He narrows his eyes at me. “Oh, you meanBrock?” He says his name like it tastes bitter on his tongue. “The guy who turned you and kissed you while his friends dropped something into your drink? He’s likely in the hospital with a broken nose, along with his two buddies. I’ll probably get sued, but please allow me to apologize for cockblocking you from a certain gang rape,” he says with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
My face immediately falls, and my hand covers my mouth. “What?” I breathe. “They put something in my drink?” I’m usually super conscious about that kind of stuff, but I was pretty trashed, so it’s plausible.
He nods. “I was coming out of the bathroom, getting ready to leave with a blonde hottie of my own, when I happened to see it all go down. I just started swinging at them. Mayhem ensued. More than half our group had already left. Your remaining friends were too messed up to take care of you, so I carried your heavy ass home. I couldn’t even get a cab or Uber because you were vomiting more fluids than I’ve ever seen emitted from a human being.”
My entire body begins shaking as tears form in my eyes just thinking about what almost happened to me. He stands and walks over before plopping next to me and pulling me close with one arm. “Don’t cry. I hate when women cry.” He covers mymouth. “Before you say it, no, women don’t cry after having sex with me. I know you were thinking that.”
I let out a small giggle through my tears, appreciating his attempt to make me laugh in light of the heaviness of what he told me. “I’ll give you a day off. You earned it,” I mumble into his hand.
He nods as he removes said hand and looks at me. “I’m glad I was there. I might hate you,” he winks, “but no woman deserves that.” He chews his lower lip nervously. “Do you maybe want me to call someone before I head out? Someone you can talk to about what almost happened to you. I’m sure it’s a lot to process.”
I shake my head. “No, I’ll be okay. Thanks though.” I fidget with my robe, feeling bad about how I treated him last night and this morning. “Can I make you breakfast? It’s the least I can do after what you did for me.”
He twists his lips. “Hmm, I do love breakfast. Can we make it quick? I should get home to feed my dog.”
I immediately smile. “You have a dog?”
He nods as he stands and begins to dress. “Yep. BJ. The light of my life.”
I raise an eyebrow. “BJ? Are you for real?”
He smirks. “It stands for Blackjackie. Get your head out of the gutter, Jeffries.”
“What kind of dog is she?” I ask.
“A Doberman. I adore her. I sort of bought my house in the ’burbs so she’d have more room to run around. My best girl requires a lot of exercise.”
“I love dogs, but my father’s ex-wife is allergic to them, so we never had one.”
He pinches his eyebrows together. “Ex-wife? Was he married to someone else besides your mom? How did I not know that?”
I shake my head. “No, that’s how I refer to my biological mother. I don’t speak to her at all, and I certainly don’t refer toher as my mother. It’s a long story I’m not interested in sharing. I prefer to call her my father’s ex-wife or by her first name.” I let out a breath as I stand. “Let me get breakfast started. Are eggs okay? It’s all I have and the only thing I’m capable of cooking. I make a mean cup of coffee though, if you’re interested.”
He nods. “Sounds good.” He points toward my bathroom. “I’m going to pop the cork while you’re cooking if you don’t mind.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Not now, Kennedy. Don’t give him shit for his crudeness in announcing his bathroom visit. Just smile and walk away.
He stares at me, waiting for a comment, but none comes. Not today. Not after what he did for me.
Ten minutes later, he’s laughing in my kitchen. “You weren’t joking. The entire contents of your kitchen are eggs, milk, coffee, and vodka. And you don’t even have a set of pots and pans. Only one frying pan.”
I nod as I stand at the stove. “Yes, for the eggs. Like I said, it’s the only thing I make. Why would I need all that other stuff if I don’t use it? Doyoucook?”
He nods. “I do, for me and BJ. She prefers human food. I have a guy, Chef Benny, who does my shopping and some meal prep for me. He stays with BJ when I travel. But I do the actual cooking myself. It’s soothing. I kind of like taking care of my dog.”
I start to judge the fact that he has someone like Chef Benny, but then I remember that I have an intern. Booster would probably meal prep and cook for me if I asked.
I turn to him and ask, “How do you take your coffee?”
He shrugs and deadpans, “Usually in a cup.”
Stay quiet, Kennedy. He did something incredibly kind for you.It’s no small feat, but I do manage to control my snark.
I plate the eggs and pour the coffee before we sit at the small kitchen table. He looks ridiculous in my tiny kitchen at my tinytable made for two. He must need extra-big doorways and high ceilings in his house. I’m pretty sure he’s judging the kitchen right now.
“I know this kitchen sucks,” I say, “but this apartment has great closet space, and I value that over a kitchen. I can’t afford a place with both.”
“Right, for all your designer clothes,” he says as he rolls his eyes. He then takes an obscenely large bite of his eggs and swallows before looking at me. “Can I ask you a question without getting a bitchy response? It’s a real question.”
