Chapter 9
Thunder cracked, rattling the windows and causing Jules to jump.
Moments later, hail pelted the house like endless pennies clattering from a jar.
“It looks like it’s getting bad out there,” Jules murmured, then cringed a little at how obvious the comment sounded.
“Yeah,” Brock agreed, eyes flicking toward the window. “Your dad mentioned tornadoes. Maybe we should check the weather forecast.”
“Maybe we should. With this kind of wind and hail, tornadoes are a definite possibility.” A shiver slid down her spine. Tornadoes were no joke in Texas.
She reached for the remote to turn on the TV but stopped when the doorbell rang. “Who shows up in the middle of a hailstorm?”
Brock crooked a dry grin. “It could be Luke coming back for round two with your cousin.”
Jules chuckled. “Well, if that’s the case, then he’s in for it. Nikki can certainly hold her own.”
“I hear that.” Amusement warmed his tone.
The doorbell rang again—sharper and more insistent.
Jules reached for her crutch, about to push herself up, but Brock raised a hand.
“Stay put. No sense in you getting up.” He stood. “I’ll get it.”
Before she could argue, he was on his feet and heading for the door.
It was so like Brock to take charge of the situation. He’d been here less than an hour and was answering her door like he owned the place. “Just great,” she grumbled to herself.
She heard the door open, and then Brock spoke. “How can I help you?”
There was a pause. “Um, is Jules home?”
“Yeah, she’s here,” Brock replied, his tone clipped. “Who’s asking?”
“I’m Dean. A friend of hers.”
Dean? Jules stiffened. Oh no. What was he doing here? Since the accident, he’d sent her half a dozen texts and called at least twice. She’d finally replied once through a text, hoping it would cool him off. But clearly, the man couldn’t take a hint.
“You mind if I come in?” Dean asked.
“Who are you, again?” Brock countered.
“Dean. A friend of Jules.”
“Fine,” Brock muttered. “Come in.”
A moment later, Dean stepped into view. He was wet from the rain and clutching a large bouquet of red roses.
She blinked. Roses? Really? He had a lot of nerve showing up here with roses considering what happened before.
As if reading her mind, he offered a sheepish grin and held up the bouquet. “I promise I won’t try to take these back.”
“Good to know.” Good grief, this was sticky. What else was she supposed to say?
He gave her a tentative smile. “How’s the patient?”
“Dean ... what are you doing here? On a night like this?”
“I hadn’t heard from you. I just wanted to check in to make sure you were okay. When I left the house, I didn’t realize it was going to storm like this.”
Well, that made at least some sense. Still, his timing couldn’t have been worse. She glanced at Brock, who was standing off to Dean's side with his arms folded across his chest, jaw razor sharp. Jules didn’t need to be a mind reader to know exactly what Brock was thinking. He radiated alpha-male intensity. And right now, he was two shakes away from throwing Dean right back out into the rain.
Poor Dean couldn’t even begin to measure up to Brock when it came to masculinity. He looked like an overgrown frat boy who was a little soft around the edges. She’d never thought Dean to be a weakling. Rather, he was just a normal guy. However, compared to Brock, he looked paltry. She could tell from Dean’s body language that he was intimidated by Brock.
Dean’s gaze darted to Brock and then back to her. “So, uh ... who’s he?”
“My cousin,” Jules answered smoothly.
Dean visibly relaxed. “Oh, cousin. That’s great.” He turned to Brock with a congenial smile and offered his hand. “So nice to meet you.”
Brock let Dean’s hand hang awkwardly for a moment before reaching his out to shake. The interaction was brief and intense. Dean winced like Brock was squeezing his hand too tightly. Jules had no doubt that he was. It was a power play on Brock’s part.
After the handshake, Dean shifted his feet like he wasn’t sure what to do next.
A pang of sympathy went through Jules. As awkward as this was, she couldn’t just send Dean back out into the storm. At least it had stopped hailing.
“Why don’t you have a seat?” she offered.
As if worried she might take back her suggestion, he quickly moved toward the chair Brock had just vacated and sat down.
