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When I arrived, there was a car in her driveway I didn’t recognize. A battered old sedan that looked like it had as much rust as mileage.
Brooke was talking to a man who was trying to shove a welded hunk of something into his back seat. Her smile was bright and he had her full attention.
He straightened up enough for me to get a good look. The guy was a solid wall of muscle, with cropped short hair. The hints of silver meant he was probably close to Brooke’s age, and he could probably break her with those fucking upper arms.
A strange noise drew my attention and I realized I was growling. I swallowed the response, and climbed from my truck. Approaching with confidence, I continued to size him up until I reached him and Brooke.
“Deacon,hey.” Her voice was bright and her smile had grown. “This is Quentin.”
He extended his hand. “Pleasure. Where did you serve?”
I squeezed tightly to let him know I wouldn’t be intimidated, and tried to make sense of his question. “Denny’s, for about two weeks in high school? Waiting tables wasn’t for me.”
“Ah. I assumed…” He scrubbed a hand over his head.
Oh. Right. I forgot some days I had the military-style haircut. “No. I was never military.” Was I picking on some old vet? “Much respect, though.” I added quickly, making sure he knew I was sincere.
Brooke moved to stand next to me, facing Quentin. “Deacon did a charity stream with a friend for Christmas, and had to shave his head as part of it. A Konsoles for Kids thing.”
I wanted to smirk in self-satisfaction.See, I can help too. But a charity stream was hardly equivalent to military duty, and why did I care what this Quentin guy thought or what Brooke thought of me compared to him?
“Cool.” Quentin nodded.
“Thanks.” My reply came out tight and didn’t make any sense as a response to what he’d said. Apparently I was using up my good will.
Quentin gave the slightest shake of his head. “Anyway, I need to go. Great to meet you Deacon, and I’ll see you around, Brooke.”
“Remember, you’re welcome any time.” Brooke pulled Quentin into a tight hug that seared my insides with something muddy and heated. Especially when Quentin met my gaze over her shoulder, and raised an eyebrow.
My thoughts were still seething when he left, so I didn’t realize Brooke was talking to me until she waved her hand in front of my face.
“Earth to Deacon,” she called.
I yanked myself back together. “Right. What? Did you want to go, or do you need to… something?”
“I’m ready.” Her tone sounded off.
Then again, mine probably did too. We climbed into my truck and the engine sputtered a few times before roaring to life. I pointed us toward my shop.
“Does Adam know about Quentin?” The question slipped past my lips without permission. I was barely okay with Adam and Brooke as a couple. Add another guy to the mix, one who could probably coax Brooke into all sorts of pretzely shapes—
Brooke gave a short, throat-clearing cough. “Does Adam know that I have friends? Presumably.” Her voice was tight.
“I just mean…”
“What?” She asked. “What do you mean? Does Adam know I have friends with penises? He asked you to make sure I had a ride, so it seems that way. Adam doesn’t dictate who I spend time with, and does it matter what my friends have hanging between their legs?”
Brooke had been gone for two weeks. I’d been pretending that entire time that I didn’t need to go visit her, and now that she was sitting in my truck I was picking a fight. I forced myself to chill the fuck out. “It doesn’t.”
“Good.” She tucked her hands into her lap.
“Exactly.” I drove.
Brooke sighed.
And now there was that heavy, unnatural silence that I hated.
“How are things looking in your basement?” Brooke’s tone was neutral.
