by Joanna Sims
“Hi there!” Shannon walked over to the house. “You must be Casey.”
Casey put her computer on the seat next to her so she could stand up to greet Hannah’s mother.
“Guilty.” Casey smiled a friendly smile and offered Shannon her hand.
They shook hands and then Shannon looked around again with the slightest disapproving shake of her head, and said, “I was so hoping to see Brock take initiative with this place. It’s sad when people don’t live up to their full potential.”
Casey had to bite her tongue—literally bite her tongue. She had promised herself that she was not going to get in the middle of this divorce. Yes, she was a friend of Brock’s, and they were considering exploring a deeper relationship, but to get sucked into the muck that was the end of a marriage? No, thank you.
On the other hand, it pissed her off that Shannon was putting Brock down. The man had an outstanding work ethic.
“Brock and Hannah should be back from Helena soon—do you want something to drink? I just made a fresh batch of sun tea.”
Shannon stared down at her. “Well, isn’t that sweet of you. I guess I’ll just have to get used to a stranger inviting me into my own home.”
After she threw out the barb, Shannon laughed to signal that she was “just kidding.” But Casey had been in the company of catty women before, and this kitty cat had very sharp claws.
“And the surprises just keep coming,” Shannon said when she walked into the house. She walked straight into the living room, looking at the new wood floors and the freshly painted walls and molding.
Hannah’s mom turned around and smiled a stiff smile at her. “Well, you must be a little miracle worker, Casey. I could never get Brock to change a lightbulb in this place if it’d burned out.”
Casey refused to let the woman bait her. “He did it for Hannah.”
“Now, that’s the Brock I know.” Shannon accepted the glass of tea Casey offered to her. “Anything for Hannah.”
* * *
Casey didn’t like the way the ranch felt after Hannah and Taj left. There was a gaping hole left by them, a vacuum that couldn’t be filled. Brock told her again and again that he was “fine,” but the ranch foreman looked like part of his heart had been ripped out of his chest. There was sadness in him now, so much sadness that he refused to give a voice. Instead, he was stuffing it down and going on about his business as if nothing was wrong and everything was the same. As far Brock was concerned—he was fine—just fine.
Brooding had never been her MO and it was hard for her to handle it in other people. She was more of a “pick yourself up, dust yourself off and get the heck on with it” kind of gal. Wanting to escape the black mood that was currently occupying Brock’s ranch, Casey went into town to spend the day with Taylor and Sophia and the four little ones.
The seven of them walked to the nearby park. Casey carried her niece, who had on a pretty sunflower dress and a matching yellow headband. As far as Casey was concerned, she was the cutest baby on the planet.
“I can’t wait to have my own,” Casey said as she put Penny in the baby swing.
“If you’d married Scott,” Taylor reminded her, “you’d be living in the suburbs with a couple of kids.”
“How long ago was Scott?” Sophia was kneeling by her son, Danny, tying his shoelace in a double knot.
“I don’t know.” Casey gave her niece a little push and loved to see her smile as she swung closer and then swung farther away. “Five years ago?”
“He was such a nice guy,” Taylor reminisced. “He got along with Mom—impossible—and Dad recommended him as an intern at the firm.”
Taylor said directly to Sophia, “And he was crazy about Casey. He wanted babies, she wanted babies...he gave her a ring, they set a date and then...”
Sophia kept a keen eye on her children, who were playing a few yards away. “Cold feet?”
“Frozen is more like it.” Casey laughed. “I felt horrible about breaking off our engagement. I really did. But it didn’t matter how sweet he was, or attentive he was, or how perfectly he fit into my plan...we just weren’t compatible in the bedroom department.”
“Oh, no.” Sophia’s face registered complete understanding. “That has to work. It’s not everything, but it has to be something.”
“Exactly.” Casey made a face at her sister. “See—Sophia understands.”
“I didn’t say it didn’t matter... I just don’t think you should throw away a perfect guy over it. They have retreats—don’t they, Sophia? You go out into the woods and hit drums and dance in circles naked...”
Sophia, who was a trained psychologist, smiled at the thought. “That’s not really my area of expertise...”
“It was really hard to break up with him,” Casey admitted. “I cried. He cried. It was a whole scene.”
The breakup with Scott had really made her gun-shy about getting into another relationship. She dated here and there, but the men she attracted just weren’t right. But she could never pinpoint exactly what was missing.
“I tell you what, the ranch seems really strange without Hannah around. It’s been really tough on Brock.”
The minute she brought up Brock to her sister, Taylor’s body language changed and the silent message she sent was: I don’t want to talk about him.
But she did want to talk about Brock. She saw a future with the ranch foreman—she saw a future with the family she had been craving for so long. Somehow, this mess with Clint and Brock was going to have to be sorted out.
“How have you been feeling? Did you ever get in touch with that doctor?” Taylor was consistent and changed the subject right on schedule.
“No,” Casey replied. “I’ve been feeling okay. I still have a twinge of pain here and there, but that’s to be expected with endometriosis.”
