Chapter 2

CHAPTERTWO

Brock smiled as he stirred yet another batch of dough. His day had been made when Caryn called him. Getting a phone call so early in the morning usually meant they were about to head out on a search, but this was so much better. He hadn’t hesitated to reassure Caryn that he’d go and help Finley. He wasn’t thrilled to hear that she’d been hurt, but was more than willing to come to her shop and assist.

There was just something about the woman that turned him inside out. He was a rugged man. Always had been. There was nothing he loved more than getting his hands dirty. He loved camping, fishing, hiking, watching sports on TV, and tinkering with engines. But spending the morning measuring flour, kneading dough, and smelling cinnamon and sugar was literally a dream come true. Simply because he was doing it with Finley.

She was an enigma. Desperately shy one moment, then ordering him around the next.

He liked it. A lot.

One of the things he liked best about her, though, was that she wasn’t judgmental. She treated everyone as if they were a long-lost friend. He’d seen more than one person enter her store grumpy as hell, then leave with a smile on their face.

He also appreciated that she didn’t give his oil-stained fingers a second glance. Didn’t question whether or not they were clean. He’d scrubbed them over and over but he couldn’t hide the fact that he worked on vehicles for a living. He enjoyed what he’d done for the US Customs and Border Protection, but nothing made him feel as content as when he had the guts of a car spread out in front of him, putting it all back together again.

Clearly, Finley had also found her calling. And she was a supportive friend to boot. He’d seen ample evidence of that when she was with his friends’ women. She got up early every single morning to bake decadent treats for her shop, making her customers happy, then more often than not spent her afternoons with the ladies.

She’d spent hours with Bristol, helping in her stained-glass workshop. She went with Lilly to assist her with a wedding the other woman had photographed just a couple weekends ago, despite being on her feet since the wee hours already at her bakery. Brock didn’t think she’d missed one of Tony’s soccer games yet. When Caryn had been hurt, she’d given her enough sweet treats to ensure the next time she went to the dentist, she’d probably have several cavities.

And she’d even won over the reticent Khloe. He’d heard them chatting like old friends about the stray kittens Khloe was feeding behind the library.

For months, Brock had been somewhat obsessed with the woman. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Wanted her to look at him with affection in her eyes—instead of actively avoiding his gaze—and feel as relaxed around him as she was with his friends.

Lilly had told him more than once the only reason she got tense when he came around was because she was attracted to him. But he wasn’t sure he believed it. He’d never seen any sign that she was interested in him romantically.

Until this morning.

When he’d taken her hand in his, he’d felt her pulse speed up under his fingers. For just a moment, he’d had the feeling she wanted to do more than simply stand shyly in front of him, but she’d quickly dropped her eyes and went back to being bashful.

Still, that small glimpse of the need in her eyes…it hit Brock hard.

He was making headway with her, even if it was baby steps. He’d take it.

As he placed a tray of muffins in the oven, and removed the dozen that had just finished baking, she sighed in obvious pleasure.

“Those look awesome,” she said with a smile.

When he’d first arrived, things had been awkward between them as she’d instructed him on what to put in which bowl, how to properly stir the ingredients together—he had no idea there was a right and wrong way to mix flour, sugar, and spices, but apparently there was—but now she was much more relaxed.

“And they smell awesome too,” Brock said. “I wasn’t much of a pumpkin spice guy, but I think you’ve changed my mind.”

“Just wait until they’re iced. I guarantee they’ll blow your mind.”

Brock could only grin. She was so freaking adorable. “I’m sure they will,” he reassured her.

Together, they managed to put together enough goodies for the regulars who showed up early, and Finley opened her doors just fifteen minutes later than normal.

“I really appreciate your help, but I’ve got it now,” she said.

Brock ignored her. He stood behind her at the counter, packaging the treats people ordered as she took care of the money and making small talk. Every now and then, he’d wander into the kitchen and take out another tray of muffins or cookies. He iced cookies at Finley’s direction, and between the two of them, they were able to get through the morning rush. There was practically nothing left in the display case by the time nine o’clock rolled around, but Finley looked pleased, so Brock figured things had gone as well as they could’ve with her only having the use of one hand and a newbie assistant.

Looking down at her watch, Finley blinked in surprise. “Oh! I didn’t realize how late it was. Don’t you have to get to work?”

Brock shrugged. “I called Jesus and let him know I was going to be late today.”

