“C’mon, babe,” he said, pulling my arm lightly to break me out of my statue-like stance. “Let’s go get that drink.”
We walked into the coffee shop and ordered our drinks. Brock excused himself to go to the restroom, while I stood off to the side waiting for them to call our order up. While he was gone I chastised myself for being here in the first place. What was I thinking? I didn’t ride motorcycles, hang out in bars, or date lumberjacks. I needed to find a way to excuse myself and hightail it back to my car. I almost had myself convinced to plead temporary insanity, when I felt Brock’s hand at the small of my back, and turned to see his eyes smiling down at me.
“What do you want with me?” I blurted out, asking him the question I’d probably already asked twenty-times, without receiving a reasonable response. “I know you said that there’s an attraction, but I’m sure there are plenty of more suitable women, that would enjoy going out with you.”
Brock looked at me for a beat, then threw his head back and laughed, deep from his gut, and my body tingled at the sound.
“I’ve tried suitable,” he said when his laughter had almost completely died out. “But there’s something about you, Victoria, and I want to see what’s underneath all of the polish and perfection.”
“If you’re thinking you’re going to break through and find a heart of gold, you’re going to be sorely disappointed,” I responded haughtily, trying to mask the fact that his words had my heart trembling with fear. I’d worked very hard to ensure no man would ever get close enough to ruin me, the way my father had ruined my mother.
Rather than being offended by my tone, Brock’s eyes danced with merriment, and he leaned down closer, his voice rough yet amused in my ear. “Maybe silver? Or bronze?”
He started chuckling again, and although I tried to remain stoic, his mirth was catchy, and I found myself smiling at his words.
Brock’s eyes were on my lips, and when the smile fell from his, his gaze turning hot, I felt a fire begin in my belly and slowly lick its way through my veins. I inhaled sharply as his head began its descent toward mine, but was saved from his kiss when the barista called his name, indicating our order was ready.
When he walked to the counter to grab our drinks, I released my breath with a shudder and closed my eyes, trying to regain my composure before he returned.
“Wanna grab that table over there?” Brock asked, indicating a booth by the window, his features normal, as if my body hadn’t been about to implode moments before.
“Sure,” I said, trying to match my disposition to his, then led the way to the booth and took the seat closer to the door.
Brock placed my Chai Tea Latte in front of me, then settled into the seat across from mine and brought his coffee to his lips. He watched me over the rim as he drank, as if assessing my reaction to his almost kiss.
Trying to avoid his eyes, I looked around the coffee shop, noticing that other than us, the place was void of customers.
I turned my attention back to him and asked, “Don’t you have to work? It’s the middle of the morning.”
Brock’s lip turned up at my question, and I wasn’t sure if it was because he was happy I was asking something personal, or if he was being snarky because I’d just now asked the question.
“That’s the nice part about being your own boss,” he explained, leaning back into his chair and stretching his legs out to get comfortable. I moved my feet to the side when his touched mine, causing him to chuckle. “My schedule’s pretty flexible, and I have a good team of guys that work for me.”
I was curious about his job. I knew that he ran some sort of painting business, but I wondered how he’d come to own a business at such a young age. I didn’t want him to know I was curious, however, so I simply nodded at his answer.
“What about you, babe? You content to spend your days doing yoga and making the world prettier just by being in it?”
My back stiffened at his insinuation, even though I knew it was pretty accurate. I was about to tell him off when I saw someone approaching our table. He had dark hair and a dark complexion, with paint-spackled clothes and a grim look on his face.
“Here you go, brother,” he said, tossing a set of keys in the air before he’d fully made it to our table.
Brock caught the keys in mid-air, looking at the man with a look of disapproval on his face, before turning to me and saying, “Victoria, this is my brother Brady. Brady, Victoria.”
Brady looked at me, not bothering to hide his disdain, and nodded slightly before snatching the motorcycle key off the table and walking away.
I watched him stalk out, then turned to look at Brock.
“He was lovely,” I said sarcastically, a little affronted at his brother’s rudeness.
Brock chuckled lightly, but his eyes had hardened a bit. “Brady’s heart’s in the right place. He’s just a bit overprotective.”
“What does he have to be overprotective about?” I asked, confused. When Brock just continued to look pointedly at me, I was shocked to realize that his brother was worried about me. “Me?”
“Don’t worry about him,” Brock said, reaching his hand across the table to lay it over mine. “He’s making assumptions … Look, I’d like to take you out tonight.”
His words swept through me, and I swallowed deeply.
“I think your fifteen minutes are over,” I replied softly.