“Ah, hell, Lincoln, not that fancy English-riding shit.”
Hitting him on the shoulder, I replied, “Western. But I can teach English if I need to.”
He smiled, and my heart felt like it skipped a beat.
“Besides, I’ve talked Kaylee into moving here, and she’s hell bent on doing so. It’ll be good for her to leave behind the past that haunts her in Atlanta.”
Brock got out of the truck and quickly made his way to my door. He reached his hand out for me and helped me down. I wanted to ignore the way that made my stomach feel . . . like I had a dance party going on in there. Or the way a deliciously warm feeling had settled in the middle of my chest, something I’d never experienced.
“What’s her story?”
“Kaylee’s?”
He nodded.
“Her fiancé died two years ago, and she sort of fell apart. It took her a while to even get back into the normal swing of things. She was pretty depressed, and it took a lot of bestie time and a good therapist to finally pull her out of it. I’ve noticed, here, she seems like her old self. Ready to move on and maybe even date.”
Brock held the door to the restaurant open for me. “Well, I should probably go ahead and have you warn her that my brother seems to be taken with her. And, trust me when I say, he’s not the relationship type.”
“I don’t think that would be a problem for Kaylee. She seems to want to . . . sow some wild oats, if you get my drift.”
He chuckled. “Ty would be the one to help with that.”
I grinned and silently prayed he hadn’t noticed my entire body shudder when he placed his hand on my lower back and guided me over to the hostess.
Why do I like that so much? Has no other guy done that before?
Surely, they had; it had just never affected me like this.
“Table for two?” the young hostess asked.
“Yes, please,” Brock said politely.
Glancing around the restaurant, I couldn’t help but grin. It was charming: exactly the type of place I would imagine two people going on a first date. It was only when we were walking through the dining room that I noticed everyone looking at us.
“We seem to be the center of attention,” I stated as we sat down.
He took a quick look around and flashed a bright smile, tipping his cowboy hat to a few people.
“Mr. Lanser, Mrs. Lanser, how y’all doing?”
“Oh, very good. How is the bull riding going, son?” Mrs. Lanser asked.
“Doing pretty good. You going to come watch me ride in Billings this weekend?”
The older woman blushed. She actually blushed. “No! It would be fun, but I don’t think I could stand to see you get hurt.”
Brock winked as he said, “There’s a reason I’m number one right now.”
Mr. Lanser rumbled out a deep laugh. “That’s our boy. Make Hamilton proud, son.”
Brock tipped his cowboy hat again and replied, “Will do.”
When he looked my way, he smiled. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I think it’s great that they support you.”
His eyes seemed to light up. I couldn’t help but wonder why my compliment seemed to make him so happy.
The waiter came over and took our drink order before offering us a few minutes to look at the menu.
“See anything you like?” Brock asked as he studied the menu.
I chewed on my lip as I let my eyes take him in. I wanted to say yes: I saw something I liked very much that had nothing to do with Italian and everything to do with a certain bull rider.
Looking down at the menu before Brock caught me ogling him, I replied, “I think the chicken fettuccine sounds good.”
I could feel Brock looking at me, so I glanced up.
By the expression on his face, I wondered if I had made a bad choice. “What? Is it no good here?”
“It’s just nice to see a woman order something other than a damn salad.”
I giggled. “Well, I can tell you, I have a healthy appetite, hence the reason I run every day, do yoga, and try to get in some other sorts of crazy exercise to keep my body guessing.”
His brow lifted. “I’m going to have to remember that.”
For the love of all that was good, I had no idea why I said what I said next.
“Well, considering I haven’t had sex in forever, I could probably count that as a crazy exercise if the opportunity presented itself.”
I stopped talking the moment I heard the words come out of my mouth.
Brock’s smile grew bigger as my cheeks burned.
“Fiddlesticks, I have no freaking idea why I said that. I’m so sorry.” I let out an exasperated breath. “I didn’t mean that I thought we would be having sex. Not that I wouldn’t want to—no, wait. I don’t know what I’m saying. Okay, I’m going to die right now of embarrassment. I guess I just said that because . . . well, I don’t really have a good reason for that one.”
“Lincoln,” Brock said, reaching out for my hand. “Take a breath, sweetheart, and stop talking. You’re digging yourself in deeper.”
“Deeper?” I said, not meaning to make it sound so sexual. I rolled my eyes and then closed them. “I’m going to stop talking now.”
“Probably a good idea,” Brock agreed, amusement clearly laced in his voice.
“Here are your drinks,” the waiter said, setting my Diet Coke in front of me.
“I’m going to need something stronger, like a Bud Light. Please.”
The waiter looked between me and Brock.
“That’s what you consider stronger?” Brock asked.
I nodded.
“We’ll take two.”
“Okay, two Bud Lights coming up.”
After the waiter delivered the beers and I nearly downed mine, we ordered.
“Do you date often?” Brock asked out of the blue.
“Not really. I mean, I’ve had a few boyfriends but nothing really too serious. The last one was over a year ago. I went to his apartment to surprise him for his birthday and caught him in bed with another woman. So . . . surprise!”
