28. Brock Jones
Chapter twenty-eight
Brock Jones
I maneuver into a parking space in front of Throwback, the arcade bar I had the idea to take Ariel to.
If I know Ariel–and I do–competing is going to make her forget about her dating life.
She needs to have fun and get out of her head.
After a few games and some trash talk, she’ll be good as new, and her night will end on a high note.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Again. I’m going to have to stay up until tomorrow to get work done, but seeing Ariel smile as she realizes where we are makes it worth it. I’ve not been the greatest friend the last few weeks. This is the least I can do.
“An arcade?” She smiles as we get out of my car.
“I figured your night couldn’t get any worse, so you might as well add losing to me to the agenda.”
She rolls her eyes. “You know I’m going to wipe the floor with you, right?”
I grin as I open the door for her. “I know you think that.”
As soon as we walk in, a blast of icy air hits us. Ariel visibly shivers and wraps her arms around herself.
“I did not dress for the arctic,” she says with a laugh.
No, no she did not. When I first saw her tonight in this tiny black dress…
I had to grip the bar to keep from pushing her into a dark corner of the restaurant and kissing her senseless.
Then when she came out of the restaurant with fire in her eyes, the same feeling hit me like I just got checked on the ice.
“Here, you can take this, I was getting too warm anyway.” I slide off my suit jacket and drape it over her shoulders.
She looks up at me with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
No snarky remark, no nickname, just pure sweetness radiating off of her.
A new, softer feeling sweeps over me as I say, “No problem,” and we head toward the machine to get tokens.
It’s the kind of feeling that has me glaring at every guy whose head turns as she passes.
The kind that makes me stand a little too close while I put in cash so that people think we’re together.
The kind that makes me want to protect her. As if I have the right to want that.
But Ariel doesn’t seem to mind. She lets me crowd her at the machine, even going so far as to lean against me. “My heels are bothering me,” she murmurs, but I don’t know if I believe her.
“What do you want to play first?” I ask after getting our hundred dollars’ worth of coins. The bucket is heavy in my hand, but with how expensive these places have become, I’m sure it’ll lighten fast.
“How about air hockey?” she suggests.
“So you want to go ahead and get the losses out of the way first, totally understand. Right this way.” I dramatically sweep an arm in the direction of the table.
She shoves it away. “You’re obnoxious.”
“And yet, you’re here.”
“I was abducted, remember?” she says with a smile as we take our places on opposite ends of the table.
“Oh now you can change definitions. As long as when you lose you don’t change that to mean win.”
I slide a few coins in. The table whirs to life. Ariel drops the puck on the table and covers it with the mallet to keep it from sliding away. She’s slipped her arms into my jacket. The sight throws me off a little, making me slower to react when she hits the puck without warning.
“Were you going to say something about starting, or do you like cheating?” I ask as we begin hitting it back and forth.
She smirks. “Table is on. Puck is on. What more do you need? A buzzer?”
“Funny.”
We keep going until I finally slap one in.
“Boom! The first of many.”
Ariel slides the puck over to me with narrowed eyes. “More like the only one.”
The game is more neck-and-neck than it should be. I don’t think Ariel is better than me, but she’s also not the only one who was distracted tonight. Between her dress, my jacket, and the competitive look in her eye, I’m fumbling.
We get to where we’re tied six-to-six. One more point to win. I hit the puck toward Ariel, but she doesn’t move. Doesn’t even try to block me. She’s too busy staring over my shoulder like there’s a ghost behind me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her.
“Houston is here,” she says, panic lacing her voice.
“Vonjerkface?” I question and she nods, so I turn to see the idiot in question.
It’s not hard to spot him in his too-tight designer suit with a model giggling on his arm.
“We should go,” she says.
“Absolutely not. We’re having a good time. I just won, and you’re bound to eventually win at least one game if we keep playing.”
She glares at me. “I can’t deal with him tonight, Brock. He’s going to ask about my boyfriend and the gala.”
“So? I already said I’d go with you. Tell him we’re dating.”
Her eyes widen. “Are you sure?”
“He’ll probably assume that anyway, since we’re here together and you’re in my jacket.” She wraps it tighter around her like she’s nervous. “On second thought, if he’s as much of an idiot as you’ve said, then we might need to spell it out for him. I’m game if you are.”
