Page 12 of Broncos and Ballads (Healing Springs Ranch #2)

Normal dating couples would probably even share the same room.

But after watching her mom casually sleep with so many men in an attempt to help her forget about her one true love, Venus had vowed she would never sleep with anyone except the man she married.

She’d been clear about that to all the men she’d dated.

She supposed that had something to do with why she limited the number of dates she went on, because most men pressured her for more than she was willing to give.

Whatever the case, it wouldn’t bother her if Brock stayed at the Plaza Athénée. They would return and go their separate ways, and that’s all there was to it.

She crossed to the limo and paused to study her reflection in the mirrorlike tinted window. A strange twinge of unease breezed over her. She fingered the low neckline of her gown and then one of her long waves.

How was it that a woman like her, who had nearly everything, couldn’t manage to earn the love of the man she wanted? What was wrong with her?

“Brock’s a terrific guy and a good sport,” Kristin said from the doorway. “Don’t take this too seriously, and just go and let yourself have a little fun.”

Venus nodded. Yes, that’s what she’d do. She’d enjoy a dinner out, try to have fun, and then she could forget all about Brock until next week.

During the short ride to Maxim’s, she could feel herself relaxing.

Kristin had been right about Brock being a terrific guy and a good sport.

No other man had ever sent a limo to pick her up for dinner, not even Reed.

And Reed could definitely afford it. Not only did he have his own money from his country music career, but his family was almost as wealthy as hers.

Not that Reed should have sent a limo for her.

Why would he make such a grand gesture for a friend?

Brock was only doing it to pretend to be in love with her so that he could repair his image, which hadn’t improved over the past week.

From what she could tell from the little she’d read on social media, everyone was still saying the same things, questioning why he was singing about love when he didn’t really know what it was.

He needed tonight to look authentic, and he needed their relationship to be more visible. She could do that for him, couldn’t she?

The limo pulled up in front of Maxim’s, and she was ushered out under the red awning.

She half expected Brock to be waiting for her so that he could draw the attention of fans and get more exposure for the “happy couple in love.” But he wasn’t anywhere visible as the ma?tre d’ led her through the exquisitely decorated restaurant.

The elegant restaurant on Rue Royale didn’t seem to be Brock’s style, but it was hers—and Reed’s. They’d gone on occasion and had enjoyed the iconic restaurant that had catered to celebrities, politicians, and other elite since 1893.

Filled with artwork on every wall and in every corner, the restaurant was a masterpiece unto itself. The furniture was all dark mahogany with red velvet surrounded by beveled mirrors, bronze foliage, stained glass, wall frescoes, and more.

The low lighting created a romantic ambiance, as did the live music coming from the bar. The tables were all full, as usual, the crystal and silver gleaming, the waft of lobster and roasted chicken in the air.

As she wound through the restaurant, most of the other guests refrained from staring at her. Since so many celebrities dined there, perhaps they were used to seeing popular faces. It was also possible that people might not know exactly who she was, even if they did recognize her face.

In a far corner, slightly more secluded than the others, Brock was already seated.

He was most definitely noticeable in his three-piece suit, this one a medium blue.

With his hair styled back and a slight layer of dark scruff on his face, he still looked rugged, like the cowboy at heart he claimed to be and was quite possibly the best-looking man in the entire restaurant.

As if sensing her presence, or perhaps simply checking for her to arrive, he glanced up from his phone. At the sight of her, he pushed back from the table and stood, slipping his phone away. He offered her his disarming, crooked grin at the same time that his dark eyes swept over her.

Oh, those eyes. Oh, oh, oh. Every time she saw Brock, the thick, warm brown won her over.

They were slay-me-now eyes that had the power to make a woman forget her own name.

Not her. They didn’t have that power over her.

But there was a reason he’d made People magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” issue last year.

He stepped toward her as though he meant to embrace her. Like a real dating couple would do after a week apart. But then he hesitated.

They absolutely had to hug. There couldn’t be a moment of hesitation, not even in Maxim’s, where most people were trying to ignore them and their reunion.

Instead of waiting for him to initiate, she closed the distance between them, wrapped her arms around him, and embraced him the way any girlfriend would.