Jules caught Brock’s eye and gestured toward the bouquet. “Would you mind putting those in some water... cuz?” Her voice hung on the word cuz just long enough to make a point. Brock’s expression tightened. He all but snatched the flowers out of Dean’s hand. “Will do,” he said curtly and then strode out of the room.
Jules bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Brock was pretending to be her cousin, but he had possessive bodyguard written all over him.
Dean shifted again in his seat. “I just wanted to check on you.” His voice was low and ponderous. “I know you’ve had a rough time.” Concern touched his features, along with a longing that made her skin crawl.
“I’m surviving. I’ll be fine,” she added with a polite smile.
A few moments later, Brock returned. When he saw Dean sitting in his chair, a deep crease formed between his brows. Jules expected him to take the open seat across the room. Instead, he came over and sat beside her on the couch—right next to her—and casually moved her crutches out of the way.
She gave him a questioning look, which he ignored. Then he had the nerve to slide his arm back behind where she was sitting, letting it rest on the couch. His nearness was both intoxicating and infuriating.
Brock turned his attention to Dean, his tone deceptively casual. “So, Dean… you got a last name?”
Dean blinked. “Uh, yeah. Powell.”
“Powell,” Brock echoed. “And you said you’re a friend of Jules’s?”
Dean’s cheeks flushed. “Yeah. Something like that.” He glanced at Jules as he added, “We used to date.”
Jules winced inwardly. Here we go.
Brock didn’t respond right away. The silence was heavy enough to cut. Jules didn’t have to look at him to feel the shift in his energy, as turbulent as the storm breaking loose outside.
“We dated a few months ago,” she explained, hoping to diffuse the situation. “It was before ... everything.”
She kicked herself internally for justifying anything to Brock. She didn’t owe him any explanations. They weren’t together anymore.
Dean gave her a questioning look. “Everything?”
She wasn’t sure what he was getting at. “Huh?”
“You said it was before everything. I just wondered what you were referring to.”
“Before the accident,” she rattled out, hoping that would appease him.
“How long did the two of you date?” Brock wanted to know.
“Eight weeks to the day,” Dean answered.
Brock leaned forward. “Who ended it?”
“Seriously?” Jules grumbled, throwing Brock a glare. “Are you really going there?”
His eyes hardened with determination. “It’s a simple question. Let the man answer.” Brock turned his attention back to Dean, who was pulling at his collar like it had suddenly grown too tight.
“She did.” Dean’s expression turned forlorn as he looked at Jules like she’d crushed his heart.
Brock turned to Jules. “Why did you break up with him?”
She was so stunned by the intrusive question that, for a moment, she couldn’t speak. “That’s none of your business,” she growled.
“Everything about you is my business,” he answered in such a confident, defiant tone that she wanted to slug him. “Why did you break up with him?” he asked again.
Dean let out a nervous chuckle. “Your cousin’s intense,” he said to Jules.
“You have no idea,” she harrumphed.
Not the least bit affected by her testiness, Brock repeated the question, keeping his piercing gaze fixed on Jules. “Why did you break up with him?”
Irritation boiled in her stomach to the point where she thought she might spew. “Because he wasn’t the one,” she blurted.
A pleased expression overtook Brock’s rugged face. “Good to know,” he uttered softly.
He thought he’d won this round, but she wasn’t about to let him get away with badgering her. She tipped her head, her voice going musing. “You know, I thought I had found the one … but as it turns out, the tough guy was a bit of a wimp when it came to relationships. At the first sign of trouble, he tucked his tail and ran like a yellow-belly lizard.”
Regret tightened Brock’s features. “Sounds like the guy was an idiot.”
“Pretty much,” she chimed.
“Well, if he were here right now, I’m sure he’d tell you how sorry he is.”
“Perhaps,” she said lightly. “But words are cheap. Action is what counts, huh cuz?” She nudged his rib with her elbow and then remembered that Dean was there. He looked like she’d just kicked his favorite puppy. Blast Brock for putting her in this uncomfortable position. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t say anything that you don’t already know. You’re a good guy, Dean, but I don’t have any romantic feelings for you.”
Dean pressed his lips together in taut lines. She could almost see him trying to tuck his disappointment away in a neat box. Finally, he offered her a strained smile. “Apology accepted,” he said magnanimously as if doing her a favor.
