Mission: Without a Trace - Nicole Edwards Page 0,24

have a charcoal-gray one.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I’ll just have Billy call down there, see if they can do the swap. Because they’re in direct competition, they won’t. I’ll get a call from the cocky jackass with a damn good deal for me. I’ll tell him my problem with the service, he’ll bump me to a supervisor because partial commission is better than none, right?”

Brantley sighed. “Fuckin’ hell.”

“Trust me, Navy boy. I know what I’m doin’.”

Two hours later, Brantley realized Reese did, in fact, know what he was doing.

Now back at the dealership they’d started from, Brantley was sitting in the waiting area, knocking back a Dr. Pepper, while Reese took care of the paperwork on the first truck he had driven. Not only was he getting a good deal, he was now dealing directly with the man who owned the dealership on the truck he’d had his eye on originally. It wasn’t much different than Brantley’s, current year model, all the upgrades. That was one thing that people in Texas did, they took tremendous pride in their trucks.

He probably could’ve headed home, left Reese behind. Reese would have the keys before he walked out the door, but Brantley figured he had nothing better to do. Or rather, nothing else he wanted to do. Well, except maybe dinner. Lunch had been hours ago and he was starving. He wasn’t sure what he had to cook back at his place and briefly wondered if Reese wanted to come over. He hated asking because they’d been spending a ridiculous amount of time together as it was. The last thing he wanted was to come off looking desperate. Then again, he didn’t want to seem aloof, either.

Fucking dating.

This was why Brantley didn’t date. There was too fucking much to worry about. It was a hell of a lot easier when it was simply sex. There was no worry about offending someone or making them feel less or more important. Brantley’d done a damn fine job of it over the years, balancing the scales of his sex life. Then Reese came along and suddenly he was worried he might be too fucking needy.

“Hey.”

Reese’s voice dragged him from his thoughts, had him glancing up over his shoulder.

“All done. You ready to head out? Or you wanna hang around and check out their reading material?”

Brantley tossed the magazine he hadn’t bothered to open back onto the table, got to his feet. He pitched the empty Dr. Pepper can in the recycle bin on the way to the door.

“You headin’ home?” Reese asked when they stepped outside.

“Yeah.” Was he supposed to invite Reese over? Or shrug him off like it didn’t matter if he came by or not?

Reese nodded. “All right then. I guess I’ll see you in the mornin’?”

It was a question, he realized. “Works for me.”

Another nod.

Not sure what to say, Brantley tilted his head toward Reese, then made his way to his truck. He climbed in, pretending not to watch Reese do the same. He pulled out of the parking lot, hit the turnaround to head back to Coyote Ridge. He was about to pull off the toll road when his cell phone rang.

Reese’s name appeared on the screen, so he hit the button to take the call.

“What’s up?”

“I’m comin’ over.”

“Are you now?” he shot back, pretending he wasn’t grinning like a fucking idiot.

“Yep. I’ll make dinner.”

“I’m capable of makin’ dinner,” he countered.

“I want to.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, aiming for casual. “See you in a few.”

“Brantley?”

“Hmm?”

“There’s a few things I think we should talk about.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well then, I guess we’ll talk while you cook my dinner.”

The soft chuckle that came back was almost enough to loosen the knot that had formed in Brantley’s gut.

Almost.

***

Reese could tell something was bothering Brantley. He’d seemed awkward when they were leaving the dealership, almost as though he wasn’t sure what to say, if anything.

It was the very reason he’d decided he would go to Brantley’s, hash this out before it could go sideways.

That was one thing Reese was good at. Talking. He’d always been brutally honest. Sometimes to his detriment. But when it came to Brantley, he figured it wasn’t such a bad thing. The man wasn’t exactly an open book when it came to his life. They’d shared no details about their time in the military, nor had either one broached the subject. Family was a different subject altogether. Brantley would talk about Mom and Dad, brothers and sisters, nieces and nephew until his tongue dried up. But that wasn’t exactly