Part 4

Reba stared at him, feeling speechless for a second before she glared at him and started to yell, "Are you crazy? Of course you are going out! I'll tell you more, you're gonna go out now! What were you thinking coming into my room while I'm not decent?! Get out!" She grabbed her nightshirt and held it against her body, covering herself as she gave Brock a killer look.

Brock swallowed hard and forced himself to look away. He had been staring long enough for both his and Reba's taste. Even though he played it cool and calm, he couldn't deny that seeing her only clad in black, lacy underwear had an effect on him and he probably would need a cold shower before going to bed tonight. If he would have been able to sleep at all.

Lost in his thoughts and in the noisy chaos he could feel and hear in his mind, where conflicting voices gave him advice on what to do of the situation, he didn't see the high-heeled shoe flying towards him until it painfully hit his upper arm.

"Ouch!" He cried, rubbing his arm and looking at Reba in shock.

"Are you going to get out now or do you want me to throw the other shoe too?" She glared at him, holding the other shoe in her hand, ready to hit him again.

He held up his hands, stepping back, "I'm going, I'm going… Geez, Reba, calm down… Your bloodpressure must be-"

"GET OUT!" Reba yelled and threw the shoe at him, but he was faster than that and ran out of the room, letting the shoe hit the closed door in front of him.

Reba glared at the closed door and quickly got ready for the night, just in case he decided to come back in without warning.

Brock, on the other side, knew better than go back into her room without warning, after all he wanted to stay alive to see the sun rise the next day. "Honey, can I come back in?" He politely asked, leaning against the door.

"Don't you dare! And stop saying that!" Reba angrily replied.

"Saying what? Honey?" He pretended to be clueless and smirked when he heard her let out a frustrated sound.

"Stop it!"

"Okay, I'll stop it…" He chuckled a little. "I'm gonna set up Cheyenne's old room for the night, so-"

Reba opened the door just a bit and stuck her head out, glaring at him, "We have a perfectly comfortable couch down in the living room and-"

"We?" Brock raised an eyebrow and couldn't help but smirk.

Reba mentally kicked herself, "Yes… Kyra, Jake and I have a perfectly comfortable couch you will spend the night on."

"And what if you need me and I can't hear you because I'm not close enough?" He pointed out with a smug smile.

"I'll make sure to yell loud enough for you to hear me." She gave him a falsely sweet smile before slamming the door right on his face.

Brock chuckled to himself and started to walk towards the stairs when suddenly and idea came up to his mind: if she wanted to play with him then she should be ready to get the same treatment herself.

With a smirk on his face he went back to her room and knocked on the door.

Reba let out a sigh and went back to the door, opening it, "What?" She snorted, glaring at him.

He smiled, "Nothing, just wanted to say goodnight." And with that he seized his chance and leant over, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

It took Reba a couple of seconds to realize what had just happened, then she instinctively grabbed and threw at him the first thing in her reach, which unfortunately happened to be her purse.

Brock felt a heavy and pretty large item hit his shoulder and couldn't help but laugh a little as he caught parts of the insults Reba was yelling at him, before she slammed the door shut again.

Still chuckling, he picked up the item she had thrown at him, surprised to find out that it was her purse. Now a dilemma presented in front of him: should he go back to her and give her her purse, risking to be yelled at again, or should he rather keep the purse until morning and then give it to her, hoping she will calm down during the night?

'You could take a look at it too… See what she keeps from you…' A voice in his head suggested, but he just shook it away and set the purse aside as he set up the couch for the night and laid down on it.

But as much as he tried to sleep and focus on something else, his gaze kept going back to the purse on the chair in front of him.

--

Meanwhile, in her bedroom, Reba was pacing just to avoid banging her head against the wall. How could she be so stupid? How could she throw her purse at him? Now he was probably going through it and laughing at all the things she had stuffed in it.

"Let's think clearly… There was lipstick, a pen, notebook with work stuff, Elizabeth's 'I love you' notes…" She started to list the things and smiled thinking of her granddaughter's lovely little notes. "…cell-phone, sunglasses, wallet… WALLET?!" She slapped her forehead and stopped pacing, starting to panic a little.

He was now probably looking into the wallet and finding the pictures she kept in it, and if he would ever confront her about that, she was sure there will never be a more embarassing moment in her life. How was she going to explain the picture in her wallet?

