Chapter 20

Jamie

"What happened to you last night?" Mum spluttered. "I rang and rang?—"

"I was out, Mum."

"Obviously, but that doesn't explain why you didn't answer the phone when your own mother called."

Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard, setting my teeth on edge.

"So I should chat to my mum when I'm on a date, should I?"

Snapping never got me the results I was after, but that didn't seem to stop me. I rubbed at my temples, feeling a dull throb there.

"A date?" Her tone changed completely. "During the week?"

"He wanted to take me out for dinner," I replied, remembering it all now. "We went to a lovely place that makes great pizza. Maybe you and Dad could come and have a bite to eat there when you're in town?"

I was talking too fast, suggesting things I had no business doing. The less time spent around Mum, the better. It was just the relief of having a story to tell her that she would like, I was sure.

"And meet this young man of yours?" Her arch tone dragged me thudding back to Earth. "But not at a pizza place. All those carbs and dairy. You think you can afford to eat that sort of junk now, but then you'll get to my age. The weight just piles on…"

I stopped really listening. Mum's obsession with diet culture was alienating as hell, something that Dad pushed back hard against. He wasn't going to eat ‘rabbit food' as he called it, so then neither were we.

"But which boyfriend was this?" Mum asked, getting back on track. "I don't even know their names. I will need some information about them if we're to meet them."

"Brock," I replied, right as the man himself walked in. He found my eyes across the workshop, staring for far too long, his expression completely blank before he headed upstairs to his office. "His name is Brock."

"Brock…?" No one could accuse my mother of being stupid. I could almost hear the cogs whirring inside her head. "Hang on, isn't your boss' name?—"

"Brock. Brock McDonald," I confirmed. "Millie's older brother."

"Your boss…" That rapid intake of her breath had me cringing, readying myself for the onslaught, but I was pleasantly surprised. "He owns the garage, doesn't he?" I was ready to answer, but she rushed on. "He does, I'm sure of it. Oh, a small business owner. He's the one you want, Jamie. Someone with a secure business, a solid income. You could move into management rather than working on cars all day."

But I liked walking on cars all day. I looked mournfully at the one I was supposed to finish, wondering what it would take to get Mum off the phone.

"We'll see. I'm seeing the other two tonight," I told her.

"Two dates in one night? You need to be careful, Jamie. Trying to have too much might mean you lose all of them. Brock definitely seems?—"

"They know about each other," I told her firmly. "And everyone's cool." Well, that was an obvious freaking lie, because however you would describe what happened out the front this morning, it wasn't cool. "I just need to touch base with them and see if they're free to meet you and Dad. Text me your itinerary and I'll work out when it suits them."

But of course she couldn't. Instead, she chattered on and on, discussing the engagement party and all of the prep that had to happen before that. I let her drone on and on for a few minutes before cutting her off.

"Mum, I need to go." I looked up at the glass windows of the office. "Brock needs to see me."

"No doubt wanting to make things serious," she squeaked. "Well, we arrive tonight, darling, so I expect to see you at the airport?—"

"You'll have to ask one of the boys, Mum. Hunter has a reservation at an extremely exclusive restaurant and it's for tonight. We'll catch up some time tomorrow, OK? See you later."

She made some sound, I couldn't tell if it was excited or angry, but I ended the call, setting my phone to silent and then moving closer to the car. I half expected to see Clinton or Ken stick their head up, but everyone was blessedly engaged in what they were doing. I decided to do the same, remembering where I got to and then started work.

"Knock off time." I looked up from what I was doing to see Brock standing there, arms crossed. The warm eyed guy of this morning was gone and the grump was back. Part of me wanted to go to him, smooth that line that formed between his brows away, but I didn't. Last night was fun, more than fun, but it didn't change anything. We both had an itch to scratch and we scratched it, so now everything could go back to normal. He smiled slightly at my inspection of him and then shook his head. "You need to get home if you're going to be ready in time for my brother."

"So…" I felt like an idiot asking it, but it needed to be said. "We're cool? I let Mum know about you, and she's keen for an introduction. I'm pretty sure?—"

"No, we're not cool." He moved in, pressing me against the car, his legs going to either side of mine. "Nothing that happened last night was cool. Instead, it was the hottest fucking night I've spent with a woman for a long, long time, so go out with my brothers, let them practise being the perfect dates for you, but when you're done…" I felt his nose trail down my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "Come back to me. Ring me and I'll come and get you, or get the twins to drop you off at my place any time of the night. I'll be there at the door, waiting."

