Chapter 10 #2
She went about fixing her hair, getting frustrated once again and nearly taking the scissors to it, it could be so uncooperative.
But in the end, she managed to wrestle it into a ponytail behind her and gel down the top.
Though she knew by the time she got home later that night, there’d be a halo of red fuzzies around her head.
Applying minimal makeup, because she’d never really been the makeup kind of girl to begin with, Krista grabbed her black wool coat and red scarf and then headed for the front door.
“I’ll drive.”
She spun around in the hallway and nearly fell into the wall.
The man looked delicious. No, delicious was the wrong word.
Hmm, sexy as ever-loving fuck? Yeah, that seemed about right.
Dressed up in a pair of ass-hugging black dress pants and a forest green sweater, the collar of a charcoal dress shirt peeking out at the top, and sporting just a hint of a beard, the man was drop-dead fucking stunning.
And still, even all ready to go out for the evening, he practically oozed danger, control and power.
He took up the whole damn hallway, and that smell, oh dear lord, that smell: Old leather and citrus musk wafted up her nose, making her horny pregnant lady hormones leap into overdrive.
He tossed on his black leather jacket, but she just continued to gawk at him.
She couldn’t stop herself. Panties instantly wet, and her nipples went diamond hard.
“We going? Or would you prefer to just stand there and eye-fuck me all night long?” he asked, a hint of humor in his tone.
She shook her head. “Excuse me?” Still not able to get over how damn good he looked.
“I’m going with you. As your date. You look beautiful, by the way.” He made his way past her, down the steps to the foyer, grabbed his keys from the bowl, slipped into his black loafers and opened the door.
“I didn’t invite you, you know,” she finally said, wondering if he knew where the party was and not completely sure she was ready to volunteer the information.
He’d been so sweet earlier, comforting her and wiping away her tears, and yet now the bossy, broody hard Hart was back, and she couldn’t get a read on him.
He’d just invited himself to her work party, insinuated himself into her evening.
He grunted. “I know.”
She still wasn’t ready to go down without at least a little bit of a fight. “So maybe you’re not allowed to come.”
He shot her an impatient side-eye. “I found your tickets to the party on your nightstand. You bought two tickets several months ago. People are allowed to bring their significant others.”
She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Well, you’re not my significant other.”
“That’s right, I’m not. I’m the father of your child, your roommate, and your fuck buddy.
I think we’re more than just significant to each other at this point, wouldn’t you say?
And I want to see this douchebag who’s been harassing you for myself.
Size him up. Maybe if he knows you’re with me, he’ll back off.
Might be as simple as standing next to you looking all big and scary. ”
She snorted. “Big and scary … ”
A smirk jiggled on his lips. “You don’t think I’m big and scary?”
Sitting up tall, she shook her head. “No, as a matter of fact I don’t. I think you want people to think you’re big and scary, but in reality, you’re just a big mushy teddy bear. It’s easier to be scary and keep people at arm’s length than let your guard down and let them get to know you.”
Where the hell did she just pull that from? His jaw clenched, and a tension muscle began to tick just below his ear. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at her. Instead he opened the front door for her and waited until she walked out into the cool December night.
“Do you know where you’re going?” she asked with a huff, the seat warmers doing an impeccable job of melting her butt until it was wonderfully tingly.
“Eagle’s Lodge Resort, no?”
Damn it. “Do you even like parties?”
“No.”
“Well, then, why are you coming if you don’t like parties?”
The resort was in sight, and the idea of having Brock and Myles in the same room made the butterflies in her belly flutter around in an unmitigated frenzy of panic, like a storm was coming and there wasn’t enough shelter for them all to hide in.
Brock found a parking spot, pulled in and turned off the truck, shifting around in his seat to face her. “I’m here because you’re here. I’m here for you. Now, let’s go.”
***
Brock fucking hated parties. And a party where he didn’t know a soul and wanted to kick the living shit out of a cop in attendance was certainly not high up on his list either.
His hand fell to the small of Krista’s back, and he instantly felt calmer.
Feeling her beneath his palm, no matter how slight, grounded him.
It also scared him.
