Page 19 of Forbidden Love

Hunter just laughed. “Oh, I’m not pushing, man. Just making an observation.”

Brock clenched his jaw, staring out the window as Hunter pulled onto the road. Damn wolf shifters and their need to poke at shit that wasn’t their business. And damn him for letting it get to him.

Hunter pulled around the back of the Feed Mill, his tone casual, but Brock caught the underlying satisfaction in it.

“They were all exiled except for Asher,” Hunter said, slowing the truck to a stop. “Taz vouched for the guy. Asher said he didn’t like Nico and that having dinner with them that night had been a bad decision. So, it looks like you’ll be running the perimeter a couple of nights a week.”

“Not a problem.” Brock nodded, relieved Dell had done the right thing and sent that bastard packing. At least that was one less headache to deal with.

His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of movement near a large delivery truck. His stomach clenched. “What the hell is she doing?”

Hunter followed his gaze, then let out a sigh before throwing open his door. “I told Emily I’d be here to do that.”

“You’re late.” Deb hefted two long boards of lumber like she had something to prove. “Plus, it’s good exercise. I don’t mind.”

Brock was out of the truck before she finished her sentence. He didn’t wait for permission—he just took the damn boards from her hands.

“Where the hell is Gary?” Hunter grunted as he scooped up an armful of boards. “He should be doing this, not you.”

“Don’t you dare say anything to Gary,” Deb shot back, frowning as she went for more lumber.

Brock shifted, blocking her path, and grabbed the last of the wood before she could.

“He’s hurting today,” she continued, her voice softer now. “He shouldn’t be lifting this heavy stuff. I told him to go eat a cookie and get some coffee.”

“Cookies?” Hunter perked up, dropping the wood he carried without a second thought. “You made cookies?”

“Yes, Hunter,” Deb muttered, rolling her eyes before turning back to the truck.

Brock ignored Hunter’s sudden departure—probably off to hunt down those damn cookies—and focused on Deb instead. He didn’t like how she was moving, the determined set of her shoulders like she could handle this alone. She climbed into the back of the truck and shoved at one of the bigger boxes, her whole body straining against the weight.

Brock cursed under his breath and jumped up, grabbing the box before she could hurt herself.

“I’ve got the boxes,” he told her firmly. He barely resisted the urge to haul her out of the truck entirely. “Do they all go?”

Deb hesitated before nodding. “Yeah, they all go. Just stack them against the far wall. I’ll unpack them later.”

Brock didn’t waste time. He jumped down, set the box where she’d indicated, then went back for the next one. Halfway to the truck, he noticed Deb pushing another heavy box toward the edge.

Hurrying his steps, he jumped up and snatched it from her. “I said I would get the boxes.”

Deb scowled, brushing her hair out of her face. “I can at least get them to the edge so you don’t have to jump up and down.”

Brock didn’t know whether to be amused or frustrated. He reached out, gently wrapping his fingers around her arm to stop her from grabbing another. “Are you generally this stubborn?”

Deb looked down at his hand, then up at him. Her hazel eyes held a challenge, but there was something else there too—something guarded. “Yes.”

“Fair enough.” Brock grinned, respecting her honesty as he stepped past her, effortlessly lifting the box she’d been struggling with. He stacked it onto the last one, then hoisted both at once, the muscles in his arms flexing under the strain. “So am I.”

Deb huffed, crossing her arms as she watched him move with frustrating ease. “Yeah, I figured that out rather quickly.” She stood at the edge of the truck, arms locked tight across her chest, her narrowed eyes tracking his every movement. “I asked you not to do anything about those boys.”

Brock didn’t break stride as he set the boxes down, then turned to face her. “Those weren’t boys; they were men, and they damnwell know better than to talk like that about women.” His voice was steady but edged with restrained anger. “And they weren’t just talking about you. They had something to say about Emily and my sister.”

Deb’s posture shifted, her arms uncrossing slightly as concern flickered in her eyes. “Oh.” She hesitated, her voice softer now. “What on earth were they saying about Tammy? She’s the sweetest thing and a good momma.”

Brock’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t about to repeat the filth those bastards had spewed. “Something I won’t discuss with you,” he said, his tone final. “But know this—they won’t be a problem anymore. Dell sent all but one of them packing.”

Relief washed over Deb’s face, but something else lurked there too—something that looked a lot like guilt. She swallowed, glancing away. “Well… good. They didn’t belong here anyway.”

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