Meet Me at the Chapel (12 page)

She made a circle with her finger. “Turn around, mountain man. I need a ride.”

He looked at her like she had fallen off her rocker, but he did turn around.

Brock needed to lighten up and have a good time every now and again. And, if showing him a good time also included getting a piggyback ride down the hill? All the better for her.

It was easy to climb onto his back from her perch; she put her arms around his neck and he hooked his arms behind her knees.

“Where am I taking you?” he asked.

“Down the hill,” she ordered him playfully. “Can you handle it?”

“Can I handle it?” he asked, feigning insult. “Just watch and learn.”

Brock didn't walk to the hill; instead, he took off like a bull charging a red flag—head down and full steam ahead. She screamed in surprise and tightened her grip on his neck.

“Hold on! We're going for it now,” he warned her.

She was amazed that a man his size could move that fast. He barely slowed down when they started down the hill. Casey, who had zero control in this situation, could only hold on and enjoy the ride. He wasn't going to drop her—she knew that. So she started to laugh—because it was fun. And because he had surprised her in a wonderful way.

At the bottom of the hill, Brock stopped and let Casey go. He was out of breath from a different type of exertion he was accustomed to doing from day to day. His eyes were shining and it was nice to see him smile the way he was smiling at her now—no reservations. Just pure happiness.

Casey, who didn't like anyone to have the upper hand, decided to practice her self-defense training. Without any warning, she stepped on his instep and pushed on the spot on his body were his leg met his groin, and before the ranch foreman knew what was happening, he was sitting in the grass.

The reaction on his face was priceless.
Priceless!

Casey held up her arms like Rocky Balboa and pranced around in a circle while she loudly hummed the Rocky theme song.

When she was done celebrating, she stood, hands on hips, triumphant. But it didn't last. Brock reached out with his long arms, grabbed her wrist and pulled her down beside him.

“Where'd you learn how to do that?” Brock asked her. “Not many people can say that they've gotten the better of me.”

Casey made a karate chop in the air. “Taylor and I took a self-defense class.”

They both started to laugh and it felt
right
.
The sun was shining, the grass was soft, the sky was bright blue and she was having the time of her life with a man who was a great friend. And maybe...just maybe...
more
.

* * *

The next night, Casey and Brock sat together on the porch after Hannah had gone up to bed. Brock had Hercules in his lap—it was undeniable that the poodle had won the ranch foreman over. And it was a good sign to her that Hercules loved Brock in return.

“I talked to Shannon today.”

Casey's heart gave the tiniest jump before resuming its regular rhythm.

“We've agreed on a settlement.”

There had been this struggle between Brock and Shannon, lurking beneath the surface, impacting Hannah and Brock and her in ways that were often indescribable. She could almost always tell when he had dealt with “California,” as he put it, because his demeanor was so different afterward. As much as he tried to hide it and keep it separate from his life with Hannah, he wasn't a man who could easily paste a smile on his face and pretend like everything was peachy when it wasn't.

“Hannah will live with me during the school year. She'll live with Shannon during the summer. We'll rotate major holidays. Shannon gets Taj...”

Casey couldn't help it—she gasped at the thought of Brock losing his stallion.

“I will keep the house and give her a credit for half the value of the house, minus the value of Taj.”

She reached out to hold on to his hand. “I'm so sorry about Taj, Brock. I know how much he means to you.”

“I'll miss him,” Brock acknowledged. “God knows I will. But I had to do what was best for Hannah. It took me a while to realize that I was holding on for all the wrong reasons. Letting go of Taj—I'm doing that for the right reason.”

“Shannon will be here next week to take Hannah to California for the rest of the summer break. She'll pick up Taj and take him with them.”

She squeezed his hand to comfort him. “I'll sign the mediation agreement, have it notarized—after that, we just wait for a court date so a judge can declare us officially divorced.”

