Brooks

by Chelsea M. Cameron

  “See you around, Remington,” he said, turning the name that I’d always kind of hated into something... sexy.

  Intimate.

  He said my name the way you’d say it to someone you’d just spent a while rolling around in bed with. I could feel myself blushing.

  “Okay, bye,” I said, a little too loudly as I checked my display one more time before leaving. Brooks Goddamn Benson.

  Four

  Brooks

  That first day, I ended up buying almost half of Remi’s cookies and whoopie pies myself. They were really fucking good and I knew my siblings would eat them if I didn’t. I also wanted to make sure they were selling well. She hadn’t said as much, but I could tell she was a little desperate when it came to money.

  Mom had gotten a little bit of gossip about her and passed it on to me. Guess Remi went to New York and finished college and then had a series of jobs, but couldn’t make ends meet and had to come home. I understood that, more than I could tell her. To have almost total freedom and then to have to come back and live under your parents’ roof sucked major ass.

  I wanted to ask her about it. I wanted to talk to her, but she didn’t want to talk to me. At all. And then I’d made an ass of myself complimenting her hair and now she was probably never going to speak to me again. Oh well. I was going to see her again on Saturday when she came to restock.

  ****

  It was ridiculous how much I was looking forward to seeing her again. I was almost driven to distraction. I also kept watching her display constantly and every time anyone got close to it, I told them to buy something. Some of the guys gave me weird looks, but a lot of the customers were willing to take a chance on a cookie. Everything was sold out by Friday night. If it hadn’t sold by Saturday, I would have bought it all. At least until she got herself established. There was no way she wasn’t going be successful. That shit was like edible crack.

  ****

  “I saw Carol Wright at the bank the other day. She said Remi has been baking up a storm,” my mom said that night over tacos. I nearly dropped mine at the mention of Remi’s name.

  “Yeah, everything she’s made has sold out.” Mom gave me a look.

  “What? I swear I didn’t buy it all. After that first day the stuff sold itself. I didn’t have to do much. I swear.” She laughed and shared a look with Dad.

  “Well, it’s nice that you’re so supportive.” She put extra emphasis on the last word, and I knew exactly what she was thinking.

  “She hates me. Like, I can feel her wanting to stab or strangle me every time she sees me. So I’m pretty sure nothing is going to happen there.” Didn’t stop me from attempting to flirt with, or be nice to her. Not that I would do any good. No one needed to tell me Remi was stubborn as fuck and once she made up her mind about someone, she didn’t change.

  “Well, stranger things have happened,” Mom said with a little sing-song. It was just the three of us tonight since Grey was having dinner at a friend’s. The big house was so empty. It felt wrong. I couldn’t imagine being an only child. My family was a pain, but at least I’d never really been lonely.

  “Okay, Mom. Sure,” I said and she just winked at Dad.

  ****

  I was a little nervous to see Remi on Saturday morning, but there she was, wearing a bright yellow tank, torn jeans and pink Chucks. With her purple hair, she was a burst of color. Her sunglasses were shaped like hearts and I could feel her glaring at me through them.

  “How did they do? Did I sell any? Wait, don’t tell me if I didn’t sell any. Just lie.” She was messing with her keys. I’d never seen Remi Wright nervous and it was cute as hell.

  “Everything sold,” I said.

  “You’re shitting me.” I burst out laughing. I loved that she cursed so much.

  “Not at all. Come and see.” I led her into the store and gestured to the empty display.

  “Shut the front door,” she whispered and then turned to me, her mouth open.

  “You swear you sold everything. You didn’t just hide it or something.” I shook my head.

  “No way.” She made the most adorable squealing noise and launched herself at me. I was so shocked that I stumbled for a second before my arms went around her waist.

  She held on for exactly a half a second and then pushed me away.

  “Oh, shit, sorry. I don’t know what just happened there.” Her entire face was on fire.

  So. Cute.

