The Reckoning - BLACKBIRD book 3

3. name

"Declan?"

That was how it all started: with his name. Funny. Nobody called him that anymore. It'd been so many years of "agent", his last name, or just "Brock", that he didn't register somebody had called out his first name. The supermarket was full of people and he was still thinking about what Cassidy wanted from him next: question lists to assess agents according to their post.

But what had really caught his focus was that he couldn't make up his mind about which brand of bleach he should buy. Tell me about important stuff, Brockner.

So he stood there, trying to decide between bleach one and bleach two, Cassidy's words going round and round his head, and he didn't pay attention to the approaching voice, repeating his name.

"Declan!"

Until he felt the soft touch on his arm.

It was so out of the blue that he wasn't even startled. He just shot a scowl to his side. And there she was. Looking like right out of the spa, smelling like flowers, her expensive clothes fitting her toned body, her blond hair framing her grin.

He smiled back right away. "Viv! It's been a while! How are you?"

"Fine, fine! I wasn't sure it was you, but Andrea mentioned you were back in town, so I took my chance of harassing a stranger. I called you out twice and you didn't even glance!"

Brock scoffed. "Sorry, I had my head up in the clouds."

Then she pointed at the bleach in his hand and frowned. "You're not considering that as an option."

"I'm not?"

Viv rolled her eyes and grabbed a third brand of bleach. "Here, Declan. This one."

"Okay."

And Brock knew that was it. His name, bleach, and they were on. It didn't take anything else. They finished their shopping together and Brock helped her to load her bags in her car. She said they should get together to catch up. He agreed, so they traded phone numbers.

Next Saturday, he picked her up to have dinner at a nice, small restaurant where she'd made a reservation for them. Brock noticed most of the customers were couples, in case Viv's tight dress wasn't enough of a clue. He didn't care.

Viv's daughter Katie had been Andrea's friend since kindergarten, and Brock had met Viv many years ago, even before meeting Georgia. Brock was already divorced back then, and so was Viv, from her first husband. Back then, she had made it look like one thing naturally led to the other, and they'd ended up dating for a few months. Until Brock met Georgia. That was the day when the rest of the world's female population had lost any appeal to him. Viv had sensed something was off right away, and she'd anticipated Brock's try to put a polite end to their dating. She'd said she didn't feel ready to commit, so she'd rather keep him as a friend. And that was it.

That Saturday night was only the first of many dinners to come over the following weeks, and Brock enjoyed the evening. Viv was a complete control freak who'd learned to conceal it beneath her charming ways. Which made her just so easy to be with. She didn't ask about his life or his job—she didn't care. She talked nonstop all through dinner about her gym, her three ex-husbands, her family, her house, her car, her pets. But she did it in that lovely casual way that kept her from sounding like a brainless parrot. And Brock found out that her shallow conversation was relaxing. It helped him to forget about everything for a while. All he needed to do was keep a mild smile, nod now and then, slip some question to show he was actually listening, refill her glass of wine. That was all it took to be the perfect gent Viv expected in order to feel pleased. There was nothing important at stake, the past didn't matter and the present's main event was them coming across each other again.

So when he pulled over in front of her house, and she invited him to come in for a coffee, he accepted. They both knew they wouldn't get to the coffee part. Not that night at least. Maybe next morning, considering Viv's three children were visiting their fathers.

There was something blatantly straight about Viv's ways that made Brock feel fine. When she kissed him, almost before closing the front door, it was just that—a kiss. There was nothing else to it. She was stating that she wanted him. Just a necessary step to take him to her bed. And even there, he hardly needed to do anything more than let her have her way. Which was just perfect for Brock, because it was the first time he was with a woman after Georgia's death. So he let Viv lead the way and enjoyed sex just for the sake of it. No surprises, no mixed emotions, no meaningful things left unspoken. No shadows of dragons to come.

He didn't stay the night, though. He had planned to use his Sunday to come up with an acceptable outline to show Cassidy on Monday, and he always worked better in the morning. So he kissed Viv goodbye with one last smile and left.

Next morning, while making breakfast, he felt his thighs a little numb and his head a little light. Grow up, Brockner. Should we expect butterflies in your stomach now?

No. That was the last thing he'd get from being with Viv. And that was exactly why he'd be glad if she decided to stay around.