Had she apologized? She’d said I’m sorry , but it was more of a figure of speech.
Brock reinserted himself into the conversation. “So, what made you stop by tonight? You don’t usually see guys making rose deliveries during a hailstorm.”
“I just wanted to make sure Jules was okay,” Dean said. “She’s had a rough go of it.”
A stony silence fell over the room.
Brock fired another question. “What kind of work do you do?”
“I’m a realtor.”
“Oh yeah? What kind of real estate—residential or commercial?”
“Mostly residential, but I dabble in commercial when the opportunity comes up. What about you? What do you do?”
“Finance.”
Jules barely suppressed a snort. Finance. Yeah, right.
“Oh,” Dean said, nodding. “What kind of finance?”
“You know … a little of this, a little of that. Whatever pays the bills.”
Jules laughed inwardly. Brock was paid very well for what he did. He made it sound like he was barely scraping by.
“Cool.” Dean didn’t seem bothered by Brock’s evasive response.
Jules stared at the ceiling, praying for rescue—and then, thank heavens, Nikki burst into the room in a flurry of chaos.
“You know what bugs me the most about Stalker Boy?” she launched in and then stopped, eyes flying open wide when she saw Dean and Brock. “Looks like I’m late to the party.” Amusement colored her features as she cut her eyes at Jules.
Dean stood. “Hey, Nikki. Good to see you again. We met at Zoe’s wedding,” he prompted.
She waved a hand in mild annoyance. “Of course I remember you. It hasn’t been that long since the wedding. Please sit back down. Relax.” Her eyes flicked to Brock and Jules on the couch. She went bug-eyed when she spotted Brock’s arm draped casually across the couch behind Jules. A coy smile tugged at her lips. “It must’ve taken me longer to get a shower than I realized.”
Jules threw Nikki a warning look that said, Cut it out.
Smiling sweetly, Nikki pranced over and plopped down in the seat beside Dean. She turned and flashed him a disarming smile. “So, Deano, what’ve you been up to.”
His eyes bulged. “Um, same old. Work. That’s about it.”
Nikki studied him with a calculated expression.
Jules’s insides tightened. What was her cousin up to?”
“Has Jules told you about her birthday party?”
“No.” Dean looked at Jules in surprise. “You’re having a birthday party?”
“I am.” Jules threw her cousin a death glare, which Nikki pointedly ignored.
“It’s next Friday,” Nikki announced in a sing-song voice. “Jules didn’t get to have one on her actual birthday because she was in the hospital. So we’re having one now.”
Dean’s face fell. “You were in the hospital on your birthday?”
Jules forced a smile. “Yeah, that’s how it worked out.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His expression turned wounded.
She felt Brock tense beside her and had to resist the temptation to put a hand on his knee to keep him from going on the offensive again. “I had a few other things on my mind,” she countered. “Like trying to survive.”
“Of course,” Dean readily said. “I totally understand.”
Jules threw Brock a quick glance and saw the muscles in his jaw flick. What did it say about her that sitting so close to him was revving her cells into high action? It had been much easier to despise him from a distance. Now that he was here … well, things were bound to get complicated.
Dean turned to Nikki with a large smile. “I’d love to come to the party. What time?”
Nikki thought for a minute. “Seven o’clock.”
“Sounds great.” Dean brought his hands together and focused on Jules. “I was hoping maybe we could talk in private … catch up on a few things?”
“She’s not up for that,” Brock interjected in an ironclad tone that dared Dean to object.
Jules whipped around, her brows shooting up. “Excuse me?”
Brock looked her in the eye. “You need your rest and shouldn’t be entertaining guests.”
“I’ll decide what I’m up for,” Jules countered. She turned to Dean. “You’ll have to excuse my cousin. He tends to be ... overprotective.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “I noticed.” He searched her face. “So, maybe we could catch up sometime soon?”
Jules could’ve screamed in frustration. What was it going to take for Dean to get it through his thick skull that the two of them were never going to be romantically involved ever again? Was she going to have to be downright rude for him to finally get the message? “You know, Dean … tonight’s probably not the best time,” she said as kindly as she could. “We may be in for a rough time with the storm.”
