Raised voices snapped his attention from Regan and Logan to where Christine and Tyler faced off. She screamed something at him and then covered her face. Tyler snarled something back, and then handed her the crutches leaning against the wall. Both Tyler and Christine left, though not together, and Kady started yelling. By the time he turned around from the debacle, Regan was gone.
The only reason Brock didn’t lose his shit then and there was because Logan hadn’t left. He cursed himself for being the idiot everyone seemed to think he was and stalked out. What did he expect? Regan wanted Logan and she seemed well on her way toward achieving that goal. It was exactly what she’d told him her plan was. And if he confronted her now, that’s exactly what she’d say to him.
If that wasn’t bad enough, now he had little Sophie to worry about. If Logan fell head over heels for Regan, she’d be crushed. Brock shook his head, going back over the look on Logan’s face this morning. That wasn’t the expression of a man who was just using a pretty girl for sex. There was a whole lot in the way of emotions behind it.
Christ, this was a shit show.
He needed some distance from this mess. And as he stormed out of the ballroom, he headed to his room to keep from doing something stupid like showing up at Regan’s room and demanding she change her goddamn plan to incorporate him.
Chapter Twelve
Regan ran until her legs shook. She still couldn’t outrun her thoughts—or the realization that Logan was seven shades of wrong for her. The man scaled the sides of cliffs for fun. What the fuck did he think she was—a mountain goat? The only thing Regan liked to scale was a few sets of stairs if she was feeling ambitious. If humans were meant to scale the face of death, then God would have given them claws or hooves or unbreakable bones or something.
Oh my God, I bet he likes to camp, too.
It would never work.
That truth plagued her as she staggered off the treadmill and headed for the elevator…and saw Brock coming her way, his head down. She ducked into a nearby doorway and held her breath as he passed, and then cursed herself for being a coward. But she’d seen his face after she’d planted that kiss on Logan’s cheek—mostly to get him to shut up about the goddamn mountain climbing. He’d wanted to kill Logan. And then probably drag her off to have his wicked way with her.
Since all the running still couldn’t erase how good it felt to have him moving inside her, she wasn’t about to trust her control when it came to that man.
Because nothing had changed.
Brock still wasn’t the keeping kind, even if Logan wasn’t for her. If this morning was any indication, she couldn’t trust herself around him. It was that damn magnetism—he drew her in without her realizing he was doing it. Next thing she knew, she’d be in his arms and contemplating a future that could never be.
God, how she wanted that future today in the truck.
Regan ducked out of the doorway, and satisfied the coast was clear, she hurried to the elevator and up to her room. That had been too close. This place might be big enough to call itself a village, but she had a feeling the entire East Coast wouldn’t be big enough when it came to putting distance between her and Brock.
She shut the door behind her as her phone went off. Regan jumped, feeling guilty even though she hadn’t technically done anything. She thumbed it on to find a text from Julie.
SOS. Meet in lobby in ten
Well, shit. She glanced at the clock. This wasn’t going to be pretty. She took the fastest shower of her life and barely paused to put on moisturizer before she threw on one of her slouchy dresses saved for lazy days and her pair of lowest heels. Then, with her hair up in a ponytail, she rushed down to the lobby.
Julie was already there, her toe tapping as she looked at her watch. For all that, she had a big, stupid grin on her face. Regan walked up and nudged her with a shoulder. “What’s the SOS? Because I know that look on your face—you got some last night.”
“More than some.” Julie blushed. “Now, you know I don’t kiss and tell. So let’s just say both my pillows were warm this morning.”
“Holy shit, you’re in love.” Something in her chest twanged at the thought. She was happy for her best friend, but she was also a little jealous. They swept into the restaurant and were quickly seated. “You know, since this is all my fault, I get maid of honor by default.”
“Baby steps, Regan. Ah, there she is.” Instantly, Julie was on point. “Christine, let’s get some food in you. Let’s see who I have to bribe to get us a proper breakfast of waffles. Comfort food is on the menu.”
All it took was one look at their friend’s face and she knew comfort food wasn’t going to be enough to fix whatever was wrong. “What’s going on?” Though she’d bet her last dollar it had to do with Tyler.
As Christine poured out her heart, Regan set aside her own personal bullshit and focused on taking care of her friend. And what a doozy that story was. Guess she’d been right about Christine and Tyler all along. By the end of their pep talk, Christine was ready to storm the fortress and get her man back. Regan gave her her best go-getter smile. “Go. I’ll cover your portion.”
Christine had barely made it out the door before Julie turned on Regan. “Something’s wrong.”
“Oh, no. I don’t need any of your Aunt Sylvie’s advice. I’m good.” Julie liked to trot out her Aunt Sylvie’s favorite sayings whenever presented with a problem, but Regan didn’t think a quirky Southernism would help her current situation.
Julie’s snort was indication enough of what she thought of that. “Whatever you say. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“Snuggled up with your very own honey badger. Got it.” She dodged a piece of waffle Julie threw and pushed to her feet. It was only when she reached the lobby that she realized she had no idea where she was going. Today was the only one during this week that wasn’t scheduled out the ass, and right now, she kind of wished it was. At least then she’d have something to do besides sit in her room and watch soap operas.
Or she could put on her big-girl panties and face whatever it was on her computer—and the fact that the information she was dying to read had nothing to do with Logan.
Why couldn’t he be less… Well, less everything that seemed determined to send her into panic attacks. He had charm to spare, and obviously had worked his ass off to get where he was, but the man’s idea of a good time was engaging in life-or-death activities. She’d rather face walking the streets at midnight than have a tiny rope be all that was between her and falling to her death. All evidence pointed to him being a freaking daredevil. And who in their right mind went into the outdoors for fun? People invented cities full of houses for a reason.
She walked into her room and stared at her computer. She already knew what information Addison would have dug up on Logan. He was freakishly perfect in every way that she thought mattered, but the idea of spending another minute talking to him about all his favorite activities made her want to catch the nearest cab for the airport.
So really, there was no point in even reading the information. Logan would never work, but that didn’t mean Brock was any more suitable.
Yet she found herself opening her computer and bringing up her email. It was tempting as hell to flip through the various emails she’d gotten in the last few days, but she refused to be a coward. Ignoring the files marked Logan McCade, she opened the first on Brock.
As she read, she almost closed the file. It said everything she expected—he was bright and had a fantastic athletic history, though he’d never pursued sports after high school. Hell, it looked like he hadn’t pursued anything after high school. He’d taken the job with his father’s company and just…stayed there. There was no upward movement, no deals worth noting, not even a hint of scandal or anything to indicate he did more than show up and sleep at his desk every day.
For the first time in as long as she could remember, she wished she hadn’t been right. But it couldn’t be clearer t
hat she was. With a sigh, she closed that file and opened the second one—and frowned.
What the hell was this?
Frowning harder, she reread the information. And then again. Regan reached for her phone and dialed without looking. Almost immediately, Addison’s voice answered, “You’re supposed to be having fun, remember? Not calling me.”
“You made a mistake.”
“Nope. You and I both know I don’t make mistakes.”
“Obviously there’s a first time for everything. You have Brock McNeill listed as one of the owners of the Blue Boat Foundation. That’s not right.”
“Oh, believe me, it is. He’s not listed on any of the official paperwork or announcements, so I had to do some extra special digging to find his name, but he’s the sole founder.”