Rock Hard Cowboy: A sizzling Christmas romantic comedy. (Mile High Matched Book 0)
Page 11
“It’s an interesting name.”
“Velma was my grandmother’s name. But there couldn’t be two of us in the same family, so they all call me Velvet.”
“I like Velvet,” he said.
She scrunched up her nose. “I don’t.”
When she was a child, everyone bought her clothes with cheap velvet fabric. They itched. She hated them. As far as she was concerned, velvet was scratchy and uncomfortable.
“This news. Any idea what it is?” Velma asked.
“You don’t know?” Brek replied.
“No idea.” Except she was absolutely certain they were taking the next step in their relationship by moving in together, and maybe getting a puppy.
Brek popped the top on a Coors. “I figured you and Claire shared everything.”
“Nope.” Not this time. “Claire just said she has big news.”
“Maybe she’s knocked up,” Brek suggested.
Velma’s heart skipped five beats. She grabbed a knife and sliced into an onion with renewed energy. “No way.”
“I don’t know.” He ran a palm over the back of his neck. “Seems reasonable to me.”
“Then you don’t know Claire. She’s way too involved in her career to get pregnant right now.” Velma set the onions aside and went to work on chopping carrots to top the salad.
Brek motioned to the cutting board. “Can I help you with anything?”
“Do you know how to julienne carrots?” Velma replied.
“Nope.” He shrugged. “But I know how to cook a steak.”
She laughed. “Well, tonight it’s pork roast, so I’ll have to take a rain check on your culinary skills.”
“Absolutely. Next time I’m in town, I’ll grill you up a steak.” He raised his beer to her.
She stared at him. He couldn’t actually be serious.
He was serious.
“Maybe they called us here because Dean needs a kidney?” he asked.
“He doesn’t need a kidney.” Although, Velma would probably give him one if needed. She had a remarkably hard time telling him no. “They’re probably just…” Say it out loud, Velma. She sighed. “Just moving in together.”
“Nah. They wouldn’t have dragged me here for that. Maybe their big news is they’re gonna try to hook us up.”
“You and me?” Velma pointed the knife at Brek, then back to herself.
Of all the options, that one was the most reasonable. And, yet, totally unreasonable. No way would Claire pair the two of them together.
“You said you don’t have a guy.” Brek’s tone turned serious.
Her body irrationally responded to his apparent interest with tingles.
“No.” Of course she didn’t have a guy.
She’d had lots of first dates lately.
“I get the feeling you need some help loosening up. Enjoy some time away from your five-year-husband-seeking plan. There’s a club downtown with a great band playing later. We should go.” Brek’s gaze raked over her.
His pointed interest was actually…nice. Still, there was no way she would go clubbing later. Brek wasn’t her type. Not only because of the tattoos or the extreme need for a licensed barber or his ripped jeans. No, it was more the general sense of unease he stirred within her. Also, it was Sunday. What kind of a club was open on a Sunday night? Definitely not one she should visit.
“You stressed about the dinner?” he asked.
“No,” she lied through her teeth.
“You’re stressed about the dinner,” he declared. “I get that, but there’s nothing to worry about.”
For a half second, she believed there was nothing to worry about. Truth was, there was always something to worry about. Starting with her clothes. She needed to change into something that wasn’t yoga pants before her sister arrived in what would undoubtedly be a perfect sundress.
“I’m only in town for a few days anyway,” he continued. “We’ll get through the part where Claire and Dean do the awkward you-two-should-get-to-know-each-other schtick. We’ll eat and then we’ll send them on their way. You don’t want to go to a club? That’s fine. I’ll stick around. What do you say, Velma?”
The way he said her name felt like silk against her skin. Silk was so much nicer than velvet.
She tried to tug off her apron, but her hair was stuck in the tie at the back of her neck. Crud. Another tug. Her hair was really stuck. “You want to go clubbing on a Sunday night?”
“Absolutely.” He nodded to where her hair was caught. “Need some help?”
“Yes, please.” She pressed her eyes closed.
He looped a finger under the little bow tying the apron at the back of her neck. His calloused fingertip traced the ribbon along her shoulder to the collar of her sweater, unraveling the knot of hair and sending little shivers along his path of exploration.