“We were about to order some pizza for dinner,” Brock added.
Jules turned to him in surprise. “We were?”
He grinned. “We were. And I’m even going to do the unthinkable and let you add pineapple.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. Both she and Brock loved pizza and had strong opinions about toppings. Brock was more of a supreme guy, and she loved ham and pineapple. They’d only spent one weekend together since their time in West Hollywood with Zoe and Tippin. But during that one magical weekend, they ordered pizza three times.
“How kind of you,” she cooed, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Brock’s eyes sparkled with teasing. “I think so.”
“I could go for some pizza,” Dean piped in.
Jules cringed. Was the guy serious?
“There’s only enough for three,” Brock said smoothly.
“But you haven’t even ordered yet.” An undercurrent of red seeped into Dean’s face.
Brock didn’t skip a beat. “We have a standing order with Jules’s favorite restaurant, and it can’t be changed.”
The edges of Dean’s eyes hardened as he zeroed in on Brock. “I could call and ask them to throw in another pizza. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind the extra business.”
Nikki tsked her tongue. “Now boys, quit throwing pizza grenades. It’s liable to get messy.”
“I’m not sure where you’re going with this, but I don’t like it.” Dean glared at Nikki.
She giggled. “Well, Deano, if my English wasn’t plain enough, then how about this? We’ll scoot the furniture back and let y’all settle this like men—with a good old-fashioned fight. My money’s on Brock.”
“Seriously?” Jules threw Nikki an incredulous look.
“What?” Nikki’s expression was the picture of innocence. “Well, you wouldn’t go with me to the rodeo,” she pouted. “A girl’s gotta scrounge up a bit of entertainment where she can.”
“I think I’ll leave on that note,” Dean said stiffly, throwing Nikki a look that could kill.
“Aw, come on, Deano. Don’t be a sour ball. I’m just yanking your chain.” She gave him a soft shove in the arm.
“Sorry,” Jules soothed. “Nikki has never learned to think before blurting out the first thing that pops into her mind.”
Dean homed in on Jules. “So you don’t mind if I stay for pizza?”
It was all she could do to keep her voice neutral. “I’m a little tired. It’s probably best if you go.”
Brock made a point of glancing towards the window. “There’s a break in the storm. You should leave now while it’s not as bad.”
Resentment soured Dean’s expression. “Understood,” he said curtly. His voice turned soft and imploring as he spoke to Jules. “I guess I’ll see you next Friday at the party.”
“Sounds good,” she said reflexively.
“The doorbell rang.
“Got it,” Nikki chimed as she hurried out of the room.
A second later, Luke’s voice boomed through the foyer. “Long time no see.”
“You again,” Nikki said in exasperation. “Stalker Boy can’t stay away.”
“Combat Barbie,” Luke drawled. “You clean up nice.”
Nikki reentered the room with Luke in tow.
Luke’s eyes landed on Dean. “Hey there.”
“Hey.” Dean rose to his feet.
Luke crossed over to him and extended his hand. “Luke Ellis. Pleasure.”
“Dean Powell,” he replied as the two shook hands.
“So, are you a friend of Jules?” A taunting grin curled Luke’s lips. “Or a friend of Combat Barbie?”
Dean blinked. “Combat Barbie?”
“Oh, shut up,” Nikki spoke to Brock. “Your brother’s a jerk.”
Dean‘s eyes widened. “Wait—he’s your cousin too?”
“Yes.” Jules forced a smile. “Both of them are. It’s a full house.”
“You mean all three of them.” Dean looked at Nikki. “At the wedding, Nikki said she was your cousin too.”
“I am,” Nikki chimed. “Different side of the family.” She cut her eyes at Luke. “Luckily.”
Surprise flicked over Dean’s face. “So … three cousins?”
“Yep.” Jules smiled brightly. “We’re just one big happy family.”
Dean let out a weak laugh. “Okay. Well, I guess I’ll go so you guys can order your pizza. “Jules, it was good to see you. I’m so glad you’re recovering.” Then, to Brock, he added stiffly, “Nice to meet you,” but his expression spoke otherwise.
“Likewise,” Brock said with zero warmth.
