Chapter Four
Tessa wasn’t completely sure what possessed her to wake up before sunrise and start cooking, but she blamed Brick. More accurately, she blamed the way he’d stood in the doorway last night, jaw clenched, voice low and lethal as he vowed no one would hurt her again.
That kiss they shared, brief but confusing, stayed on her mind all night. Brick gave her the impression he was a man who didn’t allow himself indulgences and yet he indulged her.
Tessa also blamed the way she hummed after he left, soft and aimless and strangely peaceful, like her body was finally catching up to her heart, to the adrenaline, to all of it.
The clubroom was quiet except for the low murmur of voices from a couple of early-riser members who drifted in, drawn by the smell.
“Damn, sweetheart,” Crook said as he leaned on the counter, sniffing dramatically. “If we’d known you could cook like this, we’d have beaten Brick and kidnapped you ourselves.”
“That’s not even remotely funny,” she said lightly, though she couldn’t help the smile tugging her lips.
Crook winced. “Right. Too soon.”
The other guy, Trigger, nudged Crook’s shoulder. “Just say thank you and don’t be weird.”
“I’m not being weird. I’m being appreciative,” Crook insisted before turning his grin back toward her. “Seriously, though. This is real nice of you.”
“It’s just breakfast,” Tessa said, shrugging as she added cheese to the eggs. “A thank-you.”
“You’re thanking the club,” Trigger said, “or thanking Brick?”
Her cheeks warmed. “Both. He helped me last night.”
“No kidding. I’ve never seen Brick look like he wanted to rip a man’s throat out with his teeth,” Trigger pointed out.
Crook elbowed him. “Brick always looks like that.”
“Fair point.”
Tessa laughed, shaking her head. The two of them were harmless in a goofy, older-brother sort of way.
It felt normal talking to them. Hell, easy, even.
Maybe too easy, because she didn’t notice the sound of heavy bootsteps behind her until both men abruptly straightened like soldiers who’d just spotted a superior officer.
She didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Tessa felt him. Brick.
His stare hit her back first. It was hot, sharp, and unmistakably possessive. Then the scent of soap and clean cotton and something darker rolled across the room. The kind of scent that made her stomach flutter.
Trigger cleared his throat. “Uh, thanks for breakfast, Tessa.”
“Yeah, real good, thank you!” Crook added, already backing up.
Neither man even took a plate. They practically fled.
Tessa blinked, watching them disappear out the side door. “Was it something I said?”
“No,” Brick rumbled behind her.
She turned. He filled the doorway, broad shoulders blocking the light, black long-sleeved shirt stretched across a chest that had no business being that wide. His hair was still damp from a shower. A cold shower, if she had to guess, but the ends curled slightly at the tips.
His eyes weren’t cold this morning. They were heated and locked on her. Oh. Right. The possessive thing. Tessa wasn’t sure if she ought to be pleased or irritated. She never encountered a man who was as intense as Brick.
She tried not to smile. “Good morning.”
Brick gave a noncommittal grunt. The man communicated exclusively in glowers and low rumbling sounds, but she was getting better at interpreting them.
This one meant something like, ‘you’re cooking for other men and I don’t like it but I’m pretending I’m fine.’ It was kind of sweet actually.
“You hungry?” she asked lightly.
Another grunt, but he moved toward her, dropping into a chair at the small table off to the side. His presence filled the entire kitchen.
Tessa finished plating the food. Eggs, bacon, toast, and a bit of fruit because Brick looked like someone who probably forgot fruit existed, and set the plate in front of him.
Brick stared at it, then at her. “You didn’t have to do this,” he told her.
“I know,” she said softly, sitting across from him. “But I wanted to.”
His jaw tightened like he didn’t know what to do with that.
He shoveled a bite of eggs into his mouth, and Tessa would swear on a stack of case files that his eyelids fluttered just a little.
“You like it,” she teased.
Brick didn’t look at her. “It’s fine.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
His gaze flicked up, sharp. “What?”
“You almost smiled,” she said, leaning her chin into her hand.
Brick froze. She’d caught him. A faint flush. It was barely noticeable, but there, and it bloomed over his cheekbones.
“I don’t smile,” he muttered.
“Everyone smiles,” Tessa said.
“I don’t.”
“Then your face is malfunctioning, because I definitely saw an attempt,” Tessa told him in her most serious voice.
Brick’s lips twitched. Barely, but it was there and she definitely saw it. And because she’d already been half-teasing and half-flirting, the sight of that single twitch lit something in her chest.
Warmth. Interest. Attraction that was no longer hypothetical.
He looked down at his plate again like it offended him. “You don’t have to joke with me.”
“I want to,” Tessa insisted.
His fork paused.
There it was again, that stillness she was starting to recognize. Brick wasn’t a man who reacted outwardly, but when something mattered, he went still. Not frozen, just watchful, like she’d hit a pressure point he wasn’t prepared for.
Then Brick lifted his gaze, heavy and focused. “Why?”
She swallowed. “Because you’re always so intense and I thought maybe I could help you relax a little,” Tessa said.
Brick stared like she’d announced she’d discovered how to solve global famine.
“I’m not sure I know how to relax,” he said quietly.
“I can tell.”
His eyes flickered with something like reluctant amusement. Again barely there, but there was a little spark.
