Page 20 of Any Cowboy of Mine
Oh well. There was nothing this information changed about her current situation. She was, after all, at a wedding, and she intended to celebrate.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Connors. I’m not sure if you overheard me telling your wife, but I know Brad from college. I actually roomed with Julia.”
A corner of Alan’s smile turned up, and his cheeks shone with excitement.
“Is that right? Well, did you ever see this happening?” he gestured to Brad and then to the rest of the guests. “Who’d have thought we’d be sitting all the way back here? On the plus side, we saved a few bucks on the rehearsal dinner,” he teased. He playfully nudged Brad with his elbow, and Brad smiled, clearly used to his dad’s sense of humor.
“I think you may be right,” Sophie said. “From what I remember, Julia had pretty expensive taste,” she joked back.
“I like this girl,” Alan told Brad, and Sophie’s cheeks warmed with the compliment.
“Me too, Dad.” Brad winked at her, and the heat from her face shot south to her belly and beyond. Thank God her body didn’t betray her enough to show what she was feeling just then. She’d have died on the spot with embarrassment.
“If you three could not gossip behind the bride’s back, I’d thank you kindly,” Marge interjected.
“Mom,” Brad started, but she cut him off with a raised hand and a sharp shake of her head.
“No, it’s not fair. You two didn’t work out and that is a shame, more than you know.” At this last part, Marge looked right at Sophie. “But she invited you all and since you came, you’re going to be respectful.” She turned her back on the group, signaling the end of the discussion. Sophie felt as chastised as if she’d been sent in front of the dean of the university for disciplinary action.
Alan smiled, though, a deep grin that pushed the tops of his cheeks into the bottom of his eyelids.
“She’ll be okay,” he whispered to Sophie, patting her shoulder. “Though now my suspicions that she liked Julia more than you are ringing true,” he teased Brad.
“I was never in any doubt there, Dad,” Brad joked in reply. Seeing them relax helped Sophie do the same, and for the first time since she’d walked in on Brad’s arm, her breathing regulated like it did just before a big trial. She’d always be nervous as heck, then as soon as the judge came in, her shoulders would push back, and she would dominate. It was amazing to her that all her training could come back to her so quickly despite the fact that she hadn’t argued a case in over a month. She missed it dearly, she realized. Maybe she’d actually get a jump start on her CV after Christmas. Start her transition back into the world of trial law.
“Should we sit?”
“Sure, darlin’. Why don’t you come sit by me, and let Brad catch up with his mom?” Alan suggested. Sophie could have hugged the man again. She was relieved to be a few feet away from Marge, who had clearly decided that it was Sophie’s fault Brad wasn’t the one marrying Julia today. She wondered how much his mom knew about Julia; if Marge knew as much as Sophie did, why wasn’t she a little kinder to her son, especially that evening?
Not that it was her place to wonder.
She overheard Marge ask Brad if he thought sitting with “some girl from college” was appropriate at Julia’s wedding.
Though he replied in a hushed whisper, Sophie was sitting right next to him and heard every word.
“Mom, she’s not ‘some girl,’ okay? She’s fun, she’s incredibly smart, and her friend ditched her to hang with Steve. I don’t think the two of us sitting together tonight is going to make any more waves than me being here in the first place. Besides, the last person I’m worried about offending is Julia. She pretty much sunk that ship, Mom.” Sophie mentally gave Brad a standing ovation. She found it harder and harder to excuse Marge’s atrocious behavior.
Sophie was only half listening to Alan talk about his farm as Marge seethed. When Marge’s hand clamped down on her son’s knee, Sophie came a step closer to intervening.
“Julia was kind enough to invite you here, Bradley,” Marge hissed. “You will not ruin her night because of your petty vendetta against her. So she broke up with you. Big deal. People break up all the time. Move on and for God’s sake, stop acting like a petulant child.”
Brad’s thigh tensed against Sophie’s. She inhaled deeply, the floral scent out of place in a room with this much tension. Brad had his heart broken by a two-timing floozy, andhewas to blame? Sophie no longer cared what Marge thought of her. Her place or not, she stood and put her hand on Brad’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Connors,” she started, interrupting his story about Brad stealing one of the farm’s tractors when he was a teen. She desperately wished she could hear more about Brad growing up, about the farm that both of them spoke so fondly of, but knew the adult Brad next to her was going to explode if he sat there a minute longer. “I just saw a dear friend of ours from the university, and she’s waving us over. Brad, I understand if you want to stay with your folks…” She trailed off, letting him make the final call.
“No,” he said through a set jaw and thousand-yard stare, “I’d love to see them. Dad, Mom, see you at the reception.”
Alan nodded and winked at Brad. Sophie wished she could take him with them. He seemed so laid back and cool-tempered. How in the world had he ended up with—let alone stayed all these years with—someone as judgmental as Marge? Sophie didn’t want to judge in kind, but Marge was completely out of line. Didn’t she realize her son was having a hard enough time being here, never mind handling the night with hopeful optimism for his ex and her new husband-to-be as he had?
Once they were back in the aisle, Brad’s hand relaxed in hers, allowing the blood to flow again. She didn’t want to let go though and hoped he wouldn’t either.Unless he found another use for his fingers.Thoughts like those had been assaulting her since she’d laid eyes on Brad for the first time in a decade back at the bar. She felt only moderately guilty about imagining her crush’s hands on her body at his ex’s wedding. Just as she was pushing thoughts about what his hands might feel like on her hips out of her mind, he stopped a few rows back from his folks and pulled her close to him so that the usher could bring more people through. She held her breath, afraid to move and break the spell his body had on her.
“So, who did you see?” he asked, his breath hot on her cheek.
“Um,” she started, but was inadvertently shoved into Brad for the second time that night, closing those last few inches between them. She minded even less than she had the first time. Brad held fast to her hips, his hands tightly cinched on her waist. She felt perfectly safe in his strong arms, if only she didn’t feel an insatiable desire to kiss him, touch him. His shirt was hiding hard, lean muscle, and she scolded herself for wanting to slide her hands beneath it to see what that muscle felt like firsthand.
“Perfect timing. Leaving, I mean. I was getting ready to say some pretty unforgivable things to my mom.” Brad sighed, ran a hand through his blond hair that fell perfectly back in its place. In another world, she’d have envied him such a great head of hair, but now she just felt jealous of the hand that ran through it, wishing it could be hers.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but she was pushing some pretty heated buttons. I just thought you could use a change of scenery. This must be hard enough for you, being here without having to feel like it’s your fault.”
