Mint Juleps and Justice

by Nancy Naigle

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  When Brooke’s body clock tripped at six in the morning, she wasn’t sure if last night had been one delicious dream or reality. Her body ached in a way that reminded her just how good the evening had been. No. It hadn’t been a dream.

  The happy feeling engulfed her mood this morning, but facing him the morning after made her stomach swirl. She lay still for a few minutes before opening her eyes. She took in a breath and tried to regain focus from the fog of the deepest sleep she’d had in months. She rolled over toward Mike, but faced an empty bed. Her heart suddenly felt as empty as the chair that had held his clothes just a few hours ago.

  Deflated, she shuffled out to the kitchen. The smell of fresh coffee met her as she walked down the hall. Maybe there was an explanation. There I go jumping to conclusions again. She padded into the kitchen wearing a smile, but he wasn’t in the kitchen either. She reached her hand toward the coffee pot. The carafe was hot. She walked through the living room, then walked to the front window and looked outside. His truck was gone.

  He made coffee before he left? “What the hell?” She went back into the kitchen looking for a note, or a sign of some kind, but there wasn’t one.

  “What kind of guy does that? Didn’t even say good-bye?” Her jaw set and she bit down on the inside of her cheek so hard she almost drew blood. Anger flooded her good sense. “I knew better than to let my guard down.”

  A million thoughts went through her head. Mostly the told-ya-so kind of self-reprimanding ones. She balanced a cup of coffee in one hand as she pushed the door open to let Stitches out to make her morning rounds.

  Brooke hoped she’d come back as a dog in her next life. If she did, she’d pee right on Mike’s shoe.

  The phone jingled and she snagged it on the second ring. “Hello,” she snapped.

  “Sorry.”

  His voice made her tense right up like she’d poked her finger in a light socket. “Why are you apologizing? Because you ruined a perfect night? Or because you make a terrible cup of coffee?”

  “You’re mad,” he said.

  She let out an exasperated huff. “You think?”

  “I needed some air.”

  “Well, excuse me, but weren’t you the one who came traipsing over uninvited?” He was wounded. She got that, but that didn’t give him a free pass to trample on her heart.

  “Guilty.”

  “I don’t recall even inviting you.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “I agree.” She took in a deep breath. She wasn’t going to let anyone treat her this way. Last night had seemed like something special, but he sure fixed that in a hurry. “I thought there was something special going on here, but clearly I was wrong.”

  “No, there was, there is. I just needed some space to sort it out. It was unexpected. It has been a long time since…well—I just didn’t expect to feel so many things.”

  “Well, you should have thought about that before you came over and sparked it all up,” Brooke said, but her anger was met with silence. What? Did he think she was just going to say all’s forgiven? Forget that. She wasn’t about to play this game. “I have to go. I’ve got better things to do.”

  “Wait.”

  She heard him and even thought to hang up anyway, but pulled the receiver back to her ear. “What?”

  “I want to explain.”

  “I don’t want to understand. I don’t even want to like you today.”

  “Brooke, please, you’re making a big deal—”

  “Damn right it’s a big deal. You asked to stay, reeled my ass right in like I was special. You knew how cautious I was after what I went through. You tricked me, and then snuck away before I woke up with not so much as a ‘kiss my ass good-bye.’”

  “I made coffee.”

  “Well, it sucked.”

  “I don’t want this to change anything.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Too late for that, buddy.” She clicked the End button. There was something less than satisfying about hanging up a cell phone. She dumped the entire pot of coffee into the sink. “Jerk.” Her teeth gnashed. Jerk wasn’t even bad enough. “Asshole.”

  Brooke slammed her way through her morning routine, getting dressed and ready for the day in record time. Even Stitches steered clear of her foul mood. She got to the office early too, running the only red light in town and pushing the speed limit the whole way. Her anger and adrenaline made her act irrational behind the wheel, something she was working on, but then this morning had been anything but normal.

  At the office, Brooke whisked right past her coworkers without so much as a hello. She asked her administrative assistant, Victoria, to hold her calls, closing the door behind her. Screw that open-door policy. She grabbed the project plans for the Summer Break Livestock Show and began reviewing them.

  When she retreated from the office to grab some coffee a couple hours later, she laughed when she saw the eight huge bouquets of flowers on Victoria’s desk. “Goodness, girl. You must have a winner on the hook,” Brooke said. “Sorry if I was short with you earlier.”

  “That’s okay. But as for the winner, actually, no I don’t.” Victoria pointed a finger toward her boss. “You do.”

  “I do what?”

  “Have a winner.”

  Brooke looked confused. “What are you talking about?”

  Victoria smiled. “The flowers started coming at the top of the hour right after you closed your door. They’ve been arriving every fifteen minutes since.”

  “For me?” She looked surprised. “Are you kidding?”

  “No, and look—there’s another one now.” She looked at her watch, tapping the face. “Right on schedule.”

  Brooke took the basket of wildflowers from the delivery boy while Victoria signed off on the delivery. She pulled the card and read it aloud.

  Please forgive me.

  I’m wild about you. —Mike

  “Wildflowers. Cheesy.” Brooke resisted the urge to smile. It was cute, but it didn’t change what happened.