  “Well, it’s not every day a cute girl hugs me out of the blue, so I’ll count today in the win column,” I said. She looked down at her shoes and laughed just a little.

  “Yeah, well, it’s not every day that I throw myself at people.” She cleared her throat and I offered to carry the boxes in for her again. She agreed, then she went through the ritual of setting everything up. I got the numbers together for her and counted out what she’d earned. Her eyes got big as I handed the cash over.

  “Are you sure this is the right amount?’ I counted it again and she scanned the numbers.

  “To the cent,” I said, pointing to the change in her hand that I’d passed over.

  “Wow,” she said before she folded up the money and shoved it in her back pocket.

  “Sooo, I’ll see you on Tuesday?” she said.

  “Better make it Monday. I sold out on Friday and didn’t have any left, so you might want to either make more so I can restock for you, or come more often. It’s up to you.” She thought about that for a minute, chewing on her lip.

  “I guess I can come on Monday. And I’ll bring more. My mom is going to LOVE me monopolizing the kitchen for the entire weekend.” I opened my mouth to tell her she was welcome at the Benson house, but I didn’t know how she would take that, so I kept my mouth shut. Then I had another idea.

  “You could come here. I have a regular oven in addition to the pizza oven in the back,” I said, pointing with my thumb. “You could bring your ingredients and store them. Baking it here would make the store smell amazing, plus you could sell them yourself. I’m not sure I did a very good job.” Her eyes narrowed as if she was looking for how this could be a trap.

  “Seriously, the oven is yours. You can go check it out right now if you want.” I walked around the counter and waited for her to follow. She did, after a beat of hesitation.

  I hadn’t used the oven in a while, but I kept it clean, so it was all in working order when she checked it out.

  “Yeah, this could work,” she said, looking at the size and measuring with her hands. “I can get some of my big trays in here.”

  “There you go. Problem solved.” She stood up and I smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back.

  “Sure you want to put up with me back here for hours on end?” she asked.

  “I think I can handle it,” I said, which was total bullshit. Having her here all the time was going to be like pressing my nose up against one of those glass dessert cases and not being able to get a taste.

  But I could handle it. I could totally handle it. Seeing her was better than not seeing her at all. And maybe if she hung out with me, I could undo some of whatever damage I’d done in high school. I really wanted her to know that I wasn’t that guy anymore. Or at least that I wouldn’t do whatever I’d done, again.

  “Oh, Brooks, she said with a sigh, “you have no idea.”

  Remington Wright was a complication. A sweet, sexy complication that I was looking forward to unraveling.

  ****

  “Saw Remi Wright the other day,” Falyn said, winking at me across the table that Sunday night.

  “She’s hot. I really dig the purple hair.” Me too, but I didn’t say that.

  “Falyn, please,” Mom said with a sigh.

  “Seriously, do you have to objectify everyone?” Ezra said and Falyn threw a carrot at him.

  “Yeah, like you weren’t ogling her ass. You’re so full of shit.”

  “Language,” Dad said wearily. It was a losing battle in this house. None of us had any kind of filt
er.

  “Don’t think she’s into girls, Lyn. But you never know...” Falyn grinned at me.

  “That’s right. You never know.” She wiggled her eyebrows and I couldn’t help but laugh. Being the only girl in the middle of six boys probably hadn’t done Falyn any favors, but she could hold her own. She and Ezra were mirror images of one another, both with light brown hair that highlighted easily in the summer, tan skin and hazel eyes, with Falyn’s shading more toward green than Ezra’s.

  They were joined at the hip. I didn’t understand how they could live under the same roof and not want to kill each other, but they were both sides of the same coin.

  Avery was absent yet again and I was still pissed at him. We’d had a knock-down drag out that had almost come to blows back when I’d first moved back. I’d accused him (rightly so) of abandoning his family responsibilities. He was the oldest, after all. He’d thrown it back in my face that he was doing the best he could and that he’d bailed our parents out a few times financially. I hadn’t known about that and hadn’t asked Mom or Dad.