Since the moment that little thump thump heartbeat had echoed around the small ultrasound room, Brock felt differently around Krista.
His protective instinct was all-consuming, for both her and the baby, but he was also feeling other things.
He loved the fact that she liked his cooking.
He’d never cooked for anybody but himself before, and although he liked what he made, he was nervous if other people would too.
But Krista devoured everything he made, humming contentedly to herself and closing her eyes with a sultry little tilt to her lips as she ate his creations.
Some days he’d pull her laundry out of the dryer and catch himself smiling at the brightly colored socks with animal prints that fell out. She definitely had a thing for cats.
More than anything, though, it was the way she’d clung to him.
Thrown herself into his arms when he’d barely made it to the top of stairs and cried on his chest. She’d needed him.
Needed his comfort. Nobody had ever come to Brock for comfort.
They came to him for a solution, to fix things or take care of a problem, but never just for comfort.
He reached for her hand.
She glanced up at him, her lips parting just so and her beautiful blue eyes twinkling.
They made their way up the stairs to the ballroom, where red, white and gold assaulted his eyeballs and the shrill chime of poorly selected Christmas music blasted over the stereo system.
A fat fake Christmas tree sat poised in one corner with enormous red and gold bows tied all over it, while frosted snow pictures had been craftily sketched onto all the surrounding windows, and garland and icicles hung from every imaginable ledge or surface.
It looked like an elf had gotten food poisoning and projectile-vomited over the entire room.
“You came!” an attractive brunette cheered, tottering up to Krista on her flashy gold stilettos, her red dress accentuating killer curves like nobody’s business.
The two women hugged, the brunette towering over Krista, who had smartly decided to go with her flat gray ankle boots.
The same ones she’d tossed at Brock’s skull not an hour earlier.
“Yeah … ” Krista sighed. “I came. Not sure how long I’ll stay, though. Still not feeling great.” The other woman’s eyes suddenly flew up to Brock’s face and then back to Krista and then Brock again.
A thousand questions asked in half a second with just one look and a lone raised eyebrow.
Krista coughed and moved back into Brock’s hand. He gently wrapped it around her slender waist and cupped her hip. How in the world this woman thought she was gaining weight already was beyond him. She still felt fucking perfect.
“I, uh … Allie, this is Brock, my … friend,” Krista finally said.
Brock snorted. She elbowed him.
Glancing up at him with a glare and mouthing “be cool” she continued to introduce them. “Brock, this is my friend and co-worker, Allie.”
He held out his hand, and the two made the customary pleasantries, though Brock could see and practically hear the cogs of curiosity spinning like a squeaky hamster wheel inside Allie’s head. She wanted to know every bit of juicy gossip surrounding Krista and her mystery date.
Krista left his embrace and stepped forward to join Allie. The two looped arms, and like a reluctant puppy, Brock followed behind, his eyes surveying the scene to see if he could spot that Myles fucker.
They were seated with Allie and Violet, and a few other of Krista’s colleagues, most of them civilian workers.
Brock hadn’t said more than two sentences in the last hour, but he was completely fine with that.
Chit-chat was overrated, and he wasn’t there to make friends.
He was there to protect Krista and get some intel on Slade.
Sure, Chase’s hacking and Rex’s patrol had proven fruitful, but there was nothing like seeing the monster in the flesh, watching him in action and getting a real feel for the creep. Brock was just glad Slade was no longer Krista’s mentor. But that didn’t mean the scumbag was off the hook.
They were just finishing up dinner when Krista suddenly inhaled mid-sip of her water and began to cough. Wanting to help his date, he started to pound on her back, but his eyes also followed hers.
Krista’s coughing began to ebb, but not before the man she’d been watching swung his head in their direction and his eyes zeroed in on Krista. Then they landed in on Brock and nearly doubled in size.
Was this Slade?
It had to be.
Brock was only half listening to Krista’s friend while the other half of him continued to watch Myles. He was up to something, Brock was sure of it.
Krista’s eyes followed Slade, too, though not nearly as intensely as Brock’s. She still answered Allie and laughed on cue. Brock couldn’t give two shits if Allie had just told the funniest joke of the century; his focus was Slade.