Dean turned to Luke. “Nice to meet you too,” he said with a touch more genuineness.
Luke nodded. “Maybe we’ll see you around.”
“You will,” Dean promised. “At Jules’s party next Friday.”
Surprise flicked over Luke’s face, but it only took him a second to recover. “Alrighty, then.”
Jules thought—hoped—that Dean would leave on that note. Instead, he came over and pressed a light kiss to her cheek. “You look good,” he uttered, holding her gaze.
Heat torched her face. She didn’t have to look at Brock to know that he was fuming. Oh, well. It wasn’t as if he had a claim on her. He’d just have to get over it.
With that, Dean turned to leave. He got almost to the foyer and then stopped. “Maybe I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Please don’t. “Sure,” Jules replied, just wanting him gone. He could call all he wanted, but that didn’t mean she had to answer.
“Okay. Take care.” Finally, he left.
Luke padded over and plopped down in the seat where Brock had been.
“Hallelujah,” Nikki exclaimed, throwing up her arms. “I thought he was never going to leave.”
“You and me both,” Brock muttered. He removed his arm from the back of the couch and angled to face her. “I don’t like him.”
A chortle clipped her throat. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“I don’t like him either,” Nikki launched in. “He’s a creeper.” She looked at Jules. “You know I’m right. The guy refuses to take a hint.”
Brock frowned. “And he ventured out in a storm to bring you roses, even though you’ve repeatedly told him that he doesn’t stand a chance.”
Jules raised an eyebrow. “You certainly didn’t cut him any slack.”
A faint amusement twinkled in the depths of his dark eyes. “Should I have?” He pursed his lips. “I suppose I could’ve rolled out the red carpet for Deano, but then he’d be trying to move in.” He gave her a shrewd look. “I did you a favor, and you know it.”
“You did me a favor,” she acknowledged.
He broke into a grin. “What? Are my ears deceiving me? Did Jules Sterling just give me a compliment?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
He laughed. “No chance of that happening.” A second later, he turned serious as he spoke to Luke. “We need to add Dean Powell to the list of people the PI needs to investigate.”
Jules’s eyes widened. “You’re hiring a PI?”
“Technically, Sutton hired him. He’s searching for Steve Randall. We’ll also need for him to investigate every person who could pose a possible threat. And that includes Dean Powell.”
“Really?” Jules scrunched her nose. “Dean’s annoying, but I wouldn’t peg him as dangerous.”
“People can fool you,” Luke said in the voice of one speaking from experience.
Jules shrugged. “Okay, check Dean out. I guess it can’t hurt.” Her stomach growled noisily. She touched it, embarrassed.
“We’d better get this woman some food,” Brock joked. “I’ll go and order the pizza. One supreme and one ham and pineapple.” He winked at Jules.
“Ah, I see how you are. You were acting so benevolent while Dean was here, but now the truth is revealed. You’re getting your favorite and then humoring me by also getting mine.”
“Everyone’s happy that way. See, I know how to compromise.” He threw her a boyish grin that ribboned heat through her. Why did he have to be so dang attractive on so many levels?
“We’re getting pizza?” Luke’s voice was laced with disapproval.
Nikki turned to him. “You got something against pizza, Stalker Boy?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Luke’s a bit of a health nut,” Brock explained.
“That’s so sad,” Nikki murmured.
Luke immediately rose to the bait. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shook her head back and forth. “Even when you’re eating healthy, you still couldn’t keep up with me. I can run circles around you.”
He scoffed. “Oh, really? That’s not how I remember it.”
“Enough,” Brock cut in. “I can’t handle this all night.”
“Me neither,” Jules agreed, and then she and Brock shared a look of understanding that caused her blood to pump faster. Yep, just as she feared. Things were about to get complicated.
“Do you think that the pizza restaurant will even deliver in this storm?” Nikki asked.
“Maybe if we hurry up and order,” Brock answered. “The rain has slacked off for now, but I have a feeling we’re seeing the calm before the storm.” He reached for the remote and clicked on the TV. He flipped through channels until he got to the local news. A swirling radar image of North Texas pulsed red and orange over Fort Worth. The ominous words Tornado Watch were plastered over the bottom of the screen as the forecaster spoke in a grave tone and used a pointer to draw attention to the storm sitting just west of the city.
