Page 38 of The Confidentiality Clause
I shrug. “Over text, yeah. I guess I’ll have to wait and see on the date. Not that I know what that feels like. All of my past dates have been duds.”
I’ve gotten butterflies at times and crushed on guys from a distance. But as soon as we go out, the feelings fade for one reason or another. Either he’s a jerk, or creepy, or not the same guy as he pretended to be online. Or, in the case of my last date, he didn’t show up at all.
“You’ll know when you feel it,” Sutton encourages. “It’s like time slows down, and every one of your nerve endings is electrified. You feel like you can’t breathe because you want to kiss them so bad.”
My mind flashes to that moment in the hot tub with Brock. I reach for the water bottle on my bedside table and take a drink to cool down. Was that chemistry? No, it couldn’t have been. It was just the mix of the atmosphere and proximity, and the amount of muscles Brock has–
“Ariel? You good?” Sutton asks with a laugh. “If you want to daydream about your future boyfriend, I can hang up.”
My face burns. If only she knew I was thinking about her brother.
“Sorry,” I squeak out. “I was just thinking about what I was going to wear.”
“Then thinkout loudso I know too,” Sutton playfully reprimands.
There will be no thinking out loud around Sutton anytime in the near future. My thoughts will be in a steel box surrounded by soundproof plexiglass. Nothing is getting out that she shouldn’t know.
I start rambling off a few outfit ideas, doing my best to stop analyzing every interaction with Brock lately. If I could burn the memories, I would. The last thing I need is to be thinking about my best friend’s brother while preparing for a date with another man.
“Why didn’t you answer your sister’s call?” I stare Brock down.
After getting off the phone with Sutton, I searched Pinterest for a dessert recipe, only to realize I was craving s’mores. Since there’s a firepit on the balcony, all I need is to head to the little general store on the strip and get some supplies. But first, I have to yell at Brock. It’s my duty as Sutton’s best friend.
Brock looks up at me from where he’s smushed into the circle chair. There’s going to be a permanent indent in the fabric from how much time he’s spent on it.
“I’m working,” he says like it’s obvious.
I glare at him. “You can make time for a short phone call.”
“Sutton doesn’t do short phone calls unless she’s busy or tired. She wouldn’t call me if either of those were the case. I’ll text her back in a little while.”
“You’ll text her back right now and tell her that you’re going to the family dinner at your parents’ house.”
His brow furrows. “What are you talking about?”
“If youchecked your phone, you’d know. Shaw and Sutton are coming to Charlotte this week. There’s going to be a family dinner at your parents’ house on Wednesday. We’re both invited.”
“Great, just what I need, more time with you while dealing with my family.”
“Do you hear yourself?” I cross my arms. “You shouldn’t have todeal withyour family. They’re amazing. They support you and love you even when you’re a jerk who never visits them.”
He scowls. “I visit them. My mom thinks anything less than a daily visit is something to despair over. Sutton lives in Alabama, so it’s not like I can fly out there at the drop of a hat.”
“You could, Mr. Multi-Millionaire, you just don’t want to.”
His hands push into his hair as he lets out a frustrated growl. “You waltz into my life and think that you know everything about me because we’ve spent a few days together. Well, you don’t.” He stands up and grabs his laptop. “I’m building a legacy. That requires sacrifice.”
“And what legacy is that? A man who spent so much time working that his family forgot what he looked like?”
“Stop it, Ariel. I’ve let you push me, but I’ve had enough.”
“I decide when it’s enough, remember? You’re going to that dinner. Or I’m going and telling your whole family everything.”
His jaw ticks. “Fine. I’ll go, but I’m done talking about this stuff with you.”
“Fine.”
“I’m going to work in my room.”
