“Right here.” He led me to what I assumed was another rental, opening the passenger side. I climbed in and a moment later, he was behind the wheel, pulling out of the parking lot. “Happy birthday, Isabelle.”
“Thank you,” I said, laying my head on the headrest.
“Is that what you were doing there? Celebrating?”
I sighed. “The guys wanted to take me out. I thought it might be good for me to get out of the house.”
I felt the heat of his gaze but didn’t look his way. We drove in silence for a few minutes. “Are you back for your father?” I finally asked. In all truth, I was glad if that were the case. From what I’d been able to tell, they hadn’t parted a couple of weeks ago on much better terms than they’d parted the first time. Perhaps Brant had come to regret that after some time away.
“I’m back for you.”
I did look at him then, my brow shooting up in surprise. We pulled onto the road leading to Graystone Hill and I saw it rising in the distance.
“I know what you mean about expecting more from me, Belle.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair again. It came away and he looked suddenly disheveled, tired, as if he hadn’t been sleeping well. “My father said you’d expect me to marry you after . . . our night together.”
My mouth fell open and I gaped at him for a second. I shook my head, blinking. “I’m sorry, what?”
He looked over at me, his gaze lingering on my expression. “You said you expected more from me. It’s what my father said too. And I . . . hell, I’m thinking it might not be such a crazy idea. Why are you looking at me like that?” He pulled into the driveway, stopping and turning off the engine.
“Let me get this straight. Your father”—I shook my head, not even wanting to think about the fact that Harrison Talbot knew that Brant and I had slept together—“knew we were . . . intimate and told you I’d expect you to marry me because of it?”
Brant’s brow creased. “Basically. What did you mean when you said you expected more from me?”
I threw the car door open, getting out and slamming it behind me. God, there was so much wrong here. Brant got out too and we stood looking at each other over the top of the car. I threw my hands into the air. “I meant I expected you to have the decency to say goodbye in person. A note, Brant? Two measly lines? But I didn’t expect you to marry me, for the love of God. That’s just . . . stupid.”
I stalked around the car, heading away from the path, down toward the stable. I wanted to check on one of the mares that had stumbled in the yard earlier and had a sprain. “Why is that so stupid?” Brant demanded, catching up to me.
“Because I know what type of man you are. I know where you live. I know where I live, and I know what that night was about. I appreciated you being there for me. A lot. And I . . .” I looked ahead as I walked, slightly embarrassed. I wasn’t used to talking openly about sex. “Well, I obviously enjoyed, er, you.” I stopped in front of the stable, turning toward him and he came up short, facing me as well. “But I never once expected a proposal to come from it. You and your stubborn old goat of a father have a lot of nerve making assumptions like that without even consulting me.”
He put his hands on his narrow hips, his expression still slightly offended, mixed with confusion. “It’s not the craziest idea, Belle. What if you’re pregnant?”
“I’m not.”
For a second I swore a shadow of disappointment moved over his expression but I had to be imagining that. Brant Talbot was not the type to be thrilled over an accidental pregnancy. “How do you know?”
“I know.” I turned, heading into the stable, the sound of Brant’s footsteps behind me.
“Anyway, there are other reasons it makes sense for us to get married, Belle. I think my father was right.”
I turned toward him slowly. “I don’t care what your father thinks. I think it’s the most ridiculous idea I’ve ever heard. And I don’t want to marry you.”
I opened the stable where Loretta was standing, munching on her hay. Going inside, I looked at the brace she was wearing, taking her leg in my hands and bending it. She didn’t stop chewing, nor did she react to my handling. I let out a relieved breath. She would be fine. Exiting the stable, I hooked the latch behind me, bending in and rubbing my cheek on Loretta’s velvety jaw. “Good girl,” I murmured.
“Why not?”
“Why not what?” I turned to Brant who was leaning a hip against the empty stall next to Loretta’s. His jeans were hanging on his hips in a way that brought to mind ideas that were both titillating and disturbing. Because I was mad and annoyed with him.
“Marry me.”
I laughed. “Are you actually being serious about this? Brant, two weeks ago you couldn’t get out of here fast enough. You didn’t even take the time to—”
“I know, say goodbye. I messed that up, Isabelle.” He shook his head, standing to his full height.
I pressed my lips together and turned, walking away from him. “You’re messing this up too.” Whatever this was.
He swore under his breath, following me again as I practically ran up the hill. Married to Brant Talbot? As if that would ever work. I’d been in a bad marriage once before—with a man who hid luxury cars and suitcases of money from me in storage lockers. I was not looking to repeat the experience. And speaking of suitcases of money, I had bigger fish to fry than shooting down Brant’s ridiculous, stemmed from guilt and who knew what else, “marriage proposal.”
I let myself into the house, Brant on my heels. “This isn’t how I pictured this. Isabelle. Stop, please. I’m sorry.”