Cowgirls Don't Cry by Lorelei James Page A

before his mouth opened and he said something he’d regret. But it didn’t work. “Did that crack about Luke’s character make you feel better, Pandora? You’re still bitter that Luke dumped you…what?
    Ten years ago?”
    “There is no time limit on the effects of infidelity, Brandt, as Jessie well knows,” Pandora sneered.
    “But there is a time limit on my patience and you’ve reached it. Now get out of here before I tell Pastor Jones you both need a personal sermon on learning and practicing forgiveness.” Brandt looked over his shoulder. “I saw him around here someplace.”
    “You wouldn’t.”
    “I would happily relay everything you just said and then some.”
    Huffing and whispering, they took off.
    Brandt looked at Jessie. He started to say I’m sorry , but she shook her head.
    “That’s the first, Brandt, but it won’t be the last.” She pointed to the boots, the pair of snow pants and the University of Wyoming tasseled hat. “We’re done.”
    After they’d paid and loaded Landon in his carseat, Jessie said, “I should’ve driven into town because after that fun time, I’m ready to go home. And no offense, but I can’t stomach the thought of riding out to your folks’ house with you.”
    “Okay. But my mom is expecting him—”
    “Just take me to Dewey’s. I’ll grab something to eat while I’m waiting.”
    He started to reach for her hand, but stopped himself. “I’ll keep it a short visit. But it’ll be at least an hour.”
    “I can entertain myself, Brandt. I’ve gotten used to it in the last two years.”
    He pulled up in front of the Sandstone Building and she bailed out with a mumbled, “Later.”

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    Lorelei James
    Landon was fairly good at his parents’ place, considering his mother insisted on holding him all the time. And from what Brandt had seen of Landon, he wasn’t the snuggliest kid. Brandt cut the visit short when his dad started in on him about prepping for calving season, which was still several months away.
    Plus, he was anxious to get back to Jessie.
    He texted her: You ready 2 go?
    Her response was fast: Already gone. Walking home.
    What the fuck?
    Panicked, Brandt called her. “Jess? What do you mean you’re walkin’ home?”
    “I couldn’t stay in there another second. So I left. I figured you’d catch up with me.”
    Do not yell at her. “Where are you?”
    “By the Shell station.”
    “Stay put. I mean it. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
    It took him eight minutes to reach her.
    Jessie climbed in his truck without a word. She didn’t turn around to check on Landon, who was asleep. She stared straight ahead. He was so freaked out about her fucking walking when it was fifteen degrees out, that he didn’t say anything for fear of saying the wrong thing.
    They’d gone about three miles in brutal silence, when she said, “Stop. I feel sick.”
    He eased the truck to the shoulder and she practically jumped out. He gave her a minute before he cut the headlights and checked on her.
    With no moon, city lights or sodium glow from the interstate, everything was pure black—the sky, the ground, the hillside on the left, the sweeping valley on the right. The cold bit into him with sharp teeth.
    No, the chill in his bones was from something else entirely. Fear.
    Jessie teetered on the edge of the road, arms wrapped herself, nearly lost in that dark void.
    Brandt moved in behind her. Close enough if she needed him, far enough away to offer the illusion of space.
    “Get back in the truck and leave me alone, Brandt.”
    “Like hell. What happened?”
    “The same thing that happened in Tisdale’s. Not once, but ten times. I had ten different people, people I barely know, come up to me and tell me how fucking sorry they were for me. Sorry! For me. Like I’m some pathetic excuse of a woman that can’t keep a man or birth a child. They’re sorry that my husband ran around on me. They’re sorry that Landon exists. It