Page 43 of Fully Loaded
“Oh my god, I’m so stuffed,” she said with a laugh. She rubbed her distended stomach but didn’t regret a single bite. “That bread was incredible. I’ve never had anything like it.”
“Mmm. Best steak I’ve ever had.”
His thumb churned in circles over her skin. She tilted her head back to stare at his profile. “What are you thinking?”
He brought his glass to his lips and drank then returned it to the bar table nearest him on the deck. They could have taken one of the few open tables, but standing at the railing taking in every inch of the skyline would make it easier to commit the moment to memory.
A vein bulged at his temple and then returned to normal. “I was thinking how fucked up this week started—well, still is, I guess—and how incredible it is to be here right now despite our circumstances.”
A warm smile pulled at her lips. She turned her face toward the dark sky. No need to show him how happy being with him made her. Not until she could figure out these emotions. For god’s sake, this was Brock. Her ex, her rival, the man who’d broken her heart. He’d done more for her in the last few months than anyone had, aside from Serena. But what if they tried at a relationship again and failed? That would suck big time.
“We definitely made a great evening out of a horrible situation.” She reached across him and set her empty glass on the table. “Let’s go downstairs. They’re going to light the tower soon. I can’t wait to see it lit.”
His arm secured her to his side. “I’ve got a question for you first.”
She rested her back against the railing and his hands went to the wrought iron at her sides, caging her in.
“What’s that?”
“What would you do differently? If you weren’t”—he lowered his face to hers and darted his gaze around as if someone might overhear—“you know. A thief.”
She caught his jacket in her hands and tilted her head back to stare at him. He watched her carefully, his eyes lit with amusement, but the rigid skin of his jaw told her it was a serious question despite the light manner in which he’d broached it.
“I’ll tell you if you tell me.”
He shrugged. “Fair enough.”
She twisted her mouth and danced her gaze around the bar. When they’d come up after dinner only a few people had occupied the space. Now it was bustling, and several people waited near the entrance for a seat. “I like the idea of becoming an event planner, or maybe an interior designer. I like putting décor together and bringing a space to life.”
He studied her. “Why don’t you work with Serena and Milo? They flip and sell houses. Surely they could use a designer.”
She looked down at her strappy nude high heels and shook her head. “No. That’s their thing. I’d feel . . .”
Brock nudged her until she looked at him.
“Like a third wheel, I guess. I want to do something that doesn’t require depending on anyone else.” The admission ate at her heart and a pit of vulnerability sucked at her insides.
“That’s always a good idea.” He caught her chin when she tried to lower her gaze again. “You’d be good at anything you did.”
“Well, I hope you’re right. I’m done after this.”
He jerked his head back and his fingers fell away.
She curled her lip. “Why is that so surprising?”
He shook off the stunned expression and a smile replaced it. “I’m not surprised. I’m glad. It’s about damn time, actually.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Your turn.”
He blew a breath through his teeth. “Ah, hell. I don’t know.” He scrubbed his hand over his neatly trimmed stubble. “I guess I’d start with doing what I enjoy. Isn’t that what they say is the key to happiness? Doing something that doesn’t seem like work?”
“That’s what they say. So, what would it be?”
A mischievous grin split his face and his eyes twinkled. “Well, we both know I’d make a killing at sex.”
She choked out a laugh and slapped her hand over her mouth. Her shoulders shook. “Please tell me you’re not going to become a male prostitute. What’s that even called? A gigolo?”
He roared and leaned forward to nip her shoulder. “Exactly.” A smug expression crossed his face. “You can’t deny I have a calling.”
