“And me?” He just had to ask as he leaned down to her level. “Am I worth cleaning up, you think?” He hated how vulnerable he sounded, how weak the question made him and how hungry he was for her response.
“Obviously.” She stopped moving her hand and glanced up at him. “Or you wouldn’t be brave enough to even ask.”
He leaned forward, cupping her face with his hand.
Her mouth trembled.
“Brock…”
“Don’t say no.”
“But—”
“Please?”
He lowered his head just as something bit him in the ass. Or pecked him. He fell against the couch with a curse.
“Forget to close the front door?” Jane asked in an amused voice.
He kicked toward the cock. “Go away!”
His volume seemed to only encourage the rooster as it made an ear-splitting noise and flapped toward him with a fury that would only be matched by Satan himself. Feathers puffed into the air with each angry flap.
“Son of a bitch!” Brock grabbed Jane’s hand and tried to run, but the floor was too wet. He went down, and took Jane with him.
The cock flew at them both.
A loud whistle stopped the rooster from killing them, and then another whistle had the cock turning around and flapping toward the stairway.
“Saved your life,” Bentley said in a bored tone. “But what can I say, I’m good with my cock.” He winked at Jane.
Brock offered Jane his hand but she was wincing as if she was in pain.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded, but then pointed to her foot. “I think I may have twisted my ankle sometime between the cock rising into the air for the final kill and running to escape whatever swift death he had planned.”
“If I had a dollar…” Bentley joked, moving toward them over the slippery floor. He touched Jane’s ankle, giving Brock the sudden urge to growl and punch his brother in the face. “It’s starting to swell.”
“No!” Jane shoved him away. “I swear it’s fine. I can still work.” She tried to stand. “See? No problem!” Tears welled in her eyes.
Despite her claim, Brock lifted her into his arms and carried her into the master bedroom. “Bentley, get me some Advil and ice.”
“On it.” Bentley was immediately gone.
“Please.” Jane’s lower lip trembled. “I really want to stay and work, Please?”
Brock sighed. “Jane, you can’t work with a sprained ankle.”
“I can!” Her nostrils flared. “It’s just a stupid ankle. I’ll be fine.”
Brock pulled off her socks and made a face when he saw the purple and blue bruising that had already moved past her swollen ankle up to her calf. “Yeah, I’m going to have to say no.”
“But—”
“You need to stay off your feet.”
She sighed. “Fine. If you just help me pack my things, I can be gone this afternoon.”
He blinked in confusion. “To the hospital? I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“No.” She groaned, lying back against the pillows. “Home! I can’t do my job, therefore I can’t stay.”
“The hell you can’t,” Brock fired back. “I’m sure it will only take a few days to heal, which leaves you plenty of time to clean later, right?”
She worried her lower lip. “I guess. It’s just, it’s a really big house.”
“I think we can figure something out. After all, the twins are bored; why not let them help me clean while you heal up?”
Jane froze then licked her lips. “You? Clean?”
Brock tried not to be offended. “Of course I can clean! What do you think, I have a maid or something?”
She arched her eyebrows.
“Okay fine, I have maids, but how hard can it be?”
She glared.
“Shit, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, I can figure it out, it’s not rocket science.” He swore. “I’m not helping my case at all, am I?”
Jane shook her head and smiled.
“I respect what you do and I will try my hardest to be just as good when I rub out the wood.”
Jane giggled. “Rub out the wood?”
“Oh hell.” Brock groaned. “I meant scrub, clean.” His throat tightened as he swallowed and tried to get the vision of her on her hands and knees out of his mind.
“Sure you did.”
“Bentley!” Brock yelled. “Where are we with that ice?”
“Need to cool off?” Jane teased in a breathless voice. Her eyes were on his mouth. Maybe she was re-living the kiss just like he was—or anticipating more.
Brock eyed her up and down then swore. “You have no idea.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jane smiled when Brock fussed over her ankle, making sure to put a towel between her skin and the ice pack. Truthfully, it hurt bad. Enough that every time she tried to stand to prove to them she was fine, a shot of pain would run up her leg, stealing her breath away.
All because of an out-of-control cock.
“I think he’s jealous of me,” Brock announced when he walked back into the room with a tray of food. “The cock, I mean.”
Jane grinned. “How do you figure?”
“Every time he gets really aggressive, it’s when I’m with you.”