Page 55

“She didn’t…”

“Once I managed to calm her down, I worked out what had happened. You told her we’d broken up,” he said, his voice perfectly even, which just made this worse.

“Seemed the best way to deal with imaginary boyfriends.”

“But I’m not imaginary.” He stepped forward, taking my hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “I’m right here.” He was so close I could feel the heat of his body on my skin, the brush of his shirt. “And you said you needed someone to be a buffer between your mother and you. I understand why now, because damn… I thought she was going to reach through the phone and tear my head off for rejecting you.”

I let out a shuddering sigh, forcing my eyes up to meet his.

“I’m sorry. She shouldn’t have?—”

His hand went to my jaw, his thumb resting on my lips, silencing me. Those amber eyes gazed into mine, forcing me to see the quiet amusement there, along with strength for days. It was why I’d always trusted him in the past, with my training, with my career.

“She doesn’t matter. You do. You needed help and you know I’ll always be there when you need it. Always. Even if…” His lips twitched. “We’ve broken up. Now, your parents are expecting us at a place by the beach in about an hour. Did you want to get dressed and go, or do I invent a work emergency to get you out of it?”

Typical bloody Brock, brushing past all the emotional bullshit and cutting to what needed to be done. Millie raised an eyebrow in question when I looked her way.

“Nothing’s changed. You, stop meddling.” I pointed at her and she nodded emphatically. “And you…” My determination faltered in the face of his even gaze. “This is still fake. Once the engagement party is over, we go back to the way things were, right?”

“Fake for you.” He shifted slightly. “I’m sorry we kept shit from you and I won’t do it again, but you need to know it’s only ever going to be fake for you. That doesn’t have to mean anything at all, not unless your feelings change, so get dressed. I don’t want to create a bad impression by turning up late.”

“So are we good?” Millie asked me, walking into my bedroom as I clawed through my clothes, looking for something smart but casual enough for brunch at a nice cafe.

“All part of hanging around you McDonalds right?” I asked, drawing out a pair of light-grey, tailored shorts and then grabbing a linen shirt off a hanger. “You’re all so damn bossy.”

“Because we care about you.” Her hand slapped down on my shoulder, holding me still. “Remember that whenever we piss you off. We might not do it right, but whatever we’re doing, it’s because we care.”

“Care about me with my consent,” I replied. “That’s the way we do this going forward. If you think you know better than me, stop and talk to me.”

“So you’re giving me permission to tell you what you should be doing?” Her grin was wicked as she plucked the shorts from my hands and then tossed them back into my wardrobe before pulling out a tan pair and some leather sandals. “You got it.”

I was cursing her out all the way to the front door, stopping only to grab a Nutella croissant. Millie smacked my hand away, then put the pastries into the fridge for later.

“You’re wearing a white shirt, which means you’ll get Nutella on it in four point five seconds. Wait until you’re at the cafe to spill something on it.”

I shot her a dark look, but it was true. White shirts lived a short but amazing life in my wardrobe.

“Ready?”

Brock held out his hand and I just stared at it for a second. Fake, it’s all fake, I thought, as I grabbed it and let him escort me to brunch.

Chapter 26

Brock

I didn’t expect Jamie to say yes.

I was wearing the clothes I used to wear to trade fairs, figuring they were parent friendly, but that didn’t prepare me for this feeling of unreality. I barely felt the steps as we ran down them, only her. Her fingers clenched tightly around mine as we got to the car park, and that’s when she saw my other surprise.

Millie might bring Jamie Nutella croissants, but I knew what really made my girl tick.

“Whoa…”

“Oh, nice, bro,” Millie said, sidling up to me as Jamie pulled free and walked towards my ride for the day. It was one my girl had never seen, a project I’d worked long into the night by myself. Her hands went up, as if the car was a wild beast and she needed to gentle it before she could take a ride, but it was going nowhere.

A‘73 Holden HQ GTS.

The golden paint glowed in the early morning sunlight, her eyes shining just as brightly as she stared at it.