I just can’t resist ribbing Brock a little.

When he slipped that ring onto my finger without so much as a warning . . . Well, I was somewhere between thrilled and horrified. I’ve barely had a chance to look at it, but it seems to be a real diamond—and a big, shiny one at that.

Anyway, if he’s going to put me on the spot and make me lie for him, the least I’m going to do is have some fun with it. If he expects me to be demure and quiet, he’s picked the wrong girl for his weird little ruse. I may as well have some fun with this whole situation if I’m going to be forced into it.

I’m still giggling from the roller-derby thing as we walk away. The expression on Brock’s face when I came out with that was something to behold. He looked like a weird combination of amused, confused, and horrified. His aunt and uncle weren’t far off that either.

The mental picture of muscled, serious, intense Brock scooting around on hot, pink roller skates just won’t leave my head, and it’s cracking me up, big time.

Brock doesn’t look like he appreciates the joke quite so much, though. He’s stone-faced and silent as he grips my hand just a little too tight as if he’s afraid I’ll run around and tell his entire family he also freelances as a clown at the local circus.

All of a sudden, Brock stops and lets out a little groan.

I follow his gaze and see an older couple bustling through the crowds toward us, big smiles lighting up their faces. They have to be his parents—the family resemblance is striking.

“Brock, darling!” his mom beams. “We’re so happy you came! Aren’t we, Art?”

His dad sort of grunts, non-committal. He mumbles something about “rather be at home." He looks like he wants to be here about as much as Brock does.

Well, I can see where Brock gets that side of his personality from.

“Mom, Dad, this is Nina,” Brock says. “She’s my fiancée. We, uh . . . got engaged recently.”

His parents are shocked silent for a moment, jaws agape. Even his dad looks wide awake now.

His Mom recovers first, sweeping me into a great big hug then planting a kiss on my cheek. “Well, don’t you look gorgeous, Nina.”

“Thank you,” I say.

She rounds on Brock. “What are you doing, getting engaged without us ever meeting Nina? Honestly, Brock, I can’t understand you sometimes. Poor Nina probably thinks you’ve been hiding her from us.”

Brock opens his mouth to speak, but I cut in.

“It’s been a bit of a whirlwind romance,” I say with a smile. “We’ve barely had a chance to get to know each other, let alone meet the family.”

“Our Brock has always had a good eye for girls,” Art says, eyes twinkling as he gives me a hug of his own. “I’m glad to see he’s still got his dad’s good taste.”

I blush before his Mom frowns and bats at her husband’s arm.

“Shush, Art, scaring the poor girl like that. She doesn’t want you slobbering all over her.”

“I’m not slobbering, Barb,” he says. “I’m appreciating. There’s a difference.”

She rolls her eyes at him then puts a protective arm around my shoulder. “Now, we need to make up for lost time; don’t we, petal? Say, we’re going away next weekend to the lake house at Grand Lake. Why don’t you come along?”

“Great idea,” says Art. “It’s beautiful up there. Isn’t it, Brock?”

Brock nods, looking distinctly uncomfortable with the way this conversation is panning out.

“That sounds wonderful,” I say, “but next weekend is no good for me, unfortunately. I’ve got plans that I really can’t change.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Barb says. “We’re retired; we can go anytime. When are you free, sweetheart? Next week? The week after? Let us know. We absolutely must get to know the newest member of the family.”

I look up at Brock, but he just shrugs.

Well, if you’re going to be like that, I’m going to accept the offer of a free holiday, Mr. Grumpy. Sorry, not sorry.

“The week after next sounds lovely,” I find myself saying.

“Great,” Art says. “Can’t wait. I used to take Brock up there when he was little. Once, we were fishing, and he fell right into the water. He got his pants snagged on some weeds and ended up naked with the fish nibbling at his little worm. Remember, Barb?”

“Oh, I remember it so well,” she says, laughing so hard she’s running out of breath. “Brock was always such a serious little child. I’ll never forget the expression on his face when we eventually hauled him, butt naked, out of the water. Like a grumpy, old man trapped in a little kid’s body.”

“I’m not sure he’s changed all that much in the years since,” I say, laughing along with them, thoroughly enjoying myself. “I like to call him Creepy Old Man—it’s one of my pet names for him.”

Brock clears his throat and not-so-subtly kicks my shin. He’s probably regretting getting me to do this for him now, but I’m having the time of my life.