“He’s your assistant, right?” she asked.

“Co-owner of the shop,” Brock corrected. “And he’s used to my sometimes wonky hours. When we get called out for a search, he’s on his own. But he and the rest of our employees can more than handle things without me. Speaking of which…have you ever thought about hiring someone to help you out around here?”

“Why, are you thinking about applying?” she asked with a smile.

Fuck, Brock loved seeing that grin on her face. Especially aimed at him. Before this morning, she’d been too shy to talk to him on a good day; forget about teasing him.

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart,” he drawled.

A blush spread across her cheeks, and it was all Brock could do not to yank her close and kiss her the way he’d fantasized for months. He stuffed his hands into his pockets to try to control himself.

Finley was so damn gorgeous, and it was completely obvious she had no clue. He’d had a long talk with Bristol one day about that very topic, and she’d told him that Finley was convinced because of her size, no one would ever take a second look at her.

She was so wrong. Brock had not only taken a second look, he’d taken a third, fourth, and fifth. She was curvy in all the right places.

His mom had been a large woman, and he’d witnessed the deep love his dad had for her all his life. He constantly told Brock it didn’t matter what was on the outside, but what was inside a person that mattered. And his old man wasn’t wrong.

He’d lost both his parents four years ago. His mom had a heart attack, and Brock would always believe his dad just couldn’t go on without her. Despite being pretty healthy, he’d died just a few months later. They both would’ve loved Finley at first sight. And he had no doubt she would’ve won them over just as quickly.

Brock could see the beauty Finley clearly didn’t. She had thick, wavy brown hair that seemed to have a mind of its own. She kept it pulled back when she was at the shop, and he hadn’t realized how long it was until recently, when she’d been hanging out with the other women. It came down to the middle of her back—and it was all he could do not to touch it that night. To run his fingers through the shiny strands…or clutch them in his fist.

Her hazel eyes were bright and curious, and he loved the laugh lines around them. She was about half a foot shorter than his six feet, but he knew without a doubt she’d fit perfectly against him.

But it was her body that kept him up at night. Brock wasn’t ashamed to admit that he’d gotten himself off more than once while thinking about what she hid under her clothes. Her tits were full and lush. Her thighs thick. A waist he could sink his hands into as he took her.

Brock was a large man, muscular, and rough around the edges. He wanted a woman he wouldn’t be afraid to break when they were making love. Someone who could take what he had to give, and make her own demands in bed.

He also wanted a woman who was interested in the same things he was. He didn’t need her to love hiking miles and miles and miles by his side, but someone who wouldn’t mind going camping with him now and then, or sitting with him while he fished, or even got as excited as he did when his favorite sports team was playing.

Brock knew he was looking for a unicorn, and until he’d met Finley, he wasn’t sure such a woman existed. But after being around her, getting to know her, listening to her friends talk about her—he was well aware they were always talking her up to pique his interest—he had a feeling she was exactly who he’d been looking for all these years.

No, her size didn’t turn him off in the least. It made her more attractive in his eyes. He loved her shape, her scent—cinnamon and vanilla—and her personality. He liked her shyness just as much as he enjoyed the glimpses of sass she normally kept hidden around him.

The silence between them had grown while he daydreamed, and Brock could see it was making Finley uncomfortable, so he did his best to rein in his wayward thoughts. “But seriously, you need help, hon.”

“I know,” she said with a shrug. “This store was my dream for so long. And when I first opened, I was barely scraping by. Everything I earned went right back into inventory. For a while, I didn’t think I was going to make it. Some people were upset that I didn’t sell coffee, but that would be silly since Grinders is right next door. Eventually, people got over their irritation that they had to wait in two lines to get their coffee and sweets in the mornings, and business has stayed steady ever since. But getting hurt has made me realize that I really do need to hire someone to help.”

“You have anyone in mind?” Brock asked.

Finley shook her head. “No. I can’t hire a teenager because I’m only open when they’re in school.”

“I can ask around, see if I can come up with someone,” he offered.

“I mean, I could probably step outside and just ask Silas, Otto, and Art,” Finley said with a smile.

Brock laughed. The three older men who sat outside the post office every day, playing chess and gossiping, were a staple in Fallport. “That’s true.”

“But I’d appreciate knowing if you hear of anyone who needs a job. I’d love to hire someone like Elsie. She doesn’t need the help now, obviously, but when she was living in the motel with her son…that’s who I’d love to find. Someone who could really use the job.”