Brock’s eyes went wide.
I shrugged. “Came back from a girls’ trip early for his birthday. Best decision I ever made.”
“You weren’t angry?”
Giving his question serious thought, I shook my head. “No. I mean, don’t get me wrong; I was extremely pissed at the time. It hurt knowing he had deceived me, and I felt betrayed. But I was angrier more than I was sad. Mostly because I hadn’t seen it coming. But we were never going to work. I didn’t get those butterfly feelings that I heard all my friends talking about.”
“Butterfly feelings?”
With a chuckle, I said, “Yeah. Like, when a guy takes your hand and holds it in the car, your stomach sort of jumps or dips, or it feels like butterflies are flying around in there.”
He smiled—and lo and behold, my stomach did every single thing I had just described.
Quickly looking away, I searched for the waiter and pointed to my beer.
“You’ve never felt like that with any guy?”
My eyes snapped over to his, and I held my breath, wishing that the ceiling would fall in or that someone would come up and start talking to him about bull riding. How in the hell would I ever be able to tell him that yes, I had experienced it for the first time in my life with a man I hardly knew?
Him.
The sky didn’t have to fall, thankfully, because our food came, and I avoided the question.
We ate in silence for the first few minutes before I gathered up the nerve to ask about Blayze’s mom.
“Where is Blayze’s mother?” I asked.
Brock froze, and I instantly regretted asking.
“If I’m stepping over a line, please tell me,” I said.
Damn it all to hell. Why couldn’t I have just left well enough alone?
“She’s gone.”
I nodded. “Oh.” It was the only thing I could say to such a vague
answer.
Gone where? Left him? Filed for divorce? Is he still married? Did she pass away, like Kaylee thought? Maybe she ran off with another man, leaving Brock and Blayze to wonder if she would ever come back. That would explain why he wasn’t dating anyone.
“So, what should I expect from this dance tonight?”
Brock looked relieved that I’d changed the subject. It was obvious he was physically pained to even think about his wife. Or ex-wife or whatever she was. I was going to have to get Kaylee to find out more information. The last thing I wanted to do was be the talk of the town.
The woman who was going after the haunted local star with a little boy.
Maybe I should just go home and not go to the dance.
“Let’s see. There will be a live band.”
Grinning, I said, “Of course.”
“Lots of older folks gathering around to shoot the shit.”
I giggled.
“Of course, there will be a lot of young folks too. Any excuse to hold a girl in your arms. It’s just a good ole time with friends and family. I’m glad I’m back in town for it.”
He winked, and I felt my cheeks heat slightly.
“I’ve been to plenty of dances but never a real country dance. I’ve always lived in Atlanta. My mother loves the city and honestly could do without the country life. My grandparents live outside of Atlanta, though, and that’s where I learned to ride and shoot. I loved it there. They had church dances all the time, but trying to get a boy to ask you to dance at church was like pulling teeth.”
Brock chuckled. “Speaking of, you ready to get out of here and head on over?”
“Are you sure you don’t mind me tagging along with you?” I asked, reaching for my purse to help pay for dinner.
“I don’t mind at all, and I’ve got dinner.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
Sliding out of the chair, I flashed him a wide grin. “Thank you for dinner, then. It was good.”
“You’re welcome.”
As we went to leave, Brock reached down for my hand, causing an instant rush of electricity to race through my body. I was hoping like hell the small gasp I’d made wasn’t loud enough for him to hear.
From a nearby table, six women watched us as we walked by. Brock must have realized he was holding my hand when he noticed them staring, because he dropped it and then stepped to the side for me to walk ahead of him. I didn’t want to admit it hurt a little that he cared about what they thought.
One quick peek in their direction showed they were all glaring at me like I had just stolen something precious from each of them.
I had a feeling I was going to get a lot more looks like that when I walked into this dance with Brock Shaw.
This was going to be a long and interesting night.
Chapter Twelve
LINCOLN
The dance was held in a giant barn that was owned by Brad and Kimberley Littlewood, Dirk’s parents. From the way they both pulled Brock into a hug, it was clear he was like family to them, which made sense, since Dirk was his best friend.
“And who is this beautiful young lady?” Kimberley asked, hope filling her voice and her eyes.
“This is Lincoln Pratt. She bought the old homestead at my folks’ place.”
I looked at Brock, wondering why he hadn’t just called it his old place.
“She’s becoming a fast friend of Blayze’s,” Brock added.
My smile faltered. I had been hoping I was becoming his friend as well.
“Just Blayze’s?” Brad asked, shaking my hand.
“Well, the whole family. She’s a friend of the family.”
’Cause that made it better. That kiss was seeming more and more like a fluke.
Brad frowned at Brock and then turned to me, flashing me a big old country smile as he tried to downplay the instant awkwardness that filled the air. “Lincoln, it’s a pleasure meeting you. How long have you been in town?”
“Not too long—a little over a week and a half.”
“Do you like Hamilton?” Kimberley asked.
“Yes, I love it,” I answered honestly.
“Well, we’re glad to have you here. Is Brock treating you well?” Kimberley asked, again with a little bit of hope in her eyes.
