The Practically Romantic Groom (Cobble Creek Romance Book 2)

by Maria Hoagland

She backed up and played from the beginning. Though it would sound better with backup guitar filling in, the piano didn’t sound half bad. Pleased that she could recreate the music, Brooke added lyrics: “This is the way it’s supposed to be, just you and me under the sycamore tree . . .”

  Ugh. Not right. Not yet, she found herself thinking, but kept singing anyway. None of these words would work. The song needed to be more personal to have the right feeling. The image of Isaac so engaged in their conversation at Graham’s that he didn’t realize he had a vanilla mustache from his Boston creamer jumped unbidden to mind. While he’d matured in every way since her first crush on him, he was still the same person. Still sweet and fun-loving, willing to do anything for the people he loved. That was the person she needed to capture in word and song. She had a sneaking suspicion he was the one she was writing about.

  The doorbell rang, startling her from her song. That would be Isaac. Embarrassment flushed across her face. Hopefully he hadn’t been able to distinguish her words. She allowed her fingers to complete the song to the end of the phrase—she hadn’t composed the bridge yet anyway—and got up from the piano bench, the wood sighing as if she weighed more than she did. One of these days the old bench would collapse with fatigue, but until then, she would continue to use it—the piano her constant companion, her comfort, her peace.

  She crossed to the front door and threw it open, hoping it was truly Isaac since she hadn’t bothered to check.

  “Is that the song you’re writing?” Isaac walked in without being invited and plopped onto the overstuffed chair next to the piano. Exactly how she liked it. No stress, no awkward tension.

  Along with her piano, the ease of her relationship with Isaac was another comfort in her life. Spending time together the last few weeks had been a real joy. Brooke had laughed more over the past three weeks than she probably had the last three years. She’d smiled enough to make the cost of braces totally worth every penny her parents had shelled out, and even the mundane tasks of the day went faster than ever when she knew she would be spending time with him that evening.

  While Frankie was a great friend, her friendship with Isaac was something she hadn’t known she’d been missing. In fact, an astute friend like Frankie might argue it wasn’t friendship Brooke got from her relationship with Isaac. In fact, after all the hanging out, offering rides, picking up the tab, texting, and countless games of gin rummy—for which she’d built up quite the debt—it was as if she and Isaac were dating.

  “It is.” She felt embarrassment creep up her neck.

  “From what I could hear, it’s sounding great. Play it again?” Isaac’s warm, brown, puppy-dog eyes were almost irresistible. Almost.

  Brooke sat down on the piano bench as they spoke, but didn’t turn to face the keyboard. “It’s not ready yet.” She shifted uncomfortably on the bench that she could usually sit on for hours and not notice. “How’s the novel coming?”

  Isaac scowled at her. “It’s coming. Slowly. Though I’m not sure how much my heart is in it—unlike you and your music. My writing has only ever been a way to pass the time, really. But you—you have a real talent for this. I think you have a shot of making it.”

  How did he know the exact right things to say to her? “How very un-pragmatic of you to encourage pursuing that one-in-a-million dream.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment coming from you.” He winked at her in a silly, friendly way. “So let me hear what you’ve got so far, then. Sing for me?”

  “Can’t.” Brooke scrunched her lips tight to keep from smiling and shook her head. “You didn’t win the bet.”

  “Yet.”

  “Pretty confident for someone going on a romantic—” Brooke stopped herself, but too late for him not to guess she was about to say double date. “Going along on Cody and Danielle’s date. If we take Gemma off their hands and give them a few minutes alone, I think I might get a few more points . . .”

  Brooke picked up her backpack full of food. The presentation might be lacking, but practicality would pay off for sure. “Speaking of which, could you grab the blanket next to you? That’s going too.”

  Isaac stood, obviously getting the hint that Brooke was not going to play for him. He grabbed the old quilt, but then slipped his hand over hers on the backpack. “I’ve got it,” he whispered, leaving his hand open enough for her to slip her hand out and drop the weight of the pack into his. She hesitated for a moment—and not because she was a feminist reluctant to relinquish control. “Although, I hope you know this doesn’t count toward your romance points.” He shook the backpack, indicating what he was talking about.

