“Okay,” I replied simply, pulling away and going up on tiptoe to brush my lips against his, before letting him go.
He didn’t turn back to the food right away. Instead, he stood there, looking down on me with a pleased grin.
“You’re sweet after sex,” he said when I raised an eyebrow, questioning why he was staring. I flushed with pleasure at his words, melting a bit when he bent to kiss me below the ear and added, “I like it.”
Still smiling, I walked over to the Keurig to make myself a cup of coffee while I waited to taste the wonderfully smelling breakfast that Brock was making. I settled against the counter to watch him work, and when I saw him pick up a small can and begin to open it, I asked, “Where did you get that? I’m sure it didn’t come from my pantry.”
“I ran out to a Mexican market this morning, to get the stuff I needed for the chilaquiles,” Brock answered as he shredded what looked like Monterey Jack cheese.
He had? Wow, I must have been sleeping like the dead. I had no idea he’d been up long enough to go shopping, come back, and be almost finished making breakfast.
“I can’t wait to taste it,” I said, right as my stomach growled. I looked down and pressed my hand to my stomach, willing it to be quiet, as embarrassment flushed my skin.
“I can tell,” Brock said with a chuckle, and when he leaned over to kiss my lips, his mouth firm and needy on mine, I forgot all about my embarrassment. He pulled back and asked, “Food’s almost done, can you grab the plates?” I nodded dreamily and went about accomplishing the task.
When we were once again seated at my table, plates heaping with homemade tortilla chips, smothered in a spicy red sauce, covered in melted cheese, and topped with fried eggs and avocado, I tried to covertly turn my eyes to Brock to see how he was eating the dish. Was I supposed to use a knife and fork? My hands? I wasn’t sure … So I watched as he used his fingers to eat the first chip, then picked up his knife and fork to cut the egg.
Mimicking his moves, I brought the first chip to my lips, and groaned with pleasure when the spice from the sauce mingled with the cheese and the crunch from the chip.
“You like it?” Brock asked, his fork raised with his next bite. His face looked eager, like he was nervous about my answer. I remembered that he’d said this was a dish his mother used to make, and I thought it was sweet that he wanted me to like it.
“Mmmmm,” I mumbled, wanting to express my pleasure without talking with food in my mouth. Brock smiled broadly at me, and once I swallowed, I assured him, “It’s absolutely delicious! It’s like nachos for breakfast.”
He laughed out loud at my analogy, and dug into his breakfast wholeheartedly, the smile still on his lips.
We are in silence for a while, enjoying our food. When Brock was almost done he took a sip from his coffee cup, then broke the silence.
“So, should I expect you in the office on Monday?”
I looked up at him, surprised, and suddenly nervous.
“Monday?” I asked, my belly dipping at the thought. “I, ah … I need to hire a crew, and order the furniture and stuff…”
“I get that you need to put in orders, which is why I figured you could use our phones and computers to do it. And you don’t have to worry about trying to find a crew. You’re just starting out, so you don’t have those kind of contacts yet. I have plenty of guys that are waiting to pick up jobs, or are always eager to pick up extra cash. You can use them, and if you like any of them, I’m sure you’d have guys willing to help out on your next job too,” Brock said reasonably, not realizing that he’d just sent my nervous system into overdrive.
“Next job?” I practically stuttered.
“Yeah,” he responded as if it were a given. “If you find that you enjoy redecorating my place, I’m sure you’d have no trouble finding other jobs. Shit, just my clients alone would probably get you started out right. I get lots of new business owners that hire me to paint, if I tell them I know a good decorator, and tell them you did my offices, your work will speak for itself.”
“You’re way ahead of me here,” I said nervously, as everything he was saying slowly sunk in. He was talking about me running my own business, with clients and employees, and all I’d been thinking of was helping to make his vision come to life.
Seeming to understand that I was reaching panic mode, Brock held up his hands and said, “No pressure, Tori, just take the time to think about it. I’m sorry, sometimes I get excited and let my ideas run a
way with me. I didn’t mean to freak you out. Let’s just start simple … You can come by on Monday, we’ll give you a desk and computer to work from, and you can set out in picking some of my guys for your crew, and figure out how you want to manage the renovation. Sound good?”
“Yeah,” I replied, my mind still reeling. “I can do that.”
“Okay, well, since you’re already a little freaked, I might as well ask you the other thing I wanted to bring up.” The expression on Brock’s face was part sly and part hopeful, and one hundred percent adorable. I thought briefly that there is no way I’d be able to say no to him when he made that face, no matter what he asked.
I was wrong.
“I want you to go to Cal and Shelly’s baby shower with me next weekend,” he said, dropping a bomb that caused my stomach to drop, not just to my knees, but to the floor.
“No,” I said, quickly and firmly.
Brock chuckled at my swift answer, bringing his hand up on the table to cover mine. He rubbed his finger along it in a sweet caress, his face turning tender, and pleaded, “Please … I’m a man. A man who’s been invited to a couple’s baby shower, and there’s no way I can get out of it. You wouldn’t make me go into that situation alone … Would you?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. He looked so offended at the mere thought of attending a baby shower, but there was no way I could give in to him on this.