The Practically Romantic Groom (Cobble Creek Romance Book 2)

by Maria Hoagland

  Isaac bellied up to the counter, looking at the menu board over the worker’s head.

  The redhead turned when she heard them. “Hi, Isaac, Brooke,” Tess Graham, daughter of the shop’s owner, acknowledged them.

  “Hey, Tess. I’m surprised you got stuck working tonight,” Isaac greeted her.

  Tess’s red hair bounced as she lifted one shoulder. “Dad sent out a family SOS, and I’m the lucky one who pulled the shift.” She blew out a long breath. “Don’t remind me I’m supposed to be tired. Mind over matter . . . but I think I’m getting a little old for this now.”

  Brooke indulged Tess with a smile. She didn’t want to think that in her mid-twenties she was too old for anything. “Yes, used to be either you or Ava was working every Friday and Saturday night through high school.”

  “So true.” Tess leaned a hip against the counter. Maybe talking about being old and tired wasn’t fair to someone who had to work on her feet several more hours to close.

  “How’s Ava, anyway? Do you see much of her?” Brooke asked.

  Isaac and Brooke had never been in the same social circles as Tess and Ava in high school, but this many years later, any clique clashes were distant bygones—along with acne, term papers, and cafeteria food.

  “Not a whole lot since she moved to California. We’re both pretty busy these days.”

  Brooke got the feeling that Tess wasn’t happy with the direction the conversation had gone, so she hedged toward a safer topic. “Did you show houses today?”

  “Open house.” Tess leaned forward, placing both hands on the counter. “But I’ve caught my second wind. What can I get you?”

  “Hmm . . .” Isaac looked back up at the menu board. “It’s going to take me a minute. I need to see if something new is calling my name.” He placed a hand on Brooke’s forearm. “No doubt hers will require Dr. Pepper, somewhere.”

  Tess made a face. “We don’t have Dr. Pepper on the fountain … you know, just seltzer water and syrups. I keep telling Dad we need to update to carry modern fountain flavors, but he won’t have anything to do with corrupting the integrity of the old-fashioned soda fountain feel.” She pulled a cold bottle of Dr. Pepper from a small fridge under the counter. “But I got you covered. We can always substitute DP in any of the soda drinks.”

  After perusing the board, Brooke ended up with a Dr. Pepper ice cream soda with chocolate syrup.

  “That would make it one really odd black cow,” Tess said, serving it up with the title as if it needed one to make it any tastier. “Or a brown cow with a twist.” With the practiced flick of the wrist, Tess poured the blended soda, chocolate syrup, and vanilla ice cream from the frozen stainless-steel cup into a frosty float glass and handed both to Brooke. “It really should have its own name, don’t you think?”

  Isaac accepted his Boston cream soda—made with ginger ale and vanilla ice cream—and paid while Brooke snagged one of the tables next to the window as soon as it opened up.

  “A perfect view.” She meant, of course, a perfect view of the community center and parking lot.

  He settled into the chair across from her, setting down his drink and a few napkins. “Exactly. So when they leave early because the community center is a lame place for couples in their thirties to hang out, we won’t miss seeing them.” Isaac swirled his straw in his drink, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “If they don’t leave early, when the place closes at nine, they could easily get lost in the crowd of golden-agers.”

  “That’s why we’ll keep a good eye out there.” She turned his chin with her finger so that his eyes were outside. Instead of on me.

  The way Isaac stared at her as if she were a big, juicy burger made her nervous. She was still the same person he’d known all those years ago, so what was it that was going on in his mind? Was he remembering something she should be embarrassed about? With that crooked grin on his face, like he knew something he wasn’t going to share with the class, she found herself scanning almost-forgotten memories in an attempt to figure it out. It could be any of a number of things.

  He turned his gaze back on her as soon as she dropped her hand.

  “What?” She couldn’t stand it anymore. “What are you thinking about?”

  Isaac’s grin cracked open. “Paranoid much?”

  Brooke looked down at her drink and took a long sip. The frosty coolness was like a chocolate milkshake, but the hint of Dr. Pepper gave it that extra sparkle.

