Page 46 of Takes Two to Tango

He looked at her as if he wanted her to challenge those words, but she couldn't. So she said nothing.

He continued, “I was fourteen when Denny died. A stupid snot-nosed kid. I couldn't tell my father no when he pushed me. I'd seen him sink to his knees sobbing when the sheriff knocked on the door. I'd seen my mother so devastated she couldn't get out of bed." He shook his head and she watched as he crawled into his memory."I'd always been different, liked books and going museums and stuff. I collected rocks and asked for microscopes for Christmas. My geekiness never bothered Mom and Dad. They had Denny. So I got no flack for climbing trees and writing stories. My mother was happy to put the pictures I'd taken with that camera you loaned me on the fridge. She even bought me an art kit and a word processor.”

Rayne nodded. She remembered that boy. They way he’d been underneath the role he played.

Brent cleared his throat, closed his eyes briefly. “But when they told us Denny was dead, I knew what I had to do. They valued Denny because he'd been such a good athlete, because everyone thought he was the cat’s meow. Denny was their idea of a perfect son. They'd spent years laughing at his exploits, shaking their heads over his subpar grades, but declaring it didn't matter because his arm would get him into college."

Brent had never talked much about his older brother or his parents' lack of expectations for their younger son. She'd known, of course. She'd been there. She'd seen Brent change, pick up the challenge of being better than his father's wildest dreams for his oldest son. She'd seen him glow at his father's praise. Revel in the town's talk about his prowess on the field. But she'd never really understood the seduction of pleasing a parent. Her parents set very few expectations. They wanted their daughters to grow where they were planted and experience life as it came at them.

"I stood there that night as they cried, talking about Denny. How great he was, how there'd never be another like him, and I knew I had to fix it. I knew I could be as good as Denny, maybe better."

Rayne slid her hand to where his rested on the table. During Denny's funeral, she'd sat in the back with Aunt Frances and Uncle Travis feeling as if her place was beside Brent, thinking she could make things better by holding his hand. She remembered the distinct feeling of knowing he needed her and the knowledge she had no right to be with the family. He'd looked lost in a suit two sizes too big for him. She remembered everyone had cried. Everyone except Brent.

"So I became the dude you see before you. It's been easy to keep him around. He's an uncomplicated sort of guy."

He looked away from her. It was a heavy conversation for what should have been a celebratory feast. But such was life. Rayne knew there were times a person had to roll with what came her way. And her one small question about what they were doing had broken loose baggage of epic proportions.

"Except you're not uncomplicated," she said with twitching of her lips. She squeezed the hand beneath hers. It was so different from hers. Long, squared-off fingers with calluses, masculine with veins and scars from construction gone wrong. These bands had thrown record-breaking passes and stirred the first fledgling love inside her.

Brent met her gaze. "Guess not."

Rayne's smile grew bigger. "Needed to get that off your chest?"

He gave her an embarrassed look. ''Guess so."

She released his hand and picked up the fork she'd left in her salad. She took a few bites, chewing as she contemplated the complex man before her.

He, in turn, tucked into his own meal, looking not comfortable but perhaps a bit lighter. She wondered why it had taken him so long to come clean behind his rationalization for becoming the man he was. And how many layers would she have to peel back to find the man deep inside?

And did she want to start that job?

Common sense told her she didn't need anything more on her plate. Henry was doing better but still obsessive about knowing where she was at all times. He'd called her ten times in a three-hour period when she'd left him with Meg to do the television spot in Austin last weekend. She had a restaurant to oversee, an inn to debut, and the possible deal at the Food Network. Adding the complexity of Brent, their past, and a potential future seemed a very bad idea.

"What do you mean when you say you want something more?” she asked in spite of her intentions.

Brent looked up at her question. A fleck of mustard hung on his top lip. She handed him a napkin. He immediately wiped his mouth. Damn, they were telepathic.

"Do you always place labels on everything?"

She frowned. "Labels make me comfortable. I know what I'm getting."

"Why can't we move in a direction without defining it?" He looked so sincere, so utterly unprepared for what his words would cause.

"Spoken like a man who doesn't want to be pinned down." Aggravation flared inside her. Not labeling their relations was the reason their friendship had ended in the first place. "Fifteen years ago I didn't have a label, did I? Wasn't your girlfriend, though you kissed me like I was. Wasn't a friend, otherwise you would have talked to me at school. Maybe I would have liked a label. Maybe then I wouldn't have expected you to care about me.”

He shook his head."That's not what I meant. I meant that you've changed."

"You're damn right I have. I don't like floating around to see what happens. I don't need a commitment from you,.Brent. Not sure I even want one. But I would like a definition for what we have going on. It's the way I work."

It was his turn to frown. "Well, maybe that's not a good way. Life happens, Rayne. Trying to define it makes it harder."

A brittle laugh escaped her. "Says the man sashays through life with a beer in one hand, a woman in the other, and hiding a revulsion for what he is."

His body tensed. "I don't repulse myself, Rayne.”

“Didn’t say you did, but you just admitted to hiding the real you. I don’t want to hide anything. I’m done with standing in thewings.” How dare he judge her because she liked boundaries? She wanted clarity, a guideline for what she was jumping into.Ifshe jumped. It's what every rational person wanted. What she and Phillip had done. Mapped it out. Made it happen. Prepare for the worst but expect the best.

"You-"

---