Going Deep (Coastal Heat #1) by Maggie Wells Page A

explained. “I’ll probably end up selling her to a private collector.” He paused, his fork dangling from his fingers as he eyed her speculatively. “Think I should get a truck?”
    The image of Brian Dalton tooling about town in a jacked up dually popped into her head and a laugh sputtered out of her. “No!”
    “No?” His smile spread as he cocked his head. “Why not? Lots of guys around here drive trucks.”
    She shrugged. “Okay, but you should know most women think the bigger the truck, the tinier the equipment.”
    The bit of insider information sobered Brian instantly. “I see.”
    Brooke reached for her tea as he turned his attention back to his meal. She took a sip, trying to hide her smile. She wasn’t at all prepared for the serious set of Brian’s mouth or the cool, calculating gleam in his eyes when he looked up.
    “I bet you drive a really big truck, don’t you, Jack?”
    The tea slid down the wrong pipe as she whipped her head around to catch Jack’s reaction. She pressed her hand to her mouth and coughed. Their waitress landed a couple of hearty slaps on Brooke’s back when she passed. Brooke looked up to find Jack glaring down at her, the front of his polo shirt spattered with tea and spit. Brian was out of the booth and at her side, paper towels clutched in his hand as he gently lifted her arms over her head to clear the airway.
    “Relax and breathe,” he coaxed. When her coughs began to subside, he released one hand long enough to mop the tears from her face. A lopsided smile twitched his lips and he lowered his gaze. “Sorry about that.”
    “S’okay.”
    “I shouldn’t bait your boyfriend,” he whispered. “It’s just…he makes it too easy sometimes.”
    “He’s not my boyfriend.”
    The answer was as reflexive as her cough. She couldn’t have stifled the denial if she wanted to. Nor could she stop the montage of flashbacks playing through her head. All the times Jack rose to take the bait Brian dangled. The big man on campus’ lame attempts to prove he was as quick and clever as the class nerd. He wasn’t. Unable to intimidate Brian physically, Jack relied on his ability to stir the tide of social scorn. He’d never understood that Brian didn’t measure himself by the subjective standard of popularity. He required substantive data.
    As if to refute her breathy statement, Jack placed a hand on her shoulder. “I wanted to let you know I picked up my tickets to the Bay Ball. I promised your mama I’d bring you along.”
    The Bay Ball was the high water mark of the Mobile social season, and her mother was this season’s chairwoman. The night would be a culmination of years of hard work in the name of charitable good works. Looking up at Jack’s set jaw and smug smirk, she felt resentment rise inside her. She had long ago promised Emmaline she would be at the ball, and she would be, but she’d never agreed to let her mother choose her escort.
    She drew a steadying breath and tossed the wad of paper towel onto the table. Bumping Brian with her hip, she shoved him to the edge of the bench. He laughed as he spilled from the booth and onto his feet with a sailor’s rolling grace.
    She plucked two twenties from her wallet and dropped them onto the littered table then turned to face Jack. “Thank you, but I’ve already made other arrangements for the ball.”
    “Wha—”
    Before he could finish forming the question, she whirled and pinned Brian with a hard stare. “I’ll be in touch to set up an alternate day and time for the interview.”
    Winding her way through the tables, she kept her sights set on the exit. The soles of her shoes stuck to the worn linoleum, but there was no force in the world strong enough to hold her. The scarred wooden door swung out and her step faltered as a sharp shaft of bright spring sunlight blinded her.
    That moment was enough for the boy who’d surprised everyone by lettering in track to catch up to her. “Hey.” Brian grasped her arm,