Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
B rock stepped out of the house at the sound of an approaching truck, his sharp gaze scanning the driveway as Hunter pulled up.
Tammy and Ben had left earlier with Leda to spend the day at Garrett’s, and that knowledge settled something in his chest. Tammy was making good friends here, finding her place among the pack, making it easier for him to think about moving on. Once he knew that she was safe, that her bastard of an ex was no longer a threat, there’d be nothing tying him here.
At least, that was what he kept telling himself.
The rumble of the truck engine faded as Hunter rolled down the window. “You got time to grab those shingles and take them to Deb’s?”
Brock’s jaw tightened before he could stop it. Deb. Of course, it had to be her.
He exhaled sharply, shoving aside the flicker of something he didn’t want to name. “Yeah, I got time.” Climbing into the truck, he glanced at Hunter, who was staring at him. “What?”
Hunter’s grin widened, damn near smug, and Brock had the sudden urge to wipe it off his face.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Hunter drawled, his tone dripping with amusement.
Brock narrowed his eyes. “Fine.”
“You sure about that?” Hunter teased.
Brock folded his arms, his patience already running thin. “You got something to say, Hunter?”
Hunter chuckled. “Dude, I always got something to say.”
“Then spit it the fuck out.” Brock wasn’t one for games. If Hunter had a point, he needed to get to it.
“You were mighty fired up last night.” Hunter started the truck, but his sharp gaze remained locked on Brock, watching him too damn closely.
“I was.” Brock agreed but offered nothing more.
Hunter smirked. “Deb’s a good-looking lady. And she’s... changed a lot.”
Brock exhaled harshly, rubbing his forehead. He knew what Hunter was hinting at and didn’t like it. “He was also talking about your Mate and my sister.” His voice came out hard, clipped.
Hunter’s expression sobered slightly, but that knowing smirk never entirely disappeared. “Yeah, he was. I made sure the bastard lost a tooth or two before Dell broke it up.” He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “But you sure as hell reacted a lot harder when Deb’s name came up.”
Brock turned his head sharply, pinning Hunter with a look that should’ve made the man shut the hell up. “Don’t push me, Hunter.”
Hunter just laughed. “Oh, I’m not pushing, man. Just making an observation.”
Brock clenched his jaw, staring out the window as Hunter pulled onto the road. Damn wolf shifters and their need to poke at shit that wasn’t their business. And damn him for letting it get to him.
Hunter pulled around the back of the Feed Mill, his tone casual, but Brock caught the underlying satisfaction in it.
“They were all exiled except for Asher,” Hunter said, slowing the truck to a stop. “Taz vouched for the guy. Asher said he didn’t like Nico and that having dinner with them that night had been a bad decision. So, it looks like you’ll be running the perimeter a couple of nights a week.”
“Not a problem.” Brock nodded, relieved Dell had done the right thing and sent that bastard packing. At least that was one less headache to deal with.
His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of movement near a large delivery truck. His stomach clenched. “What the hell is she doing?”
Hunter followed his gaze, then let out a sigh before throwing open his door. “I told Emily I’d be here to do that.”
“You’re late.” Deb hefted two long boards of lumber like she had something to prove. “Plus, it’s good exercise. I don’t mind.”
Brock was out of the truck before she finished her sentence. He didn’t wait for permission—he just took the damn boards from her hands.
“Where the hell is Gary?” Hunter grunted as he scooped up an armful of boards. “He should be doing this, not you.”
“Don’t you dare say anything to Gary,” Deb shot back, frowning as she went for more lumber.
Brock shifted, blocking her path, and grabbed the last of the wood before she could.
“He’s hurting today,” she continued, her voice softer now. “He shouldn’t be lifting this heavy stuff. I told him to go eat a cookie and get some coffee.”
“Cookies?” Hunter perked up, dropping the wood he carried without a second thought. “You made cookies?”
“Yes, Hunter,” Deb muttered, rolling her eyes before turning back to the truck.
Brock ignored Hunter’s sudden departure—probably off to hunt down those damn cookies—and focused on Deb instead. He didn’t like how she was moving, the determined set of her shoulders like she could handle this alone. She climbed into the back of the truck and shoved at one of the bigger boxes, her whole body straining against the weight.
Brock cursed under his breath and jumped up, grabbing the box before she could hurt herself.
