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“I know. The whole ounce of prevention, pound of cure.”
“That’s right. If you’ve done something stupid, I can cut it off at the pass. I can fix it, but you have to tell me.”
“I know. Thanks.”
“So, have you?”
Done something stupid? Most definitely. Probably. Maybe… Fuck, I don’t know. “I- I’m not sure. Get me the address and I’ll find out. I’ll call you later this afternoon either way. You don’t have to worry. I can fix it.”
“I fucking knew there was something! What do you have to fix? Brock come on-”
Brock hung up. He immediately dialed June’s friend, since it was the only number that he had for her. When there was no answer, he ground his teeth. Owen tried calling him back, but he sent the call to voicemail. He dialed June’s hotel and through some sweet talking, found out that what he’d already assumed to be true, was. She’d checked out. She was gone.
What if she never contacted him again? What if she was so hurt and angry that he’d lied to her that she disappeared? She was gone, but what if Owen couldn’t find her? No. He would. Brock knew that Owen was the best at what he did. God, the things he’d done to get him out of scrapes over the years, the way he worked with people, the way he got out the shovel and dug dirt when he needed to- it was nothing short of impressive. Owen had never let him down. Owen would find June’s address.
The rest was up to him.
Brock shoved out of bed. He stalked off to the shower. He’d give himself half an hour to clean up and get the hell on the road.
He’d beg if he had to. He’d come clean. He’d ask for a second chance. He’d do his best to make her understand. He’d tear out his heart for her just so she could watch it bleeding.
Too much. Way too much. He didn’t want to scare her off, but he knew that his future wasn’t a future without her in it.
He’d have to find a way to somehow convince her that the same held true for her.
CHAPTER 20
June
The passing scenery was so much drearier than it had been on the way down to Vegas. At least then she’d been filled with optimism. She’d actually believed she could go out and have a good time with her best friends and forget about her steaming pile of failed relationships.
Instead she wound up married.
“Hey, are you going to tell us why we had to leave like the hotel was on fire? We had a whole day yet. We weren’t going to check out until tomorrow morning.” Mandy’s eyes scanned the rear-view mirror. Jaz craned her neck around from the front passenger seat. June wished she could disappear, that the back seat of the car would turn into a black hole and swallow her up.
No such luck.
No, she’d never had any luck. She was fleeing her bad decision, the worst decision. She was married to a man she’d given her body to not once or twice, but three different times. Married to a man, who, despite everything, she’d trusted. Married to a man she couldn’t make herself stop wanting. She’d had a good time. She’d admit it. It was crazy and unexpected and completely unhinged, but she’d enjoyed herself when she was with Brock. She felt… special. Beautiful. Hopeful in a crazy sort of way. She’d tried to keep her guard up, but with no effort at all, Brock had come smashing through her walls.
“I…” June crossed her arms.
“I mean, I thought everything was going okay with you and Brock. What happened last night?” Jaz meant well, but her question was like salt in June’s already stinging wounds.
She blinked hard. Why the hell did Brock have to marry her if he could literally get any woman he wanted? He’d put that ring on her finger and then he’d charmed his way into her heart. Into Mandy’s and Jaz’s hearts as well. Brock with his smile and his shining eyes and that damn dimple. Brock with his mysterious aura, his amazing tongue, his incredible co-
No. Desire burned deep inside of her. She chaffed in her own skin. She had to press her legs together to stop the flow of blood from reaching sinful spots. Maybe if she’d used her brain instead of letting her vagy make all the decisions for her, she wouldn’t have been so easily fooled. She wouldn’t have been dumb enough to believe Brock in their stupid game of cards the night before. She wouldn’t have let herself be swayed, begin to trust, begin to hope…
“Did he do something to piss you off? Did he say something stupid? Men are idiots, but that doesn’t mean we have to leave.”
“I…” could she tell her friends? Would they understand?
