His voice held a smile when he asked, “A rescue effort?”

“Someone needs to put yours out of their misery.”

There was a short, deep chuckle I not only heard but also felt before, “Sweetness, I got an ex who cleaned me out seven years ago, a job which means I’m rarely home and this includes me bein’ under deep cover on an assignment that lasted a year and a half, a year of that where I had zero contact with family, even my kids, and I got two boys who are at an age they don’t give a shit about anything but the fact the TV works and food is in the fridge and, considering they’re boys, they’ll probably never be at an age where they give a shit about anything but TV and food. Towels are not a priority and dishtowels are definitely not a priority.”

My head tipped back to look at his shadowed jaw in the dark room. “You didn’t see your kids or family for a year?”

His head tipped down and I felt his eyes on my face. “I didn’t see it taking that long but it did so another, bigger reason for my statue of liberty play with Darla.”

“Oh,” I whispered thinking that now definitely made sense and it made sense before it was just that now it made more sense then I asked, “Does that happen often?”

“I’d had to take undercover work before, not often but it happened and it was another reason Olivia made my life a misery.”

This, I had to admit, made sense too.

“She didn’t like your job?”

“Olivia likes attention and if she doesn’t get it, she wants other shit to make up for it and that other shit costs money, lots of it, far more than I made. She also isn’t real big on bein’ a Mom so bearin’ the brunt of raising two sons was not her favorite pastime and she regards it as a pastime, no joke. So she wasn’t doin’ cartwheels that she didn’t have a man dancing attendance on her and she didn’t have what she felt was restitution for being denied that.”

Oh man. This didn’t sound good. Any of it but especially the part about Olivia not big on being a Mom.

“But what you do is important,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“And dangerous,” I added and his arm gave me a squeeze.

“Yeah,” he repeated.

I tipped my head down and pressed my cheek against his chest processing the fact that he had a job which meant he might disappear and wondering if I’d be like Olivia, not too happy about that, acting out when it happened and thinking, uncomfortably, since I knew from experience I’d miss him if was gone, I might.

“Lease is up on this place next month and I’m already lookin’,” he announced into my thoughts and my head tipped back again.

“Sorry?”

“Things are hot for me here, last job before the Heller gig exposed me to some folks I don’t wanna know where I work but now they know where I work. This cripples what I do for the DEA which means deskwork which means, since I’m a field man and deskwork would be like certain death, I put in for a job with the DPD, interviewed, got it and resigned from the DEA three weeks ago. I start at the DPD in the homicide unit in a week. This means more stability, total exposure and if some slimeball follows me home and home happens to be a decent place, they won’t ask questions. So, I’m lookin’ for a new place.”

I was blinking and processing this new information but having difficulty with it.

Therefore, the only word I could force out was, “Really?”

His voice again held a smile when he replied, “Really. Which means, after years of livin’

with one foot in the underbelly of Denver, I step outta that into a stable day-to-day with that underbelly leaking in in a controlled way not being what I breathe twenty-four, seven, my woman hightailing her ass to Kentucky would not be good.”

“I’m currently reconsidering my plans to hightail my ass to Kentucky,” I informed him and received an arm squeeze and a chuckle then he capped it with his lips touching my forehead before he settled back into the pillows.

Then he said, “Tomorrow, before putting my towels outta their misery, job one for you is callin’ your real estate agent and gettin’ that f**kin’ sign outta your front yard.”

“Okay,” I agreed instantly, got another arm squeeze and chuckle but, alas, no kiss on the forehead.

I pressed my cheek to his chest again thinking stupidly but hopefully and oh so pleasantly that Ellie would look cute in a pink flower girl dress.

“Sweetness?” he called into my replete gathering drowsiness.

“Mm?”

His hand slid from my head down my neck and then down the silk at my spine. “You got anymore nighties like this?”

“Uh, no and I have to sell a hundred and fifty cupcakes to afford another one.”

“Jesus,” he muttered.

“It was worth it,” I muttered back.

“Damn straight,” he agreed, still muttering.

I let out a soft giggle.

His hand kept sliding down, rounded my waist and settled curled around my hip against the bed so he was holding me tucked super close to his warm, hard body.

Then he murmured, “Sleep, baby.”

“All right, honey. ‘Night.”

“’Night, Tess.”

I drew in breath then let it go. Then I pressed my cheek deep and held tight to Brock.

Then my body relaxed and I fell asleep.

Chapter Ten

You Baked a Cake?

One month later…

“Uh… aren’t we just gonna eat that?” Joel asked and I looked from piping a border of cream cheese frosting on the cinnamon carrot cake I was decorating to him and his brother sitting at their Dad’s bar.

Update: The last month had been busy.

Firstly, Brock had made two moves.

The first was from his job at the DEA to his job at the DPD.

The second was from his shabby, somewhat scary, definitely taking your life in your hands to ascend the outside staircase apartment to a very not shabby, not at all scary, having no outside staircase rented condo. It was in a small, well-landscaped, quiet, L-shaped layout of condos. The only drawback was he had two parking spaces and the entire complex of twelve units had only three visitor spots which were around the bend of the L from Brock’s place. So, if his family were around, which was somewhat often considering he was available, they were close-knit and still in the throes of emotional turmoil, parking could become a problem.

The rest of it was awesome. A fenced in front patio that was a sun trap and thus, if the sun was shining (as it had a tendency to do a lot in Denver) the minute you opened the wooden gate, you entered warmth even though it was November. Inside the front door was a big living room with fireplace and two story slanted ceiling. Up a short-ish flight of stairs to the right, a humungous master bedroom with bath. In that was a new king-sized bed with new sheets and comforter.