendon knew his horse a whole lot better than she knew hers, so it wasn’t surprising that his took off, leaving her in the dust.
Holy crap, he—he being Brendon—was beautiful. Cheyenne wasn’t sure there was anything he did that he didn’t make to look sexy as hell. She couldn’t watch him for long because her horse decided it was time to get with the program, kicking up dirt as it took off after Brendon’s.
Cheyenne laughed, an overwhelming sense of freedom overcoming her as the wind blew her hair back behind her. This was living, she thought to herself. The adrenaline rush was comparable to what she felt onstage these days. She realized she hadn’t been lying when she told Brendon that she’d love to live on a ranch if she had to make a career change.
Not that she was thinking about a change. She was actually beginning to get a little anxious, ready to get back to work. And to think, she’d only started her brief hiatus two short weeks before. She knew she had to take the opportunity for a little time off while it was available, but she was already beginning to miss performing.
That was about the only part she missed. There was so much political bullshit involved at the moment, especially with the stalker on the loose and making threats. Not that she’d told Brendon about those threats. It was enough that she’d given him the details regarding what the asshole had done to her apartment. If he knew that the stalker was sending her other threats via her manager, he’d probably come unglued. As of now, she hadn’t seen them firsthand, which she was completely fine with, but she knew they were there. It was as though not seeing them with her own eyes made them a little less intimidating.
A little.
Then again, she hadn’t learned of those threats until the last few weeks. Another had come in recently and her manager, Preston Andrews, had sent her a text briefly detailing it that morning, after Brendon left her house. Preston had followed up his text with a pointed voice mail informing her that she had to give him a call. He hadn’t been too happy that she’d been avoiding him for the last couple of weeks, he let her know when she had returned the call. As if his ass chewing hadn’t been enough, he went on to relay that she needed to let him help her. The threats were escalating, he’d told her—which had sent a frisson of fear echoing in her chest. They were real. The police had been called in, but they hadn’t nailed down who the guy was yet.
She didn’t think they would, either. So she was hopeful that Brendon’s friend Z would be able to figure it out and she wouldn’t have to tell Brendon more bad news.
Pulling herself from her thoughts, Cheyenne focused on the task at hand. She was supposed to be winning this impromptu race and she had every intention of beating Brendon. The guy made everything look so damn easy.
“To the tree line!” Brendon yelled.
Cheyenne focused on the copse of trees in front of her, leaning forward and talking sweetly to the horse, encouraging her to beat camo boy. “You don’t wanna lose to a boy, do you?” she asked the horse. “Come on, girl. We’ve got this.”
chapter FIFTEEN
By the time Saturday night came around, Brendon was ready for a little downtime. Well, if a party could be considered downtime. He’d spent the week working, but when he wasn’t handling his job at Walker Demo, he’d volunteered a large amount of time to helping Cheyenne with some of the projects around her house.
Since the crew Kylie had hired was ready to start on the upstairs, Brendon had enlisted Ethan and Beau to help move her furniture down to the guest room on the first floor—the room he’d learned would eventually be her grandmother’s. Moving furniture had probably been the easiest task he’d tackled that week though. But he wasn’t complaining. Helping Cheyenne probably benefited him more than her. It allowed him to spend time with her, and to him, that was probably the most selfish reason he was helping. Since they worked late each night, he had the pleasure of having dinner with her and twice he’d spent the night at her house.
Needless to say, things were progressing nicely.