The Mostly Real McCoy: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (Apple Valley Love Stories Book 1)

by Julie Christianson

  “Oh!” Brooke’s mother gasps. Her other hand is at her throat again.

  “Maybe we can work something out,” Brooke says. She squares her shoulders. Action mode. “I’m sure we can pull together a small party while you’re still here, Mom. Just the five of us and maybe Tess.”

  “Who’s Tess?”

  “Mac’s sister. We could blow up a few balloons and order some pizza. A cake. Nothing fancy.” She winks at me. “Just a low-key arty-pay for aisy-day.”

  Daisy hops again. “I like pizza and cake!”

  Brooke grins. “The birthday girl has spoken.”

  “Hey. Slow down, tiger.” I cross my arms. “When do you picture this whole balloons-pizza-cake extravaganza happening, exactly?”

  She shrugs. “I was thinking tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Why not? We could do a lunch thing if you can get away from whatever job site you’re working on. All we need is an hour. If you tell your boss it’s for your daughter, how could he say no?”

  My jaw shifts. Right.

  My boss.

  “Or is your boss a she?” Brooke’s mouth curls up on one side. “Should I be jealous?”

  “Ha. No.”

  I try to laugh, but guilt slices through me, slick and hot. The last thing I need is a reminder that my work obligations dictate my home life. Not to mention how much Brooke still doesn’t know about me. More than anything, I want to be the man she thinks I am. But I can’t get into all of this with her parents here. Now is not the time.

  “Come on, Mac,” Brooke says.

  “Come on, Daddy. Please?”

  Brooke and Daisy are both looking up at me with cute little puppy dog eyes. Four of them. How can I resist?

  “Well, then.” I blow out a breath. “Pizza and cake it is.”

  “One sheep. Two sheep. Three sheep—” Nope. Still awake. Even counting out loud—which usually works—doesn’t put me to sleep tonight. And now it’s more like this morning.

  I check the clock. 4:30.

  I can’t sleep with Brooke just down the hall from me. I keep picturing her in those polka dotted pajamas she wore to bed. That woman makes polka dots look tempting.

  Or maybe that’s on me. Yeah, I’m probably the one with the problem. A Brooke Wallace obsession.

  I wonder if she’s awake too. Thinking about me.

  After her parents left for their hotel, Brooke gave Daisy a bath while I did the dishes. Then we all put on pajamas and curled up on the couch. Daisy made it all of fifteen minutes into The Wizard of Oz before dropping off. She was sprawled across me with her legs on Brooke’s lap.

  We tucked her in with the frog prince and Tuttle on either side of her.

  I almost asked Brooke if she wanted to keep watching the movie.

  Or have some iced tea.

  Heh.

  But I didn’t trust myself not to start up a conversation I wasn’t prepared to finish. Plus her face in the soft glow of the television?

  Well. She looked entirely too beautiful.

  So I put myself to bed.

  “Four sheep. Five sheep. Six sheep—” Wide awake. Still staring at the ceiling. Shadows move across the wall. Just the trees outside, blowing in the wind. When I can’t take the ticking of the clock anymore, I grab my laptop and crawl back to bed. Then, before any second thoughts come creeping in, I fire up a Google search.

  There you go, Mac.

  Homes 4 Humans.

  I’ve been thinking about their non-profit ever since Maude Sloane brought up the name at our last board meeting. Her idea planted a seed. But it’s been gathering steam in my head.

  Truth is, there’s a full-blown boiler room happening in there by now.

  For more than an hour, I pour over their website. I read half a dozen articles and take two pages of notes. By six o’clock, my eyes are blurry. I pull back the curtains to check for signs of sunrise on the horizon. I can barely see, let alone think straight.

  Still, I type up a page of bullet points to send to Nash. It’s just an outline. Not a fleshed-out plan. But I know my man will take this and run with it. Getting McCoy Construction to team up with Homes 4 Humans for pro bono work is right up his alley. And if I let Nash take the reins on this, I can still play a role at my dad’s company but be a better dad to Daisy.

  And I can be the man I want to be for Brooke.

