espresso.
“He’s upstairs on his laptop checking emails. I’ll go find him and ask.”
Brock headed up the stairs. As I peered through the window, I caught another glimpse of Dakota, this time watching me from his front porch. I could imagine the wheels turning in the kid’s head now. Hopefully his speculations wouldn’t give us away. All the more reason to leave for a while.
But not without calling D.J. first. I knew he wasn’t crazy about the idea of Brock and Rob staying here, after all. He’d said as much after the crowd thinned last night. The last thing I wanted to do was upset him, but what could I do, really?
I reached for my cell phone and punched in D.J.’s number, but he didn’t answer. Nothing unusual there. Whenever he was on a construction job, calls were usually overlooked. I quickly sent him a text message. Gone with the guys on an island tour. That ought to do it. If he had any qualms about it, he’d write back.
Seconds later, Brock and Rob met me in the foyer.
“I guess we’re taking your car, since Marian took mine back to town.” Rob shrugged. “Is that okay?”
“Of course. I know where I’m going anyway.”
I turned, coming eye to eye with Brock, who gave me a wink. He flashed a smile warm enough to melt a chocolate bar.
Hmm. Maybe I didn’t know where I was going after all.
9
My Kind of Town
I led the way to my SUV with Brock and Rob on my heels. We went out the back door—the one in the kitchen—to avoid Dakota’s snooping. I still shuddered when I thought of what he might be up to. This was, after all, the kid who’d threatened my family with a lawsuit and held my father’s Hakeem Olajuwon autographed basketball hostage over a mix-up involving a lousy skateboard.
When we reached the car, Rob opened the back door and climbed in. Great. That left Brock in front with me. Why this worried me was a mystery. I had a fella of my own, and besides, I wasn’t really attracted to the guy.
Okay, yes I was. No point in denying it. But I already had the world’s greatest man. Being with Brock shouldn’t be a big deal.
Deep breath, Bella. Deep breath .
I climbed in the car and buckled my seat belt. Then I heard Precious yapping. With a sigh, I looked out of the car to see Aunt Rosa holding my ornery pup.
“Better take this thing with you.” She passed her through the open window. “The little monster’s not going to stop whining until you do. I’ve got my Savvy Seniors group at the church, and your mom’s gone to town. Remember what happened the last time we left the dog alone in the house.”
“Ugh.” I remembered all right. She’d chewed the leg on Mama’s antique rice bed. The repair had cost several hundred dollars.
As I held on to the squirming pup, I tried to figure out what to do next.
Brock looked at me with a shrug. “Want me to hold her?”
I’m sure that made perfect sense to him, but he didn’t know Precious. She wouldn’t stop whining until I took her back in my arms—not an easy task behind the wheel. Besides, she’d tried to bite his hand off last time he touched her.
“I . . .” Shaking my head, I tried to explain. “That won’t work.”
“Need me to drive then?”
“Oh, I don’t know . . .”
He unbuckled his seat belt and came around to my side, opening my door.
I looked up at him through the open window, a little unnerved. “Are you sure?”
“Of course. I haven’t driven in over a week, and I’m losing my touch.”
“That doesn’t sound hopeful.” I scooted out of the car, pup in hand.
“Just don’t get too heavy on the accelerator,” Rob said. “Remember what happened that summer in Laguna?”
“Yep.” Brock chuckled as he took the driver’s seat.
I thought about their words as I made my way to the passenger side. Whatever had happened in Laguna could stay in Laguna. I didn’t need to know. As long as we arrived home in one piece.
Brock barreled backwards out of the driveway. I held on to Precious, who
Krystal Shannan, Camryn Rhys