“I’m not moving. I’m pretty sure this little beast will go for my throat the second I do. So…hurry.”
…
The squirrel moved, and Regan shrieked and dropped the phone, but the blasted thing just scurried up a tree. She scrambled for her phone, terrified to take her eyes off the massive trees that stretched over Brock’s house. The second she did, that thing was going to attack from above. She just knew it. The entire tree shook as those little monsters ran through the branches, and she gave the phone up for a lost cause and dived onto the front porch.
At least this way she could see her death coming.
“Calm down, crazy. The squirrels are not going to murder you.” She backed up until she was pressed against the front door. “Probably.” If she had her phone on her, she’d call Julie and let her best friend talk some sense into her until Brock got back from wherever the hell he was. The only problem was that her phone was currently sitting out by the tree.
Even as she watched, the same squirrel scurried down the tree and grabbed it. “Oh my God.” That was fine. She could just buy a new phone when she got back to civilization. That little freak could keep it.
The minutes ticked by, and she refused to take her eyes off the trees around her. She could do this. She could wait, right here, for Brock to show up. She would not wuss out and flee to her car.
Mostly because those little bastards were no doubt waiting to attack from above the second she walked out from beneath the porch.
A car came hurtling around the corner, kicking up a giant cloud of dust behind it. It skidded to a stop in front of the house, and Regan pressed a hand over her mouth as the dust caught up with the car and rolled over her. She sneezed, wishing she’d just been smart and called Brock in the first place. Why did she think it was a good idea to fly down here and show up on his doorstep unannounced?
Oh yeah, because Julie pushed her into it. She’d have to make sure to thank her best friend in the most imaginative way possible the first chance she got.
Brock threw open the car door and rushed around the front bumper. When he caught sight of her, he stumbled to a stop. “I thought you’d seen reason and taken off.”
“More like a squirrel had dragged my body into the woods to feast on like it just did my phone.” Now that he was here, none of the things she’d practiced saying seemed to fit. So she let herself drink in the sight of him, from the faded jeans to the black T-shirt that hugged his biceps. But no smile, and he hadn’t exactly rushed over and swung her around romance-movie style, either.
He took another step closer. “I’m glad you weren’t murdered by a cute forest animal.”
“That means a lot to me.” Good Lord, this was ridiculous. She wrapped her arms around herself and lifted her chin. She’d come down here for a reason, and it wasn’t to talk about killer rodents. “I didn’t sleep with Logan, or anything with Logan. The most action he saw from me was the waltz, and even that was pretty mild.”
“I know.”
She froze in the middle of planning out the rest of her argument. “What?”
“Colton told me Logan had eyes only for Sophie. So I reckon he didn’t have much time for you.”
“That lack of time was a mutual thing. You see, I’m pretty into this hot Southern guy. No one else will do.”
He’d gone completely still, watching her with unreadable dark eyes. “Oh really? He sounds like a lucky bastard.”
“Well, that’s the thing. He had the wrong idea about me, and we both said some pretty shitty things, so I’m not sure he’ll have me.” He didn’t say anything, didn’t react, didn’t give her a damn thing to work with, so she just kept talking. “I know the distance is going to be an issue, but I’m willing to fight for you. I need to know if you’re willing to fight for me, too.” Because this had to be a two-way street. She couldn’t do all the work and beg him to love her.
No matter how close she was to doing just that.
“I’m moving to New York.”
Regan stared, sure she’d heard him wrong. “What?”
Now Brock moved, closing the distance between them until he stood directly in front of her. “I quit my job. I’m going to officially step into the position waiting for me at the Blue Boat Foundation. It’s something I should have done five years ago when I started it up.”
In all her guesses over how this would play out, she’d never once stopped to consider that he’d do that. “That’s… Oh my God, Brock, that’s amazing!”
He smiled, the sight of those laugh lines making her knees weak. “Yeah, well, it’s time to grow up and let go of my emotional bullshit. Plus, I hear there’s this hotshot headhunter in New York who has a thing for Southern boys.”
“Did you, now?” She couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth as he leaned down.
“I screwed up, Regan. Really screwed up. I flew off the handle and accused you of all sorts of shit I had no right to. I’m so goddamn sorry. Is there any way I can make it up to you so you’ll give us a second chance?”
She licked her lips. “I think there might be something wrong with your hearing, Scarlett. Because I pretty much just declared my intentions toward you. Second chances are on the books.”
His lips brushed hers. “Forgive me? I’ll spend the foreseeable future making it up to you.”
And people said dreams didn’t come true. Regan slipped her arms around his neck. “I forgive you.”
He kissed her, pulling her against him, and it was even better than she remembered. Brock moved them, pinning her against his front door as he took full possession of her mouth. Before she could fully sink into the kiss, he pulled back. “I promise I’ll keep you safe from nature, and I’ll put your ass on a treadmill at the end of stressful days. I know you’re more than capable of handling your business, but if you let me, I’ll spend the rest of my days taking care of you.”
“That goes both ways.” She kissed him. “I’ll show you the ropes of the big city. It’s a far cry from this hellhole surrounded by trees.”
Brock laughed. “Sounds like a plan.”
“You know what
also sounds like a plan? Getting me off this porch and into your bed.”
“That, I can do.”
Epilogue
“Hey, darlin’.”
Regan looked up and forced herself to smile as Brock came through the door of their apartment. Even as distracted as she was, she couldn’t help checking him out. With his slacks and fitted dress shirt that he’d partially unbuttoned at some point on the way home, he was something else. New York looked good on him.
He narrowed his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Shit. She should have known that he’d immediately pick up on her tension. She should have just called Addison to sit with her, but she hadn’t been able to pick up the phone. The only person she wanted to be around was the same one she wanted to smack silly, because if her suspicions were right, this was mostly his fault.
Mostly.
“Regan, you’re scaring me.” He dropped his briefcase on the floor and came to sit next to her on the couch. “What’s going on?”
“So, funny story.” She tried to sound cheery, but it came out flat. God, what were they going to do? They’d only been together seven months. Seven seriously amazing months—like, almost too good to be true, amazing—but seven months all the same.
And she was about to ruin it. She took a shuddering breath. “Remember New Year’s Eve?”
A faint smile caught the corners of his lips. “We drank too much and had sex in the bathroom of the bar.”
Had sex without protection. “Yep. Six weeks ago.”
She saw the exact moment he understood, his gaze dropping to her stomach and then flying back to her face. Regan held her breath, waiting for him to put some distance between them or accuse her of…something. To do something. Because she was half a second away from losing it completely.
But he didn’t do any of that. Instead, he reached out and pressed his hand to her stomach. “A baby.”
“Well, that’s the thing. I’m too much of a chickenshit to take the test and find out for sure.” She motioned at her purse lying on the coffee table. “I bought like five of them, but…”