My mouth was bone dry, my heartbeat racing when he pulled away.

"Just send me a text."

"Right…"

I watched him walk off deeper into the workshop in a daze, having to shake my head to dispel it before making for my car. Arriving home, taking a shower, and opening up my wardrobe to look for something to wear all happened in a similar fuzz, until I remembered what Hunter had said.

Exclusive restaurant.

I didn't have those sorts of clothes. No one took me anywhere like that. A faint tendril of hysteria grew inside me, getting bigger and bigger by the second. Nice jeans, a cute top, even a pair of slacks, that I could do, but somewhere swanky? I grabbed out my phone and instantly called Millie.

"Well, if it isn't the girl brave enough to take on my idiot brothers," she said as soon as she picked up. "What're you calling me for? Feeling an irresistible desire to knock all their heads together? Give into it, I'm telling ya. I do it all the time. It's very therapeutic."

"I'm considering doing just that with Hunter. He's taking me to this fancy place that has a bloody waitlist. Me. You know I don't do things like that."

"And now you're freaking the fuck out in your underwear?" she replied with a chuckle.

I looked down and saw I was doing exactly that.

"How did you know?"

"Knock, knock, bitch. I'm at your front door."

An actual knock confirmed just that, so I wrapped my towel tight and rushed down the hall to yank it open. She was grinning ear to ear as she walked in, toting a garment bag.

"What the?—?"

"We know you, babes," she said, tossing her burdens on my dining table. "So when you said yes, Hunt called me. Said you'd have a sartorial emergency right about…" She consulted her watch. "Now, and could I help you out, using his credit card, of course. Shopping on my brother's dime? Who could say no to that? I got you something pretty, appropriate and… I think you'll even like it."

I watched wide eyed as she lowered the garment bag's zipper and revealed this.

At first I just saw a lot of black fabric, but as she flicked it out, I saw the shape.

"I can't?—"

"Oh no, we are not doing that," Millie said. "This dress is fucking perfect and you're gonna listen." My eyes narrowed and my back went ramrod straight, but she forged on. "See this bit." She pulled at some weird scrunched up part that looked way too narrow. "This is a shirred waistband. It's an elasticised detail that sucks you in just under the bust."

"So it's a straightjacket," I grumbled.

"And the elastic gives when you move, so you're not feeling stifled. You got a deep V to make the most out of the girls, but the fabric has some give in it. A long flowing skirt?—"

"For me to trip over."

"To give you plenty of range of movement and three-quarter length sleeves with a little ruffle detailing, feminine but not constricting."

"I'm not?—"

"Try it on." She thrust it at me with a dark look. "Try it on and tell me it isn't fucking perfect, and you don't have to wear it. No, bugger that, you can wear your goddamn overalls to the restaurant and your work boots."

I grinned then, seeing my way out of this. Of course I wasn't going to wear grimy work gear to a restaurant, but something a little more low key? A white blouse and black pants maybe? I'd look like a waiter, but at least I'd be comfortable.

Sort of.

I grabbed the dress from her, going into my bedroom and pulling it over my head before…

Realising Millie was a freaking genius.

"Perfect, right?" she asked, coming into the room as I just stood there.

My pose was all wrong, my arms sticking out awkwardly by my side, but I… I looked pretty. Exactly as she said, I had curves all the sudden, and yet the dress was crazy comfortable. The fabric was soft and silken, but with enough stretch that I could breathe, move fine. I experimented, grabbing a hair brush and throwing it at the wall, then performing the YMCA movements from the Village People song, right as Millie chuckled.

"Holy crap, this looks amazing," I told her. "How the hell…?" She offered me a pair of black, jewelled slippers. "And I don't even have to wear heels? That's it, you're making all of my fashion decisions going forward."

"You're finally going to let me ditch every piece of fleece or denim in your wardrobe?" she replied. "Don't threaten me with a good time, but.. and I need you to trust me on this." She stepped around me and then twisted my hair before pinning it up roughly behind my head. "A few tendrils here and there, bobby pins that are easy to get out. I think this is the look."

Mentally I went to my high school formal and other events where I was forced to wear a dress, but this was the first time it felt right. My hands kept going to it, plucking at the folds and feeling a weird desire to twirl.

"OK, let's do it."

"Makeup too?" I watched her whole face light up as I nodded. "Well, let's go, bitch. What time is my brother getting here?"

"In about an hour."

"An hour! That's not enough time."

She dragged me into the bathroom, pulling makeup palettes out of the plastic bags she'd brought with her and then went to work.