CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER NINE

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“The picture of an ass doesn’t do you justice.” Cheyenne remarked casually. She tilted her head to the side, studied Jordan, and shook her head solemnly. “Nope. The resemblance isn’t even close. Your picture should define ‘ass’.”

Kindley choked on her drink.

Jordan grinned, slowly, and stretched his arms above his head. “Are you coming onto me, little stepsister?”

“Yes.” Cheyenne stood up from her perch beside the window. “I often start my pick-up lines with ‘you’re an ass.’”

“That’s now what you said.” Jordan tipped his head back and smiled as Cheyenne walked over to him.

Kindley watched, captivated by the exchange, by the opposite window of her two bedroom apartment.

Cheyenne stood above him and regarded him coldly.

Jordan watched.

Kindley held her breath.

And then Cheyenne kicked out the bottom of his chair. Jordan fell backwards and Cheyenne placed the heel of her foot against his throat. She pressed down, but Jordan laid still and watched silently.

His hands moved to rest on her foot, but he never moved it from his throat. He just waited.

Cheyenne pressed down, just slightly, and remarked softly, warning, “If you ever fuck with my brother’s future again, I will hurt you.”

Cheyenne never swore.

Jordan knew that, but Kindley didn’t. What Kindley did know was that Jordan never took a threat laying down and he did now.

Cheyenne continued, “You told him that you knew the owner. You told him to go inside and make us a pizza, that it’d be alright. He did and now he’s in jail.”

“Cheyenne…” Jordan started.

She pressed harder.

Jordan shut up.

“My brother is in jail and guess who he’ll call?”

Jordan already knew, but his eyes defied Cheyenne. He didn’t care, but sadly—they both knew that he did care.

Cheyenne said softly, “He’ll call his mother.”

Jordan didn’t react, but Kindley was surprised. Cheyenne had said ‘his mother’ and not ‘our mother.’

Cheyenne added, “And then she’ll call his agent…and they’ll both be coming out here.”

“Oh, seriously, Cheyenne.” Jordan smacked her foot off his throat and stood up. He rose above her and said seriously, “This will boost his popularity. Do you know how many golden boys like Mattie go to jail? None, but if they do—Mattie’ll be on whatever show reports on these stories. He’ll be on magazines.”

“He’s already on magazines.”

“He’ll be on better magazines.” Jordan argued. “Matt wanted to do this. He told me that he wanted to learn by me.”

“I don’t think he had jail in mind.” Cheyenne retorted.

Kindley grinned in amusement. She had just walked out behind them, overheard Jordan’s proposition, saw Cheyenne stiffen, and then heard Mattie whoop in excitement.

Jordan wanted pizza so Mattie tried to get him pizza. Now Mattie was in jail, Jordan was in Kindley’s apartment, and Kindley was really meeting Cheyenne for the first time.

Jordan was uncontrollable. Or so Kindley thought, but she saw someone hold his reins now and Cheyenne was steering him how she wanted…she just didn’t know it.

If Kindley had been fool enough to think herself in love with Jordan, she would’ve loathed Cheyenne on the spot, but instead—she nearly worshiped the girl. Kindley and Jordan were done, they’d never gotten off the ground—Kindley was a realist—but in all that time, she’d grown fond of the reckless badboy himself.

She liked seeing someone that told Jordan to shut up and he did.

“Your mom will freak initially, but she’ll love it. Trust me.” Jordan countered swiftly.

“My mom can be an idiot.” Cheyenne said quietly and walked back to the window. She hugged herself and lifted the curtain to watch outside.

Jordan frowned, watching her, but didn’t say anything. He turned and met Kindley’s too-knowing gaze.

“You got coffee?” He asked shortly.

Kindley nodded. And he knew it. Jordan also knew where the coffee was, which was why he moved into the kitchen and the smell of brewed coffee filled the living room a little later.

When both of the girls heard Jordan on the phone a moment later, Kindley frowned when she saw Cheyenne jerk in reaction.

Cheyenne hurried to the doorway before she thought about it. Kindley saw that much, but what she didn’t see was the trembling hand that was clamped tightly underneath Cheyenne’s arm.