There was pure bitterness in Brock's voice when he said the words
officially divorced
. She knew that Brock
wanted
to be ready to move on, but his emotions were going to be all over the place for a while—that was normal. It was also perfectly normal for her to move with caution with this man and protect her heart.

Chapter Twelve

A
week after Brock announced that he was moving forward with his divorce, Shannon arrived with a shiny black Silverado truck and a shiny black horse trailer. When Brock's soon-to-be ex-wife showed up, Casey was sitting in one of the rocking chairs answering emails on her computer. It was a bit awkward because Brock hadn't returned from taking Hannah to a doctor's appointment in Helena.

Shannon stepped out of the truck looking like she had stepped right out of a
Vogue
magazine shoot. Her long, flowing, perfectly highlighted, brandy-colored hair framed her undeniably beautiful heart-shaped face. She was six feet tall, slender but with nice curves in the right places. Honestly, Shannon was the kind of woman you assume doesn't exist in real life. And yet, there she was—it was like spotting a unicorn.

Shannon slid her mirrored aviator sunglasses to the top of her head before she looked around the ranch. Casey could read her expression as easily as she could read a Dr. Seuss book—
what a dump
.

“Hi there!” Shannon walked over to the house. “You must be Casey.”

Casey put her computer on the seat next to her so she could stand up to greet Hannah's mother.

“Guilty.” Casey smiled a friendly smile and offered Shannon her hand.

They shook hands and then Shannon looked around again with the slightest disapproving shake of her head, and said, “I was so hoping to see Brock take initiative with this place. It's sad when people don't live up to their full potential.”

Casey had to bite her tongue—literally bite her tongue. She had promised herself that she
was not
going to
get in the middle of this divorce. Yes, she was a friend of Brock's, and they were considering exploring a deeper relationship, but to get sucked into the muck that was the end of a marriage? No, thank you.

On the other hand, it pissed her off that Shannon was putting Brock down. The man had an outstanding work ethic.

“Brock and Hannah should be back from Helena soon—do you want something to drink? I just made a fresh batch of sun tea.”

Shannon stared down at her. “Well, isn't that
sweet
of you. I guess I'll just have to get used to a stranger inviting me into my own home.”

After she threw out the barb, Shannon laughed to signal that she was “just kidding.” But Casey had been in the company of catty women before, and this kitty cat had very sharp claws.

“And the surprises just keep coming,” Shannon said when she walked into the house. She walked straight into the living room, looking at the new wood floors and the freshly painted walls and molding.

Hannah's mom turned around and smiled a stiff smile at her. “Well, you must be a little miracle worker, Casey. I could never get Brock to change a lightbulb in this place if it'd burned out.”

Casey refused to let the woman bait her. “He did it for Hannah.”

“Now, that's the Brock I know.” Shannon accepted the glass of tea Casey offered to her. “Anything for Hannah.”

* * *

Casey didn't like the way the ranch felt after Hannah and Taj left. There was a gaping hole left by them, a vacuum that couldn't be filled. Brock told her again and again that he was “fine,” but the ranch foreman looked like part of his heart had been ripped out of his chest. There was sadness in him now, so much sadness that he refused to give a voice. Instead, he was stuffing it down and going on about his business as if nothing was wrong and everything was the same. As far Brock was concerned—he was fine—just fine.

Brooding had never been her MO and it was hard for her to handle it in other people. She was more of a “pick yourself up, dust yourself off and get the heck on with it” kind of gal. Wanting to escape the black mood that was currently occupying Brock's ranch, Casey went into town to spend the day with Taylor and Sophia and the four little ones.

The seven of them walked to the nearby park. Casey carried her niece, who had on a pretty sunflower dress and a matching yellow headband. As far as Casey was concerned, she was the cutest baby on the planet.

“I can't wait to have my own,” Casey said as she put Penny in the baby swing.

“If you'd married Scott,” Taylor reminded her, “you'd be living in the suburbs with a couple of kids.”

“How long ago was Scott?” Sophia was kneeling by her son, Danny, tying his shoelace in a double knot.

