Christmas day was quiet. Not surprisingly, Brett worked through it, too, and the rest of the week that followed. Simon and Tira got married, a delightful event.
Brett's birthday was the one they didn't celebrate. The brothers said that he hated parties, cakes and surprises, in that order. But Tess couldn't believe that the big man wanted people to forget about such a special occasion. So Saturday morning after breakfast, she baked a birthday cake, a chocolate one because she had noticed him having a slice of one that Dorie had baked a few weeks ago. None of the Hartwell boys liked sweets, which they rarely ate. She'd heard from the former cook, Mrs. Culbertson, that it was probably because their own mother never baked. She'd left the boys with their father. It gave Tess something in common with them, because her mother had deserted her, too.

She iced the cake and put Happy Birthday on the top. She put on just one candle instead of thirty-eight. She left it on the table and went out to the mailbox, to put a few letters that the brothers' male secretary had left on the hall table in the morning mail.

When she got back to the kitchen, her new leather coat tight around her body, she found Brett in the kitchen and the remains of her cake, her beautiful cake, on the floor below a huge chocolate spot on the kitchen wall.

He turned, outraged beyond all proportion, looking broader than usual in his shepherd's coat. His black eyes glittered at her from under his wide-brimmed Stetson.

"I don't need reminding that i'm thirty-eight," he said in a soft, dangerous tone. "And i don't want a cake, or a party, or presents. I want nothing from you! Do you understand?"

The very softness of his voice was frightening. She noticed that, of all the brothers, he was the one who never yelled or shouted. But his eyes were even more intimidating than his cold tone.

"Sorry," she said in a choked whisper.
"You can't find a damned jar of apple butter for the biscuits, but you've got time to waste on things like that!" he snapped, jerking his head towards the ruin of her cake lying shattered on the pale yellow linoleum.

She bit her lip and stood just looking at him, her blue eyes huge in her white face, where freckles stood out like flecks of butter in churned milk.

"What the hell possessed you? Didn't they tell you i hate birthdays, damn it?"

His voice cut her like a whip. His eyes alone were enough to make her knees wobble, burning into her like black flames. She swallowed. Her mouth was so dry she wondered why her tongue didn't stick to the roof of it.

"Sorry," she said again.

Her lack of response made him wild. He glared at her as if he hated her. He took a step toward her, a violent, quick movement, and she backed up at once, getting behind the chopping block near the wall.

Her whole posture was one of fear. He stopped in his tracks and stared at her, scowling.

Her hands gripped the edge of the block and she looked young and hunted. She bit her lower lip, waiting for the rest of the explosion that she knew was coming. She'd only wanted to do something nice for him. Maybe she'd also wanted to make friends. It had been a horrible mistake. It was obvious he didn't want her for a friend.

"Hey, Brett, could you ---" Ray stopped dead in his tracks as he opened the kitchen door and took in the scene with a glance. Tess, white-faced, all but shivering and not from the cold. Brett, with his big hands curled into fists at his sides, his black eyes blazing. The cake, shattered against a wall.

Brett seemed to jerk as if his brother's appearance had jolted him out of the frozen rage that had held him captive.

"Here, now," Ray said, talking quietly, because he knew his brother in these flash-fire tempers. "Don't do this. Brett, look at her. Come on, look at her, Brett."

He seemed to come to his senses when he caught the bright glimmer of unshed tears in those blue eyes. She was shaking, visibly frightened.

He let out a breath and his fists unclenched.

"We have to get those culls ready to ship." Ray was still speaking softly. "Brett, are you coming? We can't find the manifest and the trucks are here for the cattle."

"The manifest." Brett took a long breath. "It’s in the second drawer of the desk, in the folder. Go ahead, I'll be right with you."

Ray didn't budge. Couldn't Brett see that the girl was terrified of him? He eased around his brother and went to the chopping block, getting between both of them.

"You need to get out of that coat. It's hot in here!" Ray said, forcing a laugh that he didn't feel. "Come on, pilgrim, shed the coat."

He untied it and she let him remove it, her eyes going to his chest and resting there as if she'd found refuge.

Brett hesitated, but only for an instant. He said something filthy in elegant Spanish, turned on his heel and went out, slamming the door behind him.

Tess slumped, a convulsive shudder leaving her sick.
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I hope you all enjoyed this chapter because i enjoyed writing it.
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Thanks
-Sarina ❤