Bad Boy Brody Read online

  There were people at the house, people I didn’t know, people who didn’t know me. But they were there, and my stepsiblings were wining and dining them. I heard the laughter, saw all the cars. The lights were on in the house, and people were spilling out onto the patio with blankets pulled around them. It was a large party, too large.

  A car pulled up as I was there, and I watched a couple get out. The woman was dressed in one of the most beautiful dresses I had ever seen, and as they ran inside the house, it billowed out round her. The guy had on a suit, one of those that Matthew always dressed in. I knew Finley had to wear them, too, but they signified a different world.

  Not my world.

  Matthew, Finley, and Abby brought their world there.

  It was crashing over mine, and the horses could feel it. We didn’t like having these newcomers at home. I knew they would leave, but I couldn’t relay that to the herd.

  They were scared and pissed, and they had to run.

  I heard them starting when I was at the barn and took off. If they were going, I wanted to go with them. And like another time, so long ago, I ran and jumped onto Shiloh’s back. After that, she kicked her hooves harder into the ground so we could catch up to the herd because they weren’t waiting.

  The stallion was leading us away from these interlopers. We were going to the next mountain, but instead of going down into the valley and following the river that wound its way around our mountain, he was impatient. The stallion had us go right, and I braced myself. I knew what we would be crossing.

  Then, spying headlights as a car wound its way around the mountain, I could only hope they would be past where we would cross the road. The stallion wasn’t stopping. Car or not, we were going.

  The herd soared over the road.

  The stallion broke through the trees first, rearing his strong head up, but the mares were right after him. They were hot on the others’ heels and sometimes a group of six horses would cross at the same time. Shiloh and I were near the end, but the car had stopped. They were waiting. I was holding onto Shiloh so my entire body was flat, and I would normally just bury my head into her mane. But this time, I didn’t.

  I looked over. I didn’t sit up. I didn’t lift my head. I just merely turned. Even with her mane half-blinding me, I was still able to see them.

  A driver’s eyes were bulging, his hands gripping the steering wheel, and his mouth was hanging open. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. My eyes trailed past him to the couple in the backseat. The woman was down, hunched over, and a guy was almost hugging her, but his attention was toward the road in front.

  Piercing eyes were staring straight at me, and his dark hair looked as if he’d raked his hands through it a few times. The moment was brief, but he was seared into my memory. Everything about him was dark, brooding, dangerous. He wasn’t gaping at me like the driver. His eyes were alert, clear, and intelligent.

  Then we were gone, disappearing back into the trees, but I felt him. I felt as if he was inside me somehow, and as Shiloh carried me deeper into the woods and I was blanketed by the other mares, I couldn’t help myself. I looked back, and he had moved so he was watching me from the back window.

  I felt like I knew him, and I didn’t like that feeling.

  Shiloh’s head jerked back. Her nostrils flared. Her body tightened under me. She felt my fear, and she didn’t know how to handle it.

  I buried my head back into her mane and stroked a hand down her neck. For the first time, I wasn’t sure who I was soothing.

  Brody

  The party was in full swing when we pulled up to the house.

  I laughed to Gayle. “This is the house?”

  She gave me a tight-lipped grin back, but she knew what I was referencing. The home was like a lodge, big enough for thirty guests. There was a pool, a tennis court, and a huge barn with white fences that ran back behind the barn and all the way to where the driveway turned into a clearing. There were buildings farther down by the barn, but I couldn’t make them out. A row of trees blocked my view.

  “Brody!”

  The front door opened and out spilled some images I’d recently looked at in the car. Matthew, his siblings, and others that I didn’t recognize.

  A small crowd was soon forming behind him.

  “Gayle.” Matthew led the charge, giving her a hug before extending a hand toward me.

  I nodded, shaking it. “Matthew Kellerman.”

  “Yes.” His grin widened. “It’s nice to officially meet you.” He stepped back, indicating his siblings. “This is Finn and Abby, my brother and sister.”

