Page 58 of Grouch-ish

“Anna and I went to high school together,” Brock explains.

How convenient.

“And my family owns a house in Lakeside. Lakeside Cottage,” she states as if I’ve heard of the place.

Sounds lovely.

“We’ve been kicked out for the week as my sister is in town from Chicago and using the place with a group of friends.”

“Her younger sister, Amelia, went to school with my younger brother Zebb,” Brock continues with this little reunion. His hand remains on her back.

“There you are.” A devastatingly handsome man saunters up to the table. With brown wavy hair that curls around his ears and tickles the back of his neck, plus deep-set eyes, he’s mouthwatering good-looking, but I’m still seeing violet because of Brock.

The man slips his arm around Anna’s waist and tugs her into his side.

Anna and Brock repeat their shared history. I’m introduced to her husband, Mason. He doesn’t seem any more excited to witness Brock touching Anna than I am.

Maybe it was all innocent. Maybe Brock is just a touchy-feely kind of man, but I don’t care for it. His hands belong to me.

The thought is ridiculous. I can’t be jealous. Envy is petty, confounding, and inconvenient. I don’t even know if Brock would consider being all in with me. In just a few short days, we’ll have only known each other for twelve days. That’s not a lifelong relationship. That’s a winter fling.

The thought sours my mood further.

“It was great to see you again,” Anna eventually offers, lifting a hand and timidly waving at me. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year.”

Mason reaches out a hand to shake Brock’s before stepping over to me and kissing my cheek.

I watch as Mason’s hand possessively lands on Anna’s lower back, and he leads her away from our table. When I turn toward Brock, his eyes are laser focused on me.

“Care to explain what that was all about.” He lifts his hand and waves a finger in a circle around my face.

I smack at his pointer, and he chuckles hard. “She’s pretty. Former girlfriend?”

“Old friend. I took her to a dance in high school.”

“Sounds fun.” What I sound like is a bitter, jealous girlfriend who sees a beautiful woman aging well in her forties. Not that I’m aging poorly, it’s just that she looks so good. Fit. Trim. She’s lovely. And all fresh-faced and beaming with love for the man who proudly called himself her husband.

Brock runs his hand up my spine, but I stiffen beneath his touch. When his hand reaches the back of my neck, he holds still, squeezing at the spot. “What am I missing here?”

“You’re a flirt, aren’t you? I bet you go to bars and easily pick up women, don’t you?”

His brows lift with shock before his eyes narrow. “Are you jealous?”

Standing taller, I shake out my shoulders and lift my head. “I have nothing to be jealous of,” I counter with more confidence than I feel.

“Damn right you don’t.” Brock sighs, removing his hand from my neck, then slipping his fingers through mine and bringing my knuckles to his lips. “Look, we both have pasts. But that’s where they should stay. Behind us. I’m not innocent but I have not been reckless, despite what the guys think of me. Despite what Cap has thought.”

I watch as his eyes soften in the dim light of the country bar.

“I’m here with you, snowflake.”

“But you were touching her,” I remind him, sounding petulant and irritated.

Brock sighs, watching me. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have touched her.” His tone turns serious. “I’ve been cheated on and I know how that can make you question yourself. Make you feel unwanted and insecure. Unloved and discarded. And I would never, ever want to make you feel that way, Paradise, even if inadvertently.”

He softly chuckles. “I’d go apeshit if the roles were reversed.”