Mission: Without a Trace - Nicole Edwards Page 0,23
what he was looking for. According to the man, he would know it when he saw it.
“Ever think maybe you’re not a Chevy guy? Maybe you should try on a Ford for size.”
Reese peered over. “Not a chance.”
Brantley grinned. “Good. Guys who drive Fords don’t really do it for me.”
“Cyrus drives a Ford.”
“My point exactly.”
And it was the smile that pulled at Reese’s lips that he’d been going for. He knew Reese had his issues with Cyrus. For whatever reason, he was jealous. Quite frankly, there was absolutely nothing for him to be jealous about, but deep down, it pleased Brantley that he cared enough to admit it.
He pulled his truck up to the building, put it in park.
When they stepped inside a couple of minutes later, they were bum-rushed by an older man with thinning hair and a cheap suit. His cheeks were ruddy, his smile wide, his eyes wider, and he seemed hell-bent on doing whatever it took to make a sale today.
“And what brings you boys into our fine establishment?”
Reese strolled toward him. “I’m lookin’ for a truck.”
“Well, you’re in luck. We’ve got the largest selection in Central Texas.” The guy thrust his hand in Reese’s direction. “Name’s Billy. And you are?”
“Reese.”
Before Billy could offer up his hand to Brantley, he opted to take a detour, moving around to check out the Corvette sitting in the middle of the showroom. A little too flashy for his taste, but then again, he’d never been the sort to seek his adrenaline fix behind the wheel of a car.
“You’d look mighty fine in that car.”
Brantley glanced in the direction of the sultry voice, offering a grin when a leggy blond woman sauntered toward him.
“I’m a truck guy myself,” he admitted.
“Leisure car then,” she suggested, moving to stand a couple of inches from him. “Or maybe your wife’d be interested.”
“No wife.”
“Well now, that’s a shame.”
Brantley’s gaze swung to Reese and he grinned. “Not really, no.”
“I’ve got a couple more of these right outside. Perhaps a test drive? You never know, you might like it once you’ve tried it.”
He fought the urge to laugh, knowing full well she was referring to the car and maybe hinting that she’d be interested, too. There was no ring on her finger, but that didn’t mean a damn thing.
“I’m just gettin’ familiar with what I’ve got,” he told her, continuing with the riddles. “I prefer my rides … bigger.”
The blonde giggled, her hand going to his arm in that casual, flirty way women did when they wanted a man to know they were into them.
Brantley glanced over at Reese once more, noticing the tall, handsome guy with the stern look on his face was now looking his way. Nope. Scratch that. Reese was now strolling his way.
“Speakin’ of bigger…” Brantley mumbled, turning to face the sexy man whose eyes were taking in the situation.
The blonde turned toward him. She instantly stood a bit taller, her chest pushing out a tad more. Definitely liked what she saw.
Not that Brantley blamed her. He was quite fond of Reese himself.
“Any luck?” he asked when Reese approached.
“Got my eye on a red one out there.” Reese held up his hands, dangled a key. “Let’s go for a test drive.”
“I’m right behind you,” he said, wondering if the woman would understand that riddle.
With a nod and a wink to the woman, Brantley fell into step with Reese. He made sure he kept a safe distance between them, only to be surprised when Reese moved close enough their arms brushed as they reached the door.
When Reese turned to push it open with his back, their eyes met, held. Brantley could see a hint of jealousy flashing in that intriguing brown gaze. His response: a smirk.
“Please tell me this is the truck you’ve been waitin’ your whole life for,” he said as he hopped in the passenger seat while Reese got behind the wheel.
“Doubtful, but can’t let Billy know that.”
Frowning, Brantley glanced over. “You have an agenda.”
“I do,” Reese admitted, backing the truck out of the parking spot. “Plan to buy the charcoal-gray one we saw earlier.”
“The one at the first dealership?”
“Yep.”
Seriously? “So why the hell are we here?”
“Politics.”
“Clue me in,” Brantley urged.
“That first sales guy we talked to was too cocky,” he said, steering the truck out onto the service road. “Acted like he’d be doin’ me the favor of sellin’ me a truck.”
Yeah, Brantley hadn’t been all that fond of the guy. A tad on the pretentious side.