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“Because he’s my brother, moron. My mother divorced his father, and he took Dillon away from her before she met my father. Happy?”
Brock angled his head, looking hard at Dillon.
“There’s no family resemblance,” he mumbled.
“Geeze, you’re pissing me off. Go back inside and let Miss Marly paw you some more. I have better things to do.”
“She’s almost a Mrs. Marly now, Sarah,” Dillon reminded her breathlessly.
Sarah flashed him a killing look. She’d skin him alive if he didn’t shut up.
“I’ll tuck her in, just to be certain your nose stays intact.” Brock patted Dillon’s shoulder and moved around him.
“Brock.” Sarah recognized the steel in Dillon’s voice now. Evidently Brock did as well.
“What?” Brock frowned.
“It’s Sarah’s choice who she goes home with. I won’t let you force her into one.” Dillon stood straight now. “A playful tap here and there is fine. But you hit me over my sister again and I’ll take you out.”
Violence thrummed in the air between the two men.
“Sarah?” Brock turned back to her.
He wouldn’t let her leave without him; she could see it on his face. She could leave with him, or he and Dillon would fight.
“Don’t. Please,” she whispered, staring up at his dark face.
“I swear, I won’t do anything you don’t want, Sarah. But we have to talk. We have to.”
She heaved a hard, desperate sigh.
“Fine.”
“Sarah, are you sure?” Dillon asked her quietly. “Be sure about this.”
He would stand between her and Brock, she knew. But what would be the point? Brock was determined and she was weak. It would happen eventually, no matter how hard she tried to avoid it.
“Go away, Dillon.” Brock turned to the other man, frowning.
Dillon merely watched her, ignoring Brock’s defensive attitude.
“I’m sure,” she mumbled. She wasn’t, but what the hell? It was too late to claim maidenly virtue, and she was just relaxed enough to be dangerous. She hated being dangerous.
“Come on.” Brock led her to the jeep, unlocking the door and helping her in.
She watched through the rearview mirror as he and Dillon exchanged words, then he was getting in as well and starting the ignition.
“Can we go someplace and talk first?” he asked her.
“About what?”
“About us, Sarah. We need to talk about us.” He glanced at her as he set the jeep in motion, driving through the parking lot.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She stared outside the tinted glass, watching his dark reflection within it. “You want what you want, I want what I want. They are not compatible wants, Brock.”
“You act like I’m asking you to jump immediately into an orgy,” he sighed.
“More or less how I feel.” She shrugged, determined not to be hurt. She couldn’t bear the hurt.
