Page 34 of Broncos and Ballads (Healing Springs Ranch #2)

Venus stood on the side stage of Brock’s concert, his first of the new year, the first after the past months of recording his newest album.

As the strains of his song came to an end, she joined the crowd in clapping for him.

The latest songs were his best. One of them was at the top of the Country Music Charts and had been since he’d released the single a few months ago.

Two other songs on the album were also in the top twenty.

With the album’s full release today, his manager and label had alerted him that he was having his highest sales to date.

Brock swiped off his cowboy hat, lifted it in the air, and gave the crowd his trademark grin.

It was the one that had made every woman fall in love with him since he’d first stepped onto the stage years ago and still made women scream for him everywhere he went…

even though Venus had tried to make it very clear over recent months that Brock was hers and hers alone.

Thankfully, Reed’s public announcements about her and Brock at his bachelor party hadn’t amounted to more than a small blip in the gossip and news.

The video that had been posted of Reed accusing her of staging a relationship with Brock had made the rounds on social media for a day or two.

But then they’d been overshadowed by all the other pictures fans had started taking of her and Brock together—a lot of them kissing, touching each other’s faces, holding hands, and some of them laughing and smiling together or just talking.

Brock had relished their efforts to prove their love, so much so that she’d had fun with it too.

She’d put forth her best effort to show the world how much she adored Brock McQuaid.

She’d enjoyed showering Brock with affection everywhere they went.

And he’d loved every minute of her attention, soaking it in as if she and her touches were the sustenance of his life.

Now, it seemed natural to always be touching or kissing or holding him. The world had accepted them as a couple, and everyone else had too, including Reed.

He’d called her and apologized the next morning, claimed he’d been tipsy when he’d blurted out the confidential information about her relationship with Brock.

He’d also admitted he’d been jealous that Brock was still so important to her.

When she’d asked Reed why he was opposed to Brock, he hadn’t been able to answer, hadn’t been able to list any concerns other than what he’d already said.

When he’d asked her to come back for the remainder of the weekend, she’d told him she needed time to sort through all that had happened and that he did too.

She almost hadn’t attended his wedding because he’d still been upset with her. But in the end, she and Brock had gone as guests, stayed for the ceremony and not the reception, and then left.

Eventually, she and Reed had had more conversations.

They’d confessed that once upon a time they’d harbored deeper feelings for each other, but for whatever reason, neither of them had been able to vocalize or act on those feelings.

They’d agreed that things had worked out the way they were supposed to, and they’d each be happier with someone else.

Their relationship hadn’t been the same since Los Cabos, but she’d accepted that it would have to change now that he was married and she was in a serious relationship.

The truth was, she was okay with the change and didn’t need Reed the same way anymore, because Brock was not only the man she loved but also her best friend.

And oh, she loved him.

As he set his hat back on his head, her heart squeezed hard at the sight of him in all his rugged charm on stage in front of the roaring crowd. He deserved the praise for such beautiful and heartfelt songs.

Songs she’d inspired.

She smiled. Brock gave her all the credit for his songs and music, said she was the inspiration behind everything he thought of and wrote.

But she also had seen firsthand just how much work went into producing the songs and then recording them.

Brock had labored tirelessly over the fall, mostly from his ranch outside of Nashville, where he could be close to his label and the studio there.

She’d had a busy fall too, traveling around the world as usual for more events and photo shoots than she’d ever had before.

She and Brock had spent as much time together as possible, meeting for long weekends or even for a day here and there.

They’d gone back to the Colorado ranch a couple of times and visited his family.

But the time with him was never enough, and she had begun to dread her trips and was tired of the traveling.

So a few weeks ago, she’d had a meeting with her agent and her agency and had come up with a new plan.

She’d just gotten word today, before flying to Atlanta for Brock’s concert, that her plan had been approved—a plan to open her own clothing and makeup lines, which would allow her to travel less and focus more on her new business.

She hadn’t told Brock about it yet and was waiting to do so until they were alone later tonight, maybe on one of their all-night dates that they still loved to do.

“Thank you, Atlanta!” Brock called again.

