“Brock, I want us to be together, but I’m scared,” I admitted.
His brow creased. “Scared of me?”
“No. I mean, I’m scared of losing you. I want to have our relationship in place before we make love. The last few months have been so tumultuous. I need to know we can do life together. This time because we want to, not because anyone is forcing us.”
He rested his forehead against mine and exhaled loudly. “No one forced me to marry you.”
“I know that, but you never asked me. Your father brokered our marriage,” my voice shook, on the verge of tears.
“Dani.” He kissed me. “Will you—”
I placed my finger on his lips. “Please, don’t ask me now.”
He pulled away, concern etched in his eyes. “Why? It’s what I want.”
“It’s what I want too.” I tried to put him at ease. “I know it sounds silly, but I need movie nights on the couch, walks in the park, lunches in my office, and kisses good night.”
Brock gave me a crooked grin. “You want me to woo you.”
I bit my lip. “Well . . . yes, in a manner of speaking.”
“Anything else?” He sounded amused.
“No,” I said coyly.
“Get ready to be wooed, then,” he said so sexily a shiver went down my spine.
I was about ready to seal the deal with a kiss, but my phone, which had dropped on the car floor during our rendezvous, buzzed violently.
“Damn,” Brock swore. “I suppose this means we’ve been found.”
I used my sweater to wipe the condensation off the window. I didn’t see Ariana and Jonah’s car. They were the seekers this go-round.
Brock reached for my phone and chuckled when he read the text.
Drove by, saw the fogged-up windows. Go home so you don’t get arrested for public indecency. You deserve a good reunion sex session. Love you.
“Yes, we do,” Brock grumbled.
“Are you upset with me that I’m—”
He dropped my poor phone again. “Dani, no. You deserve everything you’re asking for. Besides,”—he smirked—“I just got to make out with my girl in the high school parking lot.”
I smiled, appreciating the levity, and took his hand to hold between my own. “Thank you. I promise we’ll get there.”
“I have no doubt. Let’s go home and watch a movie.”
“I’d like that. And on the way home, you can tell me what’s going on with Brant and your parents.”
His brow quirked. “You just called our place home.”
“I did, didn’t I?”
His face erupted into a huge grin, but he said not a word. He settled back in his seat and cautiously started our slow trek home. The snow was coming down harder and was beginning to stick to the roads. It made for a beautiful, but treacherous, scene. I was glad Brock was driving.
I turned on some Christmas music in the background. “Why is Brant here?” I started off with, worried about my friend and brother-in-law, and the father of Charlotte—which still was hard for me to admit.
“I didn’t want to ruin the day and talk about this, but I guess now is as good a time as any. It’s over,” Brock said simply.
“What do you mean it’s over?”
“He broke up with Jill.”
My stomach tightened. I knew that was going to open a can of worms for all of us. “How did that go over?” I braced myself for his response.
Brock gripped the steering wheel tight. “Not well, as you can imagine.”
“I’m imagining a lot of things. Is Edward going to retaliate?”
Brock cleared his throat. “Eventually he will.”
Internally, I cringed. “What’s stopping him now?”
“Brant and my father.” He winced.
“Do you know what your father did?” I hesitated to ask.
Brock’s jaw pulsed while he nodded his head.
I placed my hand on Brock’s thigh and caressed it. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“I don’t want to keep secrets from you.”
I appreciated that and gave him time to gather his thoughts. I focused on Bing Crosby’s ultimate rendition of “White Christmas” while watching the windshield wipers go back and forth, back and forth. It put me in the mood to watch the movie, if Brock was up to it. The way he was twisting his hands around the steering wheel and stretching his neck from side to side told me that whatever John had done, it was a doozy. I wondered how Sheridan was taking it.
“You have to understand,” Brock finally spoke. “My dad didn’t mean for any of it to happen.”
“That’s what he said the last time we spoke.”