“Dr. Hall is the best gynecologist on the planet,” Sophia chimed in. “I swear that woman knows her way around a vagina. I think she’s flat-out amazing. She warms the speculum, too, so that’s a bonus.”
“For sure she gets kudos for the warm speculum. But if I don’t need to go...then I’m not gonna volunteer to have a stranger poke around in my nether regions just for the fun of it,” Casey said. “Thank you, but no thank you.”
* * *
Back on the ranch, she was surprised to see Brock home so early. She stood by the VW for a moment—she had been giving Brock his space and he had been taking it. But something in her gut told her that, as his friend, enough was enough. She put Hercules on the ground so he could greet his girlfriend, Lady.
“Hi, Ladybug.” Casey gave the Lab a scratch on her neck, which was her favorite spot.
Brock was at the kitchen table; on the table was an open bottle of some sort of alcohol and a single glass.
“What’s the occasion?” Casey asked him.
Brock looked up at her as if he had just noticed that she was there. His shirt was unbuttoned and his hair was mussed. It seemed that he had already indulged quite a bit—his eyes were glassy.
“Here...” Brock reached behind him to grab a glass from the drain. He slammed the glass down on the table, pulled the cork out of the bottle and poured her a drink. “Join me.”
He poured himself another drink—it was a sloppy pour and liquor sloshed over the rim and onto the table.
The ranch foreman held out his glass to toast her. “Congratulate me.”
“For...?”
“I am—” Brock pointed at his chest “—a free man.”
“Wait a minute...” Casey sat down and put her glass down. “You’re divorced? How could it have possibly happened that fast?”
Brock tipped his head back to polish off every bit of liquor in his glass. “Well, funny story. Shannon’s fiancé, Carl... His father skis every winter in Montana with a law schoo
l buddy of his, who—you guessed it—is a judge in Helena. The father asks his friend for a favor, and since everything’s already been settled through mediation, the judge fast-tracked our case. Shannon’s decided to keep the name McAllister and hyphenate after she gets married. She’s shooting for a June wedding next year so Hannah can attend.”
Now she felt like she needed a drink. Brock being married had always been a reason to keep him safely in the friend zone—now that he was a free man, the dynamic between them would undoubtedly change.
“What is this?” Casey sniffed the alcohol.
“Cognac,” Brock told her. “Good cognac. Sorry I don’t have the proper glasses.”
Casey held out her glass. “What does one toast to in a situation like this? Happy divorce?”
Brock poured himself another. “That’ll do.”
They touched glasses. Brock downed his and she took a healthy sip of hers. He slammed his glass down and then drummed his fingers on the table.
Casey looked up to find Brock staring at her.
“What?” she asked him when he just continued to stare at her as if he didn’t recognize her.
“Are you my friend, Casey?”
“Yes,” she told him. “Of course I am. Why?”
“Because I intend to get drunk tonight and I might show my ass, if you know what I mean. If you’re my friend—you won’t judge me.”
“I’m not going to judge you,” she reassured him. “I’ll even pour the drinks for you. But you’ve got to make me a promise, Brock...”
“I’m not sure I’m in any condition to make a promise, but go ahead...”
“After tonight? You’ve got to snap out of it and start enjoying your life again. God knows Shannon isn’t sitting around crying in her beer.”
Brock raised a brow at her. “Now—that was cold.”
Casey leaned forward. “I know—did I go too far? I was trying to motivate you.”
“No.” Brock surprised her by chuckling a little. “I like your style.”
* * *
Casey sipped on her one glass of what turned out to be very expensive vintage Hennessey cognac that Brock had been saving for a special occasion. Brock polished off the entire bottle. She kept him company and she was there for him to lean on when he needed a guiding hand to get him safely from the table to the couch.
“Why are you so good to me?” he asked her when she helped him pull off his boots.
“Because—” Casey handed him a large glass of water and some aspirin “—you’re my friend and I love you.”
Brock popped the aspirin into his mouth before he guzzled the water. “I love you.”
One minute she was standing upright and the next thing she realized, she was half sitting, half lying on top of a now reclining Brock. He had reached out, scooped her up like she didn’t weigh an ounce, and he had her in a bear hug with his face buried in her hair.
“You smell good,” he murmured drunkenly. “Lemony.”
“That’s the dishwashing soap.”
“Mmmmm.” This was the only response she got out of him.
“Brock? I need to get up now.”
This wasn’t sexual—it wasn’t a come-on—he was cuddling her like she was a life-size teddy bear. Then she heard him snoring.
“Really?” Casey started to wiggle her body in earnest and managed to wriggle free of his heavy arms.
She got the blanket off the back of the couch to drape over him. Casey stared down at this man who had become so important to her. She’d told him she loved him and she’d meant it. She did. No matter if they went any further with each other—that was another subject entirely—but as a person, as a friend, as a man, she loved him.
“Lord have mercy, Brock.” Casey breathed in deeply and then sighed it out heavily. “We have got to get you back in your own bed.”
* * *
“Good morning!” Casey poked a snoring Brock with her finger.
The man must have really tied one on because she had been banging around in the kitchen for an hour and the only time he’d moved was to turn over with an annoyed grunt.
