A tiny, hidden part of me was kind of proud. Knowing what I did in there made me feel empowered—sexy. I hadn’t felt sexy in like, well, forever, it felt like.

But it was Brock’s influence. He just had that magnetism that had made a score of really smart women willingly do really bad and not so smart things. What if someone had walked into his office? What if it had been Paul? He already had about a pinky’s worth of respect for me.

I was going to blame Brock for my behavior.

As I packed Tuesday night for the trip home, I was a little nervous. It wasn’t that long of a drive. A little over three hours, so the chances of Rhage doing something horrific to Brock’s Porsche were slim. At least, I hoped, but I was more worried about how my family would perceive what was going on between Brock and me. Us riding up together already had to have the whole group gossiping like a bunch of old women.

Mainly because we hadn’t labeled what we were, even though Brock obviously had plans for us in the future—plans that involved catsup bottle festivals.

So I figured we’d play it cool. Like we were friends and nothing more at this point. Maybe I’d tell my mom we were dating. That didn’t sound too serious. I just didn’t want them to think we were together, together in case everything spectacularly blew up in our faces.

Like I couldn’t help but expect it to.

I hated that part of me, but that didn’t change the fact that part existed nor erased the shadow of unease that warned me that what was happening between us wasn’t real.

* * *

Brock arrived early Wednesday morning, a baseball cap pulled down low, shielding his face as he stepped into my apartment carrying a bag of fresh doughnuts and coffee.

“You’re amazing,” I told him, still half-asleep as I snatched the bag out of his hand.

“That I know.”

Peeling open the carton, I practically moaned at the sugary goodness that awaited me.

“Since I’m amazing, I should get a kiss.” He reached up, turning his hat so it was on backward. “Don’t you think?”

I thought that maybe he didn’t need a reason for a kiss. Tipping my head up, I waited but he stopped short. I opened my eyes.

“Smile for me.”

I bit down on my lip. “Brock.”

“Come on,” he coaxed, grinning. “I brought you coffee and doughnuts. I get a smile and a kiss.” When I didn’t move, he placed his hands on my shoulders and squeezed gently. “Smile, Jilly.”

Rolling my eyes, I didn’t know why it was such a big deal for me, because I knew he’d seen my smile over the last couple of days. However, I hadn’t really been thinking in those moments.