“Let’s go get some coffee, handsy.”
“Handsy?”
“Yeah. You. You don’t just lift people’s shirts and check their hips.”
Chapter Fifteen
Brock stayedover until after dinner and coffee, helping me finish the project and clean up without muttering a single complaint. He refused to let me pay for the coffee, and I made a mental note to think of a way to pay him back. There had been zero Asshole Anderson moments the entire day, and when that happened, my heart had a hell of a time forgetting we were friends with a side of colleagues. I needed an intervention.
We cleaned off the kitchen table because I’d let myself go. Pens, paperclips, candy wrappers, and water bottles filled the table. I liked to nestle when I worked, and boy, did I nestle the past two days. I observed him as he organized everything into piles. His attention to detail had always impressed me at work, but he was meticulous at everything: cleaning up the kitchen, organizing notecards, stacking the pens in a way that made more sense than I could’ve imagined. He was a neat freak, but it fit him. For someone who needed control in every aspect of his life, it made sense.
I finished the entire project, collapsing onto the couch with exhaustion after emailing it to my professor. Brock joined me, his legs touching mine as he sat. “I can’t believe I did it.Wedid it. Thank you.”
“I said I didn’t miss this shit, but I enjoyed it a bit.” He grinned, putting his arm around me for a quick hug so casually I almost missed it. My body broke out in goosebumps whenever he was near, and when his fingers dangled on my shoulder, I shivered. “Your project kicks ass, if I do say so myself.”
“Yeah, probably because you helped write some of it.”
“True. I did. And, I can be a genius sometimes.”
“Yeah? You did have a creepy smile on your face when you browsed the notes. I’ll admit, it was amusing watching you work.” I pulled my legs up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. My fuzzy socks poked out.
“You were watching me?” he asked, laughing a bit. “I like that.”
“Please,” I scoffed. “People watch you all the time. You must know that. You’re this presence that people like watching. I don’t know. You’re fascinating.” He blinked slowly a couple times, making me feel all sorts of nervous. “Nevermind.”
“No, finish your thought. I’m curious.” He nudged me with his leg and raised his dark brows.
“Fishing for compliments, Brock?” I teased but stopped when his expression turned serious. My stomach soured, empathy taking over. This was a guy who thought very low of himself since the accident. As tough and intelligent as he was, he was a little broken inside. “You handsome, silly man.”
One side of his lip curled up, but those dark blue eyes waited for me to continue. I put my small hand on his arm this time, squeezing him. “No one watches you with pity, Brock. If that’s what you’re thinking. They watch you with awe and pride. Here you are, in the prime of most men’s athletic years, working your ass off for a sport you were forced to give up. You’re amazing, really. You’re intelligent, everyone who works around you admires the hell out of you, and you refused to let life get the best of you. You help the dumbasses like Q and Chip, make sure your staff is treated fairly, and you helped me with this project which you had no obligation to do. You’re a good guy, Brock. Sometimes, I think you forget that.”
My heart pounded as his face fell slightly, his lips pressing together so hard they turned white. His eyes shattered me, and I panicked, needing to ease the tension. I patted his knee with a shaking hand. “Although, you can be a bit grumpy.”
“Yeah, I’ve been told my nickname was Asshole Anderson by this smartass I know,” he joked. He freaking joked.
I shook my head, laughing. “Was?” I raised my brows. “More like, occasionally is?” Suddenly, I remembered why we were even supposed to meet the night before. “Shit!” I yelled, causing him to jump. “Your resume! We never got to do it. I’m sorry!”
“It’s okay. Your project was more important.”
“No. Well, for me, yes. But, you! Do you want to spend a little time on it?”
“I have to admit something to you. I sort of lied.” He looked at the ground, my body tensing. I hated lies. Hated them. I had enough of them with my dad and the doctors giving us false hope. I needed the harsh, cold truth every single time. I scooted back, my expression tight. Brock’s eyes widened when they met my face, and he shook his head, smiling a little. “It’s not what you think.”
“I hate lies,” I said, barely above a whisper. “No matter how small. If you have them, I need to know.”
“Grace, look at me,” he demanded. “I only meant, I don’t need too much help going over my resume. I’d rather hang out with you. You make me laugh. The resume was a nice way to make it happen. I’m sorry.”
Oh.
He wanted to hang out with me?Swoon. That wasn’t a lie, not really. “Well, why didn’t you say that?”
“I’m not sure. Next time, I will.” He nodded, more to himself than me, and I rolled my eyes.
“You are odd. I don’t get you sometimes.” I leaned back into the couch, forgetting his arm rested there, and froze when he repositioned himself so his arm was around me. “For future reference, I generally never pass up food, coffee, or a good beer.”
“I’ll be sure to remember.” He smiled, yawning in the process. “Why don’t you get me? I think I’m a simple guy.”
“Sure. You can be. But, you’re hot or cold. I’ll be honest with you. You help me out and bring me food, and I love it. I do. It’s great, but I never know when the switch is going to go off, and you’ll go back to being a jerk.” I shrugged, ignoring his pained expression.
