I don’t say this of course.
“All you need to do is show up,” I say. “Just leave the rest to me.”
Chapter Eleven
Rory
Callie flops on my bed as I’m getting dressed for the Brock Steel experience.
“Something interesting happened at work today.”
“Yeah?”
“Hardy Solomon brought over a case right before we closed up for the day.”
By the tone of her voice, I already know this isn’t good news.
“Spill it,” I say.
“Seems four guys were lurking around Mrs. Mayer’s house, where Pat Lamone is renting a room. They smashed the mailbox and broke a few windows.”
I gasp. “Is Mrs. Mayer okay?”
“Yeah. She’s in Denver visiting her daughter. But Pat is naming Jesse, Cage, Dragon, and Jake as the four men.”
I wrinkle my forehead. “Jesse didn’t do this. It’s a high school prank. He wouldn’t do something so ridiculous.”
“Agreed, but that didn’t stop Lamone from fingering Jesse and the rest of his band. I don’t believe it for a minute, but I haven’t been able to get hold of Jesse to get his alibi. Do you know where he is?”
“He probably has a gig or something.”
“They’d have told you if they had a gig. They’d probably want you to sing.”
“I don’t always sing with them. Only when I’m available.”
“And you’re not available tonight?”
“I’m going out.”
“With whom?”
I smile wryly. “One guess.”
“Are you serious? Brock?”
“Yes. And he promises me the”—air quote—“Brock Steel experience.”
“Oh my God.”
“Yeah. I have no idea what to expect. Okay, I have every idea what to expect.”
“He’ll try to get you into bed.”
“That’s right.” I hold back a smile.
Callie clears her throat. “Anyway, back to Lamone. Donny and I think Pat probably did all the damage himself and made up the four guys thing. I mean, it’s a little too convenient, right? Mrs. Mayer’s out of town, and four guys who look like Jesse and his friends—who are all over thirty years old, mind you, not really the mailbox-smashing type—just happen to be out carousing and decide to vandalize a sweet widow’s house?”
“Lamone is such an ass. Why would he even try to get Jesse involved?”
“To hurt us, and unfortunately, Jesse is already involved. He’s been involved since he saw those pictures of us. And he’s mad as hell. Can you blame him?”
Yeah, my brother seeing me naked and spread-eagled in an old photo that Pat Lamone took of me when I was unconscious wasn’t on my bucket list.
“No, I don’t blame him. But he didn’t do this. He’d never harm Mrs. Mayer.”
“Hardy’s looking for him.”
I rub my temples, trying to ease the headache that seems determined to erupt the same night I’m supposed to have the Brock Steel experience. “God, Callie, is there no end to this? Why is he looking for Jesse?”
“Since Lamone filed a report and named the band members, Hardy has to investigate. Donny and I are working on it. There’s so much else going on with his family, though.”
“Yeah, Brock mentioned that.”
Callie gasps. “How much did he tell you?”
“Nothing. That’s it. Just that there’s some shit going on with his family.”
Callie nods. Clearly she knows more than she’s telling me, and right now, that’s okay. I can’t handle more than Pat Lamone and this impending Brock Steel experience at the moment.
“Let me know if you find Jesse.”
“I will. In the meantime, enjoy the Brock Steel experience.” Callie exits my room through our shared bathroom.
I have no idea what the Brock Steel experience entails. All I know is that it includes dinner, but I don’t know where. Are we going to eat here in Snow Creek? Or are we going to drive into Grand Junction for a more formal dinner?
To be ready for anything, I choose skinny black pants and a stretchy white sweater. Simple black pumps that go with any occasion and gold hoop earrings. Red lipstick, blush, a touch of mascara, and my long hair down in waves over my back.
By the time I’m ready, Brock has already arrived. I walk out, trying my best to look demure, and find him sitting in the living room talking to my mother.
“There you are, Rory.” My mother smiles.
“Hi.” Embarrassment swirls through me as my voice cracks a little.
Brock rises. “Good evening, Rory. You look gorgeous, as usual.” He walks toward me and gives me a chaste kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“You two have a good night. It was nice to see you, Brock.” Mom heads out of the living room toward the kitchen.
“I see you charmed the apron off my mother,” I say.
“Lovely lady, I can charm anyone.”
I resist the eye roll. It’s the truth, after all. Heck, Brock Steel is even charming me. I’m totally falling for his politeness, his gentility, and of course his gorgeous looks. Not a good look on me.
“I wasn’t sure how to dress for the Brock Steel experience,” I say.
“You chose well.”
“Where are we going?”
“I thought we would drive into Grand Junction and go to the Fortnight.”
“Snow Creek food not good enough for the Brock Steel experience?”
“I love Snow Creek food. But Rory Pike deserves the best.”
My cheeks warm as we leave the house and walk to his car at the end of the drive. A Tesla, no less. Navy blue. I’d have expected something a little flashier from Brock Steel—a red Alfa Romeo maybe—but as he opens the door for me and I slide into the passenger seat, my perspective changes.
This is Brock Steel in automobile form. I inhale. The damned car even smells like him.
After he sits down in the driver’s seat, he turns to me and slides one finger down the apple of my cheek, leaving smoldering embers on my flesh.
“I’m very happy about tonight,” he says.
“Tonight hasn’t started yet.”
“I’m very happy it’s about to start.” He brushes his lips gently over mine.
I’m pretty sure my skin is on fire from his kiss, which was nearly as chaste as the one in the living room. I’m not sure how to respond, so I don’t. He starts the engine, and we’re off.
Conversation is surprisingly easy with Brock. We manage to talk about his work and mine without it turning to all the crap we’re both going through. Works for me. I’m not sure how much I should say to him regarding Lamone and my past. I need to talk to Callie first.
Besides, for one night, I’d like to forget about Pat Lamone. Forget that he’s trying to pin some fake vandalism charge on my brother. Perhaps Brock wants to forget about his own family drama as well.
Still the gentleman, Brock parks, leaves the car, and opens the door for me. He takes my hand, and we walk into the Fortnight.
“Good evening, Mr. Steel.” The maître d’ smiles.