Brock wasn’t surprised. His Finley had a huge heart.

He wasn’t concerned in the least, thinking about her as “his” even when she wasn’t. He’d had his eye on her for a while now, and as he got to know her better, he was more attracted to her, not less. So as far as Brock was concerned, she just wasn’t his yet. “I’ll ask around, see what I can find out.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re more than welcome. I’m gonna go and ice some more cookies before I head out. Is there anything else I can do?”

“You’ve already done too much,” Finley told him.

“What else do you need, Fin?” The nickname just popped out.

“Maybe you can whip up another batch of batter for muffins? I don’t think I need to make more cinnamon rolls, but I do need to stock the case a bit.”

“You got it. But I’m guessing you probably need to supervise,” he said. And he wasn’t trying to wrangle more time with her. He wanted that, yes, but he didn’t want to risk screwing up any of her delicious treats.

To his relief, Finley nodded. “I can help customers and supervise you at the same time.”

Of course she could. Brock had a feeling she could do anything she set her mind to. If he hadn’t come in to help this morning, she would’ve figured out a way to get her baked goods made, he had no doubt.

By the time Brock left, it was ten-thirty, he was covered in flour, smelled like cinnamon—just like Finley usually did—and he had a huge smile on his face.

It had been a good morning, and he already couldn’t wait until tomorrow. Finley might not reach out and ask for his help again, but she’d get it anyway. Her wrist wouldn’t heal overnight, and he’d make sure he was there as long as she needed him.

* * *

The next morning when Brock showed up at The Sweet Tooth, he was surprised to see Davis Woolford already waiting at the door.

“Good morning,” Brock said as he approached.

“Morning,” Davis replied.

“You all right?” Brock asked.

Davis nodded, but didn’t explain why he was there. Brock didn’t have a chance to question him further before Finley was unlocking the door.

This morning, she had on a flowery dress that came down to her knees. It was fitted around her chest and flowed out at the hips to swirl around her thighs. Brock felt himself getting hard, and it was all he could do to rein himself in. He didn’t want Finley to feel uncomfortable, and if she saw his erection, she might second-guess having him around.

“Hi!” she said with a smile.

Brock was thrilled that she seemed more at ease with him this morning than the day before. “Good morning,” he said.

“Davis, hi. I don’t have anything ready yet this morning, but if you want to wait inside until I open, you can,” she told him.

“I’m not here for food,” he said. “I heard you’re looking for help. I’m not sure I can be here all the time, because sometimes I don’t sleep so good, and I have trouble controlling my anger, but…” He paused, then took a deep breath. “I was a cook in the Army.”

Brock turned to stare at the man. He was homeless…well, not quite as homeless as he used to be. The citizens of Fallport had built him a tiny home, basically a small shed, and placed it behind Sunny Side Up. Sandra, the owner of the diner, was doing more than her fair share of looking after him. Making sure he had food to eat, a place to wash his clothes and clean up. He was in his late thirties, way too young to be as disillusioned as he was. But PTSD would do that to anyone.

“You were?” Finley asked.

“Yeah. I could…you know…help out…if you needed it. In the kitchen. Not with people.”

Finley reached out and took his hand in hers. Brock couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t hesitate, even though the man’s hands were filthy.

“I’d love that.”

“I don’t have a lot of baking experience,” he told her honestly.

“Neither does Brock, and he did okay yesterday,” Finley said. “I’m willing to try if you are.”

Davis nodded.

“There’s a bathroom in the back if you want to wash up. I think I have an extra hair tie you can use as well.”

Davis didn’t take offense at her words, simply nodded and headed for the kitchen.

The second he disappeared into the back, Brock reached for Finley. Without thought, he pulled her close, giving her a huge hug. It wasn’t until she was plastered against him that he realized he shouldn’t have touched her without permission.

But she didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she snuggled in and hugged him back, and Brock hadn’t felt as good as he did right this moment in a very long time. “You’re pretty amazing,” he said softly as he took in her scent, wanting it to rub off on him so he could smell her all day.

Finley merely shrugged.

He felt her pulling away, and he reluctantly loosened his arms. She had a blush on her face once again, and Brock definitely liked how he affected her. Because she affected him in the exact same way.

