15 Minutes (Time for Love 4)

As we said our goodbyes and walked out with Abigail, Victoria asked her if she wanted to come to the bar tomorrow night.

“Never miss a show if I can help it,” Abigail responded as she gave her sister a hug.

“Thanks for coming,” Victoria said as she squeezed a little tighter. “I know you hate coming here, but I figured having a familiar face would make the evening a little more comfortable for Brock.”

“Anything for my big sis,” Abigail replied. “But you owe me one.”

I gave her a quick hug and said goodbye, then helped Victoria into my truck.

Once I was settled in, I turned to Victoria, who was leaning back against the seat, eyes on me.

“Thanks for coming, Brock, it really means a lot,” she said, her violet eyes intense.

“Anything for you, babe,” I replied, then lowered my voice and trailed a finger up her exposed thigh. “But if you’re eager to express your gratitude, I have a few ideas.”

Her eyes darkened and her face flushed, so I asked, “Your place or mine?”

“Mine,” she said throatily, and I took off down the road with a grin.

Chapter 18 ~ Victoria

If someone had told me a few months ago that I’d be sitting in Sasha and TJ’s apartment, listening to Shelly and Gaby chatter happily about babies while Sasha did my hair and makeup, I would have said they were insane.

Yet here I was, and I was having a great time.

Sasha had gotten my number from TJ, who got it from Brock, and texted me to come and get ready at her place, then we would all drive together. I had my reservations, but Brock encouraged me to go, so I’d thought, why not!

Once I’d arrived, Sasha had dressed me in shorts so tiny that I’d be afraid to bend over all night. She’d paired it with a flowery flowing tank, and cute sandals. At first I’d tried to argue that I was comfortable in what I already had on, but I learned pretty quickly that you didn’t argue with Sasha and win.

“C’mon,” Sasha had pleaded prettily. Her wild red hair was loose, curling over her bare shoulders, with a sexy tube top and tight black skirt. The girl screamed sex. “These two preggos are on the wagon for-ever, so you’re my girl tonight. I need you ready to dance, flirt, and drink like nobody’s business. And you can’t do that in a pink top and khaki capris. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the outfit totally works … But for brunch, not for a night out at the bar.”

I’d relented, which is why I’d been sexified by Sasha.

“Perfect,” she muttered, indicating she was done.

I walked into the bathroom to see what she’d done, one eye closed just in case I looked like a total harlot. Instead I smiled at my reflection in the mirror.

I looked hot!

Sasha had curled my hair and fluffed it out, giving me an untamed look, like I’d just got done having sex, and my makeup was heavier than normal, with smoky eyes and red lips … but I liked it. Not for everyday wear, but for a night out to see my boyfriend’s band? Perfect.

“Brock isn’t going to know what hit him … or his dick,” Sasha said with a laugh, causing me to blush a bit.

“Let’s get going,” Shelly said from her place on the couch. “I don’t want to miss anything. I don’t know when the next time I’m going to get out of the house will be. I’m just about to the point where ten o’clock is past my bedtime, and once the baby comes, my priorities will be totally different. At least for the first few months.”

We piled out of Sasha’s apartment, and into Gaby’s VW Bug.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?” Shelly asked.

“No, this has more room than your truck,” Gaby replied. “Besides, you’ve been the DD for months. It’s my turn.”

I was quiet on the drive, listening to them talk, rather than participating in the conversation.

I didn’t feel uncomfortable. They’d gone out of their way to show me that no one harbored any hard feelings, but I wasn’t quite one of the girls yet. For the first time though, I actually thought that I eventually could be.

We found a place to park and walked into the bar. I was pulling the back of the shorts down, trying to make sure my rear end was covered, when I heard the first strums of a guitar. I looked to the stage and saw Brock. Big, manly, and beautiful, in his jeans and Whiskey Heat T-shirt. His hair was tousled and, since his head was bent, it dropped down to cover one eye. He must have trimmed his beard, because it was pretty close to his face. I wondered momentarily what he’d look like without it.

I walked forward, as if in a trance. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was so handsome, and talented, I almost wanted to pinch myself; I couldn’t believe he was actually mine.