“Um, well, yes. He’s been very kind to me. His whole family has.”
Brock pulled a lengthy drink from his longneck beer. He looked nervous, like he suddenly didn’t want to be here. If he thought he had to babysit me, he could get that out of his mind right quick.
“Would you be able to point me to the restroom?” I asked, looking at Kimberley.
“Of course! Down that path right there will lead you to the house. Just go on in, and it’s the first door to your right. We have an outhouse, but we won’t subject you to that.”
I chuckled. “Thank you! I think baby steps for the full-on country life is the way for me to go.”
Brad tossed his head back and laughed.
When I turned to leave, Brock was looking out over the dance floor.
“You should find yourself a cowgirl and dance.”
His head snapped to look down at me. “What?”
Motioning to the dance floor, I repeated myself. “I said, you should find someone to dance with. You look like you’re ready to jump out of your skin. You don’t need to babysit me. I can take care of myself.”
His brows pulled in tight. “I came with you.”
I plastered on a fake smile. “Well, not as a date. I mean, I’m a family friend. Right?”
Brock didn’t say anything as he rubbed the back of his neck, at least having the decency to look embarrassed for his earlier conversation.
“Excuse me,” I said as I turned and quickly headed toward the house.
I needed a few minutes to rein in the emotions that were running through me. This was crazy—this stupid crush I was developing on Brock. So what that he’d kissed me? It had just been in the heat of the moment; that was all.
After staring at myself in the bathroom mirror for much longer than I should have, I took in a deep breath and slowly let it out.
“Just try to have fun and stop reading into every little thing,” I whispered.
I made my way back down the path, stepped into the barn, and searched for Brock. He wasn’t where he’d been standing a few minutes ago. It didn’t take me long to find him, though. He was dancing with a pretty young blonde. She smiled up at him, and he smiled down at her as he spun them around on the dance floor like they had danced with each other dozens of times.
My heart instantly dropped to my stomach, but I tried like hell to pretend the sight of Brock dancing with someone else didn’t bother me. After all, I was the one who’d told him to go dance, hadn’t I?
Another quick look around, and I found a makeshift bar.
“Excuse me. Pardon me. I’m sorry,” I said as I pushed my way through the crowd.
When I finally made it to the bar, I smiled at Dirk.
“Part-timing it as a bartender?” I shouted over the live band playing on the other side of the barn.
Dirk took one look at me and smiled. “Hey, city girl! Yeah, my parents put me as the barkeep to keep me out of trouble. You enjoying yourself?”
“Just got here.”
He nodded. “Well, the party did just start. What can I get you?”
“Anything that has the word beer in it.”
He winked. “My kind of girl. You come with Brock?”
My grin faltered. “Um, yeah.”
Dirk’s gaze drifted past me to the dance floor. He didn’t seem to react at all when he saw Brock dancing.
I forced a smile and asked, “Y’all get much downtime when you’re traveling?”
Dirk turned, grabbed a Miller Lite, and set it in front of me. “Yeah, we get some downtime.”
“What do you do?”
He shrugged. “A little bit of this, a little bit of that.”
I laug
hed. “Okay, that was vague.”
“Keeps the mystery alive, little lady. Want to dance?” he asked, stepping out from behind the bar.
“Who’s going to tend bar in your place if you’re out on the dance floor?”
“Ah, hell, anyone can help themselves. I mostly stand back there for free drinks.”
Dirk took my hand and led the way—only to have Brock step in front of us before we even touched a toe to the dance floor.
“What’s going on?” he asked. His eyes filled with something that resembled anger as he stared at his best friend.
“We’re headed out to dance.”
Brock stepped in between us. “I don’t think so.”
My eyes widened as I watched the two men stare at each other like they were in a pissing contest. The fact that Brock wasn’t letting me dance with Dirk really made me mad.
“Um, I’m not sure who made you the boss of me, Brock, but Dirk asked me to dance, and I said yes. Besides, you were dancing.”
“With my cousin.”
His cousin?
My eyes darted around until I found the blonde. She was currently sucking face with some other guy while they dirty-danced on the dance floor.
Looking back at him, I said, “Well, I still don’t see why I can’t dance with Dirk.”
Drawing his brows in tight, Brock took a step back. “You want to dance with him? Go right ahead.” He turned and walked through the crowd of people and out of the barn.
“What in the hell just happened?” I asked as I watched him round the corner.
“That would be Brock, pissed off and jealous,” Dirk stated with a frown. “Hadn’t seen that side of him in a while.”
I shook my head. “What do you mean, pissed off and jealous? Of what?”
Dirk stared at me for a brief moment and then shook his head. “It’s my fault, really. I knew he was interested in you, and I probably shouldn’t have asked you to dance, but it seemed harmless enough.”
Now I was really confused. “But, why would you asking me to dance be a bad thing?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Dirk shrugged. “That’s just Brock. I mean, we have a complicated history between us because of . . .” His words faded off. “He knows I didn’t mean anything by asking you to dance. I think he feels guilty with himself because he likes you.”
Never Enough Page 11