Brock looked surprised that I had spoken to his father somewhat recently, but he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he let out a long breath. “When my dad was a new and eager senator, he was idealistic. He couldn’t be bought by special interest groups because he had already accumulated his own wealth by then. Edward,” he spat out his name, “used that to his advantage. He convinced my dad to sponsor a national security bill that would aid in combating international terrorism as well as protecting our troops overseas. You know how passionate my father is about the military.”
“About as passionate as you are.”
Brock nodded in agreement. “Exactly. Edward knew that too. He also knew my father’s upstanding persona and his passion made him the perfect poster boy to get the bill passed. Edward made sure Dad had audiences with the president and introduced him to all the big players in Washington. What my dad didn’t realize, being so green, was that it was all a ploy. That bill was a cover for more nefarious purposes. Money from it ended up lining the pockets of several politicians. Worse, though, some of it ended up funding weapon purchases for some less than scrupulous military contractors who allowed some of the weapons to end up in the hands of terrorists. Those same weapons cost the lives of several members of our military in Iraq and Syria.”
I gasped and covered my mouth.
Brock’s face tightened and then tightened some more. “Dad was devastated when he found out.”
“How did he find out?”
“Edward, of course,” he growled. “He tried to make it come off like it had all been a horrible misunderstanding. But eventually my father figured out it was all part of Edward’s plan to own him. He got a lot of pet projects done through my dad because of it. He’s held it over my father’s head for years.”
This sounded like something straight out of a movie. “I’m so sorry.”
“My dad was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He was set up to be the fall guy. Something like that could send him to prison. For years, Dad has tried to make up for it. He’s made sure the families of each one of those soldiers who were killed have been provided for. He’s paid for any children they had to go to college and set up funds to aid the widows,” Brock’s voice pleaded with me to understand.
I rubbed Brock’s arm, not knowing what to say.
“I know what you’re thinking. My dad is a coward and he should have done the right thing and come forward about what he knew.”
“I wasn’t exactly thinking that,” I whispered.
“That’s what I’ve been thinking,” his voice broke.
My hand moved up his arm to knead his tight neck. “I’m so sorry. I know how much you’ve looked up to your dad.”
“He’s put us in a hell of a mess. Worse, he got Brant wrapped up in it. My brother,” he said tenderly, “had no idea what kind of man his future father-in-law was.”
“But he and Jill are over, right?”
“Yeah,” Brock scoffed, “but only because Brant was forced to play their sick game.”
I grabbed my heart. “What did he do?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, though the truth now was more important than ever.
Brock carefully switched lanes to pass a car going extra slow on the highway. “He dug up dirt on Jill.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. That didn’t sound so bad. “A
m I an awful person if I get a little pleasure out of that?”
Brock’s mood lightened some, and he let out a chuckle. “Not at all. She’s a piece of work. And honestly, she would have ended up being a liability to his campaign.”
“He’s still running?” I had some hope he could still get his dream.
Brock shook his head. “No,” he said solemnly. “He has to walk away. It’s a game of chess now. Brant’s move has checked Edward, for the time being.”
I narrowed my eyes, not understanding. “Explain.”
“Well, simply put, Brant has dirt on Jill that includes insider trading and unfair hiring practices. Edward’s Achilles’ heel is his daughter. He’ll do anything for her. Including threatening to ruin Brant’s election bid. What Edward didn’t count on was Brant’s willingness to walk away from it. So now our families are at a stalemate. Brant can ruin Jill’s reputation, and Edward can obliterate my father’s.”
“But eventually Edward will retaliate?”
“Men like him always do. Mark my words, he’ll come calling like a thief in the night when the opportunity presents itself.”
I wrapped my arms around myself and shuddered. “Your mom told me that your dad was going to do the right thing.”
Brock dared a quick glance at me. “Dani, it’s not as cut-and-dried as we would like to think. My dad did confront Edward and threatened to take him down with him, if he had to. But if my father falls, he takes with him a lot of good people, too, including all his employees. Including us.”
