Stupid Girl(45)

Crystal blue eyes snapped with mischief, and his lip twitched. “You got it, Sunshine. No bullying.” He rubbed his jaw. “This time.”





Brax ducked his head as if to get a better look into my eyes. A slow smile crept over his mouth. “God, you’ve got the cutest accent. Damn, Gracie. I like this side of you.”

I opened the door and turned to him. He made me feel comfortable, brave, safe and cagey all at once. It was a disconcerting hairball of emotions to say the very least. “It’s not a side, Brax. It’s just me. This job’s important, okay? Not only to me, but to my family. So don’t get me into trouble.” I forced my eyes to stay on his. “I’m not working here to make extra money to go on a spending spree at the mall, you know. I send what I don’t live on to my family. To help with the expenses of the ranch.” I sighed. “I’ve trusted you so far, and that doesn’t come easy for me. With you or anyone else. So please don’t make me regret it. And just about everyone here has the same accent. Texas.”

A softness settled across Brax’s face then; like many of his expressions, it changed the contours of his face, shifted harshness into marbled perfection, into something I thought I could stare at for hours on end. Something else flickered in his eyes, though; misconception? Curiosity? To try and read it, or his thoughts, was ridiculous. He was as inscrutable as a guy could be. But when he lifted his hand to my jaw, grasping it with his thumb and forefinger, and forced me to keep my sight on his, I had to swallow past the humongous lump in my throat that had grown in a matter of seconds.

“You’re different from any girl I’ve ever met. I could tell that the second I looked down at you on the lawn. And you know what?” He pulled even closer. “Regrets are little bastards, Gracie, and we all have them, only,” he drew closer, his voice quieted, “you won’t have them with me. And I can’t help that I don’t trust the guy. Unlike you, I see through his stiff-collared play-by-the-rules prickness. Like it or not, he’s a dick. Just a cleaned up dick with a title. You watch him. I fuckin’ mean it.”

I stared at him for a second or two. Was Brax crazy? Like mentally unstable? I felt no threat whatsoever with Noah Hicks. He was courteous and professional, nothing more. Wasn’t he?

I’d thought the same thing about Kelsy Evans at one time, too. Don’t you let your guard down, Olivia. With Noah, Brax, or anyone else for that matter. You’ll just get your teeth kicked in. I gave a nod, agreeing with my inner self, and opened the door. “Will do. Now let’s go. We’re running out of time.”

Brax said nothing more as he trailed behind me, but his presence filled the narrow stairwell. We could’ve taken the elevators, but I liked how my body felt after a vigorous climb; how my lungs felt exercised, alive. Brax’s breath was smooth, even, barely noticeable. I’d figured he could handle the seven story sprint, as fit as he looked.

At the top, Brax reached around me once more and pushed open the door, and I led us both out to the platform. The night air wasn’t as still and heavy as it had been lately, which was a sheer Texas blessing and as close to pre-fall weather as we’d get. A soft breeze brushed my cheeks and cooled my skin, and Brax set my bag on the platform by my feet. The three-quarter moon offered a strange filtered radiance—just enough to see my way around the platform without the use of a flashlight. Brax’s head moved with his gaze as he took in the impressive tower. He pointed to a row of mounts, close to the ledge.

“Basic scope mounts,” I offered. “For the general public’s use.” Kneeling, I unzipped my bag and pulled out first my tripod, assembled the lower aspect, and set it upright. I knew my scope so well I could do it blindfolded. Then Brax was kneeling with me, and he studied as I collected my scope pieces and locked them onto my tripod mount. We were still crouched, and I knew he watched me, and suddenly, I felt shy. Conspicuous. Peculiar and totally out of my element. Like maybe it was a bad idea, sharing this part of my life with a virtual stranger. Especially one like Brax Jenkins. I mean, he was a star athlete. Big shot Winston bad-boy athlete. I was … an astronomy geek. We were about as different as night and day. And I was an idiot for even entertaining thoughts of anything more than friendship. I started to rise, but his hand to my wrist kept me in place.

“You,” Brax said, and again, ducked his head, “are one badass lady. Smart and beautiful. I like that.”

I looked at him and even under the cover of shadow, my face grew hot with embarrassment and I knew he could tell it. My eyes drifted down to a spot between my feet, but Brax’s knuckle lifted my gaze right back up. I swallowed hard. His dark brows, so conflicting against the fair color of his skin, lifted, just before he grinned. “No shit, Gracie. Look at you. You just threw that scope together like it was nothin’. You put together your own bookcase. You have a tool box. You drive a fuckin’ Mad Max tank for Christ’s sake.” He rubbed his jaw as he studied me, then grazed the scar on my lip with his thumb. “Your cell phone’s a relic, and you send extra money home to your folks. Like I said before. Different. And different is pretty goddamned appealing to me.”