Brendon (Alluring Indulgence #8)(26)
Author: Nicole Edwards

Knowing it was pointless, he forced himself out of bed and padded naked to the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later he had showered, shaved, and dressed. Calling Scrap, who was, of course, still asleep, Brendon snatched his cell phone from his nightstand and headed out of his bedroom toward the kitchen. He opened the back door to let Scrap out to do his business before he made his way to the coffeepot.

Setting his phone on the counter, Brendon stared down at it briefly. He couldn’t help but wonder what Cheyenne was doing. Was she thinking about what happened between them in her kitchen last night, too? Or, fuck, was she doing what he’d done a short while ago? Was she sliding her hand inside her panties, her fingers dipping into her pussy … ?

Fuck!

Knowing he was going to be worthless for the day unless he managed to get his head on straight, he picked up his phone, but he didn’t plan to call Cheyenne. He had another call he needed to make first.

Pulling up his contact list, Brendon found the phone number for Zachariah Tavoularis, then called him.

“Holy fuck, bro? How the hell you been?” Z greeted ardently.

Brendon smiled. “Decent,” he replied. “How the hell are you?”

“Fucking fantastic, man,” Z answered exuberantly. Z had always been that way. Quiet most of the time, and when he did talk, people paid attention because he was overly animated. “Haven’t talked to your ass in a long time. What’s it been? A coupla years?”

“At least.” Brendon, Braydon, and Z had been close friends growing up. Z was pretty much the only guy they hung around with other than each other. When they graduated, Z had high-tailed it up to Dallas, but they’d kept in touch. Over the years, they didn’t talk as much, but they tended to text one another from time to time.

“How’s that crazy-ass twin brother of yours?” Z questioned.

“Oh, you know … settlin’ down, plannin’ to get married.”

“Are you fuckin’ shittin’ me?” Z questioned.

Brendon smiled. Z had always cursed like a sailor. That was when the guy talked at all. He was silent most of the time, that deadly silence that had you look at him twice, especially for a behemoth like Z. The guy stood six foot six inches tall, weighing in somewhere close to 250 last time Brendon had seen him. He rivaled Beau Bennett in size. And just like Beau, the guy didn’t have an ounce of fat on him.

“Nope, not shittin’ you,” Brendon admitted. “He proposed to Jessie last year.”

“I better get a fuckin’ invite to the weddin’,” Z insisted.

“Oh, you will. They haven’t set a date yet. But that ain’t why I called.”

“Didn’t figure it was. What’s up, bro?”

Brendon glanced out the window, watching Scrap as he sniffed the yard, going in circles around the fenced-in area. “A friend of mine’s havin’ an issue. Police can’t seem to nail down who’s harrassin’ her. I was hopin’ you could help.”

“A friend, huh? A female friend?”

Brendon heard the disbelief in Z’s tone, but he chose to ignore it. “You might’ve heard of her. Cheyenne Montgomery?”

He was met with silence on the other end of the line, causing him to chuckle. Finally, Z responded with, “The country music singer?”

“That’d be the one,” Brendon confirmed. “Seems she’s picked up a stalker. Bastard broke into her apartment a while back, tore her shit up. Sounds like an obsessed fan, maybe he figures he’s in love with her. Shit, I don’t know. Anyway, she’s a friend of the family, recently moved to Coyote Ridge. She’s hidin’ out from everyone for the time bein’. I want to find this asshole, Z.”

“Sounds like more than just a friend of the family,” Z mentioned.

“No comment,” Brendon replied. “Think you can help us out here?”

“Yeah. I’ll have to keep it off the radar, but I’ll do some diggin’. See what I can find out. I’ll holler back at ya when I have some intel. Cool?”

“Thanks, man.”

“Anytime. And hey, Bren, it really was good to hear from you. Don’t be such a stranger. Talk to you later.”

The call disconnected and Brendon pulled the phone from his ear. He smiled to himself before pulling up his contact list once again, this time searching for Cheyenne’s phone number. He’d snagged it from his mother’s phone one day when she wasn’t paying attention. Was it devious? Sure. Did he care? Not really, no.

Rather than call, he typed in a quick text.

This is Brendon. You have breakfast yet?