Page 19

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

One look at Brock’s expression when he returns, and I know I need to stay very far away.

He looks wrecked. Stressed out to the point of breaking.

My heart aches for him. It must have been really rough with his son. I can’t imagine parenting a strong-headed teen.

Everyone else must know the deal too. No one bothers him. The day passes, he doesn’t leave his office.

The next day too. He doesn’t talk to anyone again. My worry grows by the hour.

Later that evening, one of the guys cooks a big meal in the firehouse kitchen, but the chief doesn’t come out to join us. After we all eat, I offer to clean up, hoping everyone will leave the kitchen.

They don’t argue over my offer and head off, some going home, some going back to the movie they were watching in the lounge. My real motive, of course, was to fix a plate for Brock. When the kitchen is tidy, I carry it up the stairs.

I’m nervous the whole way.

For a few seconds, I stand outside, palms clammy, fidgeting. After our last encounter, I don’t know what to expect. But I feel really bad for him. I’m sure parenting alone and managing a big job like his has to be isolating.

Finally, I get the nerve and rap on the wooden door. He grunts a reply, “Yeah?”

I turn the nob and push open the door, but don’t enter. “Hey. Thought you might need something for dinner.”

He stares at the plate in my hands, then flips his eyes to me. “You brought me food?”

He says it like it’s the biggest shock in the world.

I nod. “I thought you’d be hungry by now. Knowing how you turn into a bear, we can’t have you ripping your desk apart or anything. I don’t think the department has the budget to replace it.”

I walk slowly toward the desk and he takes the plate. When he looks under the foil, his eyes soften. “Thanks. I was approaching bear level. This should tame the beast.”

“I didn’t know how you like your tacos, but I put on some extra hot sauce. You know, because of the jalapeno burger thing.”

“Thanks,” he says again as he stares at the food.

“I’ll just be going now…” I back out of the door.

“Wait.” He pins me with a hard look. There’s a burning fire in his eyes. Emotions there I can’t pinpoint .

“Um, okay.”

He tips his chin toward the chair opposite of his. “Sit down.”

I’m not sure who I’m dealing with right now. My lover from the other night, or my boss. Or simply the hungry bear.

I slowly cross the room toward the desk and take the chair in front of him. As if that satisfies him, he tears off the foil covering his food and sits the plate on his desk, right on top of a bunch of papers.

I cringe, but try to keep a straight face.

There’s no way he’s going to be able to keep from getting taco stuff all over his work.

Only Brock doesn’t dive in. He just scrubs both of his hands over his face.

My heart hurts for him. His eyes are tired. His expression agonized. Softly, I ask, “Do you need to talk?”

“Yes. No. Hell, I don’t know. I’m not sure what I’d even say but I’m a damned stressed out mess right now.”

I lean in and rest my elbows on his desk. “I’ll listen if you want. Or, I’ll just sit here and watch you eat.”

“You ate already?”

“Too much. Your guys know how to do it up right.”

He mutters, “They eat a lot.”

I grin at him. “From the size of your muscles, I’m guessing you eat a lot too. Not that you’re carrying a spare tire, because you’re not. But god, all those muscles have to take a ton of calories.”

“Our grocery bill at home is gigantic,” he says as he picks up a taco. It looks tiny in his man-sized hand.

A memory of him touching me ripples through my body. Those hands are forever objects of my adoration. A girl could get really spoiled by hands like that.

Whoa, there, runaway crazy train. I give myself a little shake and try to refocus. Banishing all thoughts of Brock other than being my boss.

He eats while I think about the last couple of days he’s had. A question pops in my head. “Is your son as tall as you?”

“Damn near.” He shakes his head as he frowns. “Fucking kid. He wouldn’t even tell me the truth about the arrest. Just said it was worth all the consequences. I just can’t understand where his head is these days.”

“I’m sorry. I know parenting has to be such a complicated thing.”

Lost in thought, he dives into the plate and eats all five tacos before he says anything else. After all remnants of dinner are decimated, he pushes his plate aside and leans back. His brow is tight, his mouth pressed flat.

I wish I knew what to say. But I don’t have a clue. I certainly didn’t have any role models. Unless you count what not to do as a father as a role model. That I’ve got in spades.