15 Minutes (Time for Love 4)

“It’s not a secret,” Brock said with a shrug, “and it’s not like the other day is the first time we’d ever met. I just figured it would have come up at some point.”

“No … at least not that I recall,” I admitted.

“Does it matter?” he asked, his tone dangerously low.

“No, of course not,” I answered truthfully. “Your speaking Spanish just took me by surprise, that’s all. I tried taking Spanish in high school, but failed miserably, so I dropped it before it had a chance to ruin my GPA.”

The waiter came to get our drink order, and Brock assured me that they served the best margaritas and I had to try one, so that’s what we both ordered.

When the waiter left us I asked, “So your parents are Mexican? Were you raised in Mexico?” I realized that I knew next to nothing about him, and was suddenly eager to learn more.

“No, we were raised here. My brothers and I,” he expanded when I gave him a curious look over the ‘we.’ “My mother was born and raised in Mexico, and moved to Boston as a teenaged girl when her father got a job there. She met my father, an Irish-American, in poetry class, and that was it. Theirs was an instant love. I used to love to hear her tell the stories of how they met when I was growing up.”

He had a small smile and a far away look on his face, so I asked as gently as I could, “Used to?”

Brock nodded. “They died ten years ago. Freak accident. No one’s fault, just a deer in the road. My father swerved to miss it and they struck a tree. I was told they died on impact.”

My heart was in my throat and I felt my eyes tear up. I reached across the table to hold his hand instinctively, not even aware that I’d done so as I whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

“It was hard,” he admitted, squeezing my hand gently. “Brendan was fourteen, and Brady, fifteen. I turned eighteen a few weeks later, got my GED, and went to work. I had to fight the courts to keep my brothers with me, but luckily everyone loved my parents, and they had friends in high places. Once they saw I was serious about providing for my brothers, and keeping us together in my parents’ home, they agreed. We had scheduled visits and all that, but it was worth it. We wouldn’t have been able to bear losing each other too.”

I was at a total loss for words. I’d never lost anyone important to me, and Brock had not only lost both parents, but had become a parent to his brothers overnight. He was the most amazing man I’d ever met.

“Your brothers are lucky to have you,” I replied softly, flexing my hand under his.

“Brady took it the hardest, and became very protective of Brendan and I, that’s why he acted the way he did at the coffee shop the other day. Don’t take it personally, his heart’s in the right place.” I nodded and took my hand from his. He ran one large hand over his face and grinned at me wryly. “I didn’t mean to get so heavy so soon. We haven’t even ordered yet,” he laughed roughly, and I smiled at him in return.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I really had no idea.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad you know now,” he replied as our drinks were served. The waiter asked for our order, and after I requested the cheese enchiladas, I took a sip of my margarita and sighed. It was really good.

I looked up to see Brock looking at me intently, and I felt my insides begin to boil as he broke into a sexy smile.

“I have a proposition for you,” he said.

My stomach coiled at his words, and I must have flushed, because he amended, “Not that.” Then he chuckled and lowered his voice, “I think I’ve already made my intentions there known…” I nodded at his unspoken question, and he added, “I’m in need of a decorator for the office, and after seeing your place, I’d like to offer you the job.”

I stared at him. Flabbergasted.

“I’m not a decorator,” I argued.

“I beg to differ, I’ve seen your place.”

“That was just for fun, you know, decorating my first place on my own.”

“You said something about your GPA earlier, did you go to college?” he asked.

Confused by his change of subject, and a little disappointed that he’d accepted my argument, I replied, “Yes, I have an MBA.”

Brock sat back in his seat and whistled softly, a small smile playing at his lips as he watched the waiter place our plates in front of us, warning us that they were hot.

“You have an MBA?”

When I nodded, the only thing that gave away the fact that maybe he wasn’t feeling as casual as he appeared was the hardening of his eyes.

“And yet you’re content to sit back and be arm candy for some douchebag executive, rather than putting your degree to use.”

“Hey,” I began, offended at his words.