  Finn gave a nod and a handshake, but Abby looked like a fan. Her eyes were wide, and she held her breath as I shook her hand. Then, ducking her head, she asked, “Can I get a hug? I know this might not be appropriate, but I’m a big fan.”

  This relaxed me. Seeing wild horses burst through the trees? No. A fan? Absolutely. Abby just became my favorite Kellerman.

  I went into full movie-star mode. Upping the smoldering effect on my eyes, my grin turned so it was half-cocky but also half-genuine as I hugged not only Abby but also the other females that approached. A few of the men wanted a hug, but most were fine with a handshake. I always got the once-over—the look each guy gave me to see what separated me from them. It was damned good genes, my mother’s high cheekbones, the square jaw from my dad, and a body that training seven days a week in a gym couldn’t get me. I did that, or I had until Kyle, but I still had muscle definition. I’d have to slip away for a run to tighten everything back up, but I knew I was blessed.

  After all the introductions were done, most of the group returned back to the house, but Matthew stayed back with Gayle and me. The driver remained by the car, waiting for instructions on where to put our bags.

  “How was the drive up?” Matthew’s smile seemed normal as he asked the question, but there was an edge of caution in his voice.

  “It was eventful, that’s for sure,” Gayle said dryly, shooting me a look.

  I narrowed my eyes, studying Kellerman as I stated, “A herd of horses ran in front of the car.”

  He looked my way. That smile slipped a bit, tightening. “Horses?” His Adam’s apple moved up and down.

  I glanced to Gayle and the driver. “I would’ve counted thirty or forty, maybe?”

  “Those aren’t the horses we’re using for the movie, are they?”

  He shook his head, saying to Gayle, “No, no. We have a few from a nearby ranch we’re using.”

  “Are those your horses?” I was going over the script in my head. The few scenes that had horses in them were mild shots. There were no action sequences. The notes said the characters would go on an easy ride, with the focus on the conversation. There’d be the usual close-ups and a zoom-in of Karen holding hands with Peter.

  “No. Uh.” He shifted his champagne glass to his other hand and scratched behind his neck. “There is a herd of mustangs in the area. The sanctuary here runs on some of our land, but I thought they had been moved to a different area. I’m sorry to hear that they ran out in front of your car. That isn’t normal. I guarantee.”

  “Thank goodness for that. They were beautiful to watch, but it was so sudden. We could’ve had a nasty car accident . . .” Her voice trailed off, hearing her own words, and she turned to me. She reached out. “Oh, Brody.”

  I’d already been thinking of Kyle and clipped my head in a brief nod. A damn drink would be nice. “Don’t worry about it. We can talk about car accidents. It almost happened just now.”

  But I saw the guilt linger in her eyes.

  “Ma’am.”

  A soft cough from the driver.

  “Oh!” Her hand pulled back. She asked Matthew, “Where do we unload our bags?”

  Kellerman’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Yes!” He gestured toward the barn. “There’s a cabin down there where we put Brody,” he said and then turned to me. “We know you wanted your own space for privacy. Gayle, we have you in a room in the
main home.”

  “Excellent.”

  She was in work mode. Her bags were taken out, and she went inside with the driver. I waited by the car, and Matthew turned to me again, his smile a bit hesitant. “So, Brody.”

  I prepared myself. I’d heard the same tone from lawyers, reporters, and almost everyone else. It was the voice of someone who didn’t know me but thought they did.

  He asked, “Are you comfortable with horses?”

  I hadn’t expected that question. “I rode a few times as a kid with my brother, but that was probably twenty years ago.”

  “Yes, yes.” He was nodding as if he knew what I was going to say before I said it. “So they didn’t scare you that much?”

  I frowned. That was an odd question. “What do you mean?”

  “I meant—” He stopped, his eyes narrowing for a bit. “Uh, I mean. Wild mustangs. They must’ve been a shock to see, right?”

  “Yeah.” He was fishing.

  “You said there were thirty or forty. Were you able to really see the horses? I mean, did you notice which one was the stallion?”