She looks at me for a long moment. Vulnerability shines in her eyes, but it’s quickly replaced by desperation as she looks beyond me again. “I hope you mean that, because he’s headed this way.”
“Ariel, is that you?” Houston asks with the smarmiest grin as he saunters up. “What are the chances?”
I walk over to Ariel and slide an arm around her waist. Houston eyes the movement. I stick my other hand out.
“Brock Jones, nice to meet you. How do you know my Ariel?”
I grip his hand much harder than necessary. He pulls away before I do and tries to discreetly flex his hand by his side.
“Houston Vonclout. We work together. And you are?”
I smile. “Her boyfriend. She’s told me about you. I think it’s so nice how you work together. She takes the clients to hundreds of showings, asks them questions, answers their concerns and–” I tip my head to the side. “I forget, what is it that you do again? Take clients to lunch?”
Ariel stifles a laugh next to me. Houston fumes, while the woman next to him just looks confused.
“I close deals,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Right, right, that’s what I meant,” I say with an easy grin.
“And what is it that you do?” he asks with a condescending tone that matches his pompous face.
“He’s a sports agent,” Ariel speaks up. The pride in her voice warms my chest. “Maybe you’ve heard of some of his clients? Shaw Daniels, Miles Day, Jason Kingsley, Emmett Foster?”
The surprise in Houston’s gaze tells me he knows at least some of those names, if not all. It would be hard not to, what with how much success my friends have.
He shrugs it off. “I’m not big into sports.”
The woman glued to his arm giggles. “Yes you are, silly!” She looks at us. “He bets on games all the time. Last time he won, he bought me a Chanel bag. He’s so sweet like that,” she coos.
Houston does not look thrilled with this admission. I don’t think his girlfriend could read a room if her life depended on it.
“We should really get going,” he says, taking a step back. “It was nice meeting you.”
“You too,” I say with a wide, fake smile. “Looking forward to seeing you again at the gala.”
His expression is tense when he replies, “Sounds great.”
He drags his girlfriend away to the bar.
When he’s out of earshot, Ariel throws her arms around me. “Thank you. Just thank you.”
I hug her back and breathe in the soft, sweet scent of her hair. “It wasn’t a big deal. I have to deal with guys like him all the time. That conversation was a dime a dozen.”
She tips her head back. Relief is written all over her expression. “You don’t understand. He’s been tormenting me ever since he overheard me talking to a friend about my dating struggles. Between this and the gala, I can probably buy myself a couple months of peace.”
I frown and brush a strand of hair away from her face. Her deep blue eyes meet mine. It’s as though I’m staring at a clear blue sky after a hundred days of rain.
“That sounds like harassment. Have you complained about it?”
She nods. “I tried, but the new boss loves him.”
“Now I wish I would have punched him.”
She laughs. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. That sounds like the sort of thing you tell your clients not to do.”
“Would be worth it. I haven’t punched anyone in a while. I bet it would feel good.”
Her shoulders shake with laughter. “You’re ridiculous.”
I smile. “And you’re way too intelligent and talented to deal with that kind of thing at work.” She blushes and tips her head down. “Have you thought about going somewhere else? Or maybe starting up your own business?”
“This company is one of the best in Charlotte.” She toys with my tie. “I’ve thought about venturing out on my own, but I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“I could help you,” I say, and she looks up again.
“You barely have time for your own business.”
I cringe. She has a point. “Marie could help you. She handles most of my paperwork and knows a lot about business.”
An uncomfortable feeling pinches in my chest. For the first time in a while, the idea of work keeping me from doing something doesn’t sit right. But that’s ridiculous. I shouldn’t feel bad for being busy. The words of my friends and family start to swirl around in my head, muddying my thoughts.
“I’ll…think about it.” Ariel’s voice rips me from my spiral.
I nod. “Good, just let me know.”
“I will. And Brock? I really can’t thank you enough.”
I pull her against my chest for another hug and drop an unplanned kiss on the crown of her head.
“Anytime, Duke,” I say into her hair.
She squeezes me tight in response. I pull back before I can’t resist the temptation of more.
“Now, back to the start of your losing streak…”
She rolls her eyes. “That win doesn’t count. Seeing Houston freaked me out.”
I shrug. “Fine by me, there are plenty more losses where that came from.”
We head toward the next game, trash-talking each other the entire way. And if I keep Ariel close the rest of the night, well, it’s easy to blame it on Houston being there.