  “Oh no? Picnics were mentioned specifically as romantic. And horseback riding totally counts, too.”

  “Totally—no.” Isaac was emphatic. “Remember what else was mentioned specifically? No meddling—and this, my friend, is totally meddling.”

  “Cody would have done it if I hadn’t.” If she’d suggested it.

  “It doesn’t count. Picnic or horses, since both were your idea.”

  “We’ll see about that.” She’d known when they started the conversation she was pushing it. In fact, she might have been a fraction disappointed if Isaac had let her get away with manipulating him like that.

  Points or no, it was going to be a great day.

  Chapter Eleven

  While the picnic and horseback ride were going to be great, and Isaac would be able to spend the day with his very favorite people in the world, all he really wanted at this moment was to hear Brooke’s song up close. Before he’d rung her bell, he’d recognized it as the tune she’d hummed incessantly, and annoyingly, at the bookstore a couple weeks back. Now it was practically a full-fledged song. That Brooke came up with it on her own amazed him. Not that he should have been surprised. One thing he’d known about her for a long time was that she was talented. Like crazy-good talented.

  Back in high school band, he’d been able to hold his own—except when it came to jazz band improv, that was a joke—but after senior year, Isaac had tucked his trumpet away and never missed it—well, maybe on the Fourth of July when he heard “Stars and Stripes Forever.” But Brooke . . . The woman had music in her soul. Bright, shiny, happy music that needed to come out and bless the rest of them.

  When he had heard faint notes drifting down the walk as he approached her door, Isaac had peeked through the sidelight, instantly caught in the brilliance of Brooke as she played. Emotion moved through her body as she swayed to the music, completely oblivious to anything else in the world. What he wouldn’t give to know what was in her heart at that moment, what inspired her. He had wanted so badly to hear the words she was singing, but with her back to him, he couldn’t even lip-read. She had a gorgeous voice, and country song or no, he could listen to that voice sing to him any day, anywhere, and it would make him complete.

  “Do we have everything?” Isaac looked around Brooke’s tidy room for other totes or other obvious items for their trip. Decked out in cottage-style warm whites and coastal blues, Brooke’s living room was exactly how he expected it to look—minus the flowers he’d expected. Medium-toned hardwood floors and the fireplace surround offset the light-colored rug and couches, a sparkling chandelier like a spotlight over the black grand piano. He had no idea how she’d gotten that into the room, but he had to admit it was a gorgeous instrument and very Brooke. Light, happy, and just this side of quirky with its vaulted ceiling and shiplap walls accented with pops of coral and pink. While it sounded like it shouldn’t work, Brooke had a knack for pulling together offbeat color combinations. Probably from all of the years of arranging flowers. A copy of About Grace had been hidden on the loveseat a minute ago, covered with the quilt he was now holding. A bookmark showed she’d already read a third of the book. Had she picked this particular book because he’d mentioned the author at the bookstore?

  “We’re all set, then.” Brooke grabbed her keys from the pewter tray on the entry table and closed the door behind them. �
��Thanks for picking me up.” She rushed ahead of him and opened his trunk before he had to juggle the blanket and backpack to free up a hand. “I’m so excited. I haven’t ridden for so long. I have to admit, I’m a little nervous.”

  Isaac waved it off. “It’s like riding a bike, right?”

  “Or driving a car.”

  “Except that riding a horse is nothing like driving a machine. The horse has a mind and will of its own and can make it known in unpleasant ways.” Isaac arranged the food and quilt into the back, then stepped forward to open the passenger’s side for Brooke.

  “Thanks for the words of encouragement,” Brooke said. “And thanks for not taking the easy joke about ‘female drivers.’” As she stepped around Isaac to enter the car, Brooke clapped a hand on his shoulder in a very friend-like gesture. But in a very un-friend-like gesture, she kept her hand there as she twisted to meet his eye. “I’ll have you know, my driving has improved since then.” She let go and jumped into her seat with a smile.