“I don’t want to live in fear. I don’t want this over our heads.”
“Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, it’s not our battle.”
“Why do you sound so defeated, then?”
He thought for a moment. “Because I thought my father was the good guy.” Tears glistened in his eyes. “And because it makes me feel helpless when it comes to protecting my wife and family.”
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Brock, we aren’t helpless. If and when the time comes, we will face whatever it is together. Even if it’s the truth.”
“I don’t deserve you. I’m sorry you got wrapped up in all this.” He paused, taking a deep breath as if to steel himself. “If you wanted to divorce me, I wouldn’t blame you. Or stand in your way.”
“That’s disappointing,” I teased.
The corners of his mouth twitched, and his posture relaxed some. “All right, I would beg you to change your mind.”
“That’s better.” I ran my hand across his thick dark hair. “The way I look at it, I’d lose either way. If we divorced, that wouldn’t stop Edward. It would only mean I wouldn’t have you. And after all these years, I’m not letting you go.”
Chapter Thirty
I couldn’t stop staring at his face. My fingers itched to outline his lips and experience the roughness of his layer of dark stubble, accented by a few gray hairs here and there. Still, I hesitated, not wanting to wake him up, even though the sun was rising and I needed to get to work. He needed the rest. He hated that he got it by means of medication, though there was no shame in it. He’d lived through enough of his nightmares already. Some of them he still couldn’t talk to me about. He wasn’t ready to relive his days in captivity with me yet. It had been difficult enough for him with his therapist. I would wait.
Unfortunately, work wasn’t going to wait, but all I wanted to do was lie here in his arms. Neither of us had wanted to part last night once the movie was over, so we’d settled on the couch. It wasn’t really meant for two, but we had made it work.
His breath tickled my nose, and I smiled. This is the life I had imagined with him. Watching movies and eating popcorn. Kisses that set my body and soul on fire. Talking all night until our words became too slurred to continue. Waking up in his arms, to the steady rhythms of his heart and breathing.
I thought of our conversations last night. Brock had tried to stay away from his family drama after the car ride, but I was so curious about all the details—especially regarding Sheridan. According to Brock, his mom wasn’t taking it well. She, like Brock, felt betrayed by the man she loved. Apparently, Sheridan and John were hardly speaking, but she’d stayed at their house because she knew Brock was coming home early and wanted to give us some time alone. And I thought, more than anything, she wanted to know if there was any hope for her marriage. Brock was going to do outpatient therapy for as long as he needed to, so he wasn’t heading back to Utah. As for Brant, he was going to announce next week that he was dropping his bid for the US Senate. He wanted Brock and me to be there for the press conference.
I felt bad, as if I was the cause of some of the trouble, though Brock assured me that what conspired between Brant and me was insignificant in the face of everything else. Which wasn’t to say it hadn’t come up, but Brant had told Brock that he’d laughed in Edward’s face, saying he was grasping at straws and Edward knew it. He told Edward that he would end up with egg on his face if he ever suggested it. Still, it didn’t stop me from worrying about it or feeling guilty. I honestly just wanted to tell the truth about it, at least to my family. It was Brant that was adamant that we keep it quiet. He was deeply concerned about how it would hurt Kinsley, and she was the last person he ever wanted to hurt. I believed more had transpired between those two than any of us ever knew or would know.
It’s not like I wanted my family to hate me—and I was afraid they might—yet the guilt ate at me. I tried to take comfort in seeing that Kinsley was happy and that Brant didn’t have to marry that wench, Jill. But had I taken part in ruining what could have been a beautiful love story between my sister and Brant?