  His questions weren’t what he wanted to know. He was asking something else.

  Then I got it.

  He wanted to know if I studied the horses—the image of that girl flashed in my mind again.

  It had been her hair that had caught my eye. She’d been hugging her horse, her arms and legs wrapped around, and if I hadn’t been looking closely, I wouldn’t have seen her. Every inch of her had been plastered to that animal, as if she were an extra layer of skin on the mustang. And those eyes. I still felt the impact of them.

  She’d only been wearing pants and a shirt, which was odd since it was fucking cold out.

  I couldn’t get that out of my head, and I couldn’t get her out of my head either.

  It was as if she stuck her hand inside, took hold of my organs, and crawled in beside them. I still felt her.

  That was who he was asking about.

  “No.” I shook my head. “I didn’t see the stallion.”

  He was still watching me closely.

  I added, “They were running so fast that it was done within a few seconds.”

  At that, his shoulders fell back, smoothing out. “Ah. Yes. I do hope to section off the lands where we’ll be shooting for the movie, so hopefully you won’t see the herd again.” He nodded past the barn. “You can’t see it now, but they typically run on the other mountain over there. If you see ’em again, it’ll be far in the distance.”

  The image of that girl flashed in my head again.

  Her dark eyes. Her dark golden hair. I only got a glimpse, but she was stunning, and I found myself saying, “I hope not.”

  I wanted to see her again.

  And I ignored the sharp look Kellerman threw my direction.

  Morgan

  It was four in the morning.

  The last of the strangers finally went to bed, and I heard their snoring as I tiptoed through the building. I hadn’t wanted to come back, but I needed clothes. It was getting colder at night, and though Shiloh and Shoal broke the night wind if I stayed with the herd, they couldn’t completely ward off the chill. I was used to the extremes with the weather. My body adjusted long ago, but I still got cold. I stayed in the house nights during the bad weather and in the winter. On those nights, I’d usually slip into the second floor of the barn. The house was mine, but I always felt like it was theirs: my stepsiblings, my mom, and him. The apartment felt more like home to me. It’d been renovated so it looked like a normal apartment, but that wasn’t where I’d gone.

  I wanted to see them.

  I was standing above where Abby was sleeping. Her face was turned toward me, her arm was thrown up on the pillow, and her body was twisted the other way. She’d have a kink in her neck when she woke, but she looked happy.

  I knelt, looking closer.

  There were no bags under her eyes, but the laughing lines still around her mouth made me smile. Yes. She looked happy. She wasn’t the frail, thin girl I last saw when I signed for the movie. That was years ago, and I’d been worried about her. I didn’t know what was going on with her then. I was glad it had worked out, whatever it was.

  Tiptoeing out, I checked on Finn next. I didn’t go all the way in. His covers were pulled down so I could see the bare skin of his thigh. He was sleeping naked. Same Finn. He groaned about wearing boxers around the house when we were kids. He hadn’t changed.

  That made me smile.

  Matthew would’ve been using the main room, and I was coming down the hallway when I heard the neigh in the distance. That was Shiloh calling for me, so I bypassed the stairs. I was going past the kitchen table when I looked down and stopped. The script was there.

  Unbroke.

  That was the name of the movie, a term used about a horse that wasn’t trained.

  I frowned slightly, feeling a tug in my stomach, and reached for the script.

  The movie was about my mother, but why would they use that term? She’d been broken.

  “So you do come to the house every now and then?”

  I whipped around, seeing Matthew in the threshold of the open patio door. He wore the suit he had worn for the party, but his shirt collar was open, the top few buttons were undone. He’d pulled the shirt out from his pants, too, and unlike Abby, the bags under his eyes fell halfway down toward his mouth.

  My hand snapped back to my side. Ducking my head a little, I went toward him. If he woke the others, there’d be conversations I didn’t want to have. And I heard Shiloh’s neigh again. She was worried about me.

  Matthew heard her, too, looking back over the fields. “That Shoal?”

