Chapter 16
Sleep didn’t come easily for Jules that night.
She kept tossing and turning beneath the weight of her quilt. Normally, she liked the soft hum of the ceiling fan, but tonight, it was grating on her nerves. In a huff, she threw off the quilt and got out of bed to turn it off.
Work would come early. She needed to sleep. Why would her body not cooperate? She climbed back into the bed and closed her eyes. Her emotions were so tangled that it was impossible to make sense of them. She knew it was wrong to toy with Brock this evening by flirting with Asher. But the truth was, whether he meant to or not, Brock had hurt her deeply. And it still stung.
She wanted to trust him. Wanted to believe they could start over.
But fear kept gnawing at her. She couldn’t stand the thought of opening up her heart only to have the rug yanked out from underneath her. Again.
She rolled over to one side and then the other. After repeating this process for what felt like dozens of times, she finally drifted into a shallow sleep.
She didn’t know how long she’d been out when the persistent ping of rain against the window woke her up. She sat up with a jolt, blinking against the darkness as the wind howled like a wounded dog against the house. The low boom of thunder rolled in the distance. Another storm. Ugh! She sighed, hoping there wouldn’t be any tornadoes this time around.
The rain picked up, steady and relentless—a proper Texas gully washer. Giving up on sleep, she threw back the covers, got out of bed, and padded barefoot down the hallway to the kitchen. The tile was cold beneath her feet as she opened the fridge and reached for a bottle of water.
The low timbre of Brock’s voice nearly caused her to jump out of her skin.
“Couldn't sleep, huh? Me neither.”
She spun around with a shaky laugh, her hand going over her chest. “You scared me.”
He stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame in a worn t-shirt and gym shorts. His arms were crossed, bare feet planted on the floor like he owned the place. There was something jarring and wildly intimate about seeing him like this in her kitchen.
Her pulse stuttered.
She twisted the cap off and took a long sip of the cool liquid, trying to mask the flutter in her chest. Ever since they’d traded tense barbs at the cooking class earlier that evening, they’d hardly spoken a word to one another. She was so tired of all the tension between them. It took an enormous amount of energy to keep being so ticked at him all the time.
“You said you wanted to talk, so let’s get to it.”
A laugh hiccuped in her throat. He was so dang blunt. She didn’t know whether to be irritated or impressed. She matched his do-or-die tone. “Okay, let’s get to it.”
He pushed off the doorway and straightened to his full height.
“You want something to drink?” She motioned towards the fridge.
He gave her a crooked smile. “Nah. If I get thirsty, I’ll just grab a sip of yours.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You’re assuming I’m feeling generous.”
He chuckled, the mellow timbre of his rich voice warming the air between them.
They moved to the living room and sat down. She chose one of the overstuffed chairs.
Amusement colored his features. “Not taking your usual seat on the couch?”
“I didn’t want to mess up your bed.”
He came over and sat down in the seat beside her.
She took a long drink of water. On impulse, she handed the bottle to him. He took a swig and passed it back. The shared gesture was so normal that it made her throat tighten.
He sat back in his seat and propped his ankle on his thigh, giving her an expectant look. “Okay, talk.”
When she remained silent, he took over. “I’ll start.” He looked her in the eyes, his jaw sharp. “Are you really telling me that you’re lumping me trying to do the right thing by Trevor into the same category as you flirting with some guy right in front of me and rubbing my nose in it?”
She snorted. “Why do you think everything I do is about you? Maybe I was just enjoying Asher’s company. Ever think of that?”
The stormy expression on his face made her smirk inwardly. Good to know she could get a rise out of him.
Rain continued to batter the window, amplifying the tension between them.
Brock pushed out a short breath. “If I could go back and do things differently, I would.” Regret clouded his features. “How many times do I have to say that I’m sorry? What can I do to fix it?”
That’s how Brock operated. He diagnosed a problem and then jumped in to solve it. But this situation wasn’t cut and dry. Not by a long shot.
Emotion tightened her throat. “I don’t know,” she uttered. “I want to trust you. I’m just not sure that I can open up my heart again.” She swallowed, trying to get control of her emotions. “I don’t know if I have it in me.”
He reached over and gently took the water bottle from her hands. Placing it on the coffee table, he gathered her hands in his. “Jules, you and I both know that we’re meant to be together.”
