Page 8 of Alpha Brock
I raise my brows and sink my teeth into my bottom lip. “Sorry… I don’t exactly pack light.”
Brent and Jared exchange smirks, shuffling past me to retrieve my bags from the Escalade in the driveway. I glance around again, surveying my surroundings as Brock clears his throat to get my attention.
My eyes meet his, and I feel it again- that strange pull that I felt toward him when our gazes locked on the field at the squad complex. His eyes are like magnets that my own can’t leave.
“Uh, so there’s the kitchen,” he says, glancing in that direction as he runs a hand through his hair. The break in eye contact cuts off the feeling I was still trying to get ahold of- it isn’t one that I recognize and I’m struggling to discern what my intuition is trying to tell me about Brock.
“None of us really cook, but the pack takes good care of us,” he continues. His voice is low and growly, tickling something deep inside of me and sending butterflies scattering in my belly.
“There’s always someone bringing meals by,” Jared adds as he hauls another one of my overstuffed suitcases inside. “We typically just leave it on the counter and everyone helps themselves.”
I nod, offering him a smile. It sounds similar to how we do meals back home, though we have a chef preparing them and groups of us usually sit down to dine together. I guess these guys are more… laid back? It feels a little bit like a frat house.
“Is it just the three of you?” I ask.
“Yup,” Brent supplies, coming in behind Jared with my last suitcase. “Riverton’s most eligible bachelors.” He waggles his eyebrows, setting my bag down. “What the hell did you bring with you, girl?”
I tuck my thumbs in the belt loops of my jeans, shrugging my shoulders. “Just clothes and stuff.”
“That’s a lot of fuckin’ clothes…”
“Leave her alone, Brent,” Jared scolds, rolling his eyes.
“What?” Brent holds up his hands innocently. “I’m just sayin’.”
“He’s got a point,” Brock grumbles in agreement.
Jared nudges me, flashing a friendly grin and leaning in. “Don’t mind them, Astrid. These two were raised by wolves.”
“Weren’t we all,” I smile, appreciating his pun.Yeah, I’m gonna like Jared.
Brent steps over, inserting himself between Jared and I and throwing an arm around my shoulders. “Wanna see your room?”
“Sure,” I laugh. “Lead the way.”
Each of them grab a suitcase- Brock taking two- and I watch appreciatively as they start hauling them down the hallway off the kitchen, their muscles rippling beneath their t-shirts. I follow behind, peeking into the open doors along the way, familiarizing myself with my surroundings. The first two rooms we pass are clearly offices, but as we continue on, I quickly realize that this must be the guest wing; the rest of the rooms have beds, and all but one of them are decorated simply and don’t look lived in.
Reaching the end of the hallway, the guys drag my suitcases into the last room on the right. I follow them inside to find a large, tastefully appointed room with a couple of dressers, a full-length mirror, and a king-sized bed with crisp white linens.
“Hope this is alright,” Brock says, dropping my suitcases against the far wall. He glances over at me, watching me carefully as I take in my surroundings.
“It’s great!” I chirp, noticing the two open doors to my left- what looks to be a walk-in closet and an en-suite bathroom.
Brent sets down the suitcase he was carrying beside the others, turning to me with a mischievous grin and throwing his thumb over his shoulder. “My room’s on the other end of the hall, just FYI. In case you need anything.”
Brock and Jared both roll their eyes from their positions on either side of Brent, and I can’t help but crack a smile. Brent’s cute, and the man is definitely a smooth operator. I know I shouldn’t even consider hooking up with any of these guys- that whole ‘don’t shit where you eat’ thing- but there’s nothing wrong with enjoying the view.
“Noted,” I chuckle, flashing Brent a smile.Nothing wrong with a little harmless flirting, either.
I feel the weight of Brock’s stare on me- those eyes drawing me back in. I glance his way and our gazes lock. My tummy flips.
I quickly regain my composure, settling my hands on my hips. “What about you?” I ask, tilting my head in question.
“What about me?” he scowls.
I smile coyly. “Your room.”
Brock furrows his brow, his eyes darkening. Like he’s annoyed by my casual flirtation.