Witness (8 page)

“It was good. Next time you’ll come.”

“I will, huh?”

“Definitely.” He settled the blanket tighter around her.

She smiled sleepily. “Thanks for the text.”

“You’re welcome.” He raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you text me back?”

“I wanted you to have some space.”

“Aw, babe, I don’t need space from you.”

She giggled quietly. “I think that might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“Better than ‘I love you’?”

“Close.”

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Do you want to go to bed?”

“Not alone.”

“I can’t, babe. Not with Dal here.”

“Oh, right. What about “falling asleep” together on the sofa?” she asked. “And maybe a little heavy petting under cover.”

Brock chuckled. “Borderline, but I’m game. I’ll get changed.”

Brock walked back to his room and pulled on a T-shirt and shorts, heading back to the family room. He stretched out on the sofa and waited for Bailey to settle in front of him before pulling the blanket over both of them and “accidentally” falling asleep with his hand cupping her breast.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“W
HERE’S
B
ROCK
?” B
AILEY
asked as she wheeled her bag out into the foyer. Two days had passed since her announcement of the plan, and she preemptively decided it needed to happen, even though the plan still didn’t have firm date.

“Out,” Jaxon said. He sat in Bailey’s favorite chair, his long legs crossed at the ankles resting on the coffee table in front of him. Yet another football game was on…how they found them when it wasn’t even football season, she didn’t know.

“So, so helpful, Jax. Thanks.”

He grinned. “You’re welcome.”

“But, seriously, where is he?”

“Seriously. He didn’t tell me.”

“He’s not going to bail on the plan, is he?”

“It’s a good plan, Bailey.”

“Again, doesn’t really answer my question, Jax.”

Jaxon cocked his head with a smile. “He’s not going to bail on the plan, Bailey. He’s not happy you’re involved in it, but he won’t bail on it.”

She nodded and sat on the sofa facing the agent. He had dark hair, the greenest eyes she’d ever seen, and he was tall and big. Taller and bigger than Brock, but not quite as pretty with his chiseled jaw and very patriarchal nose. “You really play guitar?”

“I really play guitar.”

“For how long?”

“So, this is what we’re doin’, huh?” he asked and paused the television.

“What?”

“You want to talk, apparently.”

“No. Sorry. We don’t need to talk.”

He unpaused the television and Bailey focused on the screen.

For about twenty seconds. “Do you play in a band?”

Jaxon paused the screen again. “I’ve been playing since I was twelve and no, haven’t played in a band for a while.”

“How come?”

“Because I can’t commit to gigs when I can be called in at anytime, for any reason, for an indeterminate amount of time.”

“Do you play country?”

He sneered. “Hell, no.”

“What’s wrong with country? I love country.”

“No you don’t. You love the studio processed pop shit that Nashville tries to pawn off on law-abiding, and some non-law-abiding, Americans.”

“You don’t like
any
country?”

“I like Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, and I might have given Jason Maxx props back in the day, but his new stuff is auto-tuned shit and it overshadows the fact he’s a kick-ass guitar player.”

Jason Maxx was currently the number one country male artist in the world.

“I love Jason Maxx,” she said.

“You would.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she challenged.

“You think he’s fine and his hair is gorgeous,” he said in a girly, sing-songy voice. “Right?”

She giggled. “Well, yeah, but I also think he has a great voice and can write a catchy tune.”

“Babe, his voice is so processed, it’s not even funny.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he said. “Granted, he never said he was a singer, and he really is one of the best guitarists around, but his voice is most definitely auto-tuned. They all are.”

She settled her chin in her hand. “So what’s your thing?”

“My thing?”

“Yeah. Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Wife?”

“Hell, no.”

“Kids?”

“No again,” he said, his expression growing amused.

“What’s your type?”

He studied her for several seconds. “Bailey? What are you doing?”

“Just trying to get to know you.”

“Well, stop it.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Because I see that look in your face and you look like you want to set me up.”

She gasped. “I do not.”

“Okay,” he said, unbelieving.

Both their heads focused on the door when Brock walked inside. He glanced down at Bailey’s suitcase, frowned at it, scowled at Jaxon, and then headed toward the back of the house.

Bailey stood and followed him, leaving Jaxon to his football. She found Brock in the bedroom he was assigned to and watched him from the doorway. “Everything okay?” she asked.

He nodded and pulled off his T-shirt before combing the closet and selecting a button-up.

Before he could cover up the beauty that was Brock, she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him. “What’s wrong?”