How was she going to explain that she threw her purse at him because she got distracted by the sweet, innocent kiss he gave her?

Innocent… maybe he intended it that way, but it hadn't been all that innocent to her. Even if his lips had touched hers for less than a second, that kiss had shaken her world and gave her a hard time breathing. Her heart jumped the very same moment she had felt his soft lips peck hers, and she hated the feeling, because it made her feel weak.

And what made her curse herself and her feelings even more was that she knew how he probably was just joking.

He was completely over her, she didn't mean anything to him anymore.

--

Brock rolled on his stomach on the couch and punched the pillow, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep, but apparently there was no way he could manage to fall asleep.

His thoughts kept drifting off to her purse and he felt like the item was secretly peaking at him, calling his name in his mind, asking for him to take a look. But he wouldn't do that, he respected Reba and should respect her privacy.

But what if there was something she was keeping from him? What if she still had feelings for him and he could find out by going through her purse? But wouldn't that have been unrespectful to her if he did?

Brock sighed heavily and rolled over again, staring at the ceiling.

What would happen if he did go through her purse? And what if he didn't?

With a sudden movement, Brock got up from the couch and walked to the chair, picking up the purse with trembling hands.

It was a simple, black, leather purse, that matched the heels she had been wearing today, but to him it was like a chest containing wonderful surprises. Or a horrible truth.

He sat back down on the couch and opened the purse, slowly taking a look inside. It looked like the common contents of a woman's purse were inside hers: work notebook, sunglasses, lipstick, cell-phone, wallet, everything seemed normal.

"What is that?" He murmured when he saw a stack of little heart-shaped notes, held together by a butterfly-shaped pin. He took them out of the purse and smiled at the childish handwriting, that he immediately identified as Elizabeth's.

"Dear grammy, I love you because you cook me breakfast." He read to himself, smiling tenderly.

Then he randomly picked another note and read it, "Dear grammy, I love you because you smell like roses and cookies." He smiled and nodded: that was one of the reasons why he loved her too. Plus that she was beautiful, and funny, and sweet, and caring, and sexy, and-

Chuckling to himself he shook his head and picked another note, "Dear grammy, I love you because you always play Hide-And-Seek with me." He could picture Reba playing with their granddaughter, it must be such a cute and funny scene. He remembered the way she used to play with their children, he always loved seeing her around kids, being a mom.

With a goofy smile on his face he went on reading the notes and when he was done he smiled to himself as he put the stack of notes back in the purse.

There were some he could relate to, like: 'Dear grammy, I love you because you always kiss me in the morning'; and some that he just smiled at, like: 'Dear grammy, I love you because you give me Barbie dolls for Christmas'; but all in all it had been a good reading.

Wiping the smile off his face he proceeded to go through the purse, quickly checking her notebook before deciding that it only contained work stuff and putting it aside along with her cell-phone: he might be acting like a jerk and going through her purse, but he still was going to respect her privacy, so her cell was off-limits.

With that thought he picked up her wallet, ready to put it aside as well, when something slipping out of it caught his attention.

Narrowing his eyes a little, Brock picked up the paper sheet fallen from the wallet, realizing that it was a picture. A picture of Reba and Elizabeth to be exact. And it was such a cute picture too: they were sitting on the treehouse, playing Barbie dolls, and someone must have taken a picture of them. Adorable.

Smiling, he decided to open the wallet, only to see if other pictures were inside of it.

As soon as he opened it, three pictures came falling down on the couch. One was a picture of Reba and Barbra Jean with Elizabeth and Henry, one was the whole family reunited for Elizabeth's birthday, and Brock was pleased to notice how Reba was standing close to him in the picture, and he remembered how he had wrapped his arm around her waist and she seemed okay with it. Smiling, he also remembered how Elizabeth had asked for them to kiss, and Reba had blushed, softly explaining to Elizabeth that grammy and grandpa couldn't kiss because they weren't married anymore.

It had been such a good day for them, though.

With his mind still crowded with thoughts of that afternoon, Brock put the picture away and picked up the last one, taking a look at it while his brain froze and he just kept staring at the colored paper in his hand.

What was Reba doing with a picture of them kissing on their wedding day in her wallet?