Maybe she could get away to the club for a little while. It wasn’t like she had better things to do. “Where is this cl—”
“Hey, Velvet.” Her sister, Claire, shoved open the front door. “Hi, Brek. You made it. Dean’s so excited you’re here.”
“Did you lose him?” Brek squeezed Velma’s shoulder.
A hit of sizzle deep in her belly echoed the motion of his touch.
“He’s parking the car.” Claire closed the door and sauntered to the kitchen with her svelte build and Audrey Hepburn grace. “Okay, I know I’ve made you wait. But…” Claire bit at the light-pink lipstick on her bottom lip. “Surprise!” She held out her fingers with a little jazz hand motion.
An engagement ring perched on the fourth finger of Claire’s left hand.
Velma’s heart skidded to her toes. She blinked hard. No, it couldn’t be.
A ring.
A wedding.
Satin and lace, champagne toasts and flower girls.
This wasn’t a puppy. And it was so much more than an apartment.
Velma reached for Claire’s hand, her throat constricting. “Oh my gosh.”
“I know, right?” Claire squeezed Velma’s fingers. “I had to tell you in person.”
“Oh. My. Gosh.” Velma said again, this time more slowly. She looked straight into Claire’s eyes and saw it—excitement and love for Dean. Happiness. Velma glued a grin onto her face. Her sister was happy. That was all that mattered. “Claire. It’s perfect.”
“I’m gonna go find Dean.” Brek caught Velma’s gaze and winked. “Now that the cat’s out of the bag.”
“Wait, you knew about this?” Velma asked.
“Hell yeah, I knew.” Brek opened the door. “Didn’t want to ruin Claire’s surprise, though.”
“So you asked me out instead?” Velma asked.
Claire scrunched up her forehead. “Brek asked you out? Like on a date?”
“Oh look, it’s Dean.” Brek feigned innocence as he held the door wide. “I’m officially saved by the groom.”
“She finally told her?” Dean strode inside and glanced to where Velma stood in a swirling vortex of time.
“Uh-huh.” Claire nodded, her eyes misted over.
A suit. Dean wore a tailored suit complete with shined cap-toed shoes and gold cuff links. Each black hair on his head lay precisely where it should. He was absolute perfection.
Velma swallowed the heaviness in her throat and tried to pretend it was from excitement for her sister.
“Well, then—hey, sis.” Dean strutted toward Velma and wrapped her in a hug. “Claire made me keep my mouth shut for a whole week.”
Velma’s insides did a little flutter that was totally unacceptable. Time moved at the speed of a sloth. Like watching a car accident happen in real time, when everything went slow and then fast again all at once. “You’ve been engaged for a week and didn’t say anything?”
They’d sat through a load of sales meetings. Two client lunches where he’d driven them both to the restaurant. He’d never given any indication he’d freaking proposed to her sister. They’d discussed retirement plans and supplemental inco
me sources. He hadn’t mentioned anything that would’ve even whispered of proposal news.
“Believe me, it was hard keeping my mouth shut. Can you believe you’re going to be my little sister?” His breath brushed against the top of her head.
“Uh…nope,” Velma said through gritted teeth.
“It’s great, isn’t it?” Dean leaned back and scanned her face.
Her knees went weak, like a cheesy movie heroine.
“It is great. Totally. Great. I’m so excited.” Velma stepped away from him, refusing to show anything but happiness for her sister’s sake. Any feelings from now on would be purely of the appropriate sisterly kind.
Claire and Dean were engaged.
Yup, Velma’s Mr. Right was going to marry her sister.
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About the Author
Christina Hovland lives her own version of a fairy tale—an artisan chocolatier by day and romance writer by night. Born in Colorado, Christina received a degree in journalism from Colorado State University. Before opening her chocolate company, Christina’s career spanned from the television newsroom to managing an award-winning public relations firm. She’s a recovering overachiever and perfectionist with a love of cupcakes and dinner she doesn’t have to cook herself. A 2017 Golden Heart® finalist, she lives in Colorado with her first-boyfriend-turned-husband, four children, and the sweetest dog around.
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