Seducing the Bridesmaid (Wedding Dare, #3)(25)
That was the moment he realized nothing he did would ever be good enough for his father. It didn’t matter that the man had two sons, each with his own strengths. All the old man was able to see was Caine, his heir in every way.
So Brock vowed to never to seek his father’s approval again. He’d stopped killing himself over homework, and graduated with a B average—the ultimate disappointment, despite lettering all four years of high school in both football and track. He’d actually been courted by a few different scouts for football in college, but he’d turned them all down—which his dad had seen as evidence of his inability to commit. When it came to his old man, he was damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.
“This will work.” Regan’s words brought him out of the ugly spot his mind had become.
“Okay.” The thing was—he didn’t resent his brother. His brother could have been the biggest dick in the world and lorded their father’s approval over Brock. He hadn’t. Hell, Caine had never missed one of his games or meets, even though he’d gone to college over an hour away.
Enough. The reason you’re on this goddamn shopping trip is to get closer to Regan. Let go of the past and focus on the now.
She was out of the truck almost before he put it in park, jumping to the pavement in a ridiculously graceful move, considering she was once again wearing five-inch heels. He didn’t know how she managed to walk in them without limping, but he appreciated it. Today they were pointed, a brilliant yellow that faded to black at the heel, and combined with her short black sundress, her legs looked about a mile long.
He wanted to see her in nothing but those f*cking heels.
Taking a deep breath, Brock shut off the engine and headed into the fancy chick store she’d disappeared into. Inside, it looked as if the place had been bombed by something pink and glittery. Since he didn’t see Regan cruising through the dresses at the front, he headed deeper into the store, feeling like a trespasser. Places like this weren’t meant for men—that was for damn sure.
A middle-aged woman leaned against the counter with the register, flipping through a magazine. When she caught sight of him, her eyes lit up. “Well, hello there, handsome.”
Brock wasn’t sure how he felt about being eye-f*cked by a woman the same age as his mother, but he was leaning toward traumatized. He took a step back when she made as if to come around the counter. “I’m just looking for my friend, ma’am.”
If anything, her expression became more avid. “Oh my, what an accent you have.”
Damn it. Where the hell was Regan? He cast a glance around, but she was nowhere to be seen. She wouldn’t bolt through the back and leave him to the tender mercy of this saleswoman, would she?
Holy shit, she definitely would.
He started for the front door, determined to wait this out in the car, but the saleswoman somehow appeared in front of him. She smiled as she moved in closer to squeeze his arm, engulfing him in a wave of floral perfume. “Now, honey, don’t be hasty. Whatever it is your friend wants, I’m sure we have it here. I’ll just need some pertinent details. Like…is this a girlfriend?”
He opened his mouth to lie through his teeth, but a voice from an angel sounded at the back of the store. “Brock, baby, what’s taking you so long?”
Regan sailed into view, a bright smile on her face. Only the twinkle in her eyes let him know how amusing she found his predicament. She could laugh her ass off as long she got him out of this situation without him having to scrape this woman off of him—or hurt her feelings. She swept between them, slipping her arm around his waist. “Trust my boyfriend to get lost in a sea of women’s clothing. Men.”
A disappointed look flitted over the saleswoman’s face, but she managed a smile of her own. “Don’t I know it? My ex-husband hated places like this—wouldn’t even darken the door.”
“I’m really lucky this one tolerates women things as well as he does.” She gave his hip a squeeze, as if he were a cute puppy—or a piece of meat. “Come along, baby. We don’t have a lot of time before we have to be back for the wedding.” She towed him behind her to the back wall, which was covered in women’s shoes.
He dropped into the single chair in the corner with a loud exhale. “Thank you.”
Regan glanced behind her. “I’m surprised you needed a save.”
Normally he wouldn’t have. He’d have smiled at the saleswoman, flirted a little bit, and extracted himself. But on the heels of his dark thoughts, he hadn’t been able to manage even that. He didn’t really want to talk about those, though. “Every man has his moments of being caught flat-footed.”
She gave him a look that said she saw right through him, and he could only hope it wasn’t the truth. He couldn’t stand the thought of Regan knowing his story and thinking less of him. Or worse, pitying him. He didn’t need her pity and he sure as f*ck didn’t need her approval.
But that was his problem—not hers. And they had developed a fragile truce this morning that he wasn’t willing to break for the sake of his issues.
So he sat back and watched Regan pick through the shoe selection. She gave it a surprising amount of concentration, examining and discarding shoe after shoe. When she caught him watching, she actually blushed. “Sorry this is taking so long, but I can’t pick just anything if Christine’s ankle is screwed up. We need comfortable and stylish. And if this is all I can do to help, then I’m going to do it right.”