  “Oh, wow! How did I forget that? Self-preservation, I guess.” Isaac laughed all the way to his side of the car, remembering every excruciating detail. “What made your parents think they could send a brand-new driver into Duckdale Hollow with friends in the car?”

  “I know.” Brooke joined in the laughter. “They had way too much trust in me.” She finished laughing and blew out a breath. “I don’t know why I’m laughing. That could have been disastrous—pulling into traffic going the wrong way.”

  “You’re telling me? It was terrifying, even from the back seat. I’m surprised Frankie didn’t lose it sitting in the front, cars going around both sides of your car like we were a rock in a stream.”

  Brooke buried her face in her hands. “Worst experience in my life. If the light hadn’t changed and people waited for us, I don’t know what I would have done.”

  “But the rest of the evening was a blast, remember? Wasn’t that the night we went to that laser light show at the museum?” Isaac would never forget that evening, though it probably should have been strange to hang out with the two girls. “But I promise, no one-way streets out on the back forty. And even if there are, the horse is smart enough to know which way to go.”

  “Ouch.” Brooke gave him a sarcastic look. “Thanks for that.”

  “Humph. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sure you’re an excellent driver and an accomplished equestrienne to boot.”

  Despite being on the other side of town, the drive took only a few minutes to get to the Jamesons’ ranch, where they would meet Danielle, Gemma, and Cody.

  “What about Gemma? Is she excited?” Brooke fiddled with his radio, scrolling past his typical rock stations, but stopping on a song he recognized. “Eagles okay?”

  “Of course. I still listen to classic rock occasionally.”

  “Classic rock?” Brooke sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, staring at him openmouthed for half a verse. “Yes. We’ll call it that.”

  Isaac wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but he decided to let it go. “As far as your other question—is Gemma excited about today? The little monkey wouldn’t stop chattering about it last night when I stopped by.” He nodded. “Yes. You could say she’s excited.”

  It actually surprised Isaac, to be honest. For a kid with an anxiety disorder, he would have thought Gemma would be terrified by the huge creatures. In a few minutes he’d see if she changed her mind when standing next to one. Perhaps to her, riding a horse was no scarier than riding on Isaac’s shoulders. It seemed things she could reasonably be terrified of—like Ferris wheels or going to the dentist—didn’t faze her, but talking to people? How was it possible for a seven-year-old to be that concerned with what other people thought of her?

  The Eagles song ended, and when the next song started, Isaac had to chuckle at himself for not knowing better. Of course she’d left it on a country station. At least they were almost at the ranch.

  Turning off the highway and onto the drive leading up to the Jamesons’ place brought peace to Isaac’s soul. He’d lived in Cobble Creek his whole life—minus the years of undergrad and law school—yet it never ceased to amaze him how tranquil it was out here, especially compared to Boston. While the city was lovely in its own right, he was a hometown boy through and through. Especially with views like this. After a particularly brutal snow season the previous winter, spring had heated up quickly—which he’d never complain about, that was for sure. The subsequent runoff made for mesmerizing green rolling hills held off in the distance by the stark white rails of the fences around the Jamesons’ grazing fields and training corrals.

  When they pulled up in front of the stable, five horses stood at the corral fence, patiently waiting and already saddled for them. Cody, Danielle, and Gemma had beat them there, but only by a minute, judging by the fact that they were still in the car when he opened Gemma’s door. Once again, Isaac was struck by the quiet girl’s surreal reactions. Any other kid as excited as she had been about the horses the night before would have been squealing in her seat, choosing which horse she wanted or exulting over their various colors or something, but not Gemma. She sat with her hands under her thighs and lips clamped shut as if she were about to endure something awful.

  “Let’s go meet the horses, Sapph.” Isaac shortened sapphire to one of his many nicknames for her. He held the door for Gemma and nodded his greeting to Cody and Danielle.

  Most of the time, Isaac didn’t even think about Gemma’s differences, especially since, as the uncle, he didn’t have all that much responsibility in the matter, but thinking about it through Brooke or Cody’s point of view made him uncomfortable. He didn’t want anyone to judge Gemma or Danielle.

