Brock swiped them off the floor, moving ninja-fast. “I got it.”

“Yes.” I watched him unlock my front door. “Yes. You do.”

Shaking his head, he opened the door. “Get in.”

I stumbled in, throwing out my hand and hitting the switch on the wall. Soft buttery light flooded the living room. My gaze immediately landed on Rhage. He was sitting on the coffee table and his little yellow cat eyes were full of judgment.

“Stop staring at me,” I muttered, trudging forward. Then I stopped, remembering that Brock was there. I turned. He was still standing in the doorway. “You coming in?”

“You want me to?” he asked.

“Yes.” Then I nodded, just in case he was confused.

Watching me with that grin on his face, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Then he walked over to the island and placed my keys on it. “You got water in the fridge?”

“I got water in the faucets, too.” I toed off my heels and kicked them against the wall. Sighing, I wiggled my toes.

Brock snorted as he walked to the fridge. “You got any pain relievers?”

“Why? You got a headache?” Feeling warm, too warm, I walked toward the window, about to open it when I realized that would require a lot of effort at the moment. I looked down at myself and remembered that I had a tank top on under the sweater-blouse.

Listening to cabinet doors open and close, I reached down and peeled the sweater up over my head, letting it drop on the floor. Cooler air washed over my arms. Feeling a million times better, I turned around.

Brock found the stash of pills in the cabinet near the fridge and was doling out aspirins into his palm. With the bottle of water in his other hand, he turned around and went rigid.

I started to say something, but forgot whatever it was as his gaze swept over my face and then dropped, traveling over the thin straps of my top. The tank was tight, like a second skin, and it was low cut, showing off the swells of my breasts. I knew this, because that was where he was looking.

Pleasant warmth replaced the almost suffocating heat from a few seconds ago, but I didn’t want to shed that feeling. Not when he was walking toward me, his eyes darker now, like a heated night sky.

Swallowing, I tipped my head back as he stopped in front of me. I don’t know why I said what I said next. It just came out of my mouth. “Grady never took me out to dinner.”

One brow rose.

“He had to reschedule, but he’s been busy with his grandparents’ farm and midterms and finals and . . .” I shrugged, and his gaze dropped again. “I don’t think I care.”