  He stepped back, and I moved past him, shutting the patio doors behind me. “Shiloh.”

  “Shiloh?”

  “Shoal’s daughter. She’s a little darker gray than Shoal.”

  “Ah.” His nostrils flared. I felt a wave of anger from him. “That makes sense. It’s like you have a new sister.”

  I watched him warily, moving to the edge of the patio. I murmured, “You look well.”

  His nostrils flared again. Heat pooled in his eyes. “You don’t.”

  I flinched, looking away.

  He cursed under his breath. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Your hair is more blonde than I remembered. You’re still so thin. And I want to hug you, but I’m scared if I try, you’ll take off like a damned deer.”

  I looked back up, and there was a yearning in his eyes that had me swallowing over a knot. He moved to take a step forward but stopped, and in a low voice, he asked, “Can I hug you, Morgan? Can I hug my sister?”

  “I’m not your sister.” I paused a beat. “Or your stepsister.”

  Not anymore, but once we had been. We’d been a family.

  That was a long time ago, and years passed.

  He took them from me when I remained at the house. Peter Kellerman used my inheritance to pay for my homeschooling, but that was it. And a part of me always wondered if that’d been at Matthew’s insistence. When my mom was murdered, my stepfather wanted nothing to do with me. Staff moved into the house, acting like my keepers.

  Not that I was bitter. I wasn’t. Peter Kellerman always scared me, but he took my siblings away. That’d been the one thing I was angry with him about.

  I recognized the look in Matthew’s gaze. Ownership.

  It reminded me of how my stepfather looked at my mother.

  He took another step toward me, and I jumped back, hitting the railing. “Don’t.” I spoke quickly because he was right—if he pushed, I would run. It was how I was.

  His head fell back, and he cursed again under his breath. “You’re still like a wild animal.” He looked out over the fields, over where I could hear the river trickling and where I could already smell the dew forming on the grass. I could hear the horses on the field across from us, on the other side of the river, but I also knew he couldn’t see or feel or hear any of those things.

  He just saw
darkness because the sun had yet to crest the horizon.

  I almost felt sorry for him.

  I was a wild animal, yes. I could live out there with them, but I was also human. I would always come back. This was my mother’s home. Normally, I felt her when I came back, but I couldn’t feel her right then, and I didn’t like it.

  I looked back inside the house. “There are so many people here.”

  He nodded, his hand going into his pocket. “We changed the ending.”

  It was an abrupt change of topic, but I went with it.

  I frowned. “You did?”

  “Yeah.” There was a glass of champagne on the table. He picked it up, tipping his head back to take a swallow. “The studio that invested with us thought a happily ever after ending would do better in theaters. Also . . .” His eyes narrowed, lingering on me. “You aren’t in the movie.”

  I fell silent.

  “Dad went to great lengths to hide you so no one knows about you. We thought about writing you in, but there would have been questions. A mysterious Kellerman daughter, even through marriage, who lives alone, and that’s if she’s even in the house?” He laughed to himself. “There’d be a media storm around you.” He waved a hand around the place. “No one knows about you, well, except maybe one.”

  “Finn’s fiancée?”

  He did a double take. “How do you know about her?”

  “Voices travel.” I touched my ear. “I have good hearing.”

  He grunted. “I suppose so. She’s coming later, if you want to meet her.” His mouth flattened again. “Are you going to see Finn and Abby too? And not where”—he gestured back inside the house—“you see them, but they don’t see you. I know Abby would love to hug you.”

  I heard the sadness again from him. I knew it was from him, that he wanted to hug me and couldn’t. Maybe I should? But the thought of feeling his arms circle me, of being crushed to him, made me want to recoil. No. I couldn’t. He wanted more than a hug. I could feel it from him.

  I chose my words carefully, deciding on, “It’d be nice to talk to her too.”

  He laughed again. “Could you do me a favor? If you have any pull with that stallion, can you keep the herd from the humans?” Another drip of bitterness. “Your herd almost took out the star of the movie.”