Oh no. No, no, no.
Brandt was so pole-axed he couldn’t make his mouth work when Jessie bounced out of his truck and strolled to her house, wearing nothing but her birthday suit.
If he hadn’t been so busy gawking at her perfectly pear-shaped ass, or if he hadn’t become mesmerized by the sassy way her hair teased the dimples above that perfectly pear-shaped ass, or if he hadn’t been drooling over the way her long-legged strides made that perfectly pear-shaped ass shake so jauntily, he might’ve remembered Jessie had warned him that he didn’t know her as well as he thought he did.
When she turned in the doorway and blew him a kiss, Brandt realized he should’ve listened to her.
He also understood some things hadn’t changed, namely Jessie’s brotherly feelings toward him. So he’d do as she asked, pretend this night never happened, and continue to stay away from her, as hard as that would be.
Chapter One
Four months later…
Talk about being a total chickenshit. Here she was, twenty-seven years old, doing her best wallflower imitation again.
Story of your life, Jessie McKay.
At least she’d had the foresight to bring along a couple of beers for company. Or solace. Or courage.
Jessie swigged from the bottle of Corona as she watched the newlyweds swaying to an old George Strait tune. Keely and Jack fit the love song they’d chosen for their first dance as husband and wife. The happy couple only had eyes for each other, despite repeated attempts from Keely’s assorted male family members to cut in. Although Jack used a charming smile to dissuade interruption, a possessive male lurked beneath his polished demeanor.
Keely deserved a man so perfectly suited for her. A man who worshipped her as a strong-willed cowgirl, but clearly was fierce enough to stand up to her—and her family. Because when you married one McKay, somehow you ended up with them all.
So it wasn’t a surprise that Jessie was still considered part of the McKay family. Well, most of the McKays. They’d been supportive after Luke’s death, especially during the first month of shock and grief.
She’d been forced from her home. Forced to find a job. Forced to stand on her own. If it hadn’t been for Luke’s brother Brandt, she might’ve taken the easy way out and driven her truck off a cliff.
But Brandt became her pillar of support. He helped her, no matter if her problem was big or small. He was there for her like a brother would be. Except one night, a year into her widowhood, Brandt had confessed his feelings for her weren’t merely brotherly.
At the time, she’d been shocked. She’d never looked at Brandt in that light. In her heart, in her mind, she would always be Luke’s wife. She hadn’t known how to explain it without sounding delusional.
After that night, everything changed between them. Brandt stopped coming over. He’d quit answering her calls. In a moment of clarity a month or so later, she realized it was time to let go.
In those soul-searching moments, she’d faced a lot of truths, half-truths and untruths. About herself.
About Luke. About their marriage. Then she’d taken three steps that helped her move on for good.
One: she’d stopped wearing her wedding ring.
Two: she’d had the McKay “brand” tattoo above her ankle reworked into a butterfly emerging from a cocoon.
Three: she’d decided to have a one-night stand with a complete stranger.
The last step had been a biggie. Not only had Luke McKay been her first and only lover, Luke also hadn’t been faithful during their marriage. So she’d needed to prove—if only to herself—that she could attract a lover.
Which was how she’d ended up at the lake last summer when she’d run into Brandt. She hadn’t recognized him at first. She’d never seen Brandt McKay without all his cowboy regalia—boots, jeans, hat.
She’d definitely never seen him shirtless, barefoot, wearing funky board shorts, looking tanned, fit and unbelievably sexy.
Upon closer inspection, the baby fat Luke had always teased Brandt about was gone, replaced with muscle. Lots of muscle. He’d hacked off his dark, wavy hair in a military buzz cut style. Goatee? Gone.
Soul patch? Gone. Despite the leaner appearance, Brandt’s angular face was still too rugged looking to be considered handsome in the classical sense, like Luke’s had been.
What hadn’t changed about Brandt? His captivating smile that managed to be both cocky and shy.
The stunning blueness of his eyes. His overprotective instinct. The first thing he’d done after seeing her for the first time in months was lecture her on hooking up with a douchebag like Mike.
At that point, Jessie had told Brandt she was predestined to wind up with douchebags like Mike and Luke, and if he were smart, he’d continue to stay away from her.
He’d started to argue and she’d glimpsed something dangerous in Brandt’s eyes she’d never noticed.
But true to form, he’d walked away.
Or so she’d thought.
She’d been so eager to convince Mike and his friends she was good-time Jessie the party girl, not a mousy widow with a pathetic past, that she ended up drinking way more than was healthy or smart.
The details were hazy through the veil of alcohol. Except for the humiliation of not holding Mike’s sexual interest even when she was naked and willing. Chivalrous Brandt had taken her home. She hadn’t seen or heard from him until today.
Jessie slumped against the wall. So far she’d been able to avoid talking to him.
Or maybe he’s avoiding talking to you.
She heard, “Miss Jessie!” and saw her boss’s twin daughters racing toward her.
Peyton exclaimed, “There you are,” and attached herself to Jessie’s hip. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Not to be outdone, Shannie hugged the other leg and added, “Yeah, everywhere.”
“I’ve been here the whole time.” Jessie whistled. “You look like princesses in those dresses.”
Both girls beamed and twirled in a flurry of ribbons, ruffles and frills that adorned their pink and lavender dresses. Not matching dresses. Peyton and Shannie were fraternal twins, but they’d exerted their individuality early on. Since Jessie ran the daycare at Sky Blue, she’d watched these girls over the last two years, always amazed by how different they were from each other, and from their older sister, Eliza.
Eliza, who was trying to keep up with her dozen or so boy cousins.
“Will you dance with us?” Shannie asked.
“Please?” Peyton begged.