Brock turned up the volume. The forecaster’s voice radiated tension. “We’re monitoring this system just outside of Parker County. Conditions are ripe for tornadic development as this front pushes east. If you’re in Fort Worth, Arlington, or anywhere in Tarrant County, you need to be on alert.”
Jules’s cell phone rang. She reached for it and answered. It was her mom. “Hello.”
“Jules,” Mom breathed, “are you and Nikki watching the weather?”
“We just turned on the TV.”
“There’s a tornado watch in effect until eleven p.m. You need to keep abreast of this. If it gets worse, y’all make sure to get under the stairwell.”
“We will,” Jules assured her. “Did Dad get home okay?”
“He did.”
“Good,” Jules sighed.
There was a slight pause. “Your dad told me about Brock and his brother moving in across the street.” She hesitated. “I know you’re not happy about it, and I can understand how you feel. But as your mother, I’m grateful that you have someone who’s keeping watch over you.” Her voice trembled. “I just don’t want anything else to happen to you.”
Jules was unprepared for the sense of foreboding that slinked down her spine. “I’ll be fine,” she assured Mom, hoping it was true. Her heart began to pound. She swallowed, commanding herself to get a grip. Fear seized her with a cold, merciless grip. Then came the wave of dizziness. She forced herself to take in a calming breath through her nose. Holding it for a couple of seconds, she exhaled. She knew what this was—the beginning of a panic attack. She’d seen patients have them before going into surgery, but this was the first time she’d experienced it.
It was terrifying.
Brock eyed her with concern. “You okay?”
She nodded, biting down on her lower lip. She was okay. Nothing bad was going to happen. She was just reeling from the trauma of everything that had already happened. A prayer went through her mind, asking for help as she clutched the phone. Mom was jabbering on the other end, but the sound was muffled.
Brock placed a hand on her arm. “Just breathe,” he urged.
Nodding, she did so.
“Are you okay?” Nikki lurched forward as if she might spring from her seat any second to offer assistance.
“She’s okay,” Brock assured Nikki as he rubbed a light trail up and down Jules’s arm.
Brock’s touch was immensely comforting. For the first time since she’d seen him across the street and realized what was happening, she was glad he was here. No, the two of them were not ever getting back together, but at least he could protect her. She trusted him implicitly to keep her safe. She just didn’t trust him with her heart.
“Jules,” Mom said with a hint of irritation. “Are you listening to a word I’ve said?”
“Uh, yeah. Sorry.” Thankfully, the wave of panic had passed. Her chest was more open, and she could breathe easier. She didn’t dare say any of this to Mom, or she’d go into a frenzy. Mom was worked up enough as it was about the tornado watch. Jules didn’t want to pile on more worries.
Mom continued. “Maybe you should reach out to Brock and let him know about the severity of the storm. Being from Utah, he and Luke might not grasp the seriousness of a tornado watch.”
“They’re here with Nikki and me.” Jules looked at Brock as she spoke. He was still stroking her arm with a feather-light touch that cascaded tingles down her spine.
“Oh, good,” Mom breathed. “That makes me feel so much better. Y’all be safe. I love you, honey. If you need anything, let me know.”
“I will. Love you too.” Jules ended the call. She turned to Brock and gave him a weak smile. “My mom’s worried about the tornado watch,” she explained.
He lowered his hand from her arm.
Feeling more in control of herself, she crooked a smile. “Mom was afraid that you Utah boys wouldn’t understand the gravity of tornadoes in Texas.”
Brock’s eyes lit with humor. “She’s probably right.”
“She was relieved that you and Luke are here with me and Nikki.”
A pleased-as-punch smile spread over Brock’s lips. “Good to know I have your mother’s seal of approval.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. She’s just glad that you and Luke have me and Nikki to teach y’all the ropes … so we can keep you safe.”
“My, how the tables have turned.”
Jules thought he might say something about her panic attack, but instead, he pulled out his phone. “Okay, do you have any favorite pizza restaurants?”