His parents and I chit-chat for a little while longer while he stands there stone-faced, looking like he’d rather be anywhere except here.

Art and Barb eventually excuse themselves, mentioning that they need to go catch up with the rest of the family, leaving Brock and me alone again.

“What the hell was that?” Brock asks as soon as they’re out of earshot. “I asked you to pretend to be my fiancée for one night—not go for weekends away with my parents.”

“What can I say?” I shrug. “I’m a method actor. I was just getting into my role, playing my part, like you asked me. Besides, it’ll be fun. Grand Lake is supposed to be beautiful.”

“I was hoping you’d be able to wriggle your way out of it,” he grumbles. “It’s not like I could have. Not without raising their suspicions.”

“An outright ‘no’ would’ve looked suspicious coming from me too,” I say.

“Never mind.” Brock sighs and squeezes his temples. I suspect he’s gotten far more than he bargained for. “I guess we’ll just have to keep up the pretense for a little while longer.”

“Okay.”

“Can you . . .” Brock takes my hands and looks into my eyes, the intensity in his gaze making my heart race. “Can you promise me to tone it down a little from now on, though? If you carry on like this, before long, my mom is going to have a wedding venue booked and start asking me to pick out flowers.”

“I’m not promising anything,” I tell him, ignoring the tingles running up and down my spine at his touch. “I’m having fun, and if you didn’t want that, you shouldn’t have sprung this whole thing on me without any warning. You reap what you sow, Creepy Old Man.”

He rolls his eyes. “I need a drink. Come on. Let’s find the bar.”

We spend the next couple of hours milling around the party, making small talk with Brock’s extended family. Out of some (probably misguided) sense of sympathy for him, I tone down my quips and jokes. I play the role of the sweet, quiet, new fiancée.

Brock’s family all seem like pleasant, polite people, friendly and welcoming. I find myself almost forgetting I’m only pretending to be his fiancée.

After a while, I excuse myself from the party to find the restroom. It’s just as luxurious as the rest of the hotel. Checking myself out in the mirror, I note that Brock was right—my boobs do look really great in this dress.

As I make my way back to the party, I hear someone call my name. “Nina! Stop!”

You’ve got to be freaking kidding me.

I whirl around to see Peter charging down the swanky hallway towards me. He looks absolutely terrible, like he hasn’t slept for days. His hair is wild and his eyes wilder.

“Peter, you need to leave.” I draw back from him, actually afraid—he looks completely out of his mind. “Don’t do this.”

But Peter doesn’t stop advancing, stalking me until I’m backed into a corner. I look around, desperate for someone to save me—where the hell is the hotel security?—but there’s nobody. Just me and my crazy ex.

“I’m not going anywhere, Nina,” he rasps. He’s got a smile on his face now—a horrible, cruel smile. “You’re mine, and you’ll always be mine. You just need to be made to realize that.”

“Ouch, Peter, you’re hurting me,” I protest when he grabs my arm, hard, and tries to drag me away with him. “Just let go, leave, and get some help. You’re not well.”

As he leans in close, I smell the stale booze on his breath.

Damn it. He’s always extra crazy when he’s drunk.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says. “I’m not well. You ripped my heart out of my chest without any warning, and then you expect me to just get over it and move on? It doesn’t work like that, Nina. You can’t do this to me.”

I struggle now, the panic setting in.

Peter is slight for a guy, but he’s still a guy. I read somewhere that almost all men are stronger than almost all women, and Peter is definitely demonstrating that for me right now.

I know all I need to do is break free and get back into the ballroom—I doubt he’s crazy enough to follow me in there.

But try as I might, I can’t get his claw-like fingers off my arm.

“Are you here with him? That meathead from the lobby the other day?” Peter’s voice is pure venom. “How dare you think you can just drop me and go fuck a brainless asshole like that? He’ll never treat you as good as I can, Nina. He’ll never worship you like I do. He’ll—”

Pete lets out a strangled cry as he disappears from my view.

Wait. He didn’t disappear. Of course he didn’t

He fell. Like a sack of bricks.

I hear the sickening sound of a fist connecting with Pete’s face before I notice Brock with his hands on Pete’s collar, hauling him off me.

Before I can fully process what’s going on, Brock’s fist smashes into Peter’s face again.

“I told you,” Brock says, breathing heavily, “to stay away from her, you fucking freak.”

Blood is oozing from Peter’s nose as he struggles to get back to his unsteady feet.