Jordan saw Cheyenne in the doorway, he’d been expecting her, and as he lifted a lazy glance in her direction—he did see the trembling hand that was tucked away quickly.

He frowned, but continued in the phone, “Yes. Yes, that’s right.”

Cheyenne heard her mother.

She stiffened.

Jordan rolled his eyes and nodded, “Okay. I will. Thank you…bye.” He hung up and watched Cheyenne for a moment.

Cheyenne jerked her head away.

“You okay?” He asked softly.

Kindley had never heard that tone in his voice.

“What’d she say?!” Cheyenne asked sharply.

“She was angry. She’s flying back out…and you’re right. Steve was called.”

Mattie’s agent.

Cheyenne looked away.

“Chey.” Jordan moved closer. “She won’t get here till morning.”

“It is morning.” She said faintly. It was nearing four in the morning. Ethereal and the herd would wake as the sun peeked over the horizon. It would be soon.

Jordan sighed. He saw that look—he knew that look.

Cheyenne was already thinking about leaving. Hell—she wasn’t thinking about it, she was already gone and missing the wilderness. Jordan hated it because he understood it, maybe more than he wanted to, but he did and he almost couldn’t blame Cheyenne.

Cheyenne murmured, her arms tight around herself, “They’ll get here in time to post his bail. We can leave.”

Jordan sighed in defeat. He knew that when they got home, Cheyenne would be gone. He couldn’t do anything about it.

Kindley waited, her breath in her throat, as she overheard the entire exchange. The spoken words weren’t what caught her on tenterhooks. It was what wasn’t being spoken that held her captive. She couldn’t look away.

“Fine.” Jordan clipped out.

Kindley jumped from the anger in his voice.

Cheyenne was unperturbed. She just left, out the door.

Jordan stood and sighed.

“She’s something else.” Kindley murmured.

“Yeah.” Jordan swung back. He taunted, “How is it that you came to be around us? You weren’t wanted, Kindley.”

He meant to hurt. Kindley had been on the other end of his jibes at times and she knew why he did it now.

She shook her head and tsk tsked, “Come on, Jordan. You can’t hold her and it’s killing you. Taking your frustration out on me won’t help you and her, but I’ll forgive you this time.”

Jordan cursed and left the apartment.

Cheyenne was in the truck, nearly plastered against her side when Jordan climbed inside. Jordan watched her for a moment before he started the engine. Cheyenne rested her forehead against the glass window and looked outside while she knew where her stepbrother looked.

Gruff, Jordan remarked, “If you’re in the area, you should meander over to your best beau’s place. The newlywed had enough time to ask how you were before.”

Cheyenne looked at him, confused. “When did you talk to Timothy?”

“Does it matter?”

Cheyenne waited.

Jordan sighed, pulled onto the road, and replied, “A few days ago, before you took off again.”

“That was four days ago.” Cheyenne stated.

“Yeah.”

“I’m not like most girls, Jordan.” Cheyenne murmured as she settled back against her seat. She spoke softly and Jordan grew more tense with every word. “You play games with girls. You manipulate people and I won’t be manipulated. You tell me that you saw Timothy four days ago—what do you expect from me? Should I be thrown about this? You spoke to my best friend, to the man whose wife you kissed on the day that they got married. What would a normal reaction be?”

Jordan turned onto the county road that wound around the mountain and to his home, “Are we talking you or are we talking normal girls?”

Cheyenne saw the trees fly by their truck. She looked through them and saw a Mutang that kept pace with them and knew it was Ethereal. She’d been waiting for her to return. Cheyenne smiled softly, but murmured, “I don’t care anymore, Jordan. I don’t know if I ever did.”

Jordan looked over and saw where she was watching. His jaw hardened. As they turned into his driveway and to his garage, Jordan locked the doors and bit out, “I’m sorry, okay? I should’ve told you—I guess, but I’m not a damn horse. I’m a human being, Cheyenne.”

Cheyenne opened her door, climbed outside, and started to walk to her loft.

Jordan slammed his door and followed behind.

They both knew what she was going to be doing.

As she walked into her bedroom and immediately started packing, Jordan stood, furiously, in the doorway as he watched helplessly.

“I didn’t want to upset you. That’s why I didn’t tell you.” Jordan leaned against the doorframe.