She felt his breath leave his body and gave her a gentle squeeze. “We have to do this.”

“I know that already.”

“No, I mean, it came down from the top. We have to do this. Jaxon went over my head.”

She raised her head and leaned back. “He went over your head?”

Brock nodded.

“Wow.”

“That’s one word for it,” he said with a sneer.

“Can we talk?” Jaxon asked from the doorway.

“No, but you can fuck off,” Brock replied.

Jaxon crossed his arms. “If you take a minute to listen and think, you’ll see I did not go over your fucking head, Brock.”

“So, telling Matt the plan wasn’t going over my head?”

“Who’s Matt?” Bailey asked.

“No, Brock,” Jaxon stressed. “Matt and I were at the parents for dinner…”

“You told your parents?” he bellowed.

“No. Just listen,” Jaxon snapped, and stepped further into the room.

“Who’s Matt?” Bailey repeated.

“Matt figured something was up. I told him some of the plan…not all of it, and I sure as hell didn’t tell him about her,” Jaxon said, pointing to Bailey.

“Who’s Matt?” she asked again.

“Bailey!” Jaxon snapped.

Brock was on Jaxon within a heartbeat. His hand wrapped around his friend’s neck and Jaxon shoved up against the wall. “You ever fucking talk to her like that again and you and I are gonna have a problem.”

Jaxon raised his hands in surrender, not even trying to defend himself. “Sorry, Bailey.”

Brock released him and Jaxon put some distance between them.

“I’m gonna take Bailey out to dinner and you and I’ll talk when we get back,” Brock said.

“We’re going out?” she asked, trying to keep some of the excitement from her voice.

“Is that a good idea?” Jaxon challenged.

Brock held a hand up in warning toward him and turned to Bailey. “Yes, we’re going out. Dallas is coming with us, as is Macey.”

“Are they dating?” she asked.

“Babe, go put something cute on and we’ll talk about it on the way.”

He didn’t have to ask her twice. She was out of the room, into the foyer for her suitcase, and back to the master bedroom in record time. She heard Brock and Jaxon arguing, but they moved out of the bedroom next to her, so she wasn’t privy to the conversation.

Having chosen her favorite Silver jeans from Maurice’s, a flowy, see-through blouse with a lace cami under it, and her favorite pair of Jimmy Choo’s, she put on a little make-up, ran a brush through her hair and made her way to the great room.

Jaxon let out a low whistle, Dallas said, “Wow,” and Brock smiled a sexy smile as his eyes raked over her.

“Gorgeous,” he said.

She bit her lip. “You didn’t tell me where we were going, so I hope this is okay.”

Brock held his hand out to her and she joined him at the kitchen island. He slid his arms around her waist and kissed her temple. “You are perfect.”

She smiled up at him. “Where are we going?”

“Mother’s.”

“Oooh, I
love
that place.”

He gave her a squeeze. “Two hours, tops,” he said to Jaxon.

“I’m following.”

“That’s fine. We’ll pick Macey up and then head to the restaurant.” He smiled down at Bailey. “Ready?”

“So, so ready!”

Brock chuckled as he grabbed her hand and led her through the garage door and into the back of the black SUV.

CHAPTER TWELVE

B
ROCK
C
LIMBED
I
NTO
the back of the SUV, so that Dallas could drive. Brock pushed Bailey toward the middle of the bench seat and sat beside her, linking his fingers with hers.

“How are we able to do this?” she asked as Dallas backed out of the garage.

“Since your parents know where you are, but don’t really know who
we
are, the heat’s died down a bit,” Brock said without further information.

Bailey didn’t really care, so she didn’t press. She hadn’t been out of the house, other than the backyard and the doctor’s office, in over a month. She smiled at Brock. This was a date. A
real
date. Things were looking up.

Dallas pulled up to a little home in downtown Portland and climbed out of the car.

“Is there another reason the heat’s died down?” Bailey asked once she and Brock were alone.

Brock frowned. “Why would you ask that?”

“Not born yesterday, Brock.”

He sighed. “The heat has shifted to Vermont.”

“My parents?” she asked, her heart dropping into her stomach. “Are they okay?”

“They’re safe, baby.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know.”

“You did something.”

He nodded. “I did something.”

“Okay,” she said, trusting him. She pulled her hand from his, cupped his cheeks, and kissed him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

She wiped her lipstick from his mouth. “I kind of love you.”

He chuckled. “I kind of love you too.”

The passenger door opened and Macey climbed inside while Dallas held the door for her. “Hi guys.”