  “Don’t worry so much.” Isaac touched her hand so she looked up. “Remember at jazz band sophomore year when we’d been rehearsing nonstop—I think it was dress rehearsal or something? Anyway, we were all tired, we had everything down, so much so we were starting to make dumb mistakes. And then you busted out with some Buddy Holly. When you had everyone laughing and dancing, you switched to some hillbilly music—”

  “Hillbilly? Really?” Brooke slapped both palms to the laminate tabletop. “You cannot call Kenny Rogers’ ‘The Gambler’ hillbilly. It’s iconic.”

  “All I know is it went from calm jazz to hoedown in seconds.”

  “Oh, my goodness. You are hilarious.” Even though she didn’t want to, Brooke joined in his laughter. “If I remember correctly, you were the only one who had a problem with it, Mr. Trumpet. Even Mr. Deluca joined in, pretending to be a square dance caller when I switched over to the next song.”

  “Okay, I admit, that was pretty funny. And then Deluca got all serious, trying to rein us back in, and you broke out the Rachmaninoff. Deluca wasn’t sure whether to laugh or yell. It was epic.”

  Isaac’s eyes hadn’t left Brooke’s face. If they kept up like this, they really would lose Cody and Danielle. So much for a stakeout.

  “That’s called showing off.” Brooke felt heat in her cheeks.

  She’d loved playing Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in C# Minor, especially the intro. Just imagining those three chords even now in her head transported her back in time to one particular, absolutely perfect afternoon. She was alone at home that warm morning, soon after her sophomore year ended. The sun was spilling through the mullioned window; the whole of her house so quiet she could practically hear dust motes swirling in the sunlight. Instead of workshopping problem sections, Brooke sat down at the gleaming grand piano and decided to do something different—play for fun. Nobody was there to hear her mistakes. They didn’t matter. And that had been pivotal. From the first pressure she placed on a key, the notes drifted easily through her fingers, each note perfect. She finished, allowing the last chord to drift away. She couldn’t move. Never before—and probably never again—had she been able to play a piece that difficult without even one mistake.

  Brooke made a mental note to play it before bed that night. If she could still remember it. She could make it through the intro for sure, but without the sheet music, she wouldn’t even get close to the end.

  “It wasn’t showing off—”

  She gave him an I-know-what-people-thought look.

  “—much. It was classic. And amazing.” He paused. There was that goofy grin again. “Not to mention unexpected.”

  As was this conversation. Brooke shrugged off the compliments. “Explain why you have such a disdain for country music.”

  Isaac gave her a confused look. “I don’t understand how any serious musician has any other opinion, really. It’s . . . twangy and depressing.” He shuddered. “And an oxymoron. It’s not music.”

  Typical arguments, but ones she didn’t buy. “Nuh-uh. You can’t make blanket statements like that. Country music has come a long way from Conway Twitty and Tammy Wynette. I bet ninety percent of what they play over there”—Brooke spared a glance toward the community center and then back to her conversation— “falls more on the side of rock than country. And the ten percent of classic honky-tonk country would be for the older generation.” She didn’t care much for it herself.

  Isaac smirked, but remained silent.

  “How could you grow up here and not have an appreciation for it?�
�� She really was flabbergasted. “It’s who we are. It’s … fun. It’s strange that you say it’s depressing. My favorite country songs remind me of summer—carefree, upbeat—I don’t know, don’t you think they make great road trip songs?”

  Isaac rolled his eyes, but he must have enjoyed listening to her try to convince him since he wasn’t trying to stop her, so she kept going. “And country songs tell a story. Well, the best ones do. You should give them a chance.”

  “O-kay . . .” Isaac drew it out.

  He wasn’t going to.

  “You might as well get used to the music, since you agreed to dance to country music with me . . .”

  “You never said anything about it having to be at the community center, though.”

  Brooke shook her head. “I don’t care where it is, but it does have to be dancing. To country music.” She paused to let that sink in. “Non-negotiable.”

