Page 8 of Memories of Us

The phone fell to the cheap laminate counter with a thunk. I buried my face in my hands and groaned.

Fine. I'd go. I'd go looking smoking hot, give Brenton Graves a piece of my mind for what he did, and then walk away with closure and a sliver of my self-respect back.

Closure.

I stared at the kitchen cabinets and mentally flipped through my wardrobe. Now came the difficult decision. What in the hell did one wear to a funeral where they were attempting to make the ex-boyfriend jealous?

Hmm. Decisions, decisions.

**

A STEADY STREAM OFlocal ranchers and their wives weaved in and out of the main house, offering their condolences more to the staff than Old Man Graves’ actual family. I scanned each person who passed with a held breath, and each time it wasn't Brenton, disappointment tripped my thundering heart.

He was there somewhere. During the funeral, I caught a quick glimpse of the back of his head, and a side profile when he hugged someone after the service, but that was it. Now standing in the kitchen with the ranch staff, there wasn't a clear line of sight into the formal living room where Brenton and his dad received the mourners.

“Was his dad smiling during the service?” I whispered to Kyle over my shoulder, my eyes glued to the swinging door in case Brenton magically appeared. “He's such an asswipe.”

“I heard he's already reached out to potential buyers about the place. Old Man Graves isn't officially buried yet and that shitty excuse for a human is looking for the next paycheck.”

“I don't get how Brenton would let that happen.” I shifted back to let a caterer pass with a tray full of finger foods. “This place has been in their family for generations. Surely he'll do something to stop it.”

“Why in the hell do you give that bastard more credit than he deserves?” At the anger in Kyle’s harsh tone, I turned to face him. “Do you not remember what happened? How he deserted you? I sure fucking do.”

I rolled my eyes and turned back to watch the door once again. “I remember. Kind of hard to forget something like that.”

“You look smoking hot,” Ryder said and wedged between Kyle and me. “Love that dress on you.”

Looking down, I shoved my hands into the side pockets of the black A-line dress and smiled. “Thanks. It has pockets.”

“But seriously, cowboy boots?”

Bumping her hip with mine, I smiled down at my tiny friend, who was shaking her head at my boots. “I like this look. And my other shoes weren't funeral appropriate.”

“There’s appropriate funeral footwear?” Kyle chimed in behind us.

“Yes,” Ryder and I said in unison.

“Have you seen him yet?” Ryder asked, rising to her tiptoes to look over a group of tall cowboys gathering in front of us. “I only got a glimpse at the gravesite,” she whispered as she leaned close. “But I heard two girls talking in the bathroom, and they both said he's still freakishly hot.”

I cut my narrowed eyes down to hers.

“Sorry,” she grumbled. “It's now or never. Let's go find him.”

Gripping my hand in hers, she yanked me toward the door, but instead of going willingly, I dug my heels into the tile floor. A large hand smacked between my shoulder blades, propelling me forward with so much force that I almost stumbled into an older man. I glared back, ready to flick Kyle the bird, but found him smirking at his boots.

Damn those two.

But I loved them.

Fine. It was time to get this done. I'd have my say, let Brenton see what he left behind, and get my ass back to Midland where a half gallon of chocolate chip Blue Bell waited for me. And three bottles of wine. And a bag of Hershey Kisses.

In the expansive formal living area, a few neighbors mingled while sipping their coffee and munching on the provided food, which wasn't half bad. Ryder guided us through the crowd, weaving and shoving toward the target.

All too soon we were there, right in front of the man who starred in my dreams of murder as well as my lusty fantasies.

I couldn't move. Brenton's bright green eyes locked me in a trance just like they always had. By my side, Ryder spoke words I should’ve understood but didn't. All I could do was stare at the gorgeous man who stared right back.

A thick line formed between his pinched brows as he scanned my features, almost considering me. During that brief second, I took a chance to familiarize myself with this grown version of someone I used to know. His strong, chiseled jaw had filled out over the years, making him look more like a man than a boy. There was still a knot across the bridge of his nose where he broke it in a fight one summer with a ranch hand. The dark, silky, floppy hair I'd always loved running my fingers through was gone now, cut short in a trendy style.

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