“Hi, Mase,” Brock said. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks, babe,” she said, and Dallas closed her door.

Dallas jogged to the driver’s seat and pulled away from the curb.

“You look great, Bailey,” Macey said. “How do you feel?”

“I feel really good. Thanks for asking.”

Macey turned back to the front and Bailey raised an eyebrow at Brock and nodded toward the couple.

Later
, he mouthed.

Bailey wrinkled her nose, but dropped it.

Arriving at the crowded restaurant, Bailey was pleasantly surprised to find a reservation had been made and they were shown to their table as soon as they walked up to the hostess.

Dallas and Brock held their chairs and waited for her and Macey to sit down before taking their seats. Brock settled an arm behind her, stroking her shoulder and generally making her feel adored. After the ladies ordered a bottle of wine, the waiter left them and Bailey leaned closer to Brock, her hand on his thigh.

“How long have you all known each other?” Bailey asked.

“High school,” they answered in unison.

“I was one year behind these two, and Alec was two years ahead of them, so I have always been the irritating little sister.” Macey smiled. “Brock’s younger sister is my best friend.”

Dallas and Brock said nothing and Macey flicked Dallas’s ear.

“What the hell was that for?” Dallas asked.

“Because the correct answer should have been, ‘No, Mase. You were never irritating. You are gorgeous and amazing and the light to our darkness.’”

Bailey covered a giggle.

“No, Mase. You were never irritating. You are gorgeous and amazing and the light to our darkness,” Dallas droned.

“Better.” Macey smiled and sipped her wine.

Bailey watched as the three friends talked, and for whatever reason, it made her think of Ali, which in turn, brought tears to her eyes and she tried to blink them away.

“Guys,” Brock said. “If you’ll excuse us for a second.”

“Sure,” Macey said, and Dallas nodded.

Brock held his hand out to Bailey who took it and followed him outside and around the corner, past the food trucks and into the parking lot where he pulled her into his arms. “What’s up, baby?”

“I just started thinking about how close you guys are and it made me think of Ali.” She forced a smile. “But I’m okay.”

He leaned down and kissed her. “We’re going somewhere alone tonight, so we can talk about anything you want to.”

“We are? Where?”

“Surprise.”

“Please tell me you’re gonna put a ring on my finger and that you bought condoms.”

Brock burst out laughing.

“I didn’t mean that to be funny,” she said.

“I know baby,” he said, still laughing. “I love you.”

“I’m rethinking whether or not I love you.”

“No you’re not,” he said, and kissed her again. “And do you know why you’re not?”

“Why?”

“Because you know tonight’s gonna blow your mind.”

“I heard the first time sucks.”

“It won’t with me.”

Bailey shivered. God, she hoped not.

“Better?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes. And starving.”

“Well, let’s get my girl some food, then.”

* * *

Bailey had a tough time concentrating on the food and conversation after Brock’s revelation that they would finally be alone. She’d wanted this since the night he’d informed her he was going to marry her. No, that wasn’t true, she’d wanted it longer than that.

Brock seemed to sense her distraction and carried most of the conversation without her, once again proving how perfect he was for her.

When it was time to go, she nearly knocked her chair over when she stood. Brock gave her a private smile and took her hand as they walked back to the car. Dallas drove them to the Sentinel hotel and, after saying goodnight, Brock opened her door for her and she slid out of the car, taking his hand again as he led her to their room. They didn’t speak and Bailey took the time to just feel the anticipation.

Brock opened the door and stepped back for her to precede him. She did so and smiled. A large king-sized bed with an upholstered headboard and soft bedding sat against the wall next to a large window. Bailey barely got a chance to admire the luxury before she was swept into Brock’s arms and settled on the bed.

She giggled, running her hands through his hair. “How did you manage this?”

“My sister helped.”

She craned her head away from his kiss. “She knows about me.”

He smiled, stroking her cheek. “My whole family knows about you.”

Bailey pushed him away and slid off the bed. “Your whole family knows about me and your sister booked us a hotel room.”

He leaned up on his forearm with a smile. “Yes.”

“Oh, my,
god
.”

Bailey paced the room muttering “Oh my god,” several times, while Brock watched her with a goofy smile. “What?” she snapped.

He patted the bed. “Come here, baby.”

“No. No way.”

“Why not?”

“Because your parents are going to think I’m a whore.”

He scowled. “No they won’t.”

“You’ve known me for just over a month, you had your
sister
book a hotel room so we could get it on, and your whole family knows it. I’m a whore.”

