42 Hours (Time for Love 3)

When they finished their last song, I trailed behind Shelly, holding my hair up off the nape of my neck as I tried to let the cool air reach my skin. “Thanks,” I said to Sasha as she handed me a hair tie that she grabbed out of her purse. I twisted my hair and piled it on my head, securing it with the tie.

“Weren’t they amazing?” I asked excitedly, accepting the beer that Scott handed me.

“Yeah, they’re really good,” Scott managed, his voice tight. “I had no idea they would be.”

I was puzzled at his tone, and wondered if something had happened between the guys while we were out dancing, but decided to let it go. I was having too much fun, and didn’t want to end the night on a sour note.

“Me neither,” I said brightly, hoping to turn his mood around as well. I stopped and turned when I heard commotion toward the back, and laughed.

The guys were trying to come out into the bar, but a bunch of groupies were waiting for them at the door, screaming out their names as they reached for them. Brady looked uncomfortable as he turned around and went back the way he’d come to avoid the crowd, and Brock just kept walking, his big frame maneuvering through the mass of women easily as he made his way toward us. Brendan, however, was enjoying every second of it, grinning and laughing as he talked to the women and signed things that they thrust at him.

“That was so awesome,” Sasha said, jumping up to give Brock a hug when he reached our table.

“Thanks,” Brock said with a grin for everyone. “I’m glad you could all make it.”

He walked around, slapping TJ and Cal on the back, and kissing Sasha and Shelly on the cheek, before holding his hand out when he reached Scott. Things had always been awkward between them, mostly because Scott made it that way, but Brock always went out of his way to be polite.

“Scott,” Brock said in greeting.

“Brock,” Scott returned, shaking his hand briefly, then pulling it back and letting it fall to his side. “You sounded great.”

Brock just nodded, then turned to me, his smile taking over his face.

“What’d you think, sweet girl? Did you enjoy the music? You looked like you were.”

I nodded happily, still excited over listening to them play. Brock leaned in to whisper in my ear, and the spicy smell of him made me heady. “I liked watching you dance to my music,” he said, his voice a low rumble. I pulled back to respond, but noticed Scott’s face harden, right before he turned and walked away from the table.

His reaction to Brock, and the way he acted whenever he saw the two of us together, made me wonder if his problem was with Brock, or the thought of Brock and I dating. I was aware of Brock watching me as I watched Scott’s retreating back, and my stomach clenched as I wondered what I would do if I was right.

Chapter 9 – Scott

I straightened the cuffs of my blue-striped dress shirt as I sat erect and formal in my mother’s living room. Yes, both of my parents co-existed in this monstrosity of a house, but there was no doubting that this room belonged to my mother. One hundred percent. It was cold, monochromatic, and boring in its perfection. Just like my mother.

I met her eyes as she walked in the room; she wouldn’t stand for poor posture, avoidance, or cowardice, so I met her steely dark gaze with one of my own. She handed me a glass of port, sitting down with her own and taking a sip.

“Well, Scott,” she began as she put her crystal glass on a coaster. “I’m ready for your explanation.”

The child in me wanted to roll my eyes at her words, but the adult in me needed to get this conversation done and over with, so I could leave.

“I don’t know what else you want me to say, Mother,” I replied, trying to keep the exasperation from my tone. “Victoria and I aren’t suited, so I’ve ended it. We’ll both be better off in the long run.”

“Tsk,” she responded. “Victoria couldn’t be more perfect. She was raised to be the wife that a man like you needs, Scott. She’s well mannered, perfectly groomed, and has already begun to volunteer at Club events. She comes from a good family, and will make a wonderful addition to ours.”

“No, she won’t,” I said sternly. “Not unless you have another son that I don’t know about, because I’m not marrying her. I don’t love her.”

“Love is fleeting, but breeding is constant. I thought you would have learned that by now.”

I stared at my mother, horrified and a little shocked. I’d always known that my parents’ marriage was less than perfect, and, Lord knows, my mother can be a nightmare, but I’d always thought that at the foundation, they’d at least loved each other.

“Preston,” my mother called out as my father passed the open doorway. He paused, tall and handsome in his Tom Ford suit, but didn’t enter the room. “Do you have anything to say with to your son about calling off his wedding to Victoria?”

My father looked at me, nodded slightly, then turned back to my mother and said, “No, Constance, I don’t,” before turning and walking away.

She scowled at his retreating back, and I felt a little relief that my father wasn’t going to join in on the guilt party. I should have known he wouldn’t; my father worked very hard at avoiding confrontation.

I set my glass down and eased up out of my seat, “Mother, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to bend to your will on this. I understand that you and Victoria spend a great deal of time together, and I don’t expect you to stop, but you need to let go of the hope that she and I will ever marry. I’m not going to enter into a loveless marriage, with a wife who is more worried about appearances than happiness.”

I eased in and kissed her cheek, hoping to take some of the sting out of my words.