  “Good morning.” Willa Jameson tipped her hat back onto her sliver ponytail, revealing bright turquoise eyes that greeted each member of their party individually. Gemma, however, remained transfixed on Mrs. Jameson’s worn cowboy boots leaving tracks in the dust. Willa smiled indulgently at the top of her head. “Let’s meet your new friends, shall we?” She waved them to join her at the corral fence. The mare closest to Willa poked her nose over the fence to nuzzle her master. “This here is the gentlest horse you’ll find this side of the Great Salt Lake. Her name is Oakley.”

  Mrs. Jameson looked down at Gemma. “What’s your name?”

  There wasn’t a chance this side of the Great Salt Lake that Gemma would tell her either, so Danielle supplied her name instead.

  Looking slightly annoyed that the mom introduced Gemma, Willa continued to prod her into conversation. “Have you ridden a horse before, Gemma?”

  Gemma wouldn’t even lift her eyes to her, let alone give a shake of her head. Why hadn’t anyone thought to warn the unsuspecting woman before they arrived so this awkward situation wouldn’t have happened?

  Danielle brought Gemma forward, guiding her with a gentle hand to her back. Thankfully, Gemma didn’t look tortured so much as terrified. Danielle handed a business card to Mrs. Jameson and paused a moment while she read. Isaac knew from carrying around a couple in his own wallet for similar situations that the card explained that the child had selective mutism, that it was an anxiety disorder, and encouraged the stranger to continue to talk to her without expecting an answer.

  Willa looked up and nodded, accepting the information.

  “This is her first time seeing a horse up close, Mrs. Jameson,” Danielle said as happy as if nothing had happened. “We’re so glad you’re giving her the chance.” Danielle smoothed the crown of Gemma’s head with a comforting hand. “What’s the best way to introduce Oakley to Gemma?”

  Mrs. Jameson showed Gemma how to hold her hand outstretched for Oakley to sniff before petting her nose and the side of her face, and it wasn’t long before Willa was leading Gemma around the corral as if making way for the princess herself. Pushing aside the tortured look on Gemma’s face, Danielle and Willa decided she had the hang of holding the reins and guiding the horse.

  Willa moved on to seating the rest
of the party. “Cody, you mentioned you have some good riding experience, so I figured you’d ride Passport right behind Gemma and Oakley so you can keep an eye on things.” She paused, making sure everyone caught what she meant. “That is, if Danielle is okay with heading the party on Rembrandt. That leaves Brooke and Isaac on Bonnie and Clyde at the back. Sound good?”

  * * *

  “Preference on trail?” Danielle rounded up the group when she reached the first fork.

  Surrounded by trees and fresh air, it hardly seemed like it could matter, though the one heading up into the foothills seemed more adventurous. “That one.” Isaac pointed.

  “Good choice,” Cody agreed.

  “Should we stop for a drink?” Danielle asked, eyeing Gemma closely. “Or to walk around?”

  His niece looked like she was having a horrible time, and Isaac knew it broke his sister’s heart.

  “Do you want us to stick around?” He’d meant it as an offer of help, though Danielle seemed to read the opposite into it.

  With the idea planted that he and Brooke might take off ahead of them, much of the tension drained from Danielle’s face. “You two go on ahead. We’ll find you.”

  “I hope so, since you have most of the food,” Brooke joked. Cody had insisted on taking the heavier portion of the provisions so Isaac could transport his own backpack.

  “Touché.” Cody emphasized the word with a raised index finger.

  “See ya!” Brooke chuckled at her brother as she and Isaac passed the others.

  Not wanting to spook the other horses, Isaac waited until they could no longer see the rest of the group, and when they reached the edge of a meadow, he turned to Brooke who’d been riding at his side. “Bet I’ll beat you there.”

  He urged Clyde into a canter before Brooke could even ask “to where,” which he heard behind him. They wouldn’t be able to race far for the sake of the horses’ safety, but the meadow was flat and the trail wide, and he let his laugh flow as freely as the wind past his face. At the edge of the meadow, he circled around to join Brooke, who’d allowed Bonnie to trot, not rising to his challenge. That was a first. “Are you chicken?”