Page 35 of The Desperate Warrior

She kicked herself internally for justifying anything to Brock. She didn’t owe him any explanations. They weren’t together anymore.

Dean gave her a questioning look. “Everything?”

She wasn’t sure what he was getting at. “Huh?”

“You said it was before everything. I just wondered what you were referring to.”

“Before the accident,” she rattled out, hoping that would appease him.

“How long did the two of you date?” Brock wanted to know.

“Eight weeks to the day,” Dean answered.

Brock leaned forward. “Who ended it?”

“Seriously?” Jules grumbled, throwing Brock a glare. “Are you really going there?”

His eyes hardened with determination. “It’s a simple question. Let the man answer.” Brock turned his attention back to Dean, who was pulling at his collar like it had suddenly grown too tight.

“She did.” Dean’s expression turned forlorn as he looked at Jules like she’d crushed his heart.

Brock turned to Jules. “Why did you break up with him?”

She was so stunned by the intrusive question that, for a moment, she couldn’t speak. “That’s none of your business,” she growled.

“Everything about you is my business,” he answered in such a confident, defiant tone that she wanted to slug him. “Why did you break up with him?” he asked again.

Dean let out a nervous chuckle. “Your cousin’s intense,” he said to Jules.

“You have no idea,” she harrumphed.

Not the least bit affected by her testiness, Brock repeated the question, keeping his piercing gaze fixed on Jules. “Why did you break up with him?”

Irritation boiled in her stomach to the point where she thought she might spew. “Because he wasn’t the one,” she blurted.

A pleased expression overtook Brock’s rugged face. “Good to know,” he uttered softly.

He thought he’d won this round, but she wasn’t about to let him get away with badgering her. She tipped her head, her voice going musing. “You know, I thought I had found the one … but as it turns out, the tough guy was a bit of a wimp when it came to relationships. At the first sign of trouble, he tucked his tail and ran like a yellow-belly lizard.”

Regret tightened Brock’s features. “Sounds like the guy was an idiot.”

“Pretty much,” she chimed.

“Well, if he were here right now, I’m sure he’d tell you how sorry he is.”

“Perhaps,” she said lightly. “But words are cheap. Action is what counts, huh cuz?” She nudged his rib with her elbow and then remembered that Dean was there. He looked like she’d just kicked his favorite puppy. Blast Brock for putting her in this uncomfortable position. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t say anything that you don’t already know. You’re a good guy, Dean, but I don’t have any romantic feelings for you.”

Dean pressed his lips together in taut lines. She could almost see him trying to tuck his disappointment away in a neat box. Finally, he offered her a strained smile. “Apology accepted,” he said magnanimously as if doing her a favor.

Had she apologized? She’d saidI’m sorry, but it was more of a figure of speech.

Brock reinserted himself into the conversation. “So, what made you stop by tonight? You don’t usually see guys making rose deliveries during a hailstorm.”

“I just wanted to make sure Jules was okay,” Dean said. “She’s had a rough go of it.”

A stony silence fell over the room.

Brock fired another question. “What kind of work do you do?”

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