  He paused just as long, and just as seriously, he shook his head. “Fine.” Isaac scoffed. “But only because you aren’t going to win. My sister’s way too practical to be swept back in by some sweet-talker.”

  Movement at the building across the street caught Brooke’s eye. “You say that now . . .” She nodded to a couple exiting the community center hand in hand. “Is that them?”

  Isaac squinted out the window, observing the shadows in the streetlight. “Sure is. Must be a point for me since country dancing turned out to be a lame idea after all.”

  Brooke shook her head. “But they did it, so my point.” Instead of exiting the building into the parking lot, Cody and Danielle had taken the side door directly across from Graham’s and had stepped firmly into the street, their present trajectory coming toward Brooke and Isaac. “They’re coming this way.” Not wanting to get caught spying, Brooke angled her seat toward the interior of the room, but she couldn’t keep from peeking out the window every few moments.

  When they got to Graham’s side of the street, Brooke snapped her eyes from the couple and back to Isaac. “Act natural. We can’t let them know what we’re doing.”

  “Except . . .” Isaac’s half smile belied his amusement, but she couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t a little more nervous about the situation.

  “Except what?” Brooke could feel panic rise in her chest as the door opened—Cody holding it for Danielle. Her point.

  “Except we probably wouldn’t be out . . . together . . . if it weren’t for this bet.”

  “That they can’t know about,” Brooke finished emphatically.

  Isaac sighed and looked up at the ceiling briefly before looking back at her. “Then you know what this will look like.” He paused a beat. “A date.”

  A flutter went through Brooke, but she lifted one shoulder, dismissing the idea. “Old friends catching up.”

  Since they’d entered the establishment, Isaac hadn’t once looked over at Cody and Danielle, but since Brooke was facing them, she couldn’t help but lift a hand in a wave, acknowledging she’d seen them. It would have been weird not to.

  “Which is exactly what I’m doing,” Isaac said. “Catching up. I get a point for his idea of a date being a dud. 2-2.”

  “And I get a point for them extending the date with something else. Flexibility. Spontaneity.”

  “I don’t know . . .” Isaac tipped his head to the side as if thinking about it. “Let’s say if they order one drink and share, it’s your point. If they order two, it’s mine.”

  “And if he pays, it’s my point,” Brooke countered, quickly getting confused at how many points she should have now.

  “And if they go Dutch, it’s mine.” Isaac slurped what sounded like the end of his drink and looked into the glass. “Are you even keeping track of points anymore? I’m lost.”

  Brooke chuckled. “We need a better system.”

  “You’re right.” Isaac pulled out his phone. “There’s got to be an app for that.” He started typing, presumably searching through the app store or Googling for suggestions.

  “A more immediate concern is deciding if we want them to join us. They’ll probably feel obligated, now that they’ve seen us, but don’t we want them to have this time alone?” She knew she was freaking out a little, but she hadn’t wanted to interject herself into their date.

  Isaac looked up from his phone. “In other words, time for us to skedaddle. I’m not feeling creative enough to talk around why us, why here, why now.” His brown eyes softened as he looked at her. “And you . . . you’ve never been able to lie. I’m not taking a chance on you now.”

  He looked into her stainless-steel cup. “How are you not done yet?” He took a drink of it. “Mmm . . . it’s better than mine was.” He licked his lips. “Do you want a to-go cup?”

  She shook her head. “It’s yours now.” Brooke took a long drink from her glass finishing that part off, but leaving the stainless-steel cup and its contents for him. “I got this.”

  “Do you want to continue the—” Isaac looked around them conspicuously. “—event in another location? We didn’t even get a chance to play gin rummy.” He pulled a pack of cards from his pocket just enough for her to get a glimpse, and then shoved it back in quickly as if trying to hide it.

  By the time they cleared off their table, depositing their cups near the trash can, Danielle and Cody were leaving the counter with their own frosty delights.

  “We left you a table,” Brooke stage-whispered, and motioned to the one she and Isaac had vacated.

  “It has a great view,” Isaac agreed. They didn’t stop to chat but were out the door before Isaac finished his sentence with, “Although my view was better.”