The crowd was still cheering, and Brock glanced at her on the side stage, then winked.

Her heart melted, and she couldn’t keep from thinking about the first concert of his she’d gone to in Berlin and how he’d winked at her then too.

“You want another song?” Brock asked the crowd.

The roars in response were deafening.

Brock nodded at his band, clearly having an encore ready. “This is a new song I wrote,” he said above the noise. “And nope, it’s not on my new album.”

That announcement brought more cheers.

He strummed his guitar, situating it in his arms. “Actually this is a very special song for a very special woman in my life.”

A special song? What was that about? Most of the time, Brock shared his new songs with her first, even before his band and his producer.

Venus could hear the shouts of her name coming from different places in the stadium. Everyone knew who the special woman in his life was, and she loved that they’d accepted her as his girlfriend and seemed to love her too.

As Brock’s bandmates joined in the melody, he strummed for a few more chords before leaning into the mic and singing the first line of the song.

“You were climbing up to heaven back where youbelong

But you slipped and fell, lucky for me I was comingalong

When I caught you I knew I had an angel in myhands

One sent straight from God to make me a betterman.”

The melody was so exquisitely beautiful and the strains so poignant that her heart tugged with longing—longing for Brock, for their love, for their life together.

“You deserve heaven, but all I have isearth,

I’ll spend eternity givin’ you everything you’reworth

Darlin’, you’re my angel, you’re mylife

So just tell me yes, you’ll be mywife.”

Venus’s breath caught. He wasn’t really asking her to be his wife, was he? He was just singing a song. And those were the lyrics.

He glanced her way, and something in his expression brought her racing thoughts to a halt. As he started the next stanza of the ballad, about how he’d stayed out all night, how the moonlight had created a halo over her head, and then how she’d become his inspiration, tears were pricking her eyes.

He was definitely singing about her.

While his songs had been inspired by their love, none had ever been quite so specific about their relationship. When he began the bridge and ended with the chorus, this time he stopped playing his guitar, set it aside, and lowered himself to one knee, facing her.

As he sang the words “So just tell me yes, you’ll be my wife,” he held out a small ring box and flipped it open.

Was this really happening? Here? Now? Was he proposing to her?

They’d talked about marriage on several occasions over the past months of officially dating.

The last conversation had been in Paris at the top of the Eiffel Tower a few weeks ago when he’d flown over to visit her for a weekend.

She’d told him she was ready to marry him and choose to commit to him forever.

Yes, choose. She knew she might always have some baggage from her past, but she wanted to push past it and make a life with Brock.

Clearly, Brock had taken their conversation to heart.

The crowd was going wild again.

She could only press her hands to her heart and stare at Brock.

He grinned at her and waited.

Ella Mae, who’d been standing close and was now beaming, gave Venus a nudge. “Well, go on out there.”

Venus had dressed casually for the concert, just a pair of ripped Levi’s and a bulky cream sweater along with the cute cowboy boots Brock had bought for her during one of her trips to Nashville.

She wasn’t wearing an elegant gown, and this wasn’t an elegant party.

It was better. It was from Brock’s heart and full of his love. And she couldn’t ask for anything more.

With a thrill building inside her, she crossed out of the darkness of the side stage, her gaze never once leaving Brock’s.

As she stepped onto the main stage and began to make her way to Brock, the crowd was again deafening, nearly delirious with their happiness at being present to witness Brock McQuaid proposing.

She stopped in front of him, still clutching her heart.

From his spot on one knee, he peered up at her with his gentle brown eyes. “Darlin’, I love you. Will you make me the happiest man alive by agreeing to marry me?”

She could hardly hear Brock over the cheering, but she heard enough.

“Yes!” she shouted while holding out her hand. “I’ll be your wife!”

As she repeated the lyrics to his newest song, his grin turned up even higher into that million-dollar hunk smile that always made her stomach flip.

In the next instant, he was slipping a ring on her finger, an elegant oval diamond that was tasteful and perfect and just her style. She held it out and examined it on her finger. Brock was back on his feet and pulling her into his arms.

She went to him willingly and hugged him with all the love that she’d never known she could feel for one man.