“We’ll see,” is all I say to Sadie.
She bites her bottom lip. “If it’s all right with you, then, I think I’ll stay here for a while.”
“It’s absolutely all right with me.” I sigh and then give her a quick peck on the cheek. “Nice meeting you, Sadie.”
“You too, Brock.” She winks. “We could’ve had fun tonight.”
“I’m sure.” I say a quick goodbye to my cousins, making sure none of them needs a ride home, and then I leave.
Only to return quickly to find Brendan at the far end of the bar. “Did Rory and Callie already pay for their drinks?”
“Yeah, Rory put them on her card.”
“Do me a favor. Add their drinks to my tab and give them credit.”
“Come on, Steel.”
“Just do it, Brendan. And add yourself a healthy tip.”
“Okay.” He gives me a semi-smile with a sigh. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
I pay my tab at Murphy’s every month without fail. I’m not a huge drinker—not like some of my cousins—but Murphy’s gets a fair amount of business from all the Steels.
As I head home, I find myself driving by the Pike place even though it’s out of the way.
The house is dark, though Rory and Callie are probably still up. It’s two thirty a.m., but they only left the bar a little before I did, and Jesse and Maddie are still at Murphy’s.
Rory’s in that house somewhere. She’s been living at her parents’ place since she and Raine broke up.
Damn.
This isn’t like me. Brock Steel doesn’t drive by women’s houses in the middle of the night.
It’s a crush. Just a crush. A crush on the most beautiful woman in Snow Creek.
Who wouldn’t have a crush on Rory Pike?
I’m not sure how long I sit in my car, engine still running, staring at the dark Pike house.
I’m not sure when I put my foot on the pedal and drive home.
The only thing I’m sure of is that taking a cold shower and jacking off isn’t going to help me tonight.
Chapter Seven
Rory
Zach, my new rescue dog, wakes me up promptly at six thirty. I actually managed to log a few hours of sleep. A beer at one in the morning probably helped.
I pad out of my bedroom, let the frisky pup out, and then I start a pot of coffee. Mom isn’t up yet, which is unusual, but she and Dad were out late at the Steel party.
They must be over the moon about Callie’s engagement. One daughter taken care of—by a Steel, no less. Callie will never have to worry about money, and now she’ll be able to go to law school as planned.
I sit down at the kitchen table, my stomach growling. Hungry? At six thirty a.m.?
My body is rebelling. I haven’t been eating well since the whole Pat Lamone thing was dredged back up. Everything tastes kind of like sawdust. Not even as flavorful as sawdust, to be honest. Still, I have to keep my body going. Callie and I both do. I rise and open the fridge. Bacon, eggs, toast. None of it sounds good.
So I head to the cookie jar.
Chocolate chip cookies. Not the most nutritional food for breakfast, but they actually sound good. I pull two of Mom’s giant cookies out of the jar, place them on a napkin, and bring them back to the table.
I take a bite, letting the soft and buttery goodness explode on my tongue.
Has there ever been a problem in the world that a chocolate chip cookie couldn’t solve?
I used to think there wasn’t.
Until Pat Lamone and Brittany Sheraton came back to town.
“Hey.” Callie follows a scampering Dusty—her rescue—into the kitchen. After she lets her dog out to join mine, she sits down next to me. “Cookies?”
“Yeah. The only thing that doesn’t taste like complete shit to me.”
“I hear you.” She grabs my second cookie and takes a bite.
“Hey!”
“Sorry.” She rises, walks to the counter, brings back the cookie jar, and sets it in front of me. “Here you go.”
I can’t help a slight chuckle. “Looks about right.” I take another cookie out of the jar as I polish off my first.
“Thinking about Brock?”
I am, but I hesitate to admit it. I don’t want to look as self-absorbed as I feel. “No. Just about our situation.”
“Yeah. Me too.” She holds her left hand in front of her, and the track lighting in the kitchen bounces rainbow spikes off her orange sapphire engagement ring. “I’m on top of the world. Part of me is anyway.”
“You should be,” I say. “Don’t let Pat Lamone ruin this for you.”
“You’re right.”
“So… What did you think of Sadie?”
“She really didn’t make an impression on me.”
I take a bite of my second cookie more harshly than I mean to, and for a split second, it’s Sadie’s head that I’m ripping off. “Brock probably screwed her last night.”