  In less than a month, she’s shown me you can make big changes in your life. At any time. For any reason. And sure, change can be hard, but it can also put you on the path to exactly where you’re meant to be, right?

  Shutting the laptop, I close my eyes and lean back against a bank of pillows.

  Deep breaths, Mac.

  This could work.

  You and Brooke could work.

  Yes. This is all good. From somewhere inside me, deeper than a memory, I hear my father’s voice.

  Do what’s right, Mac. Make me proud.

  I’m dreaming about flying monkeys and crowns and broomsticks when my alarm kicks in.

  Showtime.

  35

  Brooke

  I’m sticking a toothpick in the cake to see if it’s ready when Emi calls to me from the entryway. “Hello? Brooke? Anybody home?”

  “I’m in the kitchen! Come on back.”

  I rinse my hands in the sink and dry them on my pajamas. Yes, it’s almost noon, but I haven’t gotten dressed yet because Emi’s bringing me a costume. Also, I’ve been too busy baking a birthday cake from scratch.

  Eggs. Flour. Sugar. Butter. I hardly recognize myself.

  “Hey there.” Emi comes around the corner with two bags from Party World in one hand and a bouquet of pink Mylar balloons in the other. She’s wearing her Cinderella costume from last Halloween and a pair of Ray Ban aviators. Probably to cover up red eyes.

  I tilt my head. “How are you holding up, Em?”

  “Fine. Everything’s fine.”

  “Hmm. What if I don’t believe you?”

  “You can believe the best thing for me right now is to keep busy and focus on someone else. Like Daisy.” Her gaze sweeps the room. “Great house,” she says. “Exactly the way you described it. The cake smells great, too.”

  I smile. “Just call me Betty Crocker.”

  “Nope.” She lifts up a bag. “This costume is for Snow White.”

  I clap my hands and hop. Like Daisy. “Emily Rose Jones, you’re my Disney princess hero.”

  She winces. “Before you get too excited, it does have a small chili stain on the front.”

  “Most of my clothes do.” I shrug. “Anyway, a chili stain might keep my mom from noticing that my hair is way too long to be on-brand for Snow White.”

  “Good old Lenore.” Emi shakes her head. “I cannot wait to see her again.” She hands the balloons off to me and sets the Party World bags on the kitchen table. When she pulls off her sunglasses, she gets her first look at my face without polarization.

  Her jaw drops.

  “Brooke!” She gasps. “Oh my gosh!”

  “What?”

  “You kissed him!”

  “Shh!” I peek over Emi’s shoulder to make sure Daisy’s not lurking there. The girl has gotten way too good at sneaking up when I least expect it. “Will you lower your voice, please?”

  “Sure,” Emi says in an exaggerated whisper. “You kissssssed him.” I hurry past her into the dining room, but Emi follows, hot on my heels. “Come on, Brooke. You can’t hide the evidence. I can practically feel you blushing through the back of your skull.”

  Setting the balloon bouquet on the dining room table, I slowly turn around.

  “See! I was right.” She points at my face. “Have you looked in the mirror this morning? Your cheeks are all red, and your lips are plumped up. You’re totally radiating.” She puts her hands on her hips. “You’re basically Chernobyl.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “The nuclear power plant?”

  “Yep.” She adjusts her crooked tiara and then pulls out a chair. “S
it,” she commands. “Now spill.”

  My heart starts palpitating. With extra palpitations.

  I could try to deny what’s happening between Mac and me, but I’ve already spent the past twenty-four hours hiding the truth from my parents about not being married. Even worse? I’ve been keeping the truth about my feelings from myself. For maybe my whole life. So.

  Let’s go, Brooke.

  “You’re right.” I gulp. “We kissed.”

  “Duh, Captain Obvious.” She plops into the seat next to me. “But when? And how? And why am I just hearing about this now? You should’ve called immediately. Like while the chapstick was fresh off your lips. What gives?”

  Emi’s Cinderella eyes get extra round. Like pumpkin carriages taking her to the ball.

  “I don’t know, Em.” I cringe. Turns out total honesty is harder than it looks. Because the real, super-deep-down truth is that being excited in front of Emi, who’s still fresh off her breakup, just feels wrong. “I guess I wasn’t ready to tell you.”

