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Before I could respond she had disappeared into the crowd.
Several members of the press turned their attention toward the newly engaged pair. Brant gave his best practiced politician smile and wave. Jill gazed up at her fiancé with adoration. They looked so rehearsed it hurt; I saw more of John in the act than I did of Brant. Though the way Jill clung to his arm spoke of how desperate she was to hold on to him.
My eyes drifted toward Brock. He was glaring at his brother. Then, as if he knew I was staring at him, he jerked his gaze toward me. His head whiplashed a few times between Brant and me. Before I knew it, he was walking my way.
I sat up straighter, feeling nervous. I never knew anymore what Brock’s mood would be like. He was looking quite broody at the moment, and as sexy as that was, I missed the playful side of him. The side that would have already come to me instead of waiting for his brother to show up.
Brock threw himself into the chair Kinsley had just vacated and folded his arms as if he were pouting.
“You shouldn’t have let him ruin your fun,” I said out the side of my mouth. I didn’t bother looking at him.
“He didn’t,” he barked. “I’ve been meaning to check on you.”
“Please, don’t patronize me. You’re only here now because of him.” I slowly turned his way, making sure no one was around. “There’s nothing going on between us. There never was.”
Brock’s eyes drifted toward my abdomen.
“If you only knew how much I wanted it to be you.” I willed myself not to cry while I stood. “Excuse me. I’m going to . . .” Well, I had no idea what I was going to do, but I was going to do it somewhere away from Brock.
Brock had other ideas; he grabbed my hand. “Don’t go. I’m sorry. I’ve been a poor date tonight.”
“You’ve been enjoying yourself. It’s fine.”
“No, Dani, it’s not. I wished you would have joined me.”
“You never asked.”
“I’m asking you now.”
I downed the rest of my ginger ale like I was drinking a shot of courage.
He stood and took the empty glass from my hand, setting it on the table nearest us. He faced me, his hand sliding around my lower back as he drew me closer to him. My hands landed on his chest. I tried not to be too familiar with him, though his nearness gave me a sudden urge to rip his button-up off. His sandalwood scent was driving me mad. The way our eyes locked made us look every bit the part of newlyweds sharing an intimate moment. When Brock’s warm breath cascaded down my cheek, I shivered.
“I am sorry,” he whispered in my ear.
My stomach fluttered. I bit my lip and looked around. “People are staring at us.”
“Of course they are,” he groaned. “Do you forgive me?”
“You’re confusing me.” I didn’t know whether I was coming or going with him.
“I am confused,” he admitted.
“So where does that leave us?”
“Together.” He took my hand and led us toward the crowd of people surrounding Miles. When we entered the fray, he still kept ahold of me. Probably for show, but when our fingers interlocked and he squeezed my hand, I questioned my original assessment.
Ariana looked relieved to see us together. Jonah patted Brock on the back.
Aspen hugged me. “It’s so nice to see you. We need to have you over for dinner one of these nights.” She patted her belly. “Maybe after the baby is born.”
“We should have you over.” I spoke impulsively. What was I thinking inviting people over like we were some real couple? It just seemed like the right thing to do. Aspen was about to pop, and they had two other children to care for. Making her cook for us seemed wrong. I turned to Brock with some apprehension. I didn’t want to ask for his permission, as that would make us both look bad, but I shouldn’t have assumed that he would be okay with that. We were barely eating dinner together as it was.
“That’s a great idea,” Brock said without skipping a beat. “I’ll let you and Dani iron out the details.”
Internally, I breathed a sigh of relief. I smiled at Aspen. “How about after we get back from Washington, DC, next weekend?”
“Perfect.”
“I’ll call you to firm up the date and time.”
“Thank you.” She turned back to her husband and group of friends—people I was mostly acquainted with because of high school, and Shelby Prescott, who owned the clothing boutique M&M’S on Main. Sheridan and I had been frequent patrons lately. In fact, the dress I was wearing tonight had come from there. Shelby was from the South and was probably the nicest woman on the planet. She certainly had an eye for fashion.