  Victoria nodded. “They all have cards.”

  Brooke plucked each card from its bouquet and walked back into her office. The first one was the most honest.

  I screwed up. I know it.

  I don’t want the past to ruin a future with you.

  Please let me explain. —Mike

  The rest were silly, but sweet. Each one was as dopey as the last.

  Victoria followed her into the office with another one. “He must have done something really bad.”

  “At least the florist in town will love me.”

  “Oh yeah. You’ll be Teddy Hardy’s favorite new resident after this.” Victoria shoved the bouquet in Brooke’s direction. “I’m running out of room out there. Maybe you should call him.”

  “He should be calling me.”

  “He has.” Victoria pushed a stack of pink “While You Were Out” slips toward her. “You told me to hold your calls. The calls are coming as frequently as the deliveries.”

  Fanning through the stack of messages, Brooke said, “Fine. Put him through next time.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Victoria walked back out to the front office.

  No sooner had Brooke sat down, than the call rang through. She held her breath. She wanted to stay mad, but the Southern girl in her had thank-you already in the queue. She squashed that thought. It was really hard to be mad surrounded by flowers and silly cards.

  “Brooke Justice,” she answered, even though she knew full well who was on the line.

  “I am so sorry, Brooke. I screwed up.”

  “Yes. You did.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Can’t argue with you there.” She softened once she heard his voice, though.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I got scared.”

>   “Too late.” But part of her was as scared as he was. “Before I discovered you were gone, I was lying there still as could be trying to be sure I didn’t wake you while I tried to figure out how to handle the morning. It was wonderful, but it was too soon.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. We’ll get over it. I wouldn’t trade your friendship for anything. It was a mistake.”

  “No. Brooke, it wasn’t a mistake. That’s just it. That’s not what I want. I freaked out. I don’t know why. You’re not the first woman I’ve been with since my wife died, but you are the first one who’s mattered. It was different. I—”

  “I’m sorry about your wife.”

  “I should have told you about it myself, but it’s been something I’ve kept tucked away for eight years. Last night…my feelings…I just got scared.”

  “Of me?”

  “Of caring,” he said.

  “I was scared too.”

  “Can we put this behind us and start over?”

  “I can’t. We should probably put some distance between us for a while.”

  “I want to see you.”

  “That’s not a good idea,” she said as she toyed with a purple hyacinth.

  Victoria tapped on her office door lightly and peeked in.

  “Mike…hang on a sec.” Brooke pulled the phone to her shoulder and motioned her in. Victoria walked in with another bouquet and quietly placed it on Brooke’s desk with the others. “When are these flowers going to stop? It looks like a hospital in here.”

  “I guess I made my point, huh?”

  “Yes, I got it. There must be ten or twelve bouquets in here.”

  “Just a few more to go.”

  “How many did you send?” She took count of the flowers framing the room.

  “My lucky number is fifteen. You’re into the luck thing, so I thought I should go with that.”

  He was playing dirty now. “Are you making fun of me?”

  “Nope. I’m just not taking any chances. I’m sorry about last night. Not about last night, but this morning. Really. You’ve got to forgive me—please. We both have scars to heal. We can do that together. Give it a chance.”

  “I just got a huge pot of marigolds.”

  “I know they’re your favorite. I remembered. I figured if you were still mad after all those flowers and cards, I’d have to pull out an extra-special something to get your attention.”

  “You’ve got it.” She slid a finger in the flap of the card of the last bouquet that had arrived. She read the card to herself. Her nose tickled like it always did right before she cried. She cursed herself for even considering forgiving him.

  Your grandpa would have loved me!

  You can’t deny Grandpa, can you? —Mike

  Mike sounded concerned. “What? Hey? Are you laughing or crying?”

  Brooke stuck the card in the corner of her monitor. “I’m laughing. I just got the Grandpa note. How did you get all of this arranged so quickly? Do you have florists on retainer? You must break hearts all the time.”

  “No I don’t. I can’t even tell you the last time I ordered flowers. I’ve been a busy guy trying to undo my mess.”

  “I see that. I’ll tell you this. I don’t know if my grandpa would have loved you, but Grandma would have been a goner for you. She was a hopeless romantic.”

  “Well, there you go. Aren’t you even curious to know why fifteen is my lucky number?”

  “Why is fifteen your lucky number?” Brooke asked.

  “I got your case on the fifteenth of the month…bye.”

  She hung up the phone and flipped the calendar. Sure enough, he was right. Was fifteen a lucky number for her now too? It was a one and a five. Sure enough. Good luck.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Brooke met Jenny at Vinnie’s Bar-B-Q-rino. The new restaurant was a play on the old seventies sitcom Welcome Back, Kotter, and all the meals were named after the characters from the show. You couldn’t get a better bagel or New York–style deli meal anywhere in town, and he’d nailed Southern barbecue too. Not an easy thing for a Northerner to do, but it sure was winning him points with the locals.

