Page 37 of The Desperate Warrior

“Sounds great.” Dean brought his hands together and focused on Jules. “I was hoping maybe we could talk in private … catch up on a few things?”

“She’s not up for that,” Brock interjected in an ironclad tone that dared Dean to object.

Jules whipped around, her brows shooting up. “Excuse me?”

Brock looked her in the eye. “You need your rest and shouldn’t be entertaining guests.”

“I’ll decide what I’m up for,” Jules countered. She turned to Dean. “You’ll have to excuse my cousin. He tends to be ... overprotective.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I noticed.” He searched her face. “So, maybe we could catch up sometime soon?”

Jules could’ve screamed in frustration. What was it going to take for Dean to get it through his thick skull that the two of them were never going to be romantically involved ever again? Was she going to have to be downright rude for him to finally get the message? “You know, Dean … tonight’s probably not the best time,” she said as kindly as she could. “We may be in for a rough time with the storm.”

“We were about to order some pizza for dinner,” Brock added.

Jules turned to him in surprise. “We were?”

He grinned. “We were. And I’m even going to do the unthinkable and let you add pineapple.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. Both she and Brock loved pizza and had strong opinions about toppings. Brock was more of a supreme guy, and she loved ham and pineapple. They’d onlyspent one weekend together since their time in West Hollywood with Zoe and Tippin. But during that one magical weekend, they ordered pizza three times.

“How kind of you,” she cooed, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Brock’s eyes sparkled with teasing. “I think so.”

“I could go for some pizza,” Dean piped in.

Jules cringed. Was the guy serious?

“There’s only enough for three,” Brock said smoothly.

“But you haven’t even ordered yet.” An undercurrent of red seeped into Dean’s face.

Brock didn’t skip a beat. “We have a standing order with Jules’s favorite restaurant, and it can’t be changed.”

The edges of Dean’s eyes hardened as he zeroed in on Brock. “I could call and ask them to throw in another pizza. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind the extra business.”

Nikki tsked her tongue. “Now boys, quit throwing pizza grenades. It’s liable to get messy.”

“I’m not sure where you’re going with this, but I don’t like it.” Dean glared at Nikki.

She giggled. “Well, Deano, if my English wasn’t plain enough, then how about this? We’ll scoot the furniture back and let y’all settle this like men—with a good old-fashioned fight. My money’s on Brock.”

“Seriously?” Jules threw Nikki an incredulous look.

“What?” Nikki’s expression was the picture of innocence. “Well, you wouldn’t go with me to the rodeo,” she pouted. “A girl’s gotta scrounge up a bit of entertainment where she can.”

“I think I’ll leave on that note,” Dean said stiffly, throwing Nikki a look that could kill.

“Aw, come on, Deano. Don’t be a sour ball. I’m just yanking your chain.” She gave him a soft shove in the arm.

“Sorry,” Jules soothed. “Nikki has never learned to think before blurting out the first thing that pops into her mind.”

Dean homed in on Jules. “So you don’t mind if I stay for pizza?”

It was all she could do to keep her voice neutral. “I’m a little tired. It’s probably best if you go.”

Brock made a point of glancing towards the window. “There’s a break in the storm. You should leave now while it’s not as bad.”

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