Brock’s shoulders shook as he looked away from her.

“This is not funny,” she snapped.

He slid off the bed, still laughing, damn him, and slid his hand to cup the back of her neck. “No one, and I mean
no one,
will ever think you’re a whore, least of all my family. They are going to love you.”

“But they know about me.” She stared at him. “You don’t think I should meet them first? Make sure they approve?”

“Bailey. Trust me when I say that they are going to love you. And no, I don’t think you need to meet them first, because you and I are separate from them. If by some off-chance reason, and I do mean
off
-chance, they don’t like you, it means nothing to me.” He smiled. “I love you. I can’t live without you. That’s it. Simple as that.”

She licked her lips. “You can’t live without me?”

“Nope.”

“What did your sister say when you had her book the room?”

“She nearly lost her mind.” He chuckled and nodded to the corner of the room where champagne sat in an ice bucket on the table. “She did that.”

“She nearly lost her mind? Why?”

“Because the last time I talked about a woman with any seriousness, I was sixteen and thought myself in love with my high-school girlfriend.”

“Oh.”

“And, I haven’t been with anyone in almost five years.”

She narrowed her eyes. “No one?”

“No one.”

“No sex, no nothing?”

“No sex, no nothing.”

She bit her lip. “What if you’re out of practice?”

Brock laughed, leaning down to kiss her. “That’s where communication comes in. You tell me what you like and don’t like and I’ll go from there.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, baby, tonight’s all about you.” Brock slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small leather box. “But first.” He knelt in front of her and opened the box. “Will you marry me?”

Inside the box sat a simple three-stone diamond engagement ring in white gold. The center stone was an oval diamond with smaller diamonds on either side.

“Brock, it’s stunning.” She glanced at him and back to the ring.

“We can return it if you don’t like it.”

“Baby, I love it,” she said.

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

She nodded. “Yes. It’s a yes.”

He stood, prying the ring from the box and sliding it onto her finger. It fit perfectly. “Are you sure, baby?”

She squeezed his chin. “I couldn’t have designed one better than this, Brock. It’s incredible.”

“And what about tonight?” he asked.

“You said you’d surprise me.”

“I did say that, but I need you to know that I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

“What I don’t want you to do is chicken out.”

Brock raised an eyebrow. “Chicken out?”

“We’ve determined you’re out of practice…”

With a growl, he lifted her and, after pulling back the covers, settled her on the bed. “I better get to studying then.”

She giggled and reached for him. Brock covered her body with his and kissed her, sliding his fingers into her hair and holding her to him. She kicked her shoes off and left them where they fell before reaching for the buttons on his shirt.

“Wait, baby,” he said, and sat up.

“What’s wrong?” She sat up as well.

“I won’t survive you stripping me, babe.” He undid the buttons on his shirt and slipped it off, while removing his shoes, socks, and jeans. He stood in front of her in a pair of tight, black boxer briefs and she licked her lips at the sight. “Okay, you doing that isn’t helping.”

She giggled pulling her blouse off.

“Wait, baby.”

“What now?” she asked, her irritation rising. “If you’re getting naked, I want to get naked.”

He chuckled. “Feisty.”

“I’ll show you feisty if you don’t get your ass in this bed.”

He set a knee on the bed and then hovered over her, leaning down to kiss her neck. “Are we a little impatient, baby bird?” He lifted her cami and kissed her stomach.

She shivered. “Very impatient.”

He pushed her camisole up over her breasts and pulled one side of her bra down. “We’re gonna take this slow, baby.”

“I don’t want to take it slow.”

“I get that,” he said, and removed her camisole completely. “But it’s gonna happen.”

He wrapped an arm around her back and pulled her over him, giving him the chance to unhook her bra and slide it from her arms.

“Gorgeous.” He drew a nipple into his mouth before unbuttoning her jeans.

“Oh, for the love of god,” she snapped, and yanked her jeans off before rolling him on his back and straddling his hips.

Brock laughed. Actually laughed at her.

“Why are you laughing?”

He slid his hands to her hips, his fingers playing with the lace on her pink, satin panties. “Because you’re unbelievably predictable and so fucking cute when you’re being predictable.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You do realize that you’re wrinkling your nose at me while straddling my hips and gracing me with a view of the most incredible set of breasts ever?”

“Why am I predictable?”

He sat up so they were chest to chest, her legs still straddled against him. “You’re predictable because I knew you were going to want to get down to business.”

“How did you know that?” she asked, but it came out in a woosh when he took her nipple in his mouth again.