“Coffee.” She tugged on his beard. “Coffee!”
“Blast it, Casey! I heard you! Coffee! I heard you!”
“If you heard me,” she said sweetly with sarcasm laced in, “then get up! Day’s a’wastin’, my friend, and we have a full agenda.”
“It’s my day off.” He covered his eyes with his arm.
“I know,” she told him. “It’s your day off and we have a lot to do. How’s that hangover?”
“Not too bad. Considering.”
“I made you drink water before you passed out.” Casey put some scrambled eggs on a plate with toast. “Come eat some breakfast.”
Brock ate a couple helpings of eggs, three pieces of buttered toast, a glass of orange juice and two cups of coffee. The man could really pack it away, even after a night of drinking.
While she washed the dishes, he went upstairs to take a much-needed shower and change into clean clothes. He looked refreshed and clean—his shirt was tucked in and his hair was combed back off his face. The man smelled good again.
“Now what do you have up your sleeve?” Brock had sat back down at the table and was watching her put away the dishes that had dried in the drying rack overnight.
Casey shut the cabinet door. “We’re going into town so you can pick out a new mattress.”
When he didn’t say “yeah” or “nay” she stood in front of him and asked, “No objection?”
He shook his head. “You slapped some sense into me last night. I’ve got to get the heck on with it. A new mattress is a fine place to start.”
“Huh...” She liked to see him taking the bull by the horns, so to speak. “If that’s how you really feel, then you shouldn’t object to one thing I want to do.”
He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“Brock—I say this with love, I really do, but you have to let me trim your beard.”
Brock rubbed his hand over his scruffy beard. “You don’t like the beard?”
“No. I didn’t say that. I like it actually. And beards are in now. But I think we need to take it down a couple of notches from Neanderthal.”
His long legs were stretched out in front of him and she was standing in the space between his calves. He looked at her face with such admiration that it made her cheeks feel hot, like she was actually blushing.
“You are mighty pretty, Casey Brand.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
He hooked his pointer finger in the loop of her jeans. “I’m not. If you want to trim my beard, you are welcome to have your way with me.”
Brock tugged her forward so he could put his hands on either side of her hips. Now that he was a free man, he was very comfortable touching her. She wasn’t sure she was as comfortable as he was, but on the other hand, she didn’t have any desire to pull away from him. It would just take her a minute to get used to this sudden shift in their boundaries.
“You told me you loved me last night.” He was staring into her eyes so intently.
She had to look away—it was like he was trying to read every word written on her soul. “And I meant it.”
“Hey...” He wanted her to shift her eyes back to his. “I meant it, too.”
“Could we just...slow down for a minute?” She pushed away from him.
Brock let her go. “I’ve wanted to be able to touch you for a long time now.”
She crossed her arms in front of her body. “I know. And I respect the fact that you wanted to finish with one relationship before you started another. That’s something I really respect about you. But it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet.”
“Okay.” The one word was all he said.
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“I just need time to process, I think.”
He reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “So what do you want to do first? Mattress or beard?”
They were back in safe territory now, which suited her.
“I never say no to shopping. So, mattress first, beard later.”
* * *
Shopping in Helena, Montana, was the polar opposite experience to shopping her favorite haunts in Chicago. Chicago was teeming with choices and price points—a shopper’s paradise. Helena on the other hand? Not so much. However, there did seem to be quite a few places to shop for mattresses in Helena. Brock had Wi-Fi in his truck, so she researched stores while he drove them into town.
“Okay—I’m leaning toward Macy’s because they’re familiar. But I have to tell you, Mattress Madness is tickling my fancy. It’s a stove and mattress combo store.”
“Good deals there.”
She raised her eyebrows at him. “You knew I was being facetious, right?”
Brock gave her a quick little wink. “Yes, dear.”
When she had originally had the thought to take Brock to buy a new mattress, it never occurred to her that she would be helping him make a selection. At least not in the way he wanted her to help him.
Brock had been lying on one of the higher-end mattresses with his arms at his sides and his eyes closed.
“Well?” she asked him impatiently. “What do you think?”
“I’ve been waiting on you.” His eyes still closed, he patted the empty spot beside him. “Give it a whirl.”
“What I think doesn’t matter. It’s your mattress.”
Brock opened his eyes. “Down the road a piece, you’re going to be sleeping in it with me, so you’ve got to tell me if you like it or not.”
Casey looked around to see if the salesman helping them was in earshot. “That’s putting the cart way before the horse, don’t you think?”
“No.” He patted the empty spot again. “I’ve got a real strong feeling about me and you.”
Chapter Thirteen
She didn’t necessarily agree with him that she was picking out a mattress for them as opposed to him, but Brock refused to get up until she gave him her honest opinion. Soon, because she had a strong opinion about everything shopping, she was trying out all of the mattresses with him. Brock purchased a California king that would fit the bed frame in the master bedroom upstairs and then he shadowed Casey as she wove her way through the misses and junior clothing department, through accessories, around the perfume and makeup counters into the shoe department.