“Don’t get up,” Brock growls. “Stay down there if you know what’s good for you.”

“Fuck you!” Peter screams, even as he remains lying on the carpeted floor of the hotel hallway. “You stole my fucking woman! You think I’m just going to let you have her? You’ll have to kill me!”

“Don’t tempt me,” Brock says in a low, threatening voice. He looks so sincere that I actually start to think he might.

Okay, I sometimes fantasize about how much better my life would be if Peter were to get hit by a bus, but actual, pre-planned murder probably isn’t a great idea.

Somehow, my wobbly legs take me close enough to the men for me to put a shaky hand on Brock’s shoulder.

“He’s not worth it,” I say, my voice thin. “Just leave him here. He’s done. Let’s get back into the ballroom.”

Brock gives me a small nod, keeping his dark glare on Pete.

That’s when four security guards turn up, obviously drawn by Peter’s shouting. They see Brock standing over a bleeding man and immediately grab him.

“He assaulted me!” Peter screeches, pointing an accusing finger at Brock. “Arrest him!”

“We’re not the cops. If you morons want to fight, do it someplace else.” one of the burly guards says. Judging by the way the other two guys look at him, he appears to be the leader.

“He was just protecting me,” I say, indicating Brock. “This man on the floor was harassing me and threatening me.”

“I don’t care who did what to who,” another guard says. “All three of you need to leave. Now.”

Brock looks furious as he pulls himself up to his full height.

“Let’s go,” I whisper in Brock’s ear. “He isn’t worth getting arrested for. I think we’ve convinced your family we’re engaged, right? So we can leave.”

Brock’s jaw is clenched, but he nods—tersely.

Two of the security guards haul Peter up off the floor.

“Take him to the side entrance. And make sure he’s off the property before you let him out of your sight,” the lead guard says.

As Pete is being dragged off, he stares at Brock and me with pure murder in his eyes. It’s so intense that I shiver a little. I used to think he wasn’t capable of anything truly scary, but I’m revising my opinion on that now.

“Let’s go. We’re taking you two out through the other entrance.” The lead security guard puts his hand on Brock’s shoulder.

“We can walk,” Brock snaps, shrugging off the guard’s hand.

He takes my hand, the warmth of his skin distracting me from the cold, curious stares of other hotel guests as we’re being marched off the premises.

A few minutes later, we’re outside in the warm, balmy, summer night.

“Thank you,” I tell Brock.

He nods. “You need to go to the cops about that fucking freak before he does something really bad. He’s not right in the head.”

“Yeah, probably,” I say. “Another day. I think he got the message tonight.”

We sit on a bench by the sidewalk silently for a little while, looking out of place in our party attire.

“Sorry I sprung that whole thing on you,” Brock eventually says, turning to look at me. “You handled it well, though.”

“Oh, I know.” I grin.

Brock chuckles. “But if I have to go buy a pair of pink roller skates just to keep up appearances, I’m going to be mad as hell.”

I giggle at the mental image, and Brock laughs along with me, the tension melting away

“Sorry my weirdo ex keeps turning up and trying to fight you,” I say. “But it looks like you can handle yourself pretty well.”

“I wish I didn’t have to do it, but I get the impression this Peter guy isn’t one to take subtle hints. I don’t think he’s done yet, either, by the way he was looking at us as he got dragged away. The guy creeps me the fuck out. You should watch yourself, Nina.”

“I will.” Knowing that Brock is on my side gives me some sense of security.

“So,” he says, elongating the vowel as he lets out a big breath, “I guess we’re going to have to keep up this whole pretend engagement for a little while longer, now you’ve accepted my parents’ invitation. I’ll have to think of a reason for us to ‘split up’ after that I guess.”

“I vote for ‘you snore too loud, and I just couldn’t bear it anymore.’”

“Nah. Won’t work. My parents know I don’t snore.” He shakes his head, a big grin splitting his gorgeous face. “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘she’s way too high maintenance, and she kept on saying stupid shit, and I just couldn’t bear it anymore.’ Far more believable.”

I elbow him in the ribs, and he holds his hand over his side, acting like he’s been mortally wounded.

“Careful,” I warn him. “If you think I’ve reached the limit of stupid shit I can say, well, you haven’t seen anything yet. Don’t push me.”

We sit there on the bench with traffic rushing by for a while longer, laughing and talking about nothing.

This is probably the best night out I’ve had in a long time.