“I’ve got the boxes,” he told her firmly. He barely resisted the urge to haul her out of the truck entirely. “Do they all go?”
Deb hesitated before nodding. “Yeah, they all go. Just stack them against the far wall. I’ll unpack them later.”
Brock didn’t waste time. He jumped down, set the box where she’d indicated, then went back for the next one. Halfway to the truck, he noticed Deb pushing another heavy box toward the edge.
Hurrying his steps, he jumped up and snatched it from her. “I said I would get the boxes.”
Deb scowled, brushing her hair out of her face. “I can at least get them to the edge so you don’t have to jump up and down.”
Brock didn’t know whether to be amused or frustrated. He reached out, gently wrapping his fingers around her arm to stop her from grabbing another. “Are you generally this stubborn?”
Deb looked down at his hand, then up at him. Her hazel eyes held a challenge, but there was something else there too—something guarded. “Yes.”
“Fair enough.” Brock grinned, respecting her honesty as he stepped past her, effortlessly lifting the box she’d been struggling with. He stacked it onto the last one, then hoisted both at once, the muscles in his arms flexing under the strain. “So am I.”
Deb huffed, crossing her arms as she watched him move with frustrating ease. “Yeah, I figured that out rather quickly.” She stood at the edge of the truck, arms locked tight across her chest, her narrowed eyes tracking his every movement. “I asked you not to do anything about those boys.”
Brock didn’t break stride as he set the boxes down, then turned to face her. “Those weren’t boys; they were men, and they damn well know better than to talk like that about women.” His voice was steady but edged with restrained anger. “And they weren’t just talking about you. They had something to say about Emily and my sister.”
Deb’s posture shifted, her arms uncrossing slightly as concern flickered in her eyes. “Oh.” She hesitated, her voice softer now. “What on earth were they saying about Tammy? She’s the sweetest thing and a good momma.”
Brock’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t about to repeat the filth those bastards had spewed. “Something I won’t discuss with you,” he said, his tone final. “But know this—they won’t be a problem anymore. Dell sent all but one of them packing.”
Relief washed over Deb’s face, but something else lurked there too—something that looked a lot like guilt. She swallowed, glancing away. “Well… good. They didn’t belong here anyway.”
“No, they didn’t.” Brock watched her closely, his sharp gaze catching the way she fidgeted, like she was holding something back.
Deb exhaled, shaking her head as if clearing her thoughts. “I still don’t like the idea of people fighting over me. I don’t deserve that.”
Brock frowned, stepping closer. “What the hell does that mean?”
She lifted her chin, forcing a tight smile. “It means I can fight my own battles, Brock. I don’t need a damn knight in shining armor.”
He studied her for a long minute, then let out a low chuckle. “Good thing I’m not one then.”
For a second, something passed between them—something unspoken but heavy.
Deb rolled her eyes and turned away, but Brock didn’t miss how her fingers trembled slightly as she brushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She was putting up walls again, retreating behind that sharp tongue and stubbornness.
“Come on,” she said, striding toward the front of the store without looking back. “The least I can do is offer you a cookie for helping me.”
Brock smirked as he followed, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her. He’d noticed a pattern—whenever she got uncomfortable, she cut him off with that sharp, no-nonsense attitude, like a shield she wielded without thinking. The funny thing was, she probably didn’t even realize how much he liked it. That fire, that fight—hell, it was cute as hell.
Except, as his gaze dropped to the sway of her hips in those snug blue jeans, there wasn’t a damn thing cute about the way she filled them out. Nope. That was straight-up, sinfully sexy .
Brock exhaled sharply, dragging his gaze upward before he got himself in trouble. He wasn’t here for this. He had responsibilities, things to take care of, and a life that didn’t involve settling down.
And yet, as Deb tossed a glance over her shoulder with a teasing smirk, Brock felt that sinking feeling settle deep in his gut. Resisting her was going to be damn near impossible.
“Hopefully, Gary and Hunter haven’t eaten all the cookies,” she mused, pushing open the door and stepping inside.
Cookies. Right. That was what they were here for. But hell, cookies were the last thing on his mind.
Brock followed her in, his eyes lingering on the curve of her hips before he forced himself to look away. He needed to get his shit together. This wasn’t some harmless little crush. The pull he felt toward Deb was a dangerous kind of temptation that had a way of unraveling a man before he even realized he was caught in the web.
And damn if he didn’t already feel tangled up in her.