“I’m not sure that’s true,” I replied. “Martha is my closest friend and I know she has my best interests at heart.”
“She know you when you married Heller?” he asked and I nodded. “Your girl had your best interests at heart, babe, she woulda tackled you when you were walking down the aisle.”
“She did her best,” I shared then kept sharing. “She told me she was a bridesmaid under protest. She always hated Damian.”
“How’s she feel about me?” he asked a question I knew he knew the answer to because Martha had been around him on several occasions and she was not one of those girlfriends who pretended to like their girlfriend’s boyfriend when she didn’t like him. She was one of those girlfriends who stared at the men in their friends’ lives balefully, made catty comments under her breath that were meant to be heard and pounced on any possible failing the man had, lighting it up like a beacon.
Damian had hated her nearly as much as she hated him.
And since Brock didn’t miss much and he’d been around her on more than one occasion, including just now, I figured he didn’t miss this so I didn’t answer.
He knew why I wasn’t answering, apparently took no offense and went on. “How long have you known her?”
“Since fifth grade.”
“She doesn’t wear a wedding band.”
“She’s never been married,” I admitted.
“She’s your age and never been married, clearly a winner when lookin’ for man advice.”
“Brock,” I whispered again and suddenly his hand snaked up, caught me behind the neck and pulled me down so my face was close to his.
“You know what’s goin’ down with you and me. You know what you feel when I kiss you.
You know what you feel when you sit with me like you’re sittin’ right now. You know what you felt when you were watchin’ me move inside you after I made you come. And you know how you felt in your f**kin’ kitchen six f**kin’ hours ago. She does not know any of that shit.”
“I haven’t been exactly good at picking men,” I pointed out then instantly wished I hadn’t.
In fact, I wished I had the power to grab my words and shove them back in my mouth when his hand got tight at my neck, his eyes got hard and glittering and the extreme voltage of his anger started snapping in the room.
“I am not Heller,” he growled.
“I know,” I whispered, my hands moving to rest on his chest.
His eyes seared into mine, his were molten and not in a good way.
“Okay,” I said softly. “You’re not Damian but right now, I have to admit, you’re freaking me out.”
“Yeah?” he shot back. “Well you just linked me to a man who supplied Denver for years with shit that f**ked a lot of people’s lives and the lives those people’s shit f**ked in turn and who also took his hands to and raped my woman. Sorry I’m freakin’ you out, babe, but you gotta get that doesn’t make me too happy.”
God, for years, no one knew about what happened to me and now…
Now it was right in my face and it was Brock who kept putting it there.
I closed my eyes and twisted my head away.
Brock kept speaking.
“I know why you aren’t lookin’ at me, Tess, but that shit happened to you. You gotta face it and, for this shit to work between us, one of the people you gotta face it with is me,” he declared, I opened my eyes and turned them back to him.
“So, you’re a law enforcement officer and Denver’s resident sage on how to deal with being raped? Is this what I’m learning about you now?” I asked sarcastically, finding myself no longer hesitant, cautious and unsure but totally pissed off.
“Yeah, since my sister and a girlfriend of mine both got raped, both of them were bad as that shit always is but only one of them was by someone they thought they could trust, I think I know something about it,” he fired back and I blinked in shock as this unwelcome but somehow crucial knowledge filtered through me.
Then I whispered, “Sorry?”
He didn’t repeat himself. Instead he shared, “My sister got help, she talked about it, she faced it, she dealt with it. Now she’s married and has three kids. Her life’s a f**kin’ mess but it’s a mess of the grape jelly smears on her car upholstery variety. My old girlfriend didn’t get help, she didn’t talk about it, she buried it deep and her life went right down the toilet. He took what he took from her but, babe, with her not fightin’, she gave him the rest.”
Oh man.
“Brock –”
He cut me off to announce, “Straight up, baby, I wanna explore this with you. I liked what we had, I f**kin’ missed it when it was gone, I want that back and I wanna know how it feels to have it not havin’ my job comin’ between us. This is why I’m here. You want that too, we have to have this conversation. Because I’m in your bed, you’re in mine, I’m in your life, you’re in mine, that motherfucker isn’t going to be there too. You get what I’m sayin’?”
I got what he was saying.
And I also liked that he wanted to explore this with me with everything clear between us and that he missed me when I was gone. I liked it a lot, a whole bunch because for three months I felt the same exact way.
“I’ve moved on,” I assured him and just like that, the snap of angry electricity left the air and the sweet, steady hum of his humor hit it.
“Right, my sweet, sexy, totally clueless Tess with her glasses and thick f**kin’ hair and great f**kin’ rack who can bake a cake most men would trade their balls for and who looks at you like you’re the only motherfuckin’ guy on earth goes six years without a f**kin’ date when half the guys at your bakery probably come onto you and you have no f**kin’ idea, that Tess has moved on. I see this. Totally. We’re obviously good.”
Okay, there was a lot there that I liked.
A lot.
But there was some of it I didn’t like.
At all.
Therefore, I snapped, “I’m not clueless,” and pulled back on his hand at my neck which only served to make it tense and bring me closer.
“Tess, darlin’, of all the men who walk into your bakery or come in contact with you through your life, the last one you should take one look at, he smiles at you and asks if you wanna get a beer, you should never have said yes to.”