For once, Gage was pleased with the news. No wonder the fridge held mostly wine, beer and bottled water. On the other hand, he was also convinced that Brooke would spend more time in the kitchen if there was someone there that she wanted to be with. He’d already proved that to himself.
“You have to be exhausted from tackling your bedroom and bathroom. Why don’t you make us something to drink and keep me company?” He requested a scotch and water for himself.
“Consider it done. I’ll be the designated driver. If I drink now, I’ll fall over on the couch and sleep until sunrise. While I’m gone, you decide where we should go to eat. There are some casual steak houses and breweries that serve great burgers and grilled food close by.”
The idea of having to share her again didn’t appeal to Gage at all. “It’s Sunday night—everything is going to be so packed, we won’t be able to hear ourselves think, let alone hold a conversation. We could go to that gourmet market we passed on the way here.”
“I can’t let you cook after all you’ve already done,” Brooke said, her tone adamant. “What about pizza?”
“Sounds great.”
“Then tell me how you like yours. I’ll call as soon as I bring you that drink.”
In fact, it was just under an hour later that Gage washed up, then got the door for the kid delivering their dinner. Brooke was still on the phone checking on her aunt one last time for the day. The sun was sinking fast, and as he carried the pizza box to the kitchen nook, he admired the way the light played off the live oak and juniper trees artfully framing the small but photogenic backyard. If this property was in East Texas, he could live contentedly here, he mused, as he set the box on the table.
About to refresh his drink, he pantomimed to Brooke, asking whether she wanted wine or whatever? Still listening to her aunt, she went to the cooler and got out a bottle of cabernet, which she handed him.
Winking at her, he opened the bottle and poured so it could get to its best temperature before attending to his glass. He didn’t pretend not to be listening to Brooke’s side of the conversation. It reassured him that there was no hint of the cool, formal financier in her tone; she was all warmth and concern.
“No, dear, I’m not coming tonight. We’re still in Dallas. Yes, that’s right, I did explain earlier today, but you were in between nurse and doctor visits. It’s perfectly reasonable to have gotten confused. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon for sure, as soon as we unload.” She deftly took two plates from a cabinet and handed them to Gage. “I know where to put things, Aunt Marsha, not to worry.” Lifting a roll of paper towels off its pewter pedestal, she passed it to him, as well. “Humphrey is doing fine. Gage spoke with Roy earlier. Humph has a girlfriend, a yellow Labrador named Lily. No, Gage didn’t get a new dog yet. Her people are out of town, and she’s being kenneled at the clinic.” Brooke looked toward Gage and grinned. “Well, I’m sure you’re about to make his day. I’ll tell him. Try to get some sleep, dear. I’ll be there soon.”
“Now you’re ready for this wine,” Gage said, as soon as she disconnected and set down the phone on the counter.
Thanking him, she settled in the seat next to his and indulged in a slow sip. Only then did she pass on her message. “Aunt Marsha says to consider yourself kissed for making sure Humphrey is being so well taken care of.”
Pretending to be unconvinced, Gage replied, “I think she told you to give me a kiss for her. I caught that smile—it was a dead giveaway.”
“You’ll just have to ask her when we get back to Sweet Springs.”
“I’m being cheated,” he muttered, but he couldn’t keep a straight face as he opened the pizza box. If there was any grace and justice in the universe, he would get kissed before the night was over. “Is she holding up okay? It sounded like she was having some memory or focus issues.”
Sighing, Brooke nodded her agreement. “But there’s good cause—since my last call, she learned that they’re bumping up her surgery.”
“Is that right? How soon?”
“It’s now scheduled for Thursday.”
On Friday, the doctor had said that they’d scheduled her for Tuesday in a week. “Wow,” Gage said. “Did something happen to make them do that?”
“She couldn’t remember their specific reasoning.” The look she gave him signaled that it brought back the concern about her memory. “I suspect the doctor didn’t like her numbers. It’s the first thing I’ll look into tomorrow.”
