The Practically Romantic Groom (Cobble Creek Romance Book 2)

by Maria Hoagland

  If there wasn’t something else and it truly was about this one divorce case, a relationship between Isaac and Brooke would have been doomed anyway. Professionally, Isaac would never be free to explain aspects of his work that were confidential. If the woman couldn’t trust that he was the man he tried so very hard to be, he wouldn’t want to be with her anyway. She’d known him for over a decade, and yet at the first hint, she’d decided against him.

  His mind hitched upon this problem, resolute that allowing things to taper off with Brooke was for the best, but convincing his heart was an entirely different story. He couldn’t quit thinking about her. Every morning, she was his first thought—how did she like her eggs? Would she like this tie on him? Would he run into her in town? Had she been horseback riding or shooting again without him? He daydreamed up excuses to go by The Flower Girl—though with his luck, her assistant, Sydney, would be there and not Brooke. Somehow, he’d tuned his car radio to a country station and never changed it, actually finding more than a few songs he liked and could even sing along with. And in the evenings, he absently shuffled a deck of cards as he watched the Rockies games on TV.

  Despite the hurt in his personal life, Isaac hadn’t given up on getting Cody and Danielle back together, though any efforts to that end put another stress fracture in his quickly breaking heart. This was the project he and Brooke had started, and even now they should have been working on it together, but they weren’t. Communication with her had stopped, and with it, so had time.

  Cody and Danielle had mended their relationship. Danielle decided to let Cody in, and Cody had stepped up completely. He wouldn’t be deterred by a brute of an ex, and both Danielle and Gemma had benefited from his patient—and yes, romantic—involvement in their lives.

  Isaac drew his attention back to his computer screen and the unopened documents waiting for him. He believed in Steve Rowe and in his case—more than usual when he didn’t care to invest emotionally in his clients—but he couldn’t motivate himself to work.

  A giant hole had been ripped out of his heart—the part where his best friend had once been. She’d been there since they were ten, and he honestly didn’t know how he could ever fill that hole again. If he could, he might have been able to handle going back to before—before he and Brooke had connected again—but that was a lonely place to be. He definitely couldn’t stay where he was—miserable. That only left moving forward. It was the only option. Despite their middle-school setback, Isaac trusted Brooke with his heart. Always had.

  Isaac heard the front office door open. “Brooke?” he asked before he realized how ridiculous it would be for her to show up here, now.

  He stood and smoothed the pleat on his pants and cinched the knot of his tie, wishing he had a mirror to see how bad his hair looked after he’d raked a hand through it earlier. He’d given Danielle the day off because Gemma was getting over an ear infection, and since it was Friday, there hadn’t been much to deal with anyway.

  “Good afternoon, I’ll be right there!” Isaac made sure he was loud enough that the visitor would know someone was coming rather than seeing an empty lobby and leaving.

  “Hey, bro.”

  If only. Recognizing the voice, Isaac was not surprised to see Cody, though he had to have known Danielle wouldn’t be there.

  At one time, Isaac had hoped they would become brothers in the sense that he and Brooke were together, but the way things were going, it would be the other way around—they would be brothers because Cody and Danielle got together. What a mess.

  Isaac met him in the foyer and clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, Cody. You know Dani’s not here, right?”

  “Can’t a friend come to see you?” Cody tried to feign hurt but cracked a smile before it was believable.

  Isaac slumped into one of the love seats in the reception area. “Take a load off.” He waited until Cody did. “What’s up?”

  Cody sat comfortably, elbows on his knees, hands together, leaning forward. Relaxed and happy. “Gemma wants you to come to the concert with us tomorrow night.”

  “You’re talking about the outdoor one at the gazebo off Main?” Isaac didn’t know what kind of music was planned; in fact, he hadn’t heard anything except that there would be one.

  “Your favorite place, right next to the courthouse.” As if that were an incentive.

  “Please tell me it’s not some high school jazz band. I couldn’t handle it.”