“I don't know.” Casey gave her niece a little push and loved to see her smile as she swung closer and then swung farther away. “Five years ago?”

“He was such a nice guy,” Taylor reminisced. “He got along with Mom—
impossible
—and Dad recommended him as an intern at the firm.”

Taylor said directly to Sophia, “And he was crazy about Casey. He wanted babies, she wanted babies...he gave her a ring, they set a date and then...”

Sophia kept a keen eye on her children, who were playing a few yards away. “Cold feet?”

“Frozen is more like it.” Casey laughed. “I felt horrible about breaking off our engagement. I really did. But it didn't matter how sweet he was, or attentive he was, or how perfectly he fit into my plan...we just weren't
compatible
in the bedroom department.”

“Oh, no.” Sophia's face registered complete understanding. “That
has
to work. It's not everything, but it has to be
something
.”

“Exactly.” Casey made a face at her sister. “See—Sophia understands.”

“I didn't say it didn't matter... I just don't think you should throw away a perfect guy over it. They have retreats—don't they, Sophia? You go out into the woods and hit drums and dance in circles naked...”

Sophia, who was a trained psychologist, smiled at the thought. “That's not really my area of expertise...”

“It was really hard to break up with him,” Casey admitted. “I cried. He cried. It was a whole scene.”

The breakup with Scott had really made her gun-shy about getting into another relationship. She dated here and there, but the men she attracted just weren't
right
. But she could never pinpoint exactly what was missing.

“I tell you what, the ranch seems really strange without Hannah around. It's been really tough on Brock.”

The minute she brought up Brock to her sister, Taylor's body language changed and the silent message she sent was:
I don't want to talk about him.

But she
did
want to talk about Brock. She saw a future with the ranch foreman—she saw a future with the family she had been craving for so long. Somehow, this mess with Clint and Brock was going to have to be sorted out.

“How have you been feeling? Did you ever get in touch with that doctor?” Taylor was consistent and changed the subject right on schedule.

“No,” Casey replied. “I've been feeling okay. I still have a twinge of pain here and there, but that's to be expected with endometriosis.”

“Dr. Hall is the best gynecologist on the planet,” Sophia chimed in. “I swear that woman knows her way around a vagina. I think she's flat-out amazing. She warms the speculum, too, so that's a bonus.”

“For sure she gets kudos for the warm speculum.
But
if I don't need to go...then I'm not gonna volunteer to have a stranger poke around in my nether regions just for the fun of it,” Casey said. “Thank you, but
no thank you
.”

* * *

Back on the ranch, she was surprised to see Brock home so early. She stood by the VW for a moment—she had been giving Brock his space and he had been taking it. But something in her gut told her that, as his friend, enough was enough. She put Hercules on the ground so he could greet his girlfriend, Lady.

“Hi, Ladybug.” Casey gave the Lab a scratch on her neck, which was her favorite spot.

Brock was at the kitchen table; on the table was an open bottle of some sort of alcohol and a single glass.

“What's the occasion?” Casey asked him.

Brock looked up at her as if he had just noticed that she was there. His shirt was unbuttoned and his hair was mussed. It seemed that he had already indulged quite a bit—his eyes were glassy.

“Here...” Brock reached behind him to grab a glass from the drain. He slammed the glass down on the table, pulled the cork out of the bottle and poured her a drink. “Join me.”

He poured himself another drink—it was a sloppy pour and liquor sloshed over the rim and onto the table.

The ranch foreman held out his glass to toast her. “Congratulate me.”

“For...?”

“I am—” Brock pointed at his chest “—a free man.”

“Wait a minute...” Casey sat down and put her glass down. “You're divorced? How could it have possibly happened that fast?”

Brock tipped his head back to polish off every bit of liquor in his glass. “Well, funny story. Shannon's fiancé, Carl... His father skis every winter in Montana with a law school buddy of his, who—you guessed it—is a judge in Helena. The father asks his friend for a favor, and since everything's already been settled through mediation, the judge fast-tracked our case. Shannon's decided to keep the name McAllister and hyphenate after she gets married. She's shooting for a June wedding next year so Hannah can attend.”