The mask of the calm nurturer was gone. In its place was the face of a niece wracked with doubt and dread as she picked up his plate and slid on two slices of the pie.
“It will be all right,” he assured her, reaching over to stroke her cheek.
“What if she’s too weak, or there’s some other problem they haven’t factored in?”
“You can’t think that way.” He accepted the plate. “The point is that she’s in the best place possible if there is a problem. You certainly won’t be of help to her if you make yourself sick.”
Taking a sip of her wine, Brooke assured him, “Believe me, she won’t see this side of me when I step into her room.”
“Then I’m doubly grateful that you’re being so open with me.”
“Well, let’s eat before this wine makes me a total goofball,” she declared. “The pizza smells out of this world! Andi and I usually try for a modicum of restraint and order the thinnest crust and veggie kind.”
That won her a pitying look from him. “Women. Then what’s the point?”
He’d asked for a pepperoni, sausage and jalapeño, thick crust with extra cheese. Brooke had already warned him that she would be plucking all peppers off hers, which she proceeded to do.
“You don’t know what’s good for you,” Gage scoffed, as he held his slice close for her to dispose of them.
“Some of the juice will still be on there. That’s about my speed.”
“I should have known when you ordered sesame chicken for lunch. I guess I should be glad you didn’t ask for half of this to be Canadian bacon with pineapple.”
Gage ate with relish, but he enjoyed watching her more ladylike restraint and how she dabbed at her mouth with a paper towel after each bite, although there wasn’t even a crumb lingering on her lips. “Have you ever so much as dropped something on your clothes since you were...maybe in training pants?” He seriously doubted it.
Brooke’s brown eyes lit with self-deprecating humor. “I have terrible luck with Italian food. It’s so bad that I’ve learned never to order it unless I’m eating here at home. It’s the spinning-in-the-fork thing. I think I’m doing well, but my clothes end up looking like a TV drama’s crime-scene splatter photo.”
“That’s impossible,” Gage replied. “Anyone who handles chopsticks as well as you do? At lunch I was thinking you must have an Asian great granny in your family tree. I wish I’d have thought of Italian. I’d make a donation to your favorite charity to see sauce on your nose.”
About to reply, Brooke paused when her cell phone buzzed. She immediately dabbed her mouth and rose. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting any calls since I spoke to Aunt Marsha. I should have turned it off. It’s my pet peeve when people think they’re so important they need you to see them taking inane calls during a meal.” But her wry smile froze the moment she picked it up. “Oh, damn. It’s...my father.”
Gage didn’t care for the way she pressed her hand to her abdomen as though she was about to lose the few bites of dinner she’d consumed. What kind of parent did that to a child he supposedly loved? Sure, things hadn’t always gone smoothly between him and his father, but he’d known his old man would lose a leg before seeing one of his kids suffer.
Brooke took the call and turned her back to Gage. “Hi, Dad. Just back in the States?”
Damon Chandler Bellamy. Gage had heard his full name earlier in the
day, sardonically spoken by Andi, and had seen a few pictures of him in the study. He was a good-looking guy, something like the European who was playing that superspy these days in the movies. Cold and calculating as he was lean and elegant. From the family photographs, Gage had taken some small satisfaction in guessing he was below average in height—somewhere between Napoleon and Tom Cruise. His blond hair told him that Brooke’s hair color was natural, and that she’d inherited her gorgeous brown eyes from her mother. Damon Bellamy’s eyes were the gray of steel buried in Arctic ice.
“You’re doing what?”
The sharp exclamation yanked Gage back to reality, and he saw Brooke shakily moving the phone a few inches away from her ear. When she glanced over her shoulder at him and he saw her embarrassment, he had to reach for his drink. His only other option was to take the damned phone and yell back, “Exactly what is your problem, pal?”