  Money had never been plentiful in the Benson house, but we’d never been destitute either. We’d had just enough and maybe a little extra. Raising seven children wasn’t cheap, that was for sure. I definitely didn’t want seven. Maybe one. If I found the right girl to have one with. I loved being an uncle to Pearl, and could see having a little girl someday. An image of Remi slid through my mind and I shoved it away. I really shouldn’t think of her in that context. Definitely not. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea.

  Remi

  It was a case of the lesser of two evils. Either bake at my parents’ house and deal with my mom, or bake at Benson Variety and have to put up with Brooks. I mentally flipped a coin and decided I’d rather handle the latter. I had a better chance of him actually leaving me alone to do my thing than of Mom not harping and nagging me. She didn’t know how to do anything else.

  So Brooks it was. I agreed to come over to the store on Sunday night and he surprised me by telling me I could have the place to myself because he had to go have dinner with his family. That was... kind of sweet.

  “Aren’t you worried I’m going to clean you out?” He pointed to three security cameras and then opened the empty register.

  “Nope. But, if you’re going to steal anything, I’d go with the scratch tickets. You have a better chance of making some decent money,” he said as he headed out the door. He’d be back to lock up in a few hours, though.

  I felt funny about making him come back, but he said it was no big deal, so I headed back to the kitchen and started mixing the dough for my triple chocolate chip cookies. I’d decided to do new recipes each time so I could judge what was the most popular. Chocolate usually did pretty well, so I wasn’t worried about these. While the first batch was in the oven, I started the whoopie pie batter, then frosting and finally mixed up some lemon chiffon cupcake batter. I was so in the zone and humming along to the country radio station I’d turned on that I nearly dropped my mixing bowl when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you!” I screamed at Brooks. “Why do you keep sneaking up on me?” I almost smacked him with my spoon, but then I would have ruined the batter.

  He tried to hide a smile which only made me want to hit him more.

  “I called your name a few times. But you were too busy rocking out to Lady Antebellum to hear me.” I reached up and turned the radio down, glaring at him the whole time.

  “Shut up,” I said, setting the bowl down on the counter. I was a mess and I probably had frosting and flour on my face. Whatever. Who was I trying to impress?

  Brooks reached out and brushed my cheek with his thumb and then slowly dipped it into his mouth.

  Fucking hell.

  “You had some frosting on your cheek,” he said in a low voice as I realized we were standing way too close to each other. I was definitely having trouble breathing and the smell of Brooks was overpowering the smell of baked goods. I cleared my throat and stepped away. As if it had been listening, the oven timer went off so I dashed over to retrieve a tray of whoopie pie cakes. I just needed to cool them, then add the frosting and put them together. While I was waiting I could bake the rest of the lemon cupcakes and I’d be done.

  “Do you, uh, need any help?” He asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. The only time I’d ever seen Brooks in anything other than jeans had been during been graduation. I realized I’d been staring at said jeans, and that it probably wasn’t a good idea.

  “No. I’m fine. I’m almost done. Another hour or so.” I looked at the clock and realized it was after ten.

  Brooks took his hands out of his pockets and held them up.

  “Many hands make light work. Or so my mom says and she raised seven of us, so she’s pretty much an authority on the subject.” I hated that he was right. I was definitely a control freak when it came to my baking. I wouldn’t even let my mom help and she’d been baking for longer than I’d been alive.

  I considered my options and finally told him that he could line the cupcake tray with the little paper liners. No one could possibly screw that up. Once he passed over a tray with the liners, I used a small ice cream scoop to measure out the batter before I dropped it in the papers. He just stood there and watched. It was a little creepy.

  “If you really want to help, you can wash out some of those bowls.” I’d filled the sink and had most of them soaking so I’d only have to do a quick scrub and a rinse before I left. I expected a protest, but he just walked over and started the water in the industrial sink.