  Cody gave Isaac a confused look. “Weren’t you in a high school jazz band with Brooke at one time? I seem to remember being subjected to one of your concerts when I came home on break from college.” Cody was pretty much muttering to himself. “Christmas, I think.”

  “Your point?” Isaac put a foot over one knee and bounced it.

  “Never mind. No, it’s not jazz and not high school, and does it really matter much? Because it’s your sweet, adorable, uncle-loving niece you should be thinking about instead of yourself.”

  The short speech got Isaac laughing so hard, he could hardly breathe. “Okay, fine. I’ll be there. No more questions.” Tears leaked from his eyes and his stomach hurt from laughing. “Thanks for that. I haven’t laughed so hard since Brooke and I . . .” That sobered Isaac up faster than he expected.

  “You miss her, don’t you?”

  It seemed that, to Cody, this was a natural assumption. As was the assumption that Isaac wouldn’t mind him asking.

  Isaac thought about dismissing it. How well did he know Cody anyway? The age difference when they were younger had precluded friendship, but at this stage, he rather liked hanging out with him. “Every day even more.” He sighed heavily.

  “I know how you’re feeling. I thought I would go crazy when Evan was in town and Danielle wasn’t talking to me.” Cody seemed to study Isaac, and he returned the look, noticing the family resemblances between Cody and his little sister. Not only did they have the same eyes and same ability to make him laugh, Isaac saw it in the complexion coloring and shape of their faces.

  “Except she wants nothing to do with me now.” Isaac leaned forward, his head in his hands. “I blew it.”

  “Ah, I wouldn’t say that.” Cody pounded Isaac on the back with a heavy hand. “She told me about your argument, but she also seems to regret it. Have courage.” Cody stood. Obviously the conversation was about over. “Try talking to her. You need to tell Brooke how you feel—and that it’s more than friendship that you’re missing.” He stopped himself and caught Isaac’s gaze again. “It is more than friendship, right?”

  Isaac nodded once.

  “Make sure she knows, and do it in a way she understands. A way that is meaningful to her.” Cody walked to the front office door. “See you tomorrow night.”

  As soon as the door closed, Isaac dropped his head back into his hands. Not out of despair this time, but in trying to figure out the best way to convey his feelings to the woman he couldn’t live without.

  Chapter Eighteen

  June weddings were supposed to be the best, but as Brooke placed the finishing touches on the boutonnieres and the bridal bouquets for a small church wedding that weekend, she couldn’t get over the cliché aspect of it.

  “If I have to tie one more overgrown bush into a hanging ‘floral’ arrangement, I’m going to change professions,” Brooke muttered more to herself than to her assistant.

  “Since when did you become such a cynic, boss? We’re making the best of what the bride insisted on, I mean, it’s lit the way you’ve fixed it. It totally works now.” Sydney cut the lengths of ribbon she’d been measuring out and then joined Brooke at the worktable. She took the wire snips from Brooke’s hand and butted her out of the way. “Why don’t you go work on the Pruitt funeral arrangements if you want to be such a grump?”

  Brooke wiped the back of her wrist over her forehead and, realizing it was hot, headed to the thermostat to bump up the air conditioner. Allowing flowers to wilt before the clock struck at the end of the reception would never do, no matter
what she had against weddings right now.

  “In fact, I think it’s going to look better than those Pinterest pins she sent us,” Sydney prattled on. “I mean, I couldn’t believe she wouldn’t take your advice. When you showed her some of the other weddings you’ve done, and she absolutely insisted on the neon pink, orange, and yellow . . .”

  Despite herself, Brooke had to smile. The picture was awful—like something out of the early ’80s. She had been able to soften the bright colors by having one bloom of the bright and then tamed it with less harsh shades that coordinated well.

  “Now the Collins-Schaefer wedding . . .” Sydney pretended to swoon. “The white calla lilies accented with the lavender and violet ones . . .”