“It can’t be helped, Dad. I can’t make any appointments yet when Aunt Marsha is dealing with so many problems. Didn’t you get my message about her condition being graver?”
Hell, Gage thought. The guy must have treasury ink in his veins instead of blood to not even ask up front how his sister-in-law was doing.
“It’s nothing she can control. I only just learned they’re going to do the heart-valve-replacement procedure on Thursday. Moving it up must indicate they’re worried.”
As Gage heard her father issue a lengthy list of directives, he watched Brooke cross to the table to reach for her glass and take a fortifying sip of wine. Her hand exposed the subtlest trembling, and he had to fight the urge to go stand behind her and draw her against him to offer his moral support. But would she accept it?
At the end of what seemed a lengthy rant, Brooke said dully, “That’s impossible, Father. She’s afraid, and I won’t leave her in that condition. The hospital staff are fine people, but they can’t provide the reassurance that family can.”
You tell him, sweetheart. Gage was heartened even for that modicum of formal rebellion. He’d been half worrying that he would hear “Yes, Daddy.”
After another lengthy rant by her father, she recited, “I understand that the longer I’m out of circulation, the harder it will be to find a good position, but that can’t be helped.”
Whatever Damon Bellamy said next had Brooke gripping the back of her chair.
“That was uncalled for. I respect that the countryside doesn’t hold any appeal for you, but I spent some of the happiest days of my childhood there with Aunt Marsha. I know I’m no longer a child, and I don’t see myself as a martyr. Listen, I have to go. A neighbor is at the door. I’ll get back with you after the surgery. Thank you for the call.”
As soon as Brooke disconnected, she turned off the phone and pushed it as far away from herself as she could. When she returned to the table, she reached for her wine glass. “I’ll probably regret this, but—” She took too long of a swallow to appreciate anything but the alcohol, and when she set down her glass, she glanced at him with no small chagrin. “I guess you could tell that didn’t go well?”
“He tends to speak loudly when he’s annoyed.”
She exhaled shakily. “I underestimated how unhappy he would be with my decisions.”
Underestimated his ability to be an ass.
Wanting badly to reach for her, Gage said, “I should have left the room to give you more privacy, but the truth is that I didn’t want to. I have a low tolerance for anyone, particularly a parent, bullying.”
Brooke winced at the word. “He’s not really that, he’s...just used to getting things done.”
“Well, you’re his daughter, not his protégée. Excuse me prying but...he seemed annoyed with your aunt, as well as you?”
“He feels that Aunt Marsha has lived her life and that she shouldn’t burden me with her problems.”
Gage could tell just by her expression that even repeating that was upsetting and distasteful to her. “Much better to get back to wheeling and dealing and chasing that all-important dollar, eh? Helping is part of what families do. Isn’t a prime vow in a wedding ceremony ‘For better or worse’?” It never ceased to astonish him when people were in a hurry to say those words, only to be among the first and fastest to indicate, “I didn’t mean this!”
Brooke fingered the remnants of her first slice of pizza but didn’t try for a bite. “My father was an only child, and his parents had very little and didn’t achieve much more. It made him extremely ambitious. He could have stepped out of a Dickens novel.”
“Was he on your mother’s reading list?”
“Never let it be said there’s anything wrong with your memory.” Brooke shook her head, her expression sad. “Maybe those books helped my mother understand him, and it may have helped her reach his compassionate side, but once she was gone, he reverted back quickly.” She shrugged, then tried for a resilient tone. “Don’t worry. This isn’t the first time I’ve been on the receiving end of his criticism, and I doubt it will be the last.”
“Thinking of you developing a thicker skin is doing wonders for my state of mind, too.”
Brooke abruptly shifted her gaze out the bay window where now the timer-set lights around the fountain shrubs twinkled. “Don’t be too nice to me. I’m just tired and emotionally drained enough to make a fool of myself and burst into tears. Believe me, I can handle my father’s censure far easier than your tenderness.”