  Ugh. She’s going to see right through that.

  “Wait.” A frown hijacks the entire lower half of her face. “Is this because of Travis and Fiona?”

  “Ummm.” I wince. “It’s not not about them.”

  “Oh.” Emi shakes her head. “Brooke.”

  “Seriously, Em. What kind of friend would I be if I acted all rosy and gushy about kissing Mac the minute your fiancé called off your engagement?”

  “You’re already the best kind of friend,” she says. “You got my sister to come down, and you even offered to stay with me.” A small smile tugs at her lips. “That was very sweet of you, by the way. And you’re sweet to be worried about me now.” She touches my knee. “Talk about on-brand, Snow White. But it’s your turn to be happy, okay?”

  I snort. “What would make me happy is if Fiona and Travis both choked on a big slice of devil’s food cake.”

  Emi starts to laugh, then she starts to sniffle. But eventually she recovers and squares her shoulders. My heart aches for her trying so hard.

  “Are you going to be all right?” I ask.

  “You bet.” She sniffs. “Anyway, I’m holding out for carrot cake.”

  “Em.” I draw in a breath. Acting tougher than she feels is on-brand for her. “Be serious.”

  “I’m not kidding.” She waves away my comment. “Don’t get me wrong. Being dumped is awful. And I’ve already decided to never date again. But I also realized I was a lot less giddy about Travis after years together than you are after just a few weeks of knowing Mac. I mean, look at you. You’re the dictionary definition of giddy!”

  “Shh!” I whisper again. Then I lean back in my chair to get a good sight line to the stairs.

  “Ah. Right. Daisy.” Emi raises her eyebrows. “Does the birthday girl know you made out with her daddy last night?”

  Yikes. I sure hope not.

  Before I can answer, I hear the front door open.

  “Knock, knock, Brooke!”

  Perfect timing.

  “That would be my parents.”

  Emi hops up. “That would be my cue to start decorating.” She grabs one of the bags from Party World, and dumps the contents on the table. Rolls of streamers and tape. An enormous, pink birthday banner. “You go deal with Robert and Lenore.” She grins. “Good luck, Snow White. You’re going to need it.”

  My mother is waiting for me in the entryway, an absolute vision in crisp linen pants and a creamy silk blouse. How is she not wrinkled? My dad is in tailored trousers and a pale blue dress shirt. No tie. They’re both still pretty fancy for a pizza party, but at least they’re trying to fit in.

  And I used their guilt over Ethan to ask for a big favor this morning.

  “Success!” My dad holds up a bag from a store called Quill and Parchment.

  My mom takes the bag from him. “Who knew the town of Eugene had such lovely shops?” She pulls out a package wrapped in shiny pink paper and tied with an explosion of pink tulle. “It’s not precisely like your baby book. We had yours custom-made. That order took months.”

  “Still, we did pretty well on short notice,” my dad chimes in. “This book’s got plenty of blank pages to write on and slips for photographs. We asked the girl who works there to personalize the cover. Just like you told us. In calligraphy.”

  My mother hands me the package. “Since we had the book gift-wrapped, I suppose you’ll have to trust us.”

  “I do, Mom. I’m sure it’s beautiful.”

  “Of course it is.” She nods. “Now. What else can we do? Maybe I could help you pick out something to wear besides … this?” She indicates my pajamas. I’m surprised she made it this long without commenting.

  Getting better, Mom.

  “I have a costume to put on, thanks.” I glance toward the kitchen where Emi is decorating, and I know she doesn’t want their help. “You could go upstairs and help Daisy,” I say. “She’s painting posters for her party.”

  “Posters? With paint?” My mother stares at me, mouth ajar.

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “Her finger paints are washable.”

  “Why not, Lenore?” My dad takes my mom by the elbow. “Let’s go get our art on.”

  “Well.” She grits her teeth. “I suppose Daisy might like to hear about our most recent trip to the Louvre.”

  I do a little cough-laugh. “Yes. What five-year-old wouldn’t?”

  While my father leads my mother upstairs, I set Daisy’s gift on the dining room table and head to the kitchen to tell Emi that my parents will be out of our way for a while.

