Sammy pants at my heels, and I lean down to pet her. “I royally fucked this up, girl.”
Her big brown eyes are wide as she seems to say to me, yeah, you sure did.
I pet her, thinking about how comfortable the kitchen floor looks.
I need a shower, but I’m way too drunk. I’d probably slip and give myself a concussion. My bed would be a lot softer, but this tile floor will be nice and cool. I stretch out on the floor, and Sammy curls up next to me.
I jerk awake at Sammy’s bark.
“What is it, girl?”
Then I hear it. Pounding on the door.
What the hell?
Sammy follows me to the door, and I look through the peephole.
Rory.
Rory Pike standing on my stoop at my front door.
I draw in a deep breath and open it.
“My God, are you okay?”
“Uh…sure.”
“You just stopped talking in the middle of our phone call, Brock. I thought you had fainted or something. Passed out, hit your head.”
Shit. Right. I was on the phone with Rory when I threw up.
She wrinkles her nose. “My God, you smell like a skid row bum. With a side of tequila.” She pushes me inside. “You need a shower.”
“Only if you join me.”
She scoffs. “You have got to be kidding me.”
She pushes me through the foyer and down the hallway to my bedroom. Then into my bathroom.
“Take off your jeans. I’m going to start the shower.” She turns the water on, and the whooshing sound is like thunder in my ears. Make that roaring thunder.
I fumble with my jeans, get them halfway down my thighs, and then sit down on the toilet. My legs don’t want to stand anymore.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” She tugs my pants the rest of the way off, pulls me into a standing position, and pushes me into the shower.
“It’d be more fun if you came in here with me.”
“Shower,” she says. “And use soap, for God’s sake. Where’s your toothbrush?”
Where is my toothbrush? “In the drawer, the left-hand one.”
I grab the side of my head as a hammer pounds into a wall. It’s just Rory opening and closing the drawer. I swear she’s being extra loud on purpose. Seconds later, her arm pokes through the shower door, her hand holding my toothbrush slathered with toothpaste.
“Brush,” she commands. “Brush really well.”
“I don’t brush my teeth in the shower.”
“You do tonight.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Rory
The phone call from Brock was a sign.
I was ready. Ready to take my Diet Coke and join Dragon somewhere. Somewhere that was not my back deck. We were about ready to leave on a walk—despite my brother’s glare—when my phone rang.
Brock.
Totally drunk.
I would’ve let him stew, except I heard his phone clatter to the floor, and I was afraid he’d harmed himself.
Turns out, he was just drunk.
Serves him right.
Still, the call was a sign. Doing anything with Dragon Locke tonight would have been a big mistake, especially if it turns out I’m carrying another man’s child.
I’m not that woman. I don’t want to be that woman.
The truth is… The only reason I was going after Dragon is because of my feelings for Brock. Feelings for Brock I don’t want to have.
I’m probably not pregnant. But if I am, I’ll be keeping this kid. Brock can be involved or not be involved. His choice. No sweat off my back.
Except a part of me wants him to be involved—really involved—not just with our child but with me.
A big part of me wants to see where this could go.
I don’t know. My little sister reformed the biggest Rake-a-teer of all. Can I reform another?
Do I want to?
“Damn,” I say out loud. “I do want to.”
“Want to what?” Brock steps out of the shower.
“I hope you scrubbed behind your ears,” I say. “And you better have brushed those teeth really well. I’m talking gums as well.”
“See?” He gives me a wide grin.
“I’m a little more concerned with your breath.”
He towels his hair.
“Stay here. Get something on. I’m going to go make you a pot of coffee.”
“No coffee. I’ll be up all night.”
“That’ll serve you right. You need to sober up.”
“I’m good. I’ll be all right.”
“Shut up. You’re getting a cup of coffee, and you’re going to drink it all.”
He smiles. This time it’s a real smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
I head out of his bedroom and into his kitchen, where I start a pot of coffee. A pot of strong coffee. Wasn’t I just here this morning? Seems like a lifetime ago.
It’s after midnight now, and I have that ten a.m. lesson.
I sit down at the kitchen table and wait for the coffee to brew. What am I doing here? I absently touch my abdomen. Are you in there?
I won’t know for two weeks.
I’m not sure if I’ll ever have sex with Brock again. He was so angry with me. Of course, then he got drunk, and then he called me. That indicates that he’s feeling something. Perhaps something similar to what I’m feeling.