He shifted again, but instead of rolling away, he pulled her tighter. “A girlfriend in high school. A girlfriend while I was in the navy. That didn’t last long. She thought I was cheating when I would go away.”
“Were you?”
“No.”
“So what? You just pick up half-drunk girls in a bar who smell of cheap tequila and french fries? Buy them dinner and then fuck them silly?”
Brock grew quiet. How could he get out of this one unscathed? Yes, that was his MO. Though just because Krista was picked up and fucked just like any other woman he’d been with in the past eight or so years didn’t mean she wasn’t special. He hadn’t realized it, but his grip on her hand had tightened. He loosened it but didn’t let go.
“I don’t care, you know,” she said, breaking through the deafening silence that had fallen upon the room. His fault, of course. She’d asked him a question, and he’d yet to respond. She continued on, “I could have said no. And for the record, you’re not the first guy I’ve picked up in a bar either.”
“You were …aremore than that. I told you I haven’t been with a lot of women, and although somehavebeen picked up in a bar, you’re the only one I bought dinner or asked to move in with me.”
Her chuckle was raspy and dead fucking sexy.
He hoped that was the end of the third degree. He was tired and getting uncomfortable with her curiosity. Brock hated talking about himself, about his feelings and about his life in general.
“Tell me about your time in the navy,” she said with another yawn.
Oh fuck.
He let out a pained breath against her neck, allowing the scent of her hair to calm him.
It worked.
Kind of.
“I didn’t want to make a career of it, but I wanted to be a part of something. My dad had done a stint in the navy before deciding he wanted to be a cop instead, so I followed in his footsteps.”
“But you didn’t want to be a cop?”
“No. Aretired naval officer buddy of mine recruited me to join his security and surveillance company instead. It’s more my thing, less politics.”
A snort rumbled her body. “That’s for sure. Politics up the wazoo. Mickey said you did some black ops stuff, too … ”
Brock grunted. Fucking Mickey. A pretty lady bats her lashes at him, and suddenly it’s as if he’s been vaccinated with a gramophone needle. Normally the guy was almost as tight-lipped as Brock. “He did, did he? That man has always been a sucker for a pretty face. Did he tell you his bank PIN, too?”
Krista giggled. “Mickey certainly is a talker.”
“Not normally,” Brock said blandly.
She hummed in response. “So, black ops?”
Damn it. He’d hoped she wouldn’t continue to pursue this vein of curiosity. Brock hated talking about his time with the Phoenix Fire Special Ops. Sure, he’d done a lot of good, took out a shit-ton of monsters, but those memories were not ones he wanted to relive—ever.
She squeezed his fingers, urging him on.
Fuck. He had to give her something. The woman was like a dog with a bone. “Yeah, all four of us have done special ops, or black ops.”
“What exactly do you do now with your security firm?”
Jesus, she was worse than Stewart’s granddaughter, Lily, with the constant questions. At least Lily had the attention span of a gnat and eventually got bored with him and moved on to someone more interesting. But no, not this woman. This woman was relentless.
He let out an exasperated sigh. “Anything and everything.” He’d almost been asleep, and happily so, then deep inside her, which had been great, but he was ready for that sleep thing again.
“Which is … ?”
“Surveillance, security. I’ve been a bodyguard or an escort for people who feel they are being threatened or in danger. I’ve installed and monitored security systems. We do a bit of PI work now and again as well, though that’s moreStewart’s gig, not mine.”
