She found Brock in the kitchen downstairs, pacing and talking on his cell phone. As usual. The coffee smelled like it had been brewed just past the fragrant stage. Only an inch remained in the bottom of the carafe. As usual. Brock flinched when he turned and saw her in the doorway -- not usual -- but that changed to a smile and wink, and he resumed his pacing while nodding to whatever the person on the other end said. As usual. Nikki padded to the refrigerator.
This was nice, having a condo of their own instead of sharing a larger condo or a rented house with Ringo. Not that Brock's employer wasn't charming and clever and gracious -- and had good hygiene habits. Nikki liked smaller condos, or even living in hotel suites, because it meant some privacy for her and Brock, and less chance of Marcus and Angelo wandering in, helping themselves to the treats she stocked for Brock and throwing out anything she bought just for herself.
Such as yogurt. She smiled as she opened the refrigerator and saw the four stacks of three cups each of her favorite flavors. Such a small thing, to have everything where she left it the night before. It meant she wouldn't turn around to find either man peering around a corner, leering at her. It meant she could go barefoot in her silky nightshirt, instead of needing a thick robe, or even getting dressed to leave her bedroom.Flickers of the dream that woke her intruded as she toasted bagels for herself and for Brock, poured juice, and set his food on the table that was covered with stacks of papers, envelope folders, a dozen notebooks and his computer -- as usual. Nikki took her food to the breakfast nook, like a little enclosed balcony that looked out over the golf course covered with melting snow. She knew better than to try to find a corner of the table to sit at while Brock was busy with Ringo's business.