It made her sick to her stomach.
Bentley had said that he was going to stop by for some last minute details, but he was clearly running late. Her dress and shoes were upstairs waiting for her and she still had hours to kill before a team of highly trained professionals—Bentley’s words, not hers—would be at her house to do her makeup and hair.
Maybe it was her nerves.
Or the fact that her sisters still hadn’t contacted her. They’d said they were staying with a friend, but they’d never stayed away so long. Then again, she’d never made them angry enough to want to before.
Were they still planning on going to the ball? Or at least trying? Because that was so not the place where she wanted to have a confrontation with them, not that she’d be able to help it in the first place if they wanted to start something.
When had life become so stressful?
Oh right, the minute she’d said yes to a crazy old man and fell in love with his even crazier grandson.
With nothing to do but basically sit on her hands and try not to have a nervous breakdown, she slowly made her way upstairs to unpack from the ranch.
Sadness had kept her from unzipping her suitcase for fear that her clothes and the smell of the ranch would remind her of Brock too much, and it was hard enough as it was to not think of him. He was everywhere—on the news, radio—you couldn’t walk down the street without hearing or seeing something about the auction.
With shaking hands she pulled open the suitcase and a smile spread across her face.
She brushed her hand against the plaid fabric at the top of the suitcase and her smile grew.
Maybe all memories weren’t bad.
Even if they were painful.
And in all her stress and sadness—she’d forgotten something important—something that even if Brock rejected her and never saw her again—she wanted to do.
She grabbed the present and ran down the stairs just as a knock sounded. Throwing the door open to a bored-looking Bentley, Jane grabbed a fistful of his shirt and jerked him into the house. “I want his address. Now.”
“I don’t really think—”
“Now!”
“It’s six a.m.!” Bentley yawned. “Six! In the morning!”
“I heard you the first time. Address! Please? It’s important!”
“What’s that?” He pointed at the object in her hands.
“Something for Brock.”
Bentley’s eyes narrowed and then a mocking look crossed his face. “Wow, that’s…romantic?”
“Shut up.”
He smirked. “Fine, I’ll give you the address if you promise to be on your best behavior tonight.”
She scowled.
“No hitting on me, grabbing my ass, flirting, or falling in love. I’m well aware that these past two days have been the best of your life but—”
“Yeah, I’m going to go ahead and stop you right there.”
“Sometimes love can’t be helped, or explained.” He winked. “Okay, fine, you’re immune to my charm. Damn aggravating—not that I’d want to steal you out from underneath one of my favorite brothers—but like I said, some things can’t be helped and I’m competitive by nature.”
“Are you done yet?”
“No.” He smiled. “Okay, fine, be ready by six and remember to just….go with it.”
“Go with what?”
“It,” he said slowly. “Go with it.”
“What exactly is ‘it’?”
“You’ll see when it or she presents itself. Okay, now I’ve confused myself. Hand over that weird-looking shirt fluffy thing and I’ll make sure it gets to Brock. I’m not entirely sure I can trust you with that address yet; besides, it’s for the best.”
Well, it wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but it would work. “Thank you.” She kissed his cheek.
He touched the spot she’d kissed and shrugged. “See? You’re in love with me, can’t be helped.”
“Go away, Bentley.”
He tilted her chin toward him. “Give them hell tonight, Jane. And remember, trust him.”
And with that he was gone.
Chapter Forty-One
Brock woke up to the piercing sound of a rooster. The cock was even invading his dreams now.
Fantastic.
“Wake up!” A pillow slammed across his face.
Twice.
On the third swing, he grabbed it and the person attached to it, shoving them off the bed and onto the floor.
Brant let out a curse. “See if I ever make you coffee again.”
“You made coffee? Do you even know how?”
“It was touch and go for a few seconds before I finally just walked to Starbucks.” He shrugged. “But it’s basically the same thing.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Thank you.” Brant seemed genuinely touched by the insult.
Brock rolled his eyes. “Someone better be dying and why the hell did I hear a rooster?”
Brant held up his phone. “Farm animal app. I’m thinking of buying the company.”
“Please don’t,” Brock grumbled as he got to his feet.