“Just a little bit?”
I blushed. Thank goodness he couldn’t see me.
“Maybe more than a little bit.”
This felt so dangerous. I loved it.
“So you’re answering your phone while you’re at the gas station? I’m sure that’s a little risky.”
“After getting the shit knocked out of me and worrying about if Elizabeth would get held for ransom?” Brock said. “Talking on the phone is nothing. Besides, I can hear the boss’ truck from a mile away. Not sure the dude has ever bothered to fix his engine. But how are you? You’re the one who got the worst of it.”
The worst of it? I’m not the one that got hit in the head. They even let me go without touching me.
But I saw Brock’s point. Judging by this phone call, he seemed at ease and had moved on from what had happened. I had not. Even now, talking to Brock brought back the memories of seeing the criminals hovering over him, ready to harm him, ready…
“I’m fine,” I said.
“You sure?” he said. “That’s some shit that no one like you should have to experience.”
I opened my mouth and chopped out a few syllables that went nowhere. I… I wanted to…
He’d always listened to me and given me such good advice before. He was that listening ear, that hardened but gentle soul, that man who had no reason to give a fuck about anyone other than himself but still cared for me. In some ways, he really did know me better than Steele ever did.
But… well…
“I think about it, but yeah. Yeah, I’m… yeah, I’m fine.”
“OK,” Brock said, his tone making it all too obvious he did not believe me in the slightest. “So what’s up? You just call to chat? To open some beers on a Friday afternoon?”
“Oh, no,” I said, thinking I’d need something much stronger than beer after the week I’d had. “I actually wanted to talk to you about a job opportunity.”
“Really,” Brock said dryly. “Is your Dad opening an electric charging station? Does he need someone like me to come and take over?”
“No, silly,” I said with a laugh. “I…”
Although this proposal seemed so obvious when I was in the conference room, now that I was on the call with Brock, so many questions suddenly popped to mind. Who would pay him? Would the company reimburse me if I paid him? Was it too obvious?
If I did this, what would it mean for us?
“You wanna do security for me?”
I felt like I’d just asked a professor to grab dinner with me. Not explicitly bad, per se, but a request that could lead to something taboo quickly. I held my breath as I waited for Brock to speak.
“I assume you’re asking this because NME is making you go back to Santa Maria.”
“Not my Dad, the board, but yes.”
Brock murmured on the other side, asked me to wait one second, and talked to a customer in a muffled tone. I guessed that he had put the phone under the counter, but even though he hadn’t said no, his action seemed like a rejection. He hadn’t said yes instantly. Wouldn’t he have if it was something he would have wanted to do?
“And how long do you anticipate being in Santa Maria?” he asked, coming back on the line without warning.
“Not sure, but the project we’re working on will take about eighteen months. So possibly, I come out for that period of time.”
Brock sighed.
“I could do it, but I don’t know that I can give up the job at the gas station.”
“I’ll pay you more than whatever they’re paying you.”
