Page 28 of Inexplicable

I took out my phone to make a list of things to buy.

I planned on cooking while Brock was unable to function well in the kitchen.

It was something I looked forward to doing. I loved to cook and bake, and it seemed to help when I was anxious or worried. I did a lot of stress cooking and baking sometimes.

I’d discovered that Cherry Cove was a small beach town, but that it had all the basics. It wouldn’t be difficult to get to the grocery store.

Brock’s team had picked us up at the airport in Traverse City, and they’d given me directions and instructions for anything I might need. They’d also left all their phone numbers in case I needed anything.

“Your team is nice,” I corrected. “They’re actually really thoughtful.”

“It figures that they’d be nice to you,” he complained. “They’re decent guys, but they’re just as surly as I am most of the time.”

I sighed as I opened the next cupboard.

I wouldn’t say that Brock was surly…exactly.

Gruff would probably be a better word to describe him.

No-nonsense.

He was a little too quick to lecture about safety but considering his involvement in Last Hope and his previous Delta career, that tendency was probably understandable.

But there was also something about Brock and his presence that made me feel safe, and I probably didn’t want to admit that I needed that kind of reassurance right now.

I was still feeling tense and jumpy from my kidnapping experience, and his calm presence helped me relax a little. I hated the way I seemed to be reacting to shadows that didn’t exist. Certainly those anxieties would go away soon.

I blinked as I looked at the contents of the cupboard I’d just opened.

I blinked again to try to control my astonishment.

Then, I started to laugh.

“Go ahead,” Brock said unhappily. “Laugh it up. I have a weakness for Pop-Tarts. What can I say?”

I kept laughing because I couldn’t help myself.

There was something so incongruent about a big, buff, fit guy like Brock having an entire cupboard full of Pop-Tarts.

There wasn’t a single healthy thing in the breakfast cupboard. Nothing with whole grains, fiber, or less sugar.

Nope!

It was chock-full of the sugary toaster pastries…and nothing else.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you don’t always eat healthy,” I said, my voice full of amusement.

“They’re one of my bad habits,” he said in a slightly rueful tone.

“Mine, too,” I confessed. “I don’t have your variety at home. I’m partial to the frosted chocolate fudge. I justify those pastries by eating yogurt and fruit with my Pop-Tart in the morning.”

“I’m out of chocolate,” Brock grumbled.

I turned to him and smiled. “How in the world do you stay so fit?”

Brock Miller was a beautiful man.

He was over six feet of solid muscle, and his handsome face was hard to resist, especially when he smiled, which didn’t happen very often.