Page 11 of Denim & Diamonds

February

Group therapy sessions were the worst. While I definitely found some value in my one-on-one appointments and also some of the relaxation classes here, the group sessions were different.

They consisted of a bunch of people talking over each other, one big brain dump of thoughts and feelings, without us ever really getting anywhere.

I had enough issues of my own without having to spend time working out other people’s problems. And there was rarely a common denominator among us.

Morgan complained about her social media exhaustion and depression from having “low views.” Stephanie from Boston lamented that she’d woken up this morning and couldn’t get a certain song out of her head.

So now she thought she was going crazy and it would be stuck there forever.

Angie from Baltimore was feeling disconnected from reality, like she was outside of her own body.

I hadn’t said a word this morning and wished I could somehow get out of this session .

As if the universe heard my plea, my secret phone buzzed in my purse. I looked around, hoping no one had heard the vibration. Going to check it would be my excuse to leave this miserable session.

“Excuse me.” I stood. “I have to use the bathroom.”

I escaped from the group therapy room and checked my phone out in the hall. Much to my delight, it was a text from Brock—the first since he’d given me the cell two days ago.

Brock: Any chance you could sneak away during daylight hours? Or are you perpetually a vampire?

February: There’s a first time for everything. What did you have in mind?

Brock: I’d like to offer a getaway car if you can swing a daytime escape.

February: Where would we be going?

Brock: It’s a surprise.

February: Give me a hint.

The dots moved around as he typed.

Brock: You might end up getting sticky.

Sticky.

Hmm... Sex was sticky…

Imagining his body on mine, I got a chill down my spine. Sticky, hot, sweaty. Something told me that wasn’t the kind of stickiness I’d be getting, though. I knew better.

February: Sounds naughty.

Brock: LOL. Get your mind out of the gutter, Red. This is actually the most innocent place you could imagine .

February: Should’ve known with you.

Brock: What’s that supposed to mean?

February: Just that you’ve been nothing but a Boy Scout since we met.

Brock: Lord knows you’re not making it easy.

February: How do I dress for this sticky outing?

Brock: Casual.

February: I can be ready in twenty minutes. But I’ll need some help sneaking out.

Brock: I can park outside your window next to the ladder and be on the lookout. I’ll text you when it’s safe to come down.

A half-hour later, after announcing to the center staff that I was feeling ill and retreating to my room for the rest of the day, Brock texted that the coast was clear outside.

I climbed down the ladder carefully and ran to his truck. Brock took off fast. Escaping in broad daylight felt even more dangerous than doing so at night.

When I turned to look at him, all I could think was holy hell . Brock was wearing a baseball cap backward. Pieces of his longish, brown hair stuck out of the opening at the front. I could’ve sworn the muscles between my legs tightened. He looked so freaking hot.

“The hat suits you.”

“Happy you approve,” he said, glancing at me before returning his eyes to the road. “And once again, you didn’t bring a jacket.”

I looked down at myself. “Whoops.”

He winked at me. “It’s all right. I’ve got you.”

God, why does he look sexier than ever today? “Okay, so now you need to tell me where we’re going…”

“Well, seeing as though you’re only in town for a limited time, I was thinking it would be a shame if you didn’t get to see more of it.”

It touched me that he wanted to show me around. But it wasn’t the town I wanted to see more of. It was him . “So…come on. Tell me where we’re going.”

He flashed me a smile. “The fair.”

My mouth dropped open. “Like a carnival?”

“Yep. Except ours is legendary and probably better than your average carnival.”

“Oh my God.” I clapped. “Are you serious? I’m so happy right now.”

“Just a warning…” He smirked.

“What’s that?”

“I’m pretty much a master at the ring toss—and all the other games, for that matter. So prepare yourself for defeat.”

“As long as I get to keep the giant stuffed animal you win, we’re good.”

“Not sure you’ll be able to take that back to the City, but I plan to win you one anyway.”

“You can keep it at your place. It will give me a reason to come back and visit. Oak needs a friend in the bathtub.” I winked.

He laughed. “Oak would violate it, and you’d never see it in the same condition.”

Wish Brock would take some lessons from his dog. I sighed.

Brock was probably the manliest man I knew, but something about his vibe today gave off boyish charm. It had to be that damn backward hat .

My excitement grew as we pulled up to the fair. Spotting a Ferris wheel always gave me chills. There was something so magical about it.