His words held such certainty that they stole her breath. She’d believed that wholeheartedly when they first met and fell hard and fast for one another. Heck, a part of her still believed it, but she was petrified. She looked down at their clasped hands, which fit well together. Warmth from his skin seeped into hers, making her feel invigorated and off-kilter. Things were getting way too heated, so she did the only thing she could think to do. She carefully extricated her hands from his and clasped them tightly in her lap so she wouldn’t be tempted to reach for him. She had to change the subject—fast. “Wanna know what I found out about Asher?” She tilted her head and threw him a playful look. “Contrary to what you thought, I wasn’t just flirting. I actually learned something useful.”
He sat back in his chair, skeptical. “I’m listening.”
Good grief, he was tough. It was hard not to be intimidated by his directness. Brock was the type of guy who busted heads and then asked questions later. “Asher said someone broke into his house a few days ago.”
He creased his brow. “Really.”
She nodded, talking faster. “Get this—nothing was taken. A few things were moved around, but nothing was missing.”
“Did he call the police?”
“No. He thought maybe he was being paranoid. He said he’s in the process of updating his home security system because his current one glitches. He wasn’t able to capture anything on camera.”
Brock pressed his lips together. “We need to get this info to Leroy.”
She frowned. “Is Leroy even doing anything? He’s been tracking Steve Randall for a while and hasn’t uncovered anything.”
“Brock grimaced. “I like the guy, and he came highly recommended … but I’m starting to wonder about him too. We need to get some answers pronto.”
She tightened her jaw. “I agree.” Time was running out. She could feel it.
Luke’s heading back to Eagle Mountain Lake tomorrow. Now that he’s looking for the truck that Steve Randall is actually driving, maybe we’ll catch a break.”
“I hope so,” she murmured.
They sat in silence. Jules let her thoughts get consumed by the monotony of the falling rain.
A few minutes later, Brock spoke. “You looked like you were having fun tonight at the cooking class.”
She shrugged. “I guess I was. It was nice to just relax for once. And get a break from all the turmoil.”
His eyes hardened. “I don’t like him.”
A surprised laugh bubbled in her throat. “Who? Asher?” She read the answer on his face. She remembered that he’d said the same thing about Dean. “How can you say that? You don’t even know him.”
“There’s something off about him.”
She studied Brock’s razor-sharp jaw, noting the tension in his broad shoulders. She couldn’t help but be amused. “You mean there’s something off about him because he’s handsome and he’s into me?”
Brock didn’t skip a beat. “Yeah,” he challenged. “That’s exactly what I’m saying—on both accounts.” His intense eyes cut to hers. “I don’t like you with him.”
She straightened in her seat, ready to spar. “Last I checked, we weren’t together anymore. So you don’t get to decide who I spend time with.”
“That’s a real shame.” His voice was low and taut.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “It is.”
Determination masked his face. “I’m gonna have him checked out.”
Her eyes flew open wide. “What?”
He nodded without hesitation. “I’m going to have Leroy run a background check. If Dr. Asher Winslow has any skeletons hiding in his closet, we’ll find them.”
A brittle laugh fell from her lips. “Seriously? You’re putting this poor guy through the wringer? The last I checked, he was a victim, too.” She held up a finger. “Don’t forget—his house was broken into.”
“Look,” Brock said calmly, giving her an expression that had checkmate written all over it. “You know the drill; we make a point of checking out everyone who’s associated with you. That includes him. How long have you worked with Asher Winslow?”
She did a quick mental calculation. “I’ve been at the clinic a little over four years. He’s been there the entire time.”
“In all that time, has he ever shown any romantic interest in you?”
“I mean…” She paused, squinting in thought. “Not until recently.”
“Why now?”
She moistened her lips. “Well, he was engaged before, but they broke up. Maybe he’s looking for a fresh start. Maybe I just happened to be in his path by taking the same cooking class.” She chuckled. “Okay, Asher showed me a little attention, but it’s not like he professed his love.”
A flame shot from Brock’s eyes. “That had better not be the case.”
His protectiveness was unmistakable and kind of charming. “Brock Ellis,” she drawled with a coy smile, “I do believe you’re jealous.”
His answer came flying out. “You better believe I’m jealous. I’m jealous of anyone who makes a play for you.”
The way he said it—low, unguarded, fierce—stirred something inside her … something confusing. Pleasure? Frustration? A little of both, perhaps.
She gave a helpless laugh and flicked a hand. “You know what? Fine. Check him out. Have his whole family checked out, for all I care.”
“Maybe I will,” he fired back.