She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear as she glanced up at him, then looked down at his chest once again. She did that all the time, looked at him without actually meeting his eyes. Reaching out, Brock put a finger under her chin and encouraged her to meet his gaze.

The second her eyes met his, he said, “Seriously, a lot of people wouldn’t even give him a chance.”

“Then they’re stupid. Davis is awesome. If it wasn’t for him, Bristol might not’ve been found in time.”

“From what I heard, you had a lot to do with that yourself,” Brock said.

“Maybe. But seriously, Davis is a good person. Yes, he’s got some demons, but I’ve seen the kind of man he is deep down, and you said so yourself yesterday, I need help around here.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Brock said, lowering his hand reluctantly. But as he did, he couldn’t resist running his finger down her throat.

They stood there, in the middle of her shop, staring at each other for a long moment, before they heard Davis return.

“I’m ready,” he said.

Turning, Brock saw Davis standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He’d pulled his long black hair back into a bun, washed his hands, and he’d also put on an apron he’d obviously found in the kitchen.

“So you are,” Finley said with a smile. “Gosh, with two helpers, I’m gonna fill the case without any trouble today.”

She wasn’t wrong.

Davis turned out to be an excellent helper. Finley didn’t have to tell him twice what to do. He didn’t speak as he worked, but it was obvious he had experience in a kitchen. After a while, Brock turned to the sink and began to wash the bakeware they’d used, so as not to be in their way.

“I might have found someone who would be perfect to help you out in the front of the store,” Brock told her.

Finley turned to him. “Really?”

“Yeah. Jesus has a neighbor who’s down on his luck and is trying to raise money to send to his sister, to help with her fight against colon cancer. She’s in Brazil. The guy’s having a hard time finding a job around here.”

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why can’t he find a job?”

“I haven’t exactly talked to the people he’s interviewed with, but I’m guessing it’s because he’s a big guy. Around six-four and plus-size. I think people are intimidated by him. And he’s from Brazil…the people of Fallport have gotten better about being inclusive, but there are still plenty who discriminate against anyone who hasn’t grown up around here. But Jesus says he’s a good man. Hard-working, considerate, and despite his appearance, he’s actually soft-spoken.”

Finley nodded. “Good enough for me. If he comes by around three, when I’m closing, I’ll have time to meet with him,” she said without hesitation.

There it was again. Her huge heart made Brock want to be a better person himself. “I’ll let Jesus know, and I’m sure he’ll be here.”

“What’s his name?”

“Oh, guess that’s important, huh?” Brock said with a chuckle. “Liam. I don’t know his last name, sorry.”

“It’s okay. Having his first name is fine for now. I’d hate for someone to come in and for me to think it’s the guy here about the job, only to find out it’s a customer who simply wants a muffin.”

Brock smiled at her. “I’m guessing with my description, you’d know it was him even if you didn’t have a name. Besides, you probably could talk a random customer into working for you.”

She shook her head as if amused.

“I’m serious. You make friends with everyone who steps foot in this shop.”

“You remind me of a woman I met in Afghanistan,” Davis said, speaking for the first time in an hour. “She didn’t speak English, but every time I went in to buy a loaf of bread, she treated me as if I was her long-lost son or something. Pulling me behind the counter, showing off the fresh bread she’d just pulled out of the oven, and insisting on giving me twice what my money should’ve bought.”

“That’s sweet,” Finley said.

“Yeah. Until the day the rebels burnt the place down, adamant that women shouldn’t be able to own a business. That it wasn’t their place.”

Finley inhaled sharply. “Oh no.”

“Yeah. I never saw her again. I have no idea what happened to her. I’d like to hope that she’s happy and healthy today, but I just don’t know.”

“I’m so sorry,” Finley said. She took a step toward Davis, but before Brock could warn her not to touch him, she stopped, as if she instinctively knew she needed to give her new helper some space.

“Yeah. Me too. Are we good here?” he asked abruptly.

Finley nodded. “I think so. You’ve been a huge help. You’re welcome to help me out anytime, Davis. I’m usually here by four-thirty.”

The veteran nodded.

“Let me get some money to pay you for this morning.”

“Don’t need it. I’m gonna get going.”

Brock watched as Davis took off the apron, hung it on the wall, then he nodded at him and Finley and headed for the door.

The second they heard the front door shut, Finley turned to Brock. “I hate that he’s struggling.”

“You’re good for him.”

