Wild Man (Dream Man #2)(70)

My second thought was they not only shared hotness quotients with Brock, but both of them in different ways also had the wild man, dangerous man aura.

For some reason, Brock was communing with his brethren and the serious vibe pulsing in the room said it wasn’t over beers, war stories and nostalgically reminiscing about the bitches they’d tagged.

This was something else.

“Hey babe,” Brock rumbled. “This is Hector Chavez and Vance Crowe, friends of mine.”

“Hey guys,” I greeted.

To this I got a, “Yo,” from Vance Crowe, the Native American man but the Hispanic man just gave me a chin lift.

Definitely Brock Brethren.

I hefted the bags up over the back of the couch and dumped them on the seat then turned to Brock, pulling off my knit cap and immediately running my fingers through my hair in an effort to fix or hide any possible hat head. “You need me to find something to do in the bedroom?”

“No,” he shook his head and then said softly, “Come up here, darlin’.”

Damn.

Just as I thought, that something else had to do with me and/or it was not good news.

My eyes did a sweep through the male talent in my man’s kitchen and I found myself having the curious reaction that not a lot of females would have and that was that I would rather go out, get in my car and track down Martha and Elvira to drink cosmos than take off my coat and join the three best looking men I’d seen in my life in my man’s kitchen.

Regardless of that, I nodded, unbuttoned my coat, took it to the hall closet that separated the down stairs to the boys’ rooms with the up stairs to the kitchen. I hung it up and headed into the kitchen.

The moment I got near, as usual, Brock claimed me with an arm around my waist, pulling my front to his side and I noted all the boys had bottles of Bud.

“You want a beer?” Brock asked and I looked from the counter to him.

“I was thinking hot cocoa.”

He grinned but he didn’t commit to it and I knew this because it didn’t reach his eyes and because it didn’t hit the room.

Damn again.

“What’s up?” I asked quietly.

“Some shit went down today, babe,” he answered.

Crap.

“What shit?” I asked.

He looked to his brethren then back down at me. “Olivia got the letter from my lawyer.”

I found this confusing or, more to the point, this reaction confusing. Brock had contacted an attorney and, using his change of career circumstances as an excuse, he was approaching Olivia to see if they could agree a joint custody schedule, the boys with Brock one week, back with Olivia and Dade the next.

In my mind, there were two possible reactions to this from Olivia. Relief that she could continue with her spa visits and shopping and whatever else she did during her days unhindered by the responsibility of her boys being around most of the time. Or anger just because she was a bitch. Brock, being Brock, had to have prepared for either eventuality.

“And?” I prompted.

“And, she phoned me.”

“Okay,” I said when he said no more.

“And when she phoned me, she asked if we could meet, have dinner. She told me she’s close to leavin’ Dade and she’s scared. She hasn’t worked in over two years, she signed an iron tight prenup, has no money of her own, isn’t in a position to set up again and take care of the boys and certainly not in the position to hire an attorney to deal with me. She reiterated she wants to discuss our situation, the boys’ situation, our family situation and the possibility of reconciliation.”

I felt my mouth get tight. Then I felt Brock’s arm give me a squeeze.

“I said no, babe,” he told me. “I told her that wasn’t a possibility. I’ve moved on, that move from her is permanent and at this juncture in our lives, we need to talk through our attorneys.”

My mouth relaxed.

“Then I got a call from Rex,” he went on and I blinked. He kept talking. “Rex was freaked, said his Mom picked them up from school and she was a mess. Cryin’, carryin’ on, told them what I was doin’, told them she was leavin’ Dade, told them she was scared, told them me bein’ with you meant we’d never have a family again, told them she didn’t know what she was gonna do. He called when they got home and told me even after they got home she was still cryin’ and carryin’ on and she was. I could hear her in the background.”

My mouth again got tight.

Through stiff lips, I whispered, “You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.”

“Damn.” I was still whispering. Then I asked, “What’d you do?”

“What could I do?” he asked back then I read it as the warning sign it was when his arm got tight, his body turned slightly into mine, his eyes locked with mine and I braced. “I hauled my ass over there and calmed her down by promising to have dinner with her.”

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

I pressed my lips together and looked at the counter.

“Baby,” another arm squeeze and I looked back up at him. “This is a minefield. I gotta go slow and cautious. This is why Hector’s here.”

I stared up at him in confusion then looked to Hector, still in confusion, then back at Brock when he started speaking again.