Bailey
“WHERE’S BROCK?” I asked as I wheeled my bag out into the foyer. Two days had passed since my announcement of the plan, and I preemptively decided it needed to happen, even though the plan still didn’t have a firm date.
“Out,” Jaxon said. He sat in my favorite chair, his long legs crossed at the ankles resting on the coffee table in front of him, and a guitar nestled in his lap. Yet another football game was on… how they found them when it wasn’t even football season, I didn’t know.
“So, so helpful, Jax. Thanks.”
He grinned. “You’re welcome.”
“But, seriously, where is he?”
“Seriously. He didn’t tell me.”
“He’s not going to bail on the plan, is he?”
“It’s a good plan, Bailey.”
“Again, doesn’t really answer my question, Jax.”
Jaxon cocked his head with a smile. “He’s not going to bail on the plan, Bailey. He’s not happy you’re involved in it, but he won’t bail on it.”
I nodded and sat on the sofa facing the agent. He had dark hair, the greenest eyes I’d ever seen, and he was tall and big. Taller and bigger than Brock, but not quite as pretty with his chiseled jaw and very patriarchal nose. “You really play guitar?”
“No, I just like to hold them.”
I rolled my eyes. “How long have you been playing?”
“So, this is what we’re doin’, huh?” he asked, and paused the television.
“What?”
“You want to talk, apparently.”
“No. Sorry. We don’t need to talk.”
He un-paused the television and I focused on the screen.
For about twenty seconds. “Do you play in a band?”
Jaxon paused the screen again. “I’ve been playing since I was twelve and no, haven’t played in a band for a while.”
“How come?”
“Because I can’t commit to gigs when I can be called in at any time, for any reason, for an indeterminate amount of time.”
“Do you play country?”
He sneered. “Hell, no.”
“What’s wrong with country? I love country.”
“No, you don’t. You love the studio processed pop shit that Nashville tries to pawn off on law-abiding, and some non-law-abiding, Americans.”
“You don’t like any country?”
“I like Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, and I might have given Jason Maxx props back in the day, but his new stuff is auto-tuned shit and it overshadows the fact he’s a kick-ass guitar player.”
Jason Maxx was currently the number one country male artist in the world.
“I love Jason Maxx,” I said.
“You would.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I challenged.
“You think he’s fine and his hair is gorgeous,” he said in a girly, sing-songy voice. “Right?”
I giggled. “Well, yeah, but I also think he has a great voice and can write a catchy tune.”
“Babe, his voice is so processed, it’s not even funny.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” he said. “Granted, he never said he was a singer, and he really is one of the best guitarists around, but his voice is most definitely auto-tuned. They all are.”
I settled my chin in my hand. “So, what’s your thing?”
“My thing?”
“Yeah. Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Wife?”
“Hell, no.”
“Kids?”
“No again,” he said, his expression growing amused.
“What’s your type?”
He studied me for several seconds. “Bailey? What are you doing?”
“Just trying to get to know you.”
“Well, stop it.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“Because I see that look in your face and you look like you want to set me up.”
I gasped. “I do not.”
“Okay,” he said, unbelieving.
Both our heads focused on the door when Brock walked inside. He glanced down at my suitcase, frowned at it, scowled at Jaxon, and then headed toward the back of the house.
I stood and followed him, leaving Jaxon to his football. I found Brock in the bedroom he was assigned to and watched him from the doorway. “Everything okay?” I asked.
He nodded and pulled off his T-shirt before combing the closet and selecting a button-up.
Before he could cover up the beauty that was Brock, I closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around him. “What’s wrong?”
I felt his breath leave his body and he gave me a gentle squeeze. “We have to do this.”
“I know that already.”
“No, I mean, it came down from the top. We have to do this. Jaxon went over my head.”
I raised my head and leaned back. “He went over your head?”
Brock nodded.
“Wow.”
“That’s one word for it,” he said with a sneer.
“Can we talk?” Jaxon asked from the doorway.
“No, but you can fuck off,” Brock replied.
Jaxon crossed his arms. “If you take a minute to listen and think, you’ll see I did not go over your fucking head, Brock.”
“So, telling Matt the plan wasn’t going over my head?”
“Who’s Matt?” I asked.
“No, Brock,” Jaxon stressed. “Matt and I were at the parents for dinner…”
“You told your parents?” he bellowed.
“No. Just listen,” Jaxon snapped, and stepped further into the room.
“Who’s Matt?” I repeated.
“Matt figured something was up. I told him some of the plan…not all of it, and I sure as hell didn’t tell him about her,” Jaxon said, pointing to me.
“Who’s Matt?” I asked again.
“Bailey!” Jaxon snapped.
Brock was on Jaxon within a heartbeat. His hand wrapped around his friend’s neck and Jaxon shoved up against the wall. “You ever fucking talk to her like that again and you and I are gonna have a problem.”
Jaxon raised his hands in surrender, not even trying to defend himself. “Sorry, Bailey.”
Brock released him, and Jaxon put some distance between them.
“I’m gonna take Bailey out to dinner and you and I’ll talk when we get back,” Brock said.
“We’re going out?” I asked, trying to keep some of the excitement from my voice.
“Is that a good idea?” Jaxon challenged.
Brock held a hand up in warning toward him and turned to me. “Yes, we’re going out. Dallas is coming with us, as is Macey.”
“Are they dating?” I asked.
“Babe, go put something cute on and we’ll talk about it on the way.”
He didn’t have to ask me twice. I was out of the room, into the foyer for my suitcase, and back to the master bedroom in record time. I heard Brock and Jaxon arguing, but they moved out of the bedroom next to me, so I wasn’t privy to the conversation.
Having chosen my favorite pair of jeans, a flowy, see-through blouse with a lace cami under it, and my favorite pair of Jimmy Choo’s, I put on a little make-up, ran a brush through my hair and made my way to the great room.
Brock smiled a sexy smile as his eyes raked over me. “Gorgeous,” he said.
I bit my lip. “You didn’t tell me where we were going, so I hope this is okay.”
Brock held his hand out to me and I joined him at the kitchen island. He slid his arms around my waist and kissed my temple. “You are perfect.”
I smiled up at him. “Where are we going?”
“Mother’s.”
“Oooh, I love that place.”
He gave me a squeeze. “Two hours, tops,” he said to Jaxon.
“I’m following.”
“That’s fine. We’ll pick Macey up and then head to the restaurant.” He smiled down at me. “Ready?”
“So, so ready!”
Brock chuckled as he grabbed my hand and led me through the garage door and into the back of the black SUV.