“No.” Cheyenne pulled some clothes out of her dresser and stuffed them into the bag. “You weren’t ever going to tell me. You only told me now because you wanted a reaction out of me. That’s the only reason so stop lying.”

“Chey—”

“Stop. Lying.” She clipped out and stopped her packing. She turned, stared him down, and Jordan sighed in contentment when he saw the smoldering rage in her eyes.

He pushed off from the doorframe and stalked closer.

Cheyenne tensed. Her hand was forgotten as it rested on the bag.

Jordan moved closer until they were an inch of space of between them. He murmured, “What else am I supposed to do? I’m not a horse. That’s all you care about. You’re my family.”

Cheyenne held her breath. Jordan lifted a hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He cupped her cheek and said softly, tenderly, “You’re beautiful when you’re angry. And I like it because it reminds me that you’re still human.”

Cheyenne broke away from his hand, but didn’t move away from him.

Jordan took that as a small victory. He asked, “What are we even fighting about?”

And Cheyenne spelled it out—“You don’t want me to leave and I need to. That’s what we’re fighting about.”

He laughed, relieved, and pulled her closer.

“Don’t leave. Not yet.”

“They’re coming in a few hours.”

Jordan skimmed a hand down her back and rested it in the small of her back. “Your mom won’t come out here. She’ll be furious. She won’t want Mattie being anywhere close to me. They’ll go to our folks’ place.”

Ethereal nickered in the distance.

Cheyenne tensed and then realized that she had relaxed with Jordan so close.

Jordan groaned, but kept her close and rested his forehead against hers. He molded her to him and caressed her back in a soothing manner. “Aren’t you tired?”

Cheyenne was. She hadn’t slept well in the last few days, but the part of her that yearned for Ethereal and the wilderness was beckoning to her. Jordan, his soothing whispers, and suggestions pulled her in a different direction.

She was tired.

Jordan knew he had won when he saw her eyelids drop suddenly.

Softly, as smoothly as he could, he lifted her in the air and laid her on the bed. Cheyenne grabbed his arms automatically.

Jordan smiled, “You need to sleep. That’s it.”

She relaxed slightly when her head hit the pillow. Jordan briefly thought about curling behind her, holding her throughout the hours, but he knew that it would push too hard. Cheyenne wasn’t ready for that, not yet, so he tucked the blanket around her and moved to the door.

He looked back and saw that she was already asleep.

Ethereal whinnied again and Cheyenne jerked in her sleep.

Jordan considered shutting Cheyenne’s window, but knew she’d wake from the silence. She’d become so accustomed to the wilderness that she needed the sounds for her to sleep.

No matter what season, Cheyenne’s window was always open.

Just before he shut the door, he caught sight of her bag peeking underneath one of the blankets and without a moment’s hesitation he grabbed it and shut the door behind him.

Jordan took the bag with him to his home and dumped it in his bedroom.

With a rakish yawn on his face, Jordan eyed his bed, but knew that he wouldn’t get much sleep. No matter what he said, Jordan knew that Cheyenne’s mom would be heading his way, but without Mattie. She’d be livid and threaten him, but Jordan had never had much regard for the woman. He didn’t care what threats or insults she hurled his way.

It wouldn’t be the first time that he’d lock horns with Grace Scott.

And three hours later—he knew it was about to happen when a car sped up his driveway and screeched to a halt.

Jordan had been in his office, his chair tipped back with the laptop opened just before him. He heard the gravel spitting and lazily looked through his window. It was Grace Scott, alone except for her fury.

Jordan grinned slightly. He’d seen that fury on another Scott three hours prior.

He sighed and stood up. Cheyenne would be awake now. She’d bolt when she saw who stood on Jordan’s doorstep, but Jordan couldn’t do anything about that. What he could do is get more coffee.

He was just topping off his mug when the door burst open and in walked a seething stepmother.

Grace Scott Emerson was petite and beautiful. She had strawberry golden hair, but the normally exquisitely styled hair was underneath of a cashmere rose-petal shawl.

Jordan tipped his mug up in a salute and drawled, “I see my father still has excellent taste.” He indicated the diamond necklace around her neck, but Grace glowered, “You think you’re so much better than us—you’re nothing, Jordan. I’m not going to make this long or drawn out. I want you out of my son’s life.”

