I didn’t know if she meant to speak lower or not, but Mom muttered, “Although a date with him would do you a world of good.”
My head whipped to her. “You did not just say that!”
She grinned. “My days are numbered, Rae. I say what I mean and mean what I say.”
A knock at the front door stopped me from retorting.
“Let me see who’s here. Can’t be Clint. It’s only five-thirty. Wouldn’t be like him to show up over an hour early.”
Walking to the front door reminded me of yet another item on the to-do list: replace Mom’s front door, because it was essentially a solid sheet of glass. Not even the frosted glass, either. There was a stylish curtain in front of it, but it didn’t obscure anything.
As I approached, I noticed a man standing at the door. He wasn’t Clint, but he was a stunner. Tall. Probably taller than Clint, but not by much. As I unlocked the door, I heard his phone ring.
He answered it, with his sharp blue eyes on me. “Yo.”
He paused before he said to the caller, “Yes.”
He looked behind him and back to me. Next thing I knew, he stepped forward with such authority I reflexively moved out of his way. After he shut the door, he looked back at me, but said into the phone, “Doesn’t look that way.”
His eyes traveled from my eyes down to my toes and back. “How does she look?” he asked in a far-away tone. “Like you’re one lucky bastard.”
Somehow, I knew he was talking to Clint.
I crossed my arms. “I do not.”
He grinned, and I realized not only was this man sexy, he was probably younger than me – though not by much. “Yes, lucky. You’re lucky I met Cecilia when I did, Ramsey.”
I gave him my side-eye because I didn’t like that sound of that, not only for me but also for whoever Cecilia happened to be. My ex-husband had cheated on me multiple times with multiple women, so it was a fair chance I was more sensitive than most women about statements hinting at cheating.
“Real lucky. I mean, I’ve been in her presence two minutes. The hair would get any man’s attention, but along with the attitude. Smokin’,” he said with a smirk.
From his phone, I heard muffled words, but the angry tone was clear.
“Told you after what you did at the House of Blues, payback’s a bitch. You reveled in giving me hell while meeting my woman at the same time. I see the appeal, and, I think, now we’re even. If you’d let me go, I’ll introduce myself properly and encourage her to get a move on.”
‘Get a move on.’ He was here to watch my mom and give me time to get ready. Tears sprang to my eyes. I should have been cried-out by now, but the strangest things made me think of my sister and the many things she would never do, never feel.
“There something you didn’t tell me, Clint?”
I looked up at him and saw his lips were pressed together in an angry line.
“Then why am I standing in front of a woman with tears in her eyes?”
At whatever Clint said, his expression softened. I didn’t want his pity and that helped me get the tears under control.
He nodded. “Understood. Later, Clint.”
With his left hand, he tucked his cell into his back pocket while he extended his right hand to me. “Brock Sullivan. Sorry we couldn’t meet under better circumstances.”
I shook his hand. “By ‘better circumstances,’ do you mean before you met Cecilia?”
His chin dipped and his eyes held regret. “No. That was me giving Clint shit. He had it coming. I’m sorry you had to hear it. And even though you are smokin’, no offense, but I didn’t mean it. Nobody can top my Sunflower.”
My eyebrow quirked for a moment. “You’re lucky because that’s a helluva good save. And with my history, I’d go out of my way to let your woman know if you were the least bit serious.”
He nodded and his closed-lip smile conveyed more regret. Then his expression cleared and he gestured for me to walk ahead of him.
“What’s for dinner? I smell food, and you better not have eaten already. My brother’s a spectacular cook – not that he’d hear me say that – but you owe it to yourself to have his Beef Wellington.”
I failed to stifle my grunt. “If this guy weren’t your brother, I’d think Clint put you up to saying that because he said nearly the same thing.”
“He’s had Gabe’s cooking, so you should believe us both.”
We entered the kitchen and Brock moved past me to the stove. He grabbed the plate I had pulled down and scooped out a heaping serving of Hamburger Helper.
“Sorry. I didn’t know you’d be eating with us, Brock. Saturdays are always Hamburger Helper nights for Mom.”
He looked over his shoulder at me. “It’s a classic, but yours is fancy, seeing as you added cut-up pickles and tomatoes.”
Before he went to the table, I put a slice of garlic bread on his plate.
“Mom, this is Brock Sullivan. Apparently, he’s a friend of Clint’s.”
Mom swallowed her food. “I heard you and him talking. Clint wants to line up more hotties to take care of me, he’s more than welcome.”
I sighed, but Brock chuckled as he sat down.
“What can I get you to drink, Brock?”
He smiled. “Water’s fine.”
I put a bottle of water on the table for him.
“Thanks, Raegan. Now, Gabe and Cassie won’t care what you’re wearing, but Clint seems insistent you... how did he put it? ‘Put your game face on.’”
My head tilted. “Did he now?”
He shot a mischievous grin at me. “No. That was your mother he was talking about. Penny and I will be fine, so you can go shower or whatever.”
He turned to my mom. “It’s all right if I call you Penny, right, Mrs. Connelly?”
“Sure thing,” Mom said.
I probably could’ve fought off Mom’s pushiness about going out with Clint, but