Brock stirred, shaking me out of my thoughts. Without him even opening his eyes, his lips found mine, making me forget for a moment that anyone existed but us. He groaned and ran his hand down my back, pulling me closer. The taste of the red wine we’d drunk the night before lingered on his tongue; it was more intoxicating than the alcohol. I loved how my body contoured perfectly against his. How his hands could hold me so firmly yet gently caress all my curves, I didn’t know. His kisses were perfection—a mixture of urgency while savoring each sweep of my mouth.
My hands worked their way to his chest and ached to unbutton his shirt, to let us become man and wife in every sense. But my heart wasn’t ready yet. I needed to work through my guilt and remove any doubts about us. Brock was doing an excellent job helping with that.
“Good morning,” I whispered against his lips when he let me catch my breath.
“Very good,” he breathed out.
“I’m sorry, but I need to get up. We open the gift wrapping store today.” Every year we wrapped gifts to raise funds for the local food bank that supported foster families, and it also gave us a place where individuals could drop off their donated gifts. It meant extra hours, but it was worth it. One thing I could do well was wrap gifts.
He nibbled on my earlobe, making my body shake in delight.
“Brock . . . you’re not . . . playing fair,” I stuttered out between shivers.
“Not even a little,” he admitted.
I closed my eyes and let myself be immersed by his touch. A war raged inside of me. I didn’t want to move, but I knew I had people counting on me. “Brock,” my voice begged him to stop, yet I arched my neck, silently asking him to continue. He was happy to oblige and pressed warm kisses down my neck.
“I need to go.”
“Do you really?” His breath played hot against my skin.
I nodded while my hands ran up through the back of his hair. I wasn’t doing a good job of convincing him. In a brief moment of lucidity, I pulled away and peered into his lively blue eyes. “You are wicked,” I teased.
“You have no idea.” He wasn’t teasing at all.
Part of me screamed to beg him to show me now, then the responsible side won out. “I look forward to you showing me exactly how much . . . later.”
“Fine,” he groaned. “Why don’t you go get ready while I make you brea
kfast, and then I’ll drive you into town. Do you mind if I help you out today?”
“I would love that.”
“Would you love it if I helped you through the holidays?”
“Yes. But what about your job?”
“I’m on medical leave until January.”
“You don’t say.” I smiled.
“I do say. So, get ready for weeks of me wooing the hell out of you.”
I giggled. “I suppose I could be amenable to that.”
“You suppose, huh?” He grinned sexily.
“I mean, I’ll do my best to endure it.”
“Then I will do my best to leave no doubt in your mind about how much I love you. How much I want you to be my wife.”
My heart warmed even hotter than he’d set my body on fire. “I believe you.”
“That’s a start.”
It was.
~*~
I stood at the back of the tiny storefront, watching my husband. We’d been lucky to obtain this location this year at the Pine Falls outdoor shopping complex. This place was much nicer than the old mall where we had been for the last several years. That eyesore had been dying for years and had been torn down a few months ago. Erin had worked her tail off to secure this place for us, free of charge, I might add. All we had to do was pay for the utilities. The space was beautiful, with newly painted walls, attractive lighting, and even marble countertops. However, my admiration for the space had nothing on how in awe I was of Brock. He was terrible at wrapping gifts, but he had a gift with people.
Several patrons and those donating gifts had gravitated toward him when they’d realized who he was. Many thanked him for serving our country. Others offered condolences about the baby. Brock graciously accepted them. No one would have guessed Charlotte wasn’t his. It made me believe that he truly would have loved her like his own. Now, though, he was speaking to a veteran of the Iraq War. A man in his mid-forties, I would say.
The man had his hands shoved in his pocket, and his green eyes spoke of how haunted he still was. Brock walked around the counter where he had been doing a terrible job of wrapping a garment box. He put his arm around the man, and they took a seat at the front of the store where we had placed a few chairs for people to sit while they waited to for their gifts to be wrapped. I watched how tenderly Brock spoke to the man about his own experiences. I was most proud when he told the man it was never too late to seek help. He even admitted he was still in therapy. My eyes welled up with tears when the man threw his arms around Brock.
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