  The owner swore his uncle had worked on the show back in the day. No one believed him, but he made a mean barbecue in a yummy Carolina style so they let him ride with it. The place had been getting rave reviews. The old premise and seventies music to match seemed to appeal to all demographics. Just inside the restaurant one wall was reserved for graffiti. A crate of paint pens lured customers to partake as they waited for a coveted booth in the busy place. Some folks just wrote their names; others actually did some pretty good artwork and tags.

  Jenny picked out turquoise, orange, and white markers and got down to business tagging the HAPPY BALANCE logo while they waited.

  “That looks good,” Brooke said, admiring Jenny’s handiwork.

  “Thanks. Nothing compared to some of the art, though. I should have done this at my place. It looks cool.”

  “Except where some jerk painted that eerie devil scene with the flames.” Brooke pointed Jenny toward the other end of the wall. “Look at it. It’s freaking me out.”

  “Me too, a little. And I don’t get freaked out easy. Those flames look so real they made me look twice.”

  “Justice. Party of two.” Brooke took the paint pens from Jenny and capped them as they headed toward the waitress. “You can add to it next time.”

  Once they were seated, Brooke departed from the small talk. “I’m dying to know how things are going with you and Rick. I’ve barely seen you lately. I’m hoping that means things are going great.”

  “He’s amazing,” Jenny said. “A man’s man, but such a nice guy.”

  “Of course he is. Aren’t all cowboys with white hats the good ones?”

  “I don’t know, but Mike’s the one you need to be thinking about.”

  “I’ve got updates on that front.” Brooke pulled the menu in front of her, but closed it almost instantly, knowing she’d order the Epstein. There just wasn’t anything better than arroz con habichuelas, the Puerto Rican red beans-and-rice dish, served with a toasted bagel on the side for the Jewish part of that character. “For the record, Mike and I have cooled things.”

  “What? You haven’t even got hot yet. You can’t cool it already.”

  “Actually it got hot and cold in a matter of hours.” Brooke gave Jenny the short version of the hot tub scene and the extreme exit, leaving out the details of the weekend when she’d crawled into his bed. “I knew better. I don’t know what the heck I was thinking.”

  “Why? Because he freaked out? His wife died. No, wait. I take that back. She didn’t just die. She was murdered. Give him a break.”

  Brooke should’ve known Jenny wouldn’t see it the way she did. “That was eight years ago.

  “Oh, come on. He said he was sorry. What guy buys out nearly the whole flower supply of the county and puts that much effort into a forgiveness plan? You’ve got to give him a break, girl. He’s sorry.”

  Brooke shook her head. “Sorry won’t mend a broken heart, and that’s all I’m heading for with that guy. Look. It was too soon anyway. I let my guard down and look what happened—I’m just going to wind up getting hurt.”

  “But y’all are good together,” Jenny said.

  “He might be a widower, but I think he’s probably not over her. I can’t compete with that.”

  “Fine.” Jenny pushed the napkin and silverware across the table. “I wouldn’t try to tell you what to do. That would be a waste of time, because we all know how hardheaded you are. Just don’t forget that we all have baggage. You might try to put yourself in his position before you ruin it.”

  Brooke took pause at Jenny’s reaction. It wasn’t often she went all serious on her. She may have a point. She just wasn’t ready to he
ar it. “Quit worrying about me. I want to know about you. What’s going on with you and Rick?”

  A smile played across Jenny’s lips. “He’s the perfect guy for me. He loves kids, makes me laugh. He’s just like me, except with boy parts. We’ve been having so much fun. It’s good. It’s easy.”

  The waitress walked up to take their order, saving Brooke from the details that Jenny loved to embellish until she made Brooke blush.

  Brooke placed her order, then stared out the window as Jenny held a leisurely conversation with the waitress about how things were cooked and made a decision.

  When the waitress walked away, Brooke leaned across the table. “I wish I had your carefree way about life. I envy you for that. You keep it so…”

  Jenny tucked the menu behind the condiment tray on the table. “So what?”

  “…simple.”

  Jenny plopped back in the booth. “Trust me. It looks better from over there. Things in my life are anything but simple.”

  “I thought you just said everything was going so well.”

  “Oh, it is. The problem is on my end. I’m late.”

  “You mean late late?” Brooke’s eyes went wide.

  “Yep.” Jenny said, popping the p for effect. “I can’t believe it either.”

  “Well, you couldn’t be that far along. I mean you and Rick haven’t been together that long. Or maybe it’s a false alarm.”

  Jenny shook her head. “More complicated than that.”

  “Oh.” Brooke sat back in the booth. “Not Rick?”

  Jenny nodded.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll make sure first. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

  “I can’t believe it, Jenny. Rick’s so perfect for you. Wouldn’t that just be your luck? You finally meet Mr. Right and the timing is all off.”

  “If it’s meant to be, it will, no matter what I do. You can’t mess up destiny. If I’m pregnant it’s from that stupid night with Jim. I can’t believe we had unprotected booty-call sex.”

  “Jim? Jim, your ex-husband, Jim? Jenny. Really?”

  “Well, I’m not the type to just sleep around, and it just kind of happened after his mom’s birthday. We were both nostalgic after all the stupid pictures and memories his mom was stirring up. We even laughed about it the next morning. Too much good wine can make anyone make a mistake.”