Page 22 of Any Cowboy of Mine
Brad’s eyes narrowed.
“I don’t want to pry, so stop me if I cross a line. I just feel like if it’s something that was important to you growing up, it’s important to me now. I hope you can trust me, Sophie.” Brad’s hand squeezed hers. His other arm was still protectively wrapped around her waist, making her feel stronger than she had any right to feel.
She wanted so badly to trust him, to trust the way he made her feel like everything could and would be okay. But she’d been burned so many times before and by people she’d known a lot deeper than her high school crush. Between her dad and Drew, it was a wonder she had any trust left in the males of her species.
Still, she had to start somewhere.
“I lived with my dad when my mom left him,” she began. She fidgeted. Brad’s question unnerved her but not as much as the realization that she desperately wanted to give him an answer. “He and I were close, but he remarried after only three weeks to some gold digger he met on set—he’s an anchor on KTVB—and she didn’t want kids. Me included. So, I packed back up and went to live with my mom who never missed the opportunity to remind me what a favor she was doing me by taking me back, or what a schmuck my dad was. The thing was, I loved him, so it took years for her manipulations to convince me he didn’t love me back and change my mind. By the time his wife dumped him for the more successful co-anchor at the studio and my dad reached out to me, I was poisoned enough to tell him to go to hell. It’s safe to say none of us are very close anymore…” Sophie trailed off, nervously using the tip of her peek-toed heel to kick at the end of the chair in front of her.
“Is he Anthony Kellerman?”
Sophie nodded.
“No offense, but I always thought he was a little too into his own looks, what the public thought of him. And that laugh…” Brad trailed off, and Sophie nodded vigorously, agreeing with Brad’s summation of her father.
“Right? Like he was auditioning for daytime television or something. It was awful. He didn’t laugh like that with me, though. He used to laugh so hard his belly shook, and sometimes he’d even cry if he thought something was funny.” Her smile fell as she recalled the man she’d loved before he’d chosen someone else, someone who wasn’t his flesh and blood. More than anything she wanted to keep things light, but once Brad had asked about her folks—a perfectly reasonable first-date question—it was inevitable that this was how it would go.
Even after all this time, her father had a hold on her that nothing could break.
“Sophie, I’m so sorry. And I want to get into this more, but later. I didn’t mean to drag this all out of you on what’s probably not the best night to trudge through family history. But I can promise you this—I’ll be here to hear it all and help if I can. Pinky swear.”
Sophie laughed, trying not to focus on how open-ended Brad’s pinky promise had been. Imagining him around, holding her as she spilled the secrets of the past that still haunted her, filled her up in the places that were empty before that night.
He wagged his pinky at her.
“Pinky swear?” she said, a giggle escaping. She found she wasn’t dreading the conversation coming up again at a later time. Not with this man, whose heady scent of cologne and something sweeter, something more rustic, fogged her brain every time she tried to think.
“Yeah. Pinky swear. It’s some serious business, Kellerman. More so than any law you might see come through your courtroom, that’s for sure.” Brad’s bottom lip trembled as he tried to keep a straight face. He hooked her pinky in his, drew them to his lips, and kissed them.
Sophie’s heart plummeted to her feet, and she wet her lips with her tongue. God, the way he spoke, the way he held her hand, the way he touched her, like he already knew her. She resisted every urge to put her lips on his, arguing with herself that it wasn’t the right time. Besides, who knew if that’s at all what he wanted.
“Speaking of serious business,” Sophie said, trying to make her voice sound as solemn as she could, “I have a bone to pick with you.”
Brad’s smile faded from his face.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“You totally undersold how much ass you kicked in the literary world. Three movies, huh?” She couldn’t keep her smile hidden anymore, and she let a small giggle pass through pursed lips. Brad smirked, playfully nudging her with his shoulder.
“Yeah,” he admitted. He ran his hand through his hair, a gesture she’d recognized as his nervous tell. She longed to be the one to feel the soft, wavy tendrils between her fingers, to take away any nerves he had. “It’s still a little hard for me to talk about myself like that.”
“Well, then you should hire me. I’ll tell all the people I see you’re a famous writer. I’ll sing it from the rooftops, even. Trust me, I’ll be the best PR person you’ve ever had.”
Brad laughed, a heavy sound that sprung from his chest, drawing a few stares from the guests seated in front of them, but neither Sophie nor Brad gave their haters the pleasure of showing them any attention.
“Fair enough. I could pay pretty well for that kind of positive publicity. Especially after tonight. I think I’ve been found guilty in the court of public approval, Counselor. What do you think?”
Sophie glanced around at the seats in front of them, noting that more than a few heads were still craned back to catch a glimpse of the newly famous writer-in-residence and the scandalous date he’d shown up with. Instead of being worried like she’d been when she first arrived, now she found it entertaining.
“I agree—they’re ready to vilify you, buddy. Sorry. I’m not sure you could afford me with that much work to transform your image, but I might be willing to make a deal.” Sophie had never felt comfortable flirting, considering it a cheap and inauthentic ruse, but for some reason, the lines fell from her like she was a drunk frat guy at a college party.
And better yet, they seemed to be working.
“Oh yeah?” Brad chuckled, rubbing her palm in the circles he’d been making earlier. Was the intimate move a leftover habit from his relationship with Julia? She swallowed that question back into the depths of her stomach before it consumed the moment, though. She didn’t want to spend much time ruminating on Julia, not especially when she was this close to having her college dreams come true.
“Sophie, I was wondering,” Brad started, but then loud piano music boomed over the speakers and the guests around them all turned to greet the wedding party. Sophie tried to turn as well, but Brad pulled her back towards him. Instead of finishing his sentence, he pressed his lips to hers.
Sophie melted into him, no longer caring what was appropriate or otherwise. She was transported across time, every decade-old wish she’d had outside of graduating with honors coming true with that one gesture. Brad’s hand cupped her chin, closing the last few centimeters between them, which she obliged willingly, eagerly. His lips were soft, like the sheer fabric that separated the lace of her dress from her body that grew warmer with every passing second. His tongue lightly trailed her bottom lip, teasing her mouth open more.