“Which one?” Jordan smiled. The anger was there, but banked for a predator’s intent. “The one alive or the one spiritually alive?”

Grace narrowed her eyes and stepped forward into the house. The ground creaked under her foot, as if knowing it should quake before her.

“Matthew has a bright future. He is going to go somewhere in this world—”

“Like your other one didn’t?” Jordan waited. He knew that she wouldn’t say Cheyenne’s name, but that didn’t meant her name wasn’t worth being mentioned. The way Jordan thought—it was the only name that should be mentioned. “Matthew can take care of himself. And, by the way, dear stepmother—splash the story to the right magazines and Mattie’s popularity will soar. He’s the nice celebrity that everyone loves. Make him a little dangerous with a silly arrest and he’ll be even more appealing. Trust me.”

‘Like you know anything about the media and my world.” Grace shot back, but Jordan saw the spark. He shook his head, wryly, because he knew that Grace Scott had already thought of what he proposed. But this was an opportunity for her to demand his absence from her child’s life and it was not to be wasted.

“Mattie’s twenty eight. He can choose who he spends time with—pander to him too much and you’ll be getting some different media attention for how much of a pansy that he’s in danger of becoming. You’re not helping that at all, Stepmother.”

Grace snorted and shook her head.

“Not very ladylike.” Jordan noted.

“Since when I have concerned myself with being ‘ladylike’ around you?” Grace shot back. “Your father loves you and I love your father, but that is the only reason why we converse with each other. I won’t deny that any longer and I think you’ll respect me a tiny bit for that acknowledgement.”

Jordan bit his tongue. He had no respect for a neglectful and selfish mother. That battle was for another day because the one person who it would hurt was probably either away in the wilderness or listening with bated apprehension.

“Matthew just wanted to have fun.” Jordan relented. “He needs to have some stories for his children, hell—he needs to have some stories for himself.”

“Don’t you dare stand there and tell me what my son does or does not need. I’m his mother.”

“No. You’re his manager. You stopped being his mother when he brought in the first rich paycheck. At least admit that much, between us.”

Grace sucked in her breath and glowered fiercely. “You have been a pain in your father’s life for too long, but he loves you. I won’t say anything else except to stay away from my son.”

Jordan yawned and asked, “Would you like some coffee?”

Grace waited, quiet.

Jordan finished, “Because it’s the only thing I’m willing to give you.”

Disdain slammed in her eyes and she shook her head, seemingly fatigued. “I’ve never done anything to you, Jordan and yet—you’ve only given me contempt. I don’t know how I’ve warranted your disgust.”

“The martyr act? Seriously?” Jordan mocked, but he knew the conversation needed to be done. It was approaching dangerous waters and he wasn’t ready to go there—not yet, but when he did, he’d have something cemented to fight for. He knew that much and the day was fast approaching. “You can leave.”

“Matthew will be staying at your father’s home with me for the next few days while we sort out this arrest issue, but you are not to come for a visit. It won’t take long and we’ll be leaving.”

“Have a good two week break.” Jordan lifted a casual hand.

Grace stopped, confused.

“The holidays. Everyone’s going to be here. You’re not?”

Grace didn’t respond.

“Josiah’s bringing Nivella. I’d imagine that you’d want to see your granddaughter…unless you don’t count the Emerson bloodline as your own.” Jordan remarked casually.

She didn’t respond, but stormed back out, her threat given, and let the door hanging open behind her.

Jordan followed it and reached to close it as he watched his stepmother slam her cardoor shut and speed away.

Jordan wasn’t surprised by what had been shared between the two. It had always been like that and he wasn’t one to back down from a confrontation. He usually sought them out, but he had unbalanced the woman. A small part of him took that as a victory because he knew that Grace Scott didn’t treat her stepchildren as children, but a child had been born into their family.

Nivella was five with a mop of black springly curls. Her chocolate doe eyes melted anyone’s heart and Grace Scott wasn’t immune to the child’s power.

As he moved to shut the door, he glanced up and saw, surprised, that Cheyenne stood prominently on the loft’s porch.

She’d been there the entire time.

She’d seen her mother and her mother had seen her daughter.

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