Page 11 of Forbidden Love

His brows lifted. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

She smirked. “I seriously can’t picture you cuddling up for a night of Rom-Coms.”

“Guess you got me on that one.” He leaned in, resting his arms on the table. “So, what else do you like to do other than learn the ways of getting away with murder?”

Deb chuckled, then held his gaze for a beat before answering. “I like to fish.”

Brock blinked, caught off guard. “Seriously?” Then, narrowing his eyes, he smirked. “But only if there’s someone there to bait your hook.”

“Nope.” She shook her head, her expression smug. “Bait my own, thank you very much.”

He chuckled, intrigued. “Taking some of your anger out on the worm?”

“Look at you, knowing me so well,” she quipped, flashing him an evil little smile.

“Poor worm.” Brock took a slow sip of his coffee, watching her over the rim of his cup.

She wasn’t just beautiful. That word didn’t quite fit. No, Deb wasprettyin a way that snuck up on you, making you take a second look to ensure you’d seen her right the first time.She had a sharpness, an edge like she was daring the world to underestimate her. He could see a bit of resemblance between her and Emily, but without knowing they were sisters, he never would have guessed it.

Deb tilted her head, her grin softening just a little. “What?”

Brock realized he’d been staring. He set his cup down and shrugged. “Nothing. Just trying to picture you with a fishing pole.”

She laughed. “I don’t see why that’s so hard to believe.”

“It’s not. Just... unexpected.”

“People have layers, Brock,” she said, amusement flickering in her eyes.

“That they do,” he murmured, still watching her.

“So, what about you? Other than protecting your sister and nephew, what do you enjoy doing?” She questioned, also leaning back, seeming to finally relax in his presence, which the man and his wolf liked very much.

“I like building things,” Brock replied, not really having to think about it. “And fixing things.”

A sudden shadow passed across her face as her eyes shifted away. “Some things can’t be fixed.”

He knew exactly where her mind went, and the heart he had guarded so well opened just a little bit more for this woman.

“Things, Deb,” Brock said quietly. “Not people.” But that was a lie. As Alpha to his old Pack, he had to fix many people in different ways, but he kept that to himself.

Before either of them could say more, the restaurant door swung open, and a group of shifters strolled in, their voices carrying over the low hum of the diner. Their eyes flicked toward Brock and Deb before sliding away.

“Isn’t that Emily’s sister?” one of them muttered, just low enough to pretend he wasn’t trying to be overheard.

“Yeah,” another answered with a snort. “Heard she’s a real bitch. There are more women instead of dealing with that shit. That Linda chick is nice looking.”

Deb didn’t move, didn’t react. Brock, on the other hand, felt his muscles coil tight, his wolf pushing against his skin.

“Bitch or not, I’d bang her. She’s a good-looking piece of ass.” The one who was close to losing his life whistled low.

Laughter rippled through the group, their voices careless as it carried toward them.

“Better looking than her sister,” the first guy added, his tone suggestive.

“Best not let Hunter hear you talk about his Mate like that,” another one muttered, a note of caution creeping in. “Or her sister, for that matter.”

Brock was already halfway out of his seat before he even realized he was moving. His rage was instant, sharp, and white-hot. The only thing that stopped him from going straight for the bastard’s throat was the warm press of Deb’s hand on his arm.

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