“Do it.”
Their eyes locked again. Seconds passed. The air between them was thick with unresolved tension, old hurts, and something far more dangerous—a desire lurking just below the surface like jagged rocks beneath turbulent water, ready to cut and injure if stepped on.
He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “When I saw you having a good time and enjoying some lighthearted conversation … well, I was frustrated,” he admitted softly. “Because it wasn’t with me. I just wish you could laugh like that with me.”
Laughter bubbled in her throat. It was certainly a night for admissions. Maybe her being more open had paved the way for him to do the same. “Brock, you’re a lot of things—but lighthearted is not one of them.”
He made a face. “Hey, I know how to have fun.”
Her eyebrows shot up.
“I can,” he insisted. “I’m a fun guy.”
“Prove it.”
“Oh, you want proof?”
“Definitely.”
“Okay then.” He sprang to his feet with the nimble lightness of a panther.
She giggled as he launched into a goofy dance that had Steve Urkel written all over it. This was a new side of Brock. She rather liked it. She pursed her lips. “You know, I thought Tippin had the market cornered on idiocy, but you’re running a close second.”
The corners of his mouth turned down. “You don’t like my dancing?”
She laughed harder, tears forming in her eyes. “It’s awful.”
“Okay, then dance with me.”
“Not when I’m still recovering from an injury.” She dabbed at the corners of her eyes.
His expression shifted to something more tender. “We’ll take it slow.”
“There’s no music.”
“We’ve got the rhythm of the rain.” He leaned forward and extended his hand, adventure sparkling in his dark eyes. “Come on. You might even enjoy it.”
Before her brain could process what she was doing, she slipped her hand into his.
He pulled her to her feet and then into his arms.
“Careful with the shoulder,” she warned.
His eyes moved over her in a slow caress that warmed her blood. “You’re in good hands.” As promised, he held her with care, one arm firmly around her waist, the other guiding her hand as they moved slowly. They weren’t really dancing but swaying. But something about the experience—his warmth, his fresh, clean scent—had her heart pounding to a hypnotic beat.
“How’s this?” he murmured, his breath tickling her ear.
“It’s a good start,” she uttered hoarsely.
Even though she would most likely regret this in the morning, she rested her head against his muscled chest and allowed herself to get lost in the moment. He was everything she’d ever wanted in a man—well, except for the part about him breaking her heart.
A critical question pinged through her, demanding to be voiced. Finally, she pulled back and peered up at him. “Brock, what are we going to do?”
“About Steve Randall?”
“No … about us.”
Time stood still as he gave her a measured look.
In the depths of his dark eyes, she saw both agony and hope.
“I guess that depends on you. Do you think you could give me another chance?”
She swallowed. “I want to … but I’m scared.” He didn’t realize how much it took for her to broach this topic—to show her vulnerability. In the bright light of day, she might not have worked up the nerve. But here, in the comfort of this dim lighting, with the storm raging outside, an opportunity had been provided.
The corners of his jaw flicked. “Okay, I’ll take that. For now.”
She nodded in relief, grateful that he wasn’t going to press her. “Let’s not make any promises. But live in the moment.”
A slow smile crept across his face. “You? Live in the moment? Jules, you’re the queen of planning.”
“True,” she acknowledged. “But planning hasn’t helped me much lately, so maybe I should just take a page out of Nikki’s playbook and go with the flow.”
He pulled her even closer.
She liked the feel of her body pressed against his. She liked it way too much. It wouldn’t take much for her to get lost in him. If only she could trust him with her heart.
“Like right now?”
Her breath hitched as he leaned in so agonizingly close.
A low, warm anticipation stirred in her belly. Her gaze lifted to meet his, and she instinctively parted her lips just before his mouth came down on hers. His kiss was soft at first—searching, uncertain—but then he deepened the interaction as she curled her arms around his neck and melded into him. Her world spun as emotion surged. They kissed long and hard, holding nothing back. This was what she’d missed. What she’d craved ever since she’d been apart from him.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless, a pleased smile broke over his face.
“I could get used to this living-in-the-moment thing.”
She laughed. “Yeah … maybe it’s not such a bad idea after all.”
He searched her face. “So where does this leave us?”
She shrugged. “Like I said … no promises. Let’s just get through this ordeal and see where we land.”
Disappointment flickered in his eyes, but he nodded. “Fair enough. Here’s to living in the moment,” he murmured as his lips captured hers once again.