  That one had been gorgeous, and Brooke had been pleased, especially since Maddie Collins had been Gemma Covington’s first-grade teacher and so helpful and sweet to Gemma all year. Maddie and Bear’s wedding had been her favorite so far—even if it had been raining when she went to set up. But then again, that had been when she and Isaac were just starting to hang out a couple of times a week and romantic flutterings were becoming her constant friend. It felt so long ago.

  Brooke had considered assigning the wedding this weekend to Sydney to begin with since she knew she would be busier than normal, but she’d vetoed the idea almost immediately. Delegating a wedding would be like a baker opting out of icing the cake in favor of washing dishes. So she’d worked as hard as she could on it, hoping it would draw her out of her funk.

  Their satisfaction when everything turned out even better than they’d dreamed was one of the reasons Brooke loved her job. It was just that she had started to hope that one day she would find that joy in her own life. That someday soon her dream of being a bride at the side of a man who adored her would be a reality.

  She sighed and shoved the thought away.

  Back to the boutonnieres. She picked up another set of wire snips and worked alongside Sydney, but wrapped the wire too tight and snapped the head off a fragile stem.

  “Fine!” She slammed the wire snips onto the worktable and tossed the ruined boutonniere into the tall trash can. “Maybe you’re right. You better take over. We’re lucky I didn’t ruin the bride’s bouquets. We didn’t have enough extra to make mistakes.”

  Sydney smiled. “I got this. And you’re right here, so I know you’ll make sure I don’t screw anything up.”

  “You’re doing great.”

  Too bad Brooke hadn’t had someone at her side to make sure she didn’t screw things up—like her relationship with Isaac—but it was too late now. The persistent hollowness in her chest felt cold. Sydney was right: funeral sprays were more her speed right now—matching her mood, if not her current dexterity.

  She grabbed a white floral container, stuffed in the foam, and started layering pink snapdragons and lilies, alstroemeria, and a little green gladiolus to balance the pink. Not too somber with its soft color, but not the betrayal of a joyous celebration of love.

  “Thanks for taking over for me, Syd. I’m sure the bride would thank you too, if she knew what was going on.” For the sake of The Flower Girl, Brooke had no intention of the bride finding out. “When you’ve finished the last boutonniere, I’ll need you to double-check the numbers and load the van. Everything else should be ready in the back fridge.” Brooke stepped back from the arrangement to check if she’d left any holes. “One last favor—do you mind delivering them? I’m not really feeling it today.”

  Although the two of them were working back to back, Brooke could almost feel her assistant’s stunned stare boring through her. Turning so she could see over her shoulder, she verified that Sydney did indeed stand mouth agape, shocked into silence.

  “You’ve been with me for two weddings a weekend since graduation. You’re ready. I’ve taught you well, young grasshopper.”

  Brooke said it but wondered if she actually felt it. A week ago, she never would have considered sending a recent high school graduate to do something this important alone. There were too many things that came up last-minute—like replacing a snapped boutonniere like she just had. Pinning one on was an art very few knew how to do. Then there was the quick, on-your-feet problem-solving when there were more tables than the bride’s family ordered or a long-lost cousin added to the wedding party, or the bride dropping the bouquet on the dance floor and it getting trampled. But Brooke had factored in the extras, preparing for every possibility she could think of ahead of time.

  Sydney only needed to deliver them to the Country Quilt Inn for the reception. The owner, Jessie, had a magical touch when it came to decorating. Leaving the flowers to Sydney and Jessie in a small way might prevent Brooke from being reminded how all the romance movies and books and songs were lies. All lies. It would never work for her.

  Short on time, Brooke helped Sydney load the delivery van and reentered the stuffy shop, the weight of floral fragrances and silence weighing heavily on her. Had it been only a few weeks since she and Isaac had played cards and laughed until their sides hurt? And yet it felt forever ago—a memory elusively fading into the background of every other failed relationship Brooke had endured. Why ever did she believe in the power of romance in the first place? If she’d been practical and protected her heart, she would have noticed that theirs was strictly a friendship. Without the expectation of a blossoming relationship, Brooke still would have Isaac in her life, a friend to share her excitement with when she finished writing her song. She would know how far along he got scraping the popcorn ceiling. Maybe she would have helped him retexture or paint. What was the grand total of holes they’d put into the drywall, and was Isaac able to repair it without having to call the Steger brothers to bail him out?

