Mission: Without a Trace - Nicole Edwards Page 0,10

didn’t he? Wasn’t unusual for someone to be too busy to respond to a text or answer the phone. Happened to Brantley all the damn time.

Rather than jump to conclusions or worry, Brantley decided he would head into town. He’d already set his mind on eating out and he wasn’t opposed to eating alone. He could stop by the diner, grab a burger. Reese would get back to him eventually, of that he had no doubt. They could meet up then. Maybe dessert and coffee.

He was heading toward the diner when he saw the Walker Demo truck parked in front of Moonshiners. Before he could think about what he was doing, he made a hard right, pulled into the parking lot. A couple of minutes later, he was strolling into the familiar bar, not surprised to see it was relatively empty so early in the evening.

What did surprise him was finding Reese sitting in a booth across from an attractive woman, the two of them leaning in, chatting. They looked rather comfortable, both smiling.

The strange knot that formed in his throat wasn’t the least bit comfortable, but Brantley choked it down, then headed for the bar.

“Hey,” Mack greeted. “What can I getcha?”

“Beer.”

“Comin’ right up.”

Purposely taking a stool that wouldn’t allow him to see Reese and his companion, Brantley accepted the beer Mack passed over. He didn’t down it in one pull, but he didn’t waste time, either. At the moment, he preferred to be anywhere but here, only his pride wouldn’t allow him to storm out of the building. If Reese wanted to pull a stunt like this…

Brantley refused to care. There was no other option.

He could’ve pulled the whole caveman routine, stormed the table, confronted Reese. Where would that get him though? Into an argument in the middle of town? Last thing he wanted was to draw attention to something Reese clearly didn’t want attention drawn to.

So, maybe this really was only sex, just without all the intercourse. Hand jobs and blow jobs galore, but that was about it.

Sex on the down low. He could do that, right?

Brantley nodded, answering his own question, and took a long pull on his beer. He could deal with that. Hell, he’d been doing that for most of his adult life. Relationships were for other people. Not him. He didn’t need someone invading his space to be happy.

He would treat Reese the same way he’d treated Cyrus. Call him up when the urge hit, invite him over. Waste a few hours horizontal. Easy-peasy.

Only Brantley didn’t want that with Reese, and the worst of it, he didn’t know why that was. Here he’d been thinking they might have something. Which was saying a lot considering Brantley had never felt that way toward anyone. He’d never entertained the idea of more. His life had always been about the job, the mission. Being a SEAL wasn’t simply a job, it had been his entire world. He had never needed more than that.

Not that he did now.

Nope.

No fucking way.

Brantley was not about to have a fucking pity party for himself. So what? He was no longer in the Teams. He was now living a different life. Didn’t mean he couldn’t be happy doing it.

Half an hour later, after attempting to settle his tab only to be told it was on the house for what he’d done to help out Travis, Brantley sauntered out. His appetite was now shot to shit, and the pit in his stomach wouldn’t hold food well anyway, so he headed back to the house. After grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge, he started over to the barn only to make a U-turn, ending up right back in the house. He shoved the bottles back in the refrigerator, slammed the door, and went to change.

It wasn’t until his feet were pounding dirt that he felt a modicum of calm even though he couldn’t help but berate himself as he ran the five-mile route he’d gotten familiar with. Dusk had settled and it would be dark soon, but he wasn’t too worried about it. He’d learned this path well enough, he could likely do it with his eyes closed.

The first five minutes he spent adjusting his gait, getting his muscles to work in tandem, forcing as much from his mind as possible. Running was always the best way for him to get out of his head. Oddly enough, it wasn’t working for him today. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get