She took a sip of orange juice, needing something to do with her hands. “I was going to ask last night, but we were both tense. Your tattoos.”
Brick stiffened instantly. He’d gotten too fast and defensive. Ah, Tessa should back off.
She lifted both palms. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I just noticed them,” she told him lightly, although Tessa couldn’t deny she was curious.
After all, she’d fantasied about taking off his shirt in bed and tracing every hard ridge of muscle on his chest.
He shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable. The collar of his shirt covered the ink at his throat, but she’d glimpsed some at the edge of his sleeve yesterday. Sharp shapes, dark strokes, the suggestion of something meaningful.
“They’re old,” he muttered.
“That doesn’t mean they’re not important,” Tessa pointed out.
“Some of them aren’t for talking about.”
She bit her lip, and Brick’s eyes dropped to the movement before jerking away.
“Okay,” she said gently.
He looked like he expected her to press. Everyone in his life probably pushed him. Demanded and expected things. Tessa had learned professionally, painfully, what pressure did to wounded people. So she didn’t push.
She just sat there, elbows resting on the table, face softening. “Thanks again for last night,” she said lamely.
Brick braced his forearms on the table, hands clasped. “You shouldn’t have been alone. Not with those assholes around.”
“I didn’t expect the Serpents to show up,” she said, voice quiet. “I mean, I’ve been in some dangerous situations before but nothing like that. I help people for a living, and sometimes I expect others to behave rationally because I try to.”
“What you do,” Brick said, tone rough but sincere, “you’re fighting for kids nobody else is paying attention to.”
She blinked, surprised. “You listened.”
“I listen a lot,” he said simply. “I don’t always talk.”
“I noticed.” Her lips curved. “But you still asked about my work.”
Brick’s gaze softened by a fraction. “You care. About Dillon, about those kids.”
Of all the reactions she’d expected from a man like him, this wasn’t it. There was no derision, dismissal, or condescension. Just recognition.
Her throat tightened. “I do. The foster system’s a mess. Nobody tells you that in school. They tell you about the success stories, the bright outcomes. They don’t tell you about the kids who get swallowed up in it. So I try. Even if it feels like drowning half the time,” Tessa said.
Brick didn’t look away. “You’re good.”
The words hit her deeper than she wanted to admit. “I try to be.”
“No,” he said, voice dropping. “You are.”
Heat spread beneath her skin. Too warm. Too vulnerable. She looked down at the table. “You don’t know me that well,” Tessa muttered.
“I know enough,” he said.
She dared to meet his eyes again. Something tense and unspoken crackled across the space between them. Chemistry, awareness, and possibility.
Brick cleared his throat like he needed the distraction and stabbed another piece of bacon. “You should eat.”
“I’ve been eating,” she said, taking a very deliberate bite of toast.
He made a low sound in his throat that sounded like an impatient growl. It was a little endearing, Tessa decided.
“Not enough,” he muttered.
“Are you worried about me?” Tessa couldn’t help but ask
“No,” he said quickly. “Yes.”
“Brick,” she said.
He glared at her, but it lacked its usual heat. “You didn’t exactly have a peaceful night.”
“I slept fine,” she said, watching him carefully. “Did you?”
Brick didn’t answer. Oh? Was he that worried about her?
Tessa hid her smile behind another sip of juice. “You didn’t, did you?”
“I slept fine,” he grumbled.
Liar. She imagined him tossing on that narrow bed, jaw clenched, trying not to hear her hum through the wall.
“Must’ve been the humming,” she said, seeing the faint pink creep up his neck. “I’ll try to be more quiet tonight.”
“I didn’t hear anything,” he muttered.
Tessa rested her chin in her palm again. “Brick?”
“What?” he grumbled.
“You’re blushing,” Tessa couldn’t help but point out.
It was unfair of her to tease him, but Brick was making it too easy and, besides, she liked seeing this unexpectedly shy side of him. Tessa suspected he seldom showed it to anyone else.
His scowl dropped straight into his lap so he could bury his face in his hands for a second, dragging them down slowly.
“I like having you close.”
She didn’t realize how bold that sounded until Brick’s head snapped up.
The silence that fell between them wasn’t uncomfortable. It was charged.
“You don’t want me close, Tessa,” he said.
Such an intense stare. Tessa forced herself to hold his gaze. Her pulse thudded.
“You think you get to decide what I want?” Tessa demanded.
Brick curled his hands into fists on the table.
She leaned forward just a little. Close enough to challenge him and to tempt him.
Brick should know right now that Tessa wasn’t the kind of woman who backed off easily.
Once she saw something or someone she wanted, Tessa went for it without hesitation.
“Because I know what I want,” Tessa told him frankly, her breath hitching a little.
“What’s that?” he asked, voice low.
Tessa held his gaze. Steady, she told herself, don’t back off now.
“Breakfast with you. More of this, and more of whatever this is,” she stated.
Brick stared at her like she’d just cracked the ground open under his feet, like she’d become the most dangerous thing in the room.
Then, slowly, Brick uncoiled his shoulders. He picked up another bite, chewing as if grounding himself, eyes never leaving hers. He didn’t argue that this was a bad idea. That was progress, wasn’t it?
“Eat your food, Tessa,” Brick said, voice like gravel.
She smiled and he didn’t look away. Tessa called that a win.