  With the hand broom, Brooke swept the broken baby’s breath heads, the cut leaves, and chunks of stems into a dustpan and dropped them into the trash. Though disgusted with the cheerful hopefulness of the pink, orange, and yellow ribbon bits, she wrote the colors on her reorder list. You never knew what the next happy bride would print off Pinterest. Then she slumped on the stool, wondering why she was doing what she planned to. Brooke, the biggest fraidy-cat of her class at Cobble Creek High, was willingly performing, and not just a cover, but the song of her heart. She was nuts.

  And she was nuts about Isaac. Which was exactly why she was putting herself through it. Her partner in crime had delivered his part of the setup; the rest was up to her tomorrow night.

  After Brooke took the time to cool off from their argument that day, she had realized it hadn’t been fair for her to expect Isaac not to do his job any more than it had been for him to think her job was a waste. He’d never once acted as if another person’s feelings didn’t matter. He always helped with Gemma and stood up for his sister. He treated Brooke with respect and maybe even a hint of adoration, or so she’d thought. What would make her think he would dismiss a woman and child in desperate need? Was it possible, as he’d hinted, that there was more to his case than the small-town gossip?

  This realization became more painful as she listened more and judged less. Apparently, Steve Rowe might not have been in the wrong. It turned out that the baby boy he supposedly had been abandoning was now being claimed by another man who’d stepped in on Steve and Victoria’s marriage. Could Brooke blame Steve for wanting a way out of a sham of a marriage and a lifetime of heartache?

  Knowing Isaac had actually been protecting his client’s interests and good name meant more to Brooke than it should have, and she was relieved when she learned the truth. At the same time, she felt her own shame for not listening to her heart. She knew Isaac was a good man. She knew that he had a soft heart, a helping hand, and a sincere spirit. She knew that she wanted to be with him, and yet she had found an excuse to push him away rather than take a chance on the next step into the unknown.

  But that was exactly what she was going to do tomorrow night, because nothing could hurt worse than knowing she’d lost something important. She’d lost her chance at love.
/>   * * *

  The temperature was warm enough to make for the perfect summer evening sitting outside at sunset. Brooke leaned back on her hands, the well-worn quilt soft under her fingertips, and settled her legs in front of her, boots crossed at her ankles. Whispers of cool grass blades tickled the underside of her knees as she tucked the eyelet of her skirt so it wouldn’t blow up.

  “Are you really going to sing?” Awed by the prospect, eleven-year-old Harper Wells, Frankie’s stepdaughter, sat cross-legged at Brooke’s side.

  Brooke brought a finger up to her lips, reminding Harper that they couldn’t talk about it. Before choosing their spot for the concert, Frankie and Logan had explained to Harper that they were helping Brooke surprise someone a couple of quilts away, and Brooke looked up to make sure Isaac hadn’t overheard. He and Gemma drew head to head on blank paper, quiet in their own little world.

  Cody caught Brooke’s look and waved with the hand not holding Danielle’s. He knew how hard this was on Brooke, so she offered the best smile she could muster—a cross between I can’t believe I’m doing this and I’ll be all right, right? He sent her back a you’ve got this full-toothed grin and a nod. Thank goodness for big brothers.

  The small community pops band finished up their last number—a medley of show tunes—and while gathering up their stands and music, Mayor Griff Armstrong, the announcer, stepped onto the temporary bandstand.

  “Wasn’t that amazing?” The crowd gave another round of applause, and the emcee winked at one of the women as she nearly stumbled down the three steps onto the courthouse grass. He waited until the band had cleared and the crowd quieted. The suspense was killing Brooke.

  “Next up,” Griff continued, “in her very first post–high school appearance, please welcome Cobble Creek’s very own songwriter, Brooke Holt.”