Page 30 of Alpha Brock

My brother rolls his eyes, taking a step back. “Whatever, bro,” he mutters. Apparently he’s not in the mood to duke it out, because he just shakes his head and turns around, continuing down the hallway. Toward the kitchen, no doubt, since his room is the other direction. He flips me the bird over his shoulder.

I storm into my office, slamming the door behind me. Even though we’re brothers, I don’t fight with Brent often- so why does this fucking girl suddenly have me at my brothers’ throat? Whatis itabout her? I walk around my desk and throw myself into the leather desk chair, sulking. Trying to get out of my fucking head.

Okay, so theydidn’thook up- but why the hell does the thought of them hooking up bother me so much? It’s not like Astrid and I could ever be anything- though that doesn’t stop me from wanting her. How could I not, with the girl strutting around my house wearing next to nothing? Since she’s been staying here, my head’s been a fucking mess. It’s been anywhere but where it needs to be- focused on the battle ahead.

Once I’ve calmed down a bit, I pull some papers out of my desk- the lists that Jared and I put together for placements- and go over them. At the very least, I can get some work done this morning. Twenty minutes later, I’m sufficiently calm enough to leave my office, and I make my way down the hall, back toward the main area of the house.

I immediately spot Astrid sitting cross-legged on the couch with her laptop resting on her lap. She’s pulled her hair back into a ponytail and changed into a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, and even dressed down she’s frustratingly beautiful.

“You ready to go?” I ask, eyeing her attire as I approach. She isn’t exactly dressed for a workout with the squad.

“Huh?” Astrid looks up at me, blinking those big brown doe-eyes of hers. “I’m not going to the complex this morning.”

I frown, furrowing my brow. “Why not?”

Astrid sighs, lifting her hands from her laptop keyboard and leaning back. “Brooke and Theo are picking me up to take me to Summervale, remember? More members of my pack are arriving this morning.”

Fuck. I do remember. She mentioned it yesterday, but I’d completely forgotten until right now.

“Fine,” I growl, turning away. I head for the front door, grabbing the keys to the Escalade off of the little table in the foyer on the way. I walk out of the packhouse in a huff, not looking back. And for some reason, with each step I take putting distance between Astrid and me, it feels like she’s slipping further away.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Astrid

It’s early afternoon by the time Theo and Brooke drop me off back at the packhouse in Riverton. The arrival and placement of the second group of evacuees from Denver went off without a hitch- the Summervale pack is one of the larger ones in the six-pack, so we were able to place over eighty refugees there. Greeting my pack members and the placements themselves didn’t take long, but I hung around with Brooke for a while afterwards to catch up on some developments with IT that she discovered late last night. I’m not sure when the girl finds time to sleep.

According to what Brooke uncovered, the shadow pack coordinated an attack on a smaller pack in a neighboring state just last night. It seems they may be making a last-ditch effort to increase their numbers even further in preparation for taking on Denver, which doesn’t exactly bode well since we’ve already called in all of our backup. Brooke is staying in Summervale for the day, but we’ll discuss what she learned with both the six-pack’s IT unit and Denver’s hive tomorrow and weigh how it could affect the battle ahead. Since she’s skipping the afternoon with IT today, I decide to do the same- I still have a little bit of a lingering headache from this morning and I could use some downtime.

The Riverton packhouse is quiet when I walk in; there’s nobody in sight as I kick my boots off and shrug out of my jacket. Though I’m typically up at the complex at this time of day, I know Brock returns to Riverton to handle pack business in the afternoons- meaning he’s likely around here somewhere. While I’ve kept busy all day, that nasty interaction with Brock this morning has been niggling at the back of my mind. I don’t like letting things linger or fester- I like to face them head-on. Which is why as soon as I’ve hung up my coat and slid my boots under the bench by the door, I head for Brock’s office.

When I start down the hallway off of the kitchen, I see that the door to his office- the first door on the left- is sitting halfway open, practically inviting me inside. I have every intention of strutting right in there, but at the last second, I change my mind. I chicken out and hastily walk past the doorway, continuing down the hall toward my room.Ugh- what the hell am I doing?

I shut myself inside my room and decide to change out of my jeans and into comfies- a little pair of black lounge shorts and a loose white sweatshirt that has ‘Estes Park’ printed across the front of it. Then I mentally scold myself for being a wimp, give myself a pep talk in my head, and start out of my room and back down the hallway toward the big bad wolf himself. He may play tough, but I won’t let him intimidate me.

When I stride through the open door into his office, I see Brock sitting at his desk, his head in his hands as he stares down at some papers spread out in front of him. He’s still in his workout clothes from this morning, though he’s shucked his hoodie and the tank top he’s wearing has me ogling his arm and shoulder muscles appreciatively. His gaze lifts to me as I walk in, eyes narrowing in curiosity as I stroll right up to his desk. I round the side and plop down to sit on the edge, crossing one leg over the other. His eyes briefly flicker to my bare legs, then back to his paperwork.

“Get out,” Brock grumbles.

Rude.Though not surprising.

“So I take it you’re still pissed off about this morning?” I ask, slapping my palms on the desk behind me and leaning back, angling my face down by his. “Hmm?”

Brock abruptly sits up, shoving back in his chair and shooting me an annoyed glare.

I roll my eyes at his dramatics. “You wanna at least explain what you’re mad about, big guy?”

“I’m not mad,” he replies quickly. Unconvincingly.

Brock’s green eyes meet mine and I dare to stare back, risking them pulling me in. He may be pissed off right now, but there’s no denying the heat in his gaze. A long moment stretches between us before I heave a sigh, giving a little shake of my head. “I told you nothing happened with Brent, you have no reason to be jealous.”

His eyes darken. “Why the fuck would I be jealous?” Brock snaps.

I sit up, maintaining eye contact. Daring to say what we he won’t. “Because you like me.”

“Is that what you think?” he snorts.

I shrug my shoulders, ignoring the condescension in his tone. “I heard your conversation with Brent this morning.”