Say You're Mine

This isn’t the first time Mom has brought up Brock. The first time she told me about him, I said I had no interest, but clearly that didn’t matter. She’s pushing for this, and Dad isn’t here to stop her.

“Mrs. Adair, a car was just let through the gates,” Rita announces.

“Make sure everything is ready, and we’ll enter the garden in a few minutes.” Rita nods to my mom and then goes towards the kitchen.

“You’re trying to set me up.” My voice is quiet because I don’t want to make her angry.

“You should be thanking me. The Rinehearts are a prominent name, and the boy is handsome. Not to mention your father works with his father, so it’s in everyone’s interest to join our households. Make sure you’re on your best behavior.”

When have I ever not been on my best behavior? Mom had me learning fork placement and proper seating etiquette as a child. I bite my tongue to not say anything because Dad is the one weapon she knows she can use against me. I have to think about how to approach this situation and how to get out of it.

The doorbell sounds, and the chimes echo through the house. I know for a fact Mom set this all up for this specific time because Dad is out of town. She can be a bit of a snake at times to get what she wants.

“Welcome,” Mom says when the butler opens the front door. When I don’t see Brock with his mom, I perk up. Maybe this won’t be so terrible. “Don’t you look lovely today, Molly,” Mom says as they give each other kisses on both cheeks.

“Thank you.” Molly turns her focus on me. “Oh, Iris, I can’t believe how much you’ve grown. When did you get your braces off?”

“Last summer.” Without thinking, I run my tongue along the top of my teeth.

“What a lovely young lady you are now.” She smiles, but I look down at the floor.

“Thank you, Mrs. Rinehart.” I keep my voice appreciative, but inside my stomach is churning.

“Isn’t she pretty, Brock?” she calls out, and I snap my head up in time to see Brock make his entrance. He’s tucking his phone into his pocket as he walks up beside his mom and looks me over.

“She is.” Brock winks at me, and I feel my hands sweating.

His wavy blond hair is perfectly styled, and he looks like he could be on the cover of some kind of country club magazine. He’s wearing a classic pale blue polo shirt paired with khakis, and I wonder if his mom dressed him too. As much as I’d like to deny it, he is handsome. But he knows it, and that makes it so much worse.

Every girl in our social circle whispers about Brock. As connected as my mom is, I can't believe she hasn’t heard all the rumors. If she did it would be gross that she’s trying to set me up with the entitled jerk. He’s slept with half the country club, including a few moms if the rumors are to be believed. Why would she set me up with someone who has a terrible reputation?

“Come in.” Mom steps back, giving them room to enter the house. “Iris, why don’t you show Brock to the garden where we’re set up? The roses are in full bloom right now.”

“I’d love to see it.” He smirks at me.

He doesn't give a crap about the roses, but I don’t have a choice. I can’t do anything to upset my mother or disrupt this perfect day she has planned.

“Of course, let me show you the way.” When I turn toward the patio and begin walking, I feel him quickly catch up with me. When he puts his arm along my back, I tense.

“Relax,” he says. “I don’t bite, unless you want me to.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“I don’t.” I step to the side to open the sliding glass door and keep my distance so he can’t touch me again.

“You virgins are always so uptight,” he scoffs, shaking his head.

“No we’re not,” I say, but then regret the words immediately. I don’t know why I’m trying to convince him of anything because it’s pointless.

He pulls a flask out of his pocket and takes a swig before offering it to me.

“No thanks.”

“See, uptight.” He takes another drink before putting the flask back in his pocket. “Now let's go see this rose garden.” He licks his lips, and his eyes linger on my cleavage. “Maybe some are ripe for the picking.”

It takes me a moment to catch his innuendo, and my face flushes. Heat rushes to my cheeks as I walk ahead and try not to let it show.

I’m starting to think my mom might actually hate me.

Chapter Two

Dutch

Train is still the best way to get around without too many prying eyes or people asking questions. It’s also the easiest way to travel without giving too much information. Information that can easily be faked with the right credentials.