Brock found a spot for his truck, and we walked together to the entrance.

The moment we stepped through, the smell of fried dough and popcorn became all-consuming. My stomach growled as nostalgia came over me. While the carnivals I’d been to as a kid weren’t quite as large as this, I was immediately taken back to my childhood.

But unlike my childhood, the most popular attraction here? Brock Hawkins. Everywhere I looked, women stared at us. Brock and I continued to be watched as we waited in line at the ticket booth.

I cleared my throat. “What’s the deal with all the people staring at us?”

He looked around. “Who?”

“Well, women, mostly.” I surveyed the area. “You really don’t notice it?”

He shrugged. “Can’t say I do.”

“You’re pretty oblivious, then. The women here seem very interested in you. Any idea why?” I knew why. But I still wanted to see what he said, whether he’d admit what a catch he was.

Brock shrugged. “I guess they have nothing better to do.”

I slapped his arm playfully. “Do you not realize what a hot commodity you are?”

“If you mean because I have money, I guess that’s sad.”

“It’s not just that, Brock. You’re the whole damn package. A good-looking man with a good head on his shoulders—and yes, one who makes a good living—is not easy to find. These women are salivating.” Heck, so am I.

“Well, I guess they’re also probably drawing some conclusions right now, aren’t they? Seeing as though I’m with you. I bet that’s also why they’re staring. They’re wondering what the deal is with us.”

Join the club. I chuckled. “Well, I’m happy to play the role of most-hated woman in town until I leave.”

When we finally got to the front of the line, Brock asked for two-hundred tickets.

My eyes widened. “Two hundred? What the heck are we going to do with that many?”

Brock grinned. “We’re gonna have some fun, Red.”

There was that boyish charm again—the magic of the hat. I was here for it.

Brock reached for my hand, and I got goose bumps as I practically skipped alongside him. His touch warmed my entire body. Finishing this stint at Sierra would be much easier if I weren’t so damn attracted to this man in every way.

Over the next couple of hours, Brock and I played countless games, ate our way through the fair, and rode the Ferris wheel.

And yes, we used every single last one of those tickets.

Brock won me a giant stuffed cow, which we walked back to his truck so we didn’t have to carry it around.

Pretty sure I was going to have Brock take it home to Oak and tell him to have fun with it.

How the hell could I climb the ladder with that thing anyway?

Eventually the afternoon sun gave way to a golden evening, and a chill took over the air. Without me having to ask, Brock took off his flannel, wrapping it around my arms and enveloping me in his intoxicating smell. Wearing his shirt was becoming one of my favorite rituals.

“I feel like it wouldn’t be a day with you if I didn’t end up wearing one of your flannels.”

“That’s because you never wear a damn jacket.”

“There’s not even a little part of you that likes me wearing your shirt?”

His jaw ticced. “I can’t say I mind the way it smells when you give it back.” He sighed. “Don’t mind it at all.”

Satisfied with that answer, I closed the shirt over my chest. “I’ve had a lot of good days in my life, Brock. But this one might have made my top ten.”

“Well, damn. I’m honored.” He smiled.

“I feel like I’m in a movie. This town is like a place you go to forget about your troubles.”

“That’s an illusion,” Brock countered. “Want to know the reality?”

“Okay…”

“The fair is a nice escape, but I know many of the people here. And some of them don’t have a pot to piss in. They probably save up for weeks just to afford to enjoy themselves for one day here.”

“Well, that’s very sad, actually.”

He nodded. “And I can probably point to any person here who seems happy and tell you a story about them that would surprise you.”

“What about him?” I challenged, pointing to an old man sitting on a bench. He was eating cotton candy and seemed content.

“That’s Randy Lindley. Lost his wife earlier this year. Used to always see them around town together. It’s like his other half is missing now. This is his first season here without her. ”

That’s so sad. “Oh.” I frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He pointed to a cute little girl who looked to be about five or six. “See her? She doesn’t know it, but her father is cheating on her mother. Saw him down at the bar the other night with a woman who wasn’t his wife, Josephine.”

My stomach sank. “Jesus, that’s horrible.” Just the thought gave me PTSD and reminded me of my own dad.

I pointed to a random woman. “What about her?”

“Cheryl Brown. Her husband was injured while on active duty. He uses a wheelchair now. Doing okay, but they have a ton of medical bills. Three kids.” Brock shook his head. “Bryce deserved better than that.”