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In fact, my cock was finally awake again.
Oh, fuck no.
My hands were so sweaty that I nearly dropped my bottle. Shaking my head, I placed it on the table and made my way over to Brodie.
“What’s up?”
“What’s going on with you and Dawson? Lately, there’s more arguing than flirting.”
I scoffed. “He’s up my ass about everything. And get this, if I want to bring home that guy I met earlier, Ricki?—”
“Frankie.”
“That’s what I said. Dawson has to stay on site all night. Like, what the fuck, Dee?”
“It’s the break-in. It rattled everyone. Regan is just trying to keep us safe.”
“It’s too much.”
“It’s temporary.”
“It’s annoying. And easy for you to say. Your personal life isn’t affected.”
I began to pace.
“What else is going on? And don’t fucking start that ‘nothing’ bullshit. It’s me, yeah?” Brodie stared at me, and I finally gave in.
“I’ve been getting weird text messages.”
Brodie’s expression fell. “From who? What do they say?”
“I don’t know who! That’s why it’s weird. The messages are from unknown numbers with texts like ‘I keep waiting for you’ and ‘I’m the only one who loves you.’ I block them, but new ones appear. It’s been going on all month.”
Brodie ran a hand through his dark curls. “Have you told Regan or Dawson?”
“No. And I don’t want to. As soon as they find out, they’re gonna take my phone away and put me in lockdown. And then I’ll really go out of my mind.”
“Sorry, Iain, but you’re my brother. I don’t care what kind of security measures they put in place; you need to tell them. Now.”
Fuck, I didn’t want to.
“Please.”
Brodie never uttered the P-word, and the worrying look in his hazel eyes told me to relent.
“I’ll tell them this week.”
“Iain,” Brodie warned.
Once he got something in his head, Brodie wouldn’t let go.
“This week. I promise. I swear on my favorite Martin acoustic.”
Brodie nodded and took a final chug from his bottle.
“Good. Now let’s get back out there and give the crowd their money’s worth.”
I felt lighter than I did a few hours ago. Telling Brodie was a load off my mind.