That made all the sense in the world to Gage, but it wouldn’t help him sleep tonight. He was tied in knots for her. Finally, slowly shaking his head, he said, “You’re asking for too much, sweetheart. My sisters taught me that classic romantic movies held a lot of advice if I ever was in relationship trouble, but I never saw one where the guy gorging on pizza made the girl throw herself at him.”
Staring at him, Brooke eased her fingers over her mouth as new tears flooded her eyes. But this time they were tears of laughter. “Neither did I,” she said as giggles burst from her lips. “But his error might be in that he didn’t save her a piece for breakfast.”
Taking his time to pretend to ponder that bit of wisdom, Gage ultimately shook his head in rejection. “That can’t be right. Cold pizza for breakfast—who are you, a former trash-bin scavenger?”
Sniffing, Brooke reached for a slice. “I happen to like cold pizza.”
As she took a bite and chewed, Gage ripped off a fresh sheet of paper towel and dabbed at the moisture under her eyes. “You finally found some jalapeño juice, I see.”
After a grateful glance, Brooke played along and said huskily, “I still don’t know how you stand the things.”
Smiling into her eyes, he said softly, “They’re worth the trouble.” Taking another sustaining sip of his drink, Gage thought they should get the rest of tonight’s awkwardness out of the way. “In case you were figuring out how to bring up the subject, I’m going to camp out on the couch in the study tonight.”
Brooke wiped her hands and reached over to gently rub his forearm. “I’m sorry. I honestly intended for tonight to go differently. I was going to let you seduce me.”
With a slow, full nod, he asked, “I knew it. Thick crust is the secret aphrodisiac, isn’t it?” When she smiled, he took hold of her hand and lifted it to his lips for a kiss. “You’re physically exhausted and mentally beaten up, and you’re about to say goodbye to a big piece of your independence for a while.”
“And you deserve better than leftovers,” she said, rubbing his lower lip with her thumb.
“Lovely, I would crawl on all fours for your leftovers. But for our first time, I have this fantasy.”
“That’s nice,” she whispered, transfixed. “I don’t know that I’ve ever been part of anyone’s fantasy before.”
“Stick with me, kid.”
“You make me want to.”
Chapter Five
; “I can’t believe you did that. What happens now?”
Brooke stroked her aunt’s shoulder as Marsha waved and blew kisses to the scene outside where Gage stood holding Humphrey by the window. It was Wednesday evening, and Gage had just brought Humphrey to the hospital grounds to say hello before Marsha’s surgery in the morning. The older woman had acted like a child, laughing and crying and clapping her hands at the sight of her beloved pet.
“Now, you settle down and get yourself a good rest,” Brooke told her as she adjusted the bed to bring it down to a more comfortable sleeping position. “You need to be rested and in a good frame of mind so they can fix you up tomorrow.”
“I’m so happy to see my old friend, my sweet boy.” Although Gage had carried Humphrey to the truck, Marsha continued to gaze toward the window as though her pet was still there. “Be sure to tell Gage that he’s an angel for bringing him to see me.”
Considering the way Humphrey had writhed and howled, the pleasure of this impromptu visit was an equal treat for her basset hound. “I will. This was his idea, you know. I was worried that the staff would frown on this.”
“They couldn’t possibly. Humphrey is such a well-behaved boy. He could have been much louder if he’d wanted to be.”
Mostly due to experienced Gage, knowing how to rub the gleeful dog under his chin and to massage his ears, she thought, smiling. She wasn’t about to inform her aunt that earlier at the clinic, her “well-behaved boy” had chewed one of old Warren Atwood’s shoelaces completely in two while lying under the front table as the old-timers were playing dominos. It had only been when nature had called that Warren—trying to stand—had felt resistance and heard a growl. As the rest of the old-timers had looked under the table, they’d realized Warren had become the dog’s chew toy.
“Will you make sure they call you as soon as I’m out of surgery tomorrow?”
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