  Did that mean what she thought it did? Light goose bumps ran down Brooke’s arms, the kind that happened when she heard a particularly moving piece of music. Her first stakeout had been a success, yet it had been nothing like she’d imagined.

  “Gin rummy?” Isaac thumped the cards in his jacket pocket.

  “Perhaps we should let them be.” Brooke didn’t have any interest in following the couple home so she and Isaac could debate who got the point if they kissed good night. “How about a walk instead?”

  Chapter Six

  Any more of your clients need pick-me-ups? I’m running a special on roses. Isaac read the text from Brooke and chuckled.

  Are you kidding? Isaac frowned and shook his head as he typed out the text. No way. Bad for business.

  From the moment their “stakeout” began a few nights before, the friendship between Isaac and Brooke had returned as if no time had passed since being band bus buddies junior year. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her teasing and quick wit.

  You’re just giving Cody an incentive to send Danielle flowers. No cheating.

  Isaac eyed Danielle at his side as he typed. After today, she could probably use that kind of support, but that was why Isaac had carved out time from the middle of his workday to be with her.

  “Isaac, heads up,” Danielle hissed at his side.

  He looked up just in time to avoid running into a large trash can half-filled with butcher paper maps and oversized lettering castoffs. The teachers were well on their way to clearing the hallways for the summer break.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled to Danielle, but the text vibration had his attention back on his phone.

  Brooke’s response had come through. He’s not the one who needs convincing that flowers work ;)

  “Thank you so much for doing this with me.” Danielle linked her arm through her brother’s and gave a gentle squeeze. “I know I shouldn’t be nervous to meet with Gemma’s teacher. Miss Collins has been nothing but wonderful to work with. I must have PTSD or something after that first meeting when Gemma was in kindergarten.”

  Papers flapped as they walked down the hallway, projects hanging on by a staple and ready to flutter away with the end of the school year.

  “I sat down across from that teacher,” Danielle continued, “expecting to hear how amazing my little girl was—she could read before s
he started school, you know. Instead, the teacher slid a blank card in front of me. ‘She doesn’t talk,’” Danielle mimicked a frustrated teacher’s voice. “‘We can’t assess her.’” Danielle blew out a breath.

  To some, the elementary school hallway might feel tired with its bedraggled year-end look, but Isaac sensed the promise of freedom with a hint of mystery. What did the future hold?

  Even as the school year wound down, Isaac could hear the sounds of learning taking place. At one doorway, there was the buzz of small groups discussing their current topic. At another classroom, a teacher read a story in animated voices that roped even him into wanting to linger a moment to listen.

  Which was exactly why Isaac was there. And also why he couldn’t possibly allow himself to get distracted by Brooke Holt. When Danielle and Evan split up, leaving Isaac’s sister a mess and her daughter confused in her silent world, Isaac had decided he needed to step up and fill in where he could. Hanging out with Brooke was fun and brought a joy to Isaac he hadn’t known he was missing, but a relationship of his own would distract from watching out for Danielle when she needed it. Like now.

  Of course, that actually was part of his reasoning behind the bet with Brooke in the first place. Cody was Danielle’s first semi-serious relationship since Evan, and Isaac needed to make sure she was being treated well. He couldn’t keep their relationship from souring later, but if Isaac could notice red flags now when Danielle wasn’t looking out for them, he had an obligation to let her know before she became too involved. How he would convince her there were problems . . . well, he’d have to figure that out, depending upon the situation. But he owed her this after all the emotional support she’d given him during his teenage years when their parents split up.

  Danielle would flip if she recognized this protective streak of his for what it was. She would insist that she was a big girl and could take care of herself—which was true; he’d be the first to admit it. Case in point: being here at the school. Danielle fought valiantly for Gemma in a way Evan never had, but that didn’t keep Isaac from standing on the sideline ready to step in on a moment’s notice. After all, if he saw a need, he couldn’t help but be an advocate for Gemma, who couldn’t talk for herself and for Danielle who wouldn’t.