Turning my cheek to hide the smile, I immediately thought of what Brock had said that night in his car. He hadn’t wanted me to hide my smile, but he really didn’t understand. Maybe Grady would, but six years of habit were hard to break. I bit back a sigh. My gaze flickered back to Grady, but stopped on the hostess desk.

There was a man standing there, his back to where we sat. He was tall and broad shouldered, and there was something about the way he stood that caused my stomach to dip like I was on a rollercoaster, about to drop down a steep hill.

My eyes narrowed as Grady talked about raising sheep or milking cows or something. The man at the desk . . . There was something so familiar—

No. No way in hell.

I felt my heart stop as the hostess approached the waiting area, her eyes all big and doe-eyed, and the man turned sideways. I saw the profile, and about fell out of my chair.

It was Brock.

It was really Brock.

“Oh my fucking God,” I whispered.

Grady’s chin jerked up, but I barely saw him. “Excuse me?”

I didn’t normally take the Lord’s name in vain, but I had a feeling Jesus and Moses and Mary and everyone at this point totally understood my response.

What was he doing here? Had I mentioned where I was having dinner with Grady? Possibly? I mean, I could’ve in random conversation. I had to have, because I couldn’t picture Brock being that much of a stalker, because that was like leveling up in the stalker arena.

“Jillian?”

Blinking, I focused on Grady as my heart felt like it was trying to crawl its way out of my throat. “I’m sorry?”

He frowned as he leaned forward. “Are you okay?”

Clearing my throat, I nodded as I hoped and prayed Brock didn’t see us. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I just, um, remembered something I needed to do for work.”

A small smile played over his lips. “Sounds like it was important.”

I glanced over his shoulders, spying Brock talking to the hostess. “Yeah. It’s really important.”

“Hopefully it’s not another work dinner you’ve forgotten about.”

Had I? Because that was most definitely Brock and he was by himself—oh my God, was he turning this way? I almost wanted to dive under the table, but that would be weird, so I hastily looked down at my plate, upping my prayers that he wasn’t coming to the table. That there was no way Brock would be—

I peeked up through my lashes and saw his dark head over the high walls separating the tables, getting closer and closer, and I knew deep in my very core that Brock was coming to this table.

Chapter 19

Chapter 19