“Does a cat have climbing gear?” Jules taunted, grateful to be able to focus on something other than the terror she’d experienced. Chills ran over her flesh. Ignoring it, she forced her tone to go light. “Look who you’re talking to. The queen of pizza. I like The Saucy Tomato. Let’s hope it’s open.” She had to focus on the present. Even as the thought went through her mind, a shadow of a memory surfaced. There was a man walking towards her. Ice flowed through her veins, and she banished the recollection, willing herself to focus on the present.
Brock scrolled through his screen. “Here it is.” He punched in the number and held the phone up to his ear. “Hey there,” he said a second later. “Are you guys open for business tonight? Awesome.” He began placing his order.
“Get a Caesar salad,” Luke directed.
Nikki scrunched her face. “So you’re okay with eating Caesar dressing, but you can’t eat pizza? That’s odd. Do you realize how much fat and calories are in a Caesar salad?”
Luke grunted. “Are you always this annoying?”
Nikki laughed. “Only when you’re around, Stalker Boy.” She threw him a wicked grin.
A low chuckle rumbled in Luke’s throat. Clearly, he enjoyed sparring with Nikki.
“The pizza should get here in approximately thirty minutes,” Brock announced.
“Let’s watch a movie,” Nikki suggested. “I get to pick it,” she said energetically.
“As long as it’s not a chick flick,” Luke countered.
“What’s so wrong with a chick flick?” Nikki wanted to know.
That’s all it took for another round of verbal barbs to go flying.
Brock shook his head, grinning at Jules. “Here they go again.”
For a second, it was just the two of them. The swift connection that ran between them was visceral. Brock had a way of peeling back the superficial layers and seeing the real her. She’d let him into that place where no others had ever been. That’s why his betrayal hurt so terribly. She liked that Brock was rough around the edges and how he didn’t mince words. She even liked that he was blunt and not overflowing with charm. She liked that he was so take-charge and how he made her feel safe—physically. Certainly not emotionally. His perceptive eyes held hers. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“The panic attack,” he said in a low tone. “Have you been having those since the accident?”
“Thankfully, no. Tonight was a first.”
He frowned. “What triggered it?”
She thought back. “My mom said she was glad you were here so that you could protect me. She said she didn’t want anything else to happen to me.” Her voice quivered as an echo of the fear returned. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly before continuing. “All of a sudden, this awful feeling of dread came over me.” Her eyes grew moist as her chest tightened. “I guess everything I’ve been through is starting to get to me.” She never wanted to have another attack like that. It was horrible.
“I understand.” Sympathy softened his angular features. “I want you to know that I’m here for you.” Sincerity brimmed in his dark eyes. “You’re safe with me. You know that, right?”
“I do.”
He relaxed. “Good.”
There was more she needed to tell him. “I’ve been having nightmares,” she said hoarsely, grateful that Nikki and Luke were so caught up in their conversation that they weren’t paying any attention to her and Brock.
He blinked. “About what?”
“The car accident, I think. It’s all so hazy. I can’t really make sense of it.” She paused, trying to give voice to her impressions. “I just keep thinking that there’s something I’m forgetting about that night—something I’m supposed to remember.”
“Maybe it’ll come back to you in time.”
She shrugged. “I guess so. I have no memory of the accident. Well, except for the part where I’m sitting at the stoplight, and headlights come barreling towards me. That’s all I can remember … until waking up in the hospital.”
“Can you think of anyone, other than Steve Randall, who would want to hurt you?”
She searched her brain. “No. Do you think the hit-and-run could be a random thing? Maybe someone panicked because they didn’t have insurance, or they were drunk?” She was clinging to that hope so she could be in the clear.
He considered her theory. “It’s certainly possible.”
Relief spritzed through her. Brock had a level head. His opinion on matters such as these was valuable.
“Although Steve Randall’s disappearance makes me think that he’s the culprit.”
Her heart dropped. Even though she hated hearing it, she knew that Brock was right.
“We’ll find him,” Brock assured her. “And I won’t let him hurt you. You have my word.”
Her eyes grew moist. “Thank you,” she croaked. Before she realized what was happening, he scooted close and draped his arm around her. She knew she should pull away, but it was nice to be held by the only man who’d done what she thought could never be achieved—the one who captured her heart and then broke it.