  He didn’t talk and I didn’t either. We just occupied the same space and stayed out of each other’s way. It was unnerving.

  “Okay, one of us is going to have to start talking, because I can’t deal with the silence anymore,” I said as I slid the whoopie pie cakes off the trays to cool.

  Brooks turned off the sink and wiped his hands on a towel.

  “What do you want me to say?” I rolled my eyes.

  “You don’t have to be all hostile,” I said.

  “Why not? You’re hostile to me.” I gaped at him as he crossed his arms over his chest and raised one eyebrow.

  “I’m hostile to everyone. Just ask my mother,” I said, grabbing the bowl of whoopie pie frosting and mixing it, even though it was already blended. I needed something to do with my hands.

  “Cute,” he said, walking over to me.

  I didn’t want him to think I was cute. I wanted him to think... I didn’t want him to think anything about me at all.

  “So, why are you so hostile?” he asked, leaning his elbows on the counter beside me. I didn’t like how close he was. Go away, Brooks Benson.

  “Guess I was just born with a low bullshit tolerance,” I said, picking up my large ice cream scoop to start assembling the whoopie pies.

  Brooks shadowed me and chuckled.

  “I like that in a woman.”

  I stared at him.

  “Are you seriously hitting on me right now?” He put his hands up.

  “Wasn’t trying to. Just making conversation. My mistake.” He was really starting to drive me bonkers.

  “Yeah, you just keep the flirting to a minimum. I’m not interested. Now, or ever.” I made sure I stared at him and didn’t blink when I said it.

  “That’s fine,” he said. “But you said you wanted us to talk, so if you could maybe give me some guidance about what you would be willing to chat about, that might be helpful.” I hated how riled up I was getting and he just seemed to keep getting calmer.

  “Why did your parents give you alphabetical names?” It was something I’d wondered forever, but had never known the answer to.

  He shrugged.

  “I think Mom thought it was cute at the time and by the time Callan came along, they were kind of stuck with it, you know?” I nodded as I plopped a scoop of frosting in the middle of a whoopie pie cake and then carefully placed the top on, smushing it just enough so the cream spre
ad out before I placed it in one of the bags with my logo on it.

  I made a few more before I said anything else.

  “I guess it is cute. Reminds me of that musical.” I looked up and he seemed puzzled.

  “What musical?” Surprise, surprise, Brooks Benson was not a musical theater fan. Knock me over with a feather.

  “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers,” I said. “You’ve never seen it?”

  He shook his head.

  “Well. It’s amazing. There are seven brothers and their names are all alphabetical, only in that case, they’re from the Bible. They use Frankincense for the letter F, but they just call him Frank.” That really made him laugh. Like, throw his head back and when he looked at me again, the smile lingered on his face. He had sort of a dimple in one cheek. Huh. Never noticed that before.

  “I’m sure Falyn is glad that Mom didn’t go that route,” he said.

  “I bet.” I remembered seeing all of them together. Seven seemed like such a huge number when they were all in the same place at the same time. Bless his mother.

  I finished up the whoopie pies and then the cupcakes came out of the oven. I finished up the frosting for those, adding lemon extract and just a touch of fresh lemon zest before using a pastry bag to precisely pipe the frosting onto the cupcakes.

  Brooks watched and waited.

  “You’re really good at that,” he said as I piped the last of the frosting onto the cupcakes. I’d gotten it down to a science so I had exactly the right amount of frosting plus a little extra to frost X amount of cupcakes. I was pretty proud of myself for figuring that out. I also had all my recipes memorized. A lot of them were my own creations anyway.

  “Thank you,” I said as I put the cupcakes in their little boxes.

  “Done?” he asked as I looked around.

  “Yes, except for these last dishes.” I motioned to them and then tucked a stray hair over my ear, probably smearing frosting everywhere.

  “Go home. I’ve got this,” he said, picking up the bowls and trays. “I’ll wash everything and it will be here when you need it.” I opened my mouth to protest, but then I yawned instead.