She laughed, but it wasn’t a humorous sound. “Yeah, I remind him of a woman who had her business burned to the ground. That’s so good for him.”

Brock couldn’t keep himself from going to her. He reached out and put a hand on her upper arm and squeezed lightly. “No, you remind him of a woman who was a bright spot in what I’m guessing was a very tough deployment,” he countered.

“Maybe.”

She didn’t sound convinced. But Brock understood where Davis was coming from. Yes, the man wasn’t happy that woman had lost her shop, but when struggling with traumatic memories, it actually helped to remember the good times. And even though the outcome wasn’t great, Davis obviously loved going to that woman’s shop as much as she enjoyed having him there.

“How’s your wrist feeling this morning?” he asked, wanting to change the subject and cheer Finley up.

She immediately rotated her right hand. “It’s okay. Still sore, but better than yesterday.”

“Good.”

“With Davis here, you probably don’t need to come tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll be back to normal by then.”

Brock tried not to let his disappointment show. “You mind me being here?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Of course not.”

“Good. Because I prefer starting my day with you, rather than sitting on my duff in my house.” It was a bold thing to say, but Brock was done tiptoeing around this woman.

She just stared at him with big eyes.

“Although, taste-testing all your pastries probably isn’t good for my waistline.” He patted his stomach as he smiled. Then he asked what he’d been thinking about all morning. “I know you close at three. You want to get together around four-thirty or so to hike the Barker Mill Trail? You said you like to hike, and the temperature should be pretty good around then, not too hot or cold.”

The more she stood there, just staring at him, the more uncertain Brock became. He didn’t want to give her a chance to shoot him down, so he kept babbling.

“The SAR team has been taking turns walking the paths, making sure the tourists are all right and letting them know we’re there if something happens. So far it’s been working out, we’ve found a few people who had blisters and needed a bit of first aid, and we’ve answered a lot of questions about the various trails in the area. Old man Grogan even gave us some of those Bigfoot squishy things he had made, to give out to kids we meet while we’re hiking. It’s been a good public relations kind of thing. Today’s my day, and I just thought that maybe you’d want to get some fresh air. After you meet with Liam, of course. But you might have something else planned already.”

He forced himself to shut the hell up, and he practically held his breath as he waited for her response.

“I…well…Why me?” she finally asked.

“Because I think you’re pretty awesome. And I like spending time with you. You’re funny, and kind, and being around you makes me feel good.”

Her eyes widened in surprise.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so if you don’t think it’s a good idea to go on a first date with a man who takes you deep into the forest, that’s okay too. In fact, it was probably a stupid idea—”

“No!” she blurted, then blushed. “I mean, I trust you, Brock. How could I not? I just…a date?”

Brock cringed. He shouldn’t have said that. But he didn’t want her to think for a second that he just wanted to be friends. He valued her friendship, of course, but he wanted more.

“Yeah. We could go to dinner instead, if you wanted. Or bowling. There isn’t a ton of stuff to do in Fallport, but I’m sure we could think of something. Maybe I could talk to Sandra and see if she’d pack a picnic for us or something and we could go to Caboose Park. No, on second thought, there’ll be too many people there after school.”

“A hike sounds nice,” she said, stopping him from making more of a fool of himself than he already had.

“Yeah?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah,” she agreed shyly. She was back to looking at his chin instead of his eyes. “I was going to get together with Lilly to talk about the cake she wants me to make for her wedding, but that can wait. Or I can call her if I get a break today. Since she and Ethan are tying the knot on Halloween, I thought it might be fun to have a themed cake. Not with black icing though, because I can just see all the pictures of everyone smiling with black teeth. But maybe a three-tiered, white-iced cake, with silhouettes of black trees with crows on the bare branches, and the topper could be something similar.”

Brock smiled as she spoke. It was obvious she was anxious about being responsible for Lilly’s cake, but he knew whatever she decided to make would not only look amazing, it would taste just as good.

“Sorry, I’m babbling,” she said, blushing once more.

“I don’t mind,” he said honestly.

“It’s been a while since I’ve hiked. You aren’t worried that I won’t…”

“What?”

“That I won’t be able to keep up with you? You’re obviously in way better shape than me. I mean, look at you. Then look at me.”

Brock hated the self-deprecation he heard in her tone. “I’m looking, believe me, and there’s not a damn thing wrong with you,” he said fervently.