  “Seriously?” She gawks at me. “They’re making posters with Daisy?”

  “Apparently. Except I bet she’ll make them call her Ariel today. She couldn’t stop talking about the library aquarium last night. That was after she sang every song from the Little Mermaid.”

  “Ha! Gosh, I love that girl.”

  “I do too.”

  I love that girl.

  Emi said the words first, but she means them in a different way. Now she’s studying my face, and I’m not ready to go there, so I change the subject. “By the way, Daisy calls my parents MeeMaw and PeePaw.”

  Emi’s eyebrows fly up. “No!”

  “Yes! She also pretends they’re the palace maid and butler.”

  Emi tosses her head back and starts cackling so loud, I’m surprised none of Daisy’s birthday balloons pop. “Kerrigan and Sebastian Steele as a maid and a butler?” She gasps for breath.

  “Yep. Of course, they still showed up in a limo yesterday. They even flew their own chauffeur up in the jet with them. Mom wore all white silk. And my dad was in one of his usual suits.”

  “I hate to say it, but he is kind of hot for an old guy.”

  “Eww, Emi. Stop. I’m pretty sure something just broke inside me.”

  As soon as those words are out, Mac’s face flashes before me, and I hear his voice last night telling me he likes me just the way I am.

  To me you’re perfect.

  “Hey. What’s that look for?” Emi asks. “Are you getting all giddy about Mac again?”

  Snap out of it Brooke. Now.

  “I just remembered I forgot to make frosting,” I say. “And I still need to get dressed. Plus I have to find a ladder to hang that birthday banner.”

  Emi narrows her eyes. Yeah, I get it, Em. I don’t believe me either.

  “I’ll run to the market to buy some frosting for you,” she says. “You go change, then look for that ladder.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind going to the store dressed like that?”

  Emi flounces her skirt. “Like what? I look amazing.”

  I grin at her. “Yes, you do.” I check the clock. 12:30. “Hopefully we’ll have enough time to get everything done before Mac gets home. In any case, the cake should be cool enough to frost when you get back.”

  Enough time. Cool enough.

  You’re enough for me, Mac said. More than enough.

  As Emi le
aves, hope rises in my chest, spreading like liquid through my body. I practically skip to the bathroom with her Snow White costume. Blue bodice. Yellow skirt. Red headband. “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?”

  You’re enough for me. More than enough.

  As those words echo in my head, something shifts in me. Slipping sideways. What if Mac really could be happy with one child? Or what if there’s room in his heart to adopt? I suck in a breath.

  Gosh, it’s hard to breathe with all this hope banging around.

  Before I get too ahead of myself, we need to have a conversation. Just the two of us. Tonight. After my parents leave and Daisy’s in bed, Mac and I will be alone to talk. I have to give Mac an out. Even though my heart aches to think he’d take it.

  But I don’t have time to worry about my heart being destroyed by Prince Charming. Right now, I’m a princess in search of a ladder. So I head to the garage.

  Mac’s detached garage has a farmhouse exterior that matches the main house. The double doors creak as I haul them open one at a time by their iron handles. Inside is dark and dusty. The air smells like wood and varnish. When I flip on the overhead lights, a cobweb brushes my face.

  Snow White is not a fan.

  I blink and check out the space. A long workbench takes up one side of the room. On the wall above it, there are hammers and wrenches and other tools I don’t recognize. The other half of the garage is blocked off by large hanging tarps. What’s he got on the other side there?

  As I make my way through a maze of boxes, curiosity picks at my brain. Those boxes could be full of Gwen’s old stuff. A little peek inside sure is tempting. But I’m no Pandora. I’m Snow White. And Gwen’s been gone a year. She signed away custody of Daisy. She’s the past.

  You can be the future.

  Me and Mac and Daisy.

  So I’m feeling pretty pleased with my self-control by the time I reach the tarps. At first I try to pull one open just an inch or two in case I can easily spot a ladder. But the canvas is surprisingly heavy, and the two tarps are tucked together pretty firmly. So I have to bend over an old trunk to get more leverage. With one final yank, I lose my balance and tumble to the other side. And there aren’t any ladders. There wouldn’t be room.