Seducing the Bridesmaid (Wedding Dare, #3)(24)
If they hadn’t already had sex, she’d take this opportunity to make a comment on his overcompensating for something. Too bad she knew he had nothing to compensate for. Regan climbed into the truck and dropped her purse on the floorboard. She might be more familiar with the insides of cabs than actual trucks, but even she could tell that this had plenty of aftermarket things done to it. Trucks didn’t come this high out of the dealership, and the windows were definitely tinted.
He cranked over the engine and then they were off, cruising out of the massive parking lot and down the winding road to the highway that would lead into the nearest town.
They drove for a few minutes before the quiet got to her. But what could she say? Sorry I keep turning you down, but I’m not sorry at all because you don’t fit in with the plan I have for my life. Logan does. Funny, but she’d barely seen Logan the last two days and it wasn’t as if she was wasting away from the lack.
“What do you do for fun?” She was so surprised by the question, she just stared at him. Brock raised his eyebrows, that damn grin coming out. “Don’t look so surprised. Unlike you, I don’t make a habit of sleeping with women I don’t like.”
“We’d exchanged all of two words before that night. How the hell did you know if you liked me or not?”
“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not an idiot, and I’m just as good at sitting back and taking stock of a situation as Reed or Colton is. I just generally don’t have the patience for it.”
She was struck by the image of those three boys raising hell. From what she’d gleaned from Sophie, Colton and his little sister spent their summers in Tennessee, which was where he met Reed and Brock. What a trio that must have made, Colton with his schemes, Reed knocking heads together and brooding, and Brock… Well, she suspected Brock was content to just be along for the ride.
For the first time, she wondered if that wasn’t by choice rather than laziness. If he spent all his time with those other two strong personalities, he couldn’t possibly be as big of a waste of space as she’d originally thought. Could he?
She shifted, aware she’d been quiet too long. “Fine. I’ll play. How did you know you liked me?”
“Because, even surrounded by other beautiful women, you stood out. You carry yourself as if you expect people to notice you, and you’re obviously more than capable.”
She shrugged, almost disappointed. What had she expected? So she caught his eye—she’d known that before he said anything since he wasn’t the type of man to approach a woman out of boredom. It was her job to catch people’s attention and make sure they sat still long enough to listen to her pitch. Once she had their attention, it was often child’s play to convince them that they did, in fact, want the job she was offering.
Brock kept talking, interrupting her thoughts. “The crazy thing, though, is how you hold yourself apart. It’s obvious you’ve busted ass to get where you are—you don’t have the look of old money, but your clothes are all name-brand. Could be credit card debt, but someone as independent as you are isn’t going to let herself be beholden to anyone, let alone some company. So I’d say you’re a workaholic, but you must love your job because you don’t have that overworked, burned-out look.” He paused. “I’d reckon you’re pretty damn lonely, too. All your friends live in different states, and a work ethic like that doesn’t lend itself to a whole lot of free time.”
She could only stare. Her friends knew bits and pieces of that, but they’d known her for a million years. She’d never once had a near stranger come in and strip her bare like this. Frankly, she wasn’t sure she liked it. “That’s a whole lot of assumptions.”
“Not really. Like I said, I’m not stupid and I’m also not blind. You can tell a lot about a person just by watching for a little bit.”
It was a trick she knew well since she used it often enough. She was just surprised by how much he’d seen. It was something she might expect from Reed—that man had the flavor of someone who saw everything—but not happy-go-lucky Brock.
She’d underestimated him.
Which meant she might have missed something else along the way. Regan forced a smile, hating that he had her second-guessing herself. She wasn’t used to it. Once she had a plan, she ran with it. No fuss, no muss. Because she was rarely—if ever—wrong.
Except maybe she was actually wrong this time?
Chapter Nine
After another fifteen minutes of silence, Brock pulled into Edwards. After he’d given his reasons for singling her out in a crowd, Regan had retreated inside her own head. He’d been hunting enough to know when to show patience, though his father would be the first to say it was a trait he didn’t have nearly enough of. That wasn’t true. In reality, Brock just didn’t find things worth being patient over all that often.
Regan was one of them.
The shock on her face when he spoke his piece was reward in a way. She made the mistake a lot of people around him did—she assumed that because he had a Southern accent and a laid-back attitude that it meant he had nothing occupying the space between his ears.
He was so goddamn tired of everyone around him thinking he had nothing to offer.
Even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew where the fault lay—with him. Brock was the one who decided, at the tender age of twelve, that he was done trying. He’d brought home a six-point buck that fall, so damn proud that he’d bagged a prize any adult would brag about. His father had only shaken his head and turned away, using that opportunity to inform Brock that his older brother had won a national debate or some shit.