They stared at each other for a long moment. He could see the hope and wariness in her gaze and was more determined than ever to make sure she never doubted how he felt about her.

He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was to him. How he couldn’t stop thinking about her curves, and how he wanted to feel them under his hands. How he fantasized about having her in his bed. But that would be a little too much, even for someone as rough around the edges as Brock.

“This isn’t a forced march, Fin. Just a casual walk in the woods. Besides, you’re in shape. I’ve heard you talking to the other girls about how you take online yoga and Zumba classes in the evenings.”

Finley swallowed hard before taking a deep breath in through her nose. “I’m not sure this is the best idea…but yes, I’d like to go on a hike with you.”

“It is a good idea,” Brock insisted, more relieved than he could say that she’d agreed. All he needed was for her to let him in, even a little bit, and he’d show her how good they could be together.

He wasn’t an idiot, he was well aware that even though people appreciated what he did with the search and rescue team, he wasn’t the best catch. He swore too much, worked long hours, didn’t have a college education, was as blue collar as they came, and didn’t care much about the right and wrong things to say in social situations. But he was loyal. And good with his hands…both on the job and in the bedroom. He’d never hurt a woman, ever, and thought anyone who did deserved to be locked away for good.

He realized Finley was staring at him, waiting for him to finish his thoughts, and he mentally smacked his own head. “It’s a good idea,” he repeated firmly. “I’ll be here around four-thirty to pick you up, if that’s okay.”

“That’ll work. Thank you.”

“Of course. Thank you for saying yes,” he countered.

She blushed again, and Brock could only smile at the sight.

“I need to get the door unlocked, otherwise I might have a riot on my hands,” she said after a moment.

Brock nodded and turned toward the door that led into her shop. He gestured for her to precede him, and he couldn’t help but watch her ass as she walked. It was large and round…and his mouth watered just thinking about what she’d look like on her hands and knees in front of him, as he prepared to take her from behind.

She turned and caught him staring—and instead of calling him on it, she gave him a shy smile.

It was hard to believe she was finally giving him a chance, and Brock mentally vowed not to do anything to fuck it up. Of course, that was easier said than done, but now that he’d finally met a woman who seemed to tick off all the imaginary boxes he had for a partner, he wasn’t about to do something that would make him lose his chance.

He was very thankful Caryn had called him yesterday morning. Without spending the last two mornings with him, she wouldn’t have loosened up enough to say yes to a date. He owed Caryn, huge.

“Thanks again for coming to help me. I really appreciate it,” Finley said. “I can pay you if—”

“No fucking way,” Brock said with a scowl. “I’m not here for money.”

“Why are you here?” Finley asked.

He could sense that she was embarrassed she’d asked the question, but she straightened her shoulders and managed to stare into his eyes as she waited for his response.

“Because I’ve been waiting for months for the most beautiful woman in Fallport to realize she’s got me wrapped around her little finger. To give me a chance. And, just sayin’, Fin…now that you have? I’m gonna do everything in my power to make sure you don’t regret it. See you this afternoon.”

Then he leaned in and kissed her cheek. Even that slight brush of his lips on her skin made him yearn for more. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla wafted into his nostrils and Brock had a feeling he’d be smelling her all day…which wasn’t exactly a hardship.

He smiled down at her, then reached out and unlocked the front door and left. There was a couple waiting outside on the sidewalk for the store to open, and Brock nodded at them as he headed for his pickup truck. It was over ten years old, and his baby. He’d brought her back to life, tinkering with the engine and changing out just about all her internal parts. She purred like a kitten now, and had enough horsepower under the engine that if he wanted to, he could outrun even the fastest cop car.

As he drove toward Old Town Auto, Brock frowned thinking about Finley being alone in her shop every morning. It was something he hadn’t thought about until now, and he realized it wasn’t safe for her to go to work in the dark, before anyone was really up and about in Fallport. Anyone could sneak up behind her and force her into her shop when she opened.

The thought of someone hurting Finley made Brock’s blood run cold. She might not need him to assist her in the mornings, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stay away now.

Yes, Davis might be there some mornings, but that wasn’t good enough for Brock. He already felt extremely protective of her, especially now that she’d said yes to a date. As far as he was concerned, she was now his to watch over. His to protect.

He knew without a doubt that she wouldn’t exactly be pleased with his line of thinking. But what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

Nothing and no one would hurt her—ever.