Now
she
felt like she needed a drink. Brock being married had always been a reason to keep him safely in the friend zone—now that he was a free man, the dynamic between them would undoubtedly change.

“What is this?” Casey sniffed the alcohol.

“Cognac,” Brock told her. “Good cognac. Sorry I don't have the proper glasses.”

Casey held out her glass. “What does one toast to in a situation like this? Happy divorce?”

Brock poured himself another. “That'll do.”

They touched glasses. Brock downed his and she took a healthy sip of hers. He slammed his glass down and then drummed his fingers on the table.

Casey looked up to find Brock staring at her.

“What?” she asked him when he just continued to stare at her as if he didn't recognize her.

“Are you my friend, Casey?”

“Yes,” she told him. “Of course I am. Why?”

“Because I intend to get drunk tonight and I might show my ass, if you know what I mean. If you're my friend—you won't judge me.”

“I'm not going to judge you,” she reassured him. “I'll even pour the drinks for you. But you've got to make me a promise, Brock...”

“I'm not sure I'm in any condition to make a promise, but go ahead...”

“After tonight? You've got to snap out of it and start enjoying your life again. God knows Shannon isn't sitting around crying in her beer.”

Brock raised a brow at her. “Now—that was cold.”

Casey leaned forward. “I know—did I go too far? I was trying to motivate you.”

“No.” Brock surprised her by chuckling a little. “I like your style.”

* * *

Casey sipped on her one glass of what turned out to be very expensive vintage Hennessey cognac that Brock had been saving for a special occasion. Brock polished off the entire bottle. She kept him company and she was there for him to lean on when he needed a guiding hand to get him safely from the table to the couch.

“Why are you so good to me?” he asked her when she helped him pull off his boots.

“Because—” Casey handed him a large glass of water and some aspirin “—you're my friend and I love you.”

Brock popped the aspirin into his mouth before he guzzled the water. “I love you.”

One minute she was standing upright and the next thing she realized, she was half sitting, half lying on top of a now reclining Brock. He had reached out, scooped her up like she didn't weigh an ounce, and he had her in a bear hug with his face buried in her hair.

“You smell good,” he murmured drunkenly. “Lemony.”

“That's the dishwashing soap.”

“Mmmmm.” This was the only response she got out of him.

“Brock? I need to get up now.”

This wasn't sexual—it wasn't a come-on—he was cuddling her like she was a life-size teddy bear. Then she heard him snoring.

“Really?”
Casey started to wiggle her body in earnest and managed to wriggle free of his heavy arms.

She got the blanket off the back of the couch to drape over him. Casey stared down at this man who had become so important to her. She'd told him she loved him and she'd meant it. She did. No matter if they went any further with each other—that was another subject entirely—but as a person, as a friend, as a man, she loved him.

“Lord have mercy, Brock.” Casey breathed in deeply and then sighed it out heavily. “We have got to get you back in your own bed.”

* * *

“
Good
morning!” Casey poked a snoring Brock with her finger.

The man must have really tied one on because she had been banging around in the kitchen for an hour and the only time he'd moved was to turn over with an annoyed grunt.

“Coffee.” She tugged on his beard.
“Coffee!”

“Blast it, Casey! I heard you! Coffee! I heard you!”

“If you heard me,” she said sweetly with sarcasm laced in, “then get up! Day's a'wastin', my friend, and we have a full agenda.”

“It's my day off.” He covered his eyes with his arm.

“I know,” she told him. “It's your day off and we have a lot to do. How's that hangover?”

“Not too bad. Considering.”

“I made you drink water before you passed out.” Casey put some scrambled eggs on a plate with toast. “Come eat some breakfast.”

Brock ate a couple helpings of eggs, three pieces of buttered toast, a glass of orange juice and two cups of coffee. The man could really pack it away, even after a night of drinking.