Page 20 of Forbidden Love

“No, they didn’t.” Brock watched her closely, his sharp gaze catching the way she fidgeted, like she was holding something back.

Deb exhaled, shaking her head as if clearing her thoughts. “I still don’t like the idea of people fighting over me. I don’t deserve that.”

Brock frowned, stepping closer. “What the hell does that mean?”

She lifted her chin, forcing a tight smile. “It means I can fight my own battles, Brock. I don’t need a damn knight in shining armor.”

He studied her for a long minute, then let out a low chuckle. “Good thing I’m not one then.”

For a second, something passed between them—something unspoken but heavy.

Deb rolled her eyes and turned away, but Brock didn’t miss how her fingers trembled slightly as she brushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She was putting up walls again, retreating behind that sharp tongue and stubbornness.

“Come on,” she said, striding toward the front of the store without looking back. “The least I can do is offer you a cookie for helping me.”

Brock smirked as he followed, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her. He’d noticed a pattern—whenever she got uncomfortable, she cut him off with that sharp, no-nonsense attitude, like a shield she wielded without thinking. The funny thing was, she probably didn’t even realize how much he liked it. That fire, that fight—hell, it was cute as hell.

Except, as his gaze dropped to the sway of her hips in those snug blue jeans, there wasn’t a damn thingcuteabout the way she filled them out. Nope. That was straight-up, sinfullysexy.

Brock exhaled sharply, dragging his gaze upward before he got himself in trouble. He wasn’t here for this. He had responsibilities, things to take care of, and a life that didn’t involve settling down.

And yet, as Deb tossed a glance over her shoulder with a teasing smirk, Brock felt that sinking feeling settle deep in his gut. Resisting her was going to be damn near impossible.

“Hopefully, Gary and Hunter haven’t eaten all the cookies,” she mused, pushing open the door and stepping inside.

Cookies. Right. That was what they were here for. But hell, cookies were the last thing on his mind.

Brock followed her in, his eyes lingering on the curve of her hips before he forced himself to look away. He needed to get his shit together. This wasn’t some harmless little crush. The pull he felt toward Deb was a dangerous kind of temptation that had a way of unraveling a man before he even realized he was caught in the web.

And damn if he didn’t already feel tangled up in her.

CHAPTER 10

Deb grabbed a cookie and some coffee before heading toward the back, her movements purposeful as she tried to shake off the strange warmth curling through her. Brock had helped her—insisted on it, actually—and damn if that didn’t unsettle her more than it should have. She wasn’t used to men doing things for her without expecting something in return.

Setting her coffee down, she picked up a box cutter and got to work, slicing through the tape and flipping open the flaps. She reached for the paint cans she’d ordered for the Crumpton place, checking each one to make sure the colors matched what she’d requested.

Footsteps sounded behind her, and she glanced up as Gary walked in, followed by Hunter and Brock.

“Deb, those were the best damn cookies I’ve ever had,” Gary declared, rubbing his stomach with a grin. “If I were a few years younger, I’d marry you.”

Deb’s stomach clenched at his words, a cold wave rushing over her. It was an innocent joke, a harmless old-man comment, but it still made something twist deep inside her.

She laughed lightly, keeping her hands busy by stacking the paint cans. “Well, Gary, you don’t have to go to that extreme. I’ll make you cookies anytime you want. No proposal necessary.”

She could feel Brock’s eyes on her, sharp and assessing like he’d caught the slight hesitation in her voice. She didn’t want him to see, didn’t want anyone to see that his words had hit a nerve. It was just a joke. It shouldn’t have made her chest feel tight.

“Don’t tease me.” Gary passed with a chuckle. “I may take you up on that.”

Deb stayed quiet, focusing on unpacking the boxes, but her hands moved on autopilot. Her mind, however, was somewhere else—more specifically, on Brock.

She risked a glance in his direction just as he hefted a stack of shingles onto his shoulder, his muscles flexing with the effort. The sheer strength in his arms had her momentarily forgetting what she was doing. Damn. Her fingers faltered, nearly knocking over a can of paint. Snapping her eyes away, she took a steadying breath and forced herself to focus.

Get a grip, Deb.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen a good-looking man before. But Brock was different. He was strength and heat and quiet intensity, wrapped up in a man who didn’t play games and didn’t sugarcoat a damn thing. That unsettled her the most because a man like that was dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with fists and everything to do with how he made her feel.

“We’re going to head over to your place with the shingles,” Hunter informed her, taking her away from her thoughts. “We’ll start early tomorrow morning and should have it finished before the next rain.”

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