Wet

by Rose Wulf

  Blake chuckled even as he pulled to the curb at the front entrance. “I’m sure, I promise. This way I know I get to see you again today, remember?”

  Brooke allowed herself to smile as she slid the seatbelt off and then leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “All right, then I’ll see you in a while. Thanks for the lift.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Blake replied with a lopsided grin.

  Flashing a final smile at him, Brooke grabbed her purse and stepped out of the car. She paused to wave before turning and letting herself into the diner.

  After dinner the night before, Brooke had insisted on staying anyway, saying she wanted to be absolutely sure that he was okay. Blake hadn’t put up much of an argument, and they had ended up on the couch, watching another movie. But Blake had fallen asleep about halfway through, telling Brooke all she’d needed to know about how much energy he still didn’t have. She’d woken him up and convinced him to go to bed a little early, promising she’d wake him if she needed anything. And then she’d settled down right beside him, realizing that she was tired, too.

  In the morning, Brooke had been grateful that she’d somehow thought to throw her uniform into her duffel bag when she’d been packing, but she wondered what she’d really been thinking. Her uniform would do her no good if she couldn’t get to work. Fortunately, Blake had woken fully recovered and offered to drive her.

  And now she was walking into work feeling downright giddy, and at the same time almost like a teenager slipping into the house after curfew. She hadn’t seen her adopted family since the weekend after Christmas, even though they emailed or talked on the phone fairly consistently, but in the course of time she’d been living in Darien, a lot of the diner staff had come to feel like family. Paula and Georgia especially had taken her under their wing—and they were more than likely to question her about her chauffeur.

  After exchanging a brief hello with the new hostess, Brooke quickly shuffled her way to the back room. It wasn’t until she was halfway through the dining area that she remembered what else had happened the day before. What are we going to do without Ed? He’d been cooking there for nearly a decade. It would be strange to have a new Head Chef, but the diner wouldn’t survive without one.

  She pushed into the back room, unsurprised to see Georgia already securing her apron. And she couldn’t help but smile, just a little, when she realized that that meant the older woman hadn’t seen who had dropped her off. “Morning,” Brooke called, moving to her own locker.

  Georgia lifted her head and returned the smile. “Morning.” Her smile turned mischievous. “How was your date?”

  Brooke tried not to cringe, grateful her back was turned. She’d forgotten somehow that she’d told Georgia about the upcoming date. “It was pretty good.” She was sure Blake would give her a funny look if he’d been able to hear that response. Yes, someone had tried to kill them. But their enemy—whoever it was—had failed. And how could she not be happy to be alive?

  “‘Pretty good’?” Georgia repeated slowly, focusing her full attention on her friend. “So it could’ve been better? Or are you trying to downplay it so I don’t ask too many questions?”

  That’d be the one, Brooke thought fleetingly before she turned to lift an eyebrow at the other woman. Deciding to be as honest as she could—or at least as honest as she needed to be—she said, “Sure it could’ve gone a little better. Blake ended up not feeling all that great, so we turned in a little earlier than we’d wanted.” There, that was complete truth.

  Georgia’s grin faltered. “Oh. Well, that’s depressing.”

  Brooke opened her mouth to agree, since it was something else she could be honest about, but before a sound could come out, the door opened again and Paula stepped in. The look on the older woman’s face was enough for Brooke to suck in a breath. She saw.

  “So, Brooke,” Paula began with a knowing smile. “Is something wrong with your car?”

  Brooke swallowed and shook her head slowly. “No, my car’s fine.”

  Georgia’s confusion was evident in her voice as she asked, “Why would anything be wrong with her car?”

  Before Brooke could say anything, Paula replied, “Well, that was my natural assumption when I saw Blake dropping her off this morning.”

  Turning wide eyes to Brooke, Georgia said, “I thought you said he wasn’t feeling well?”

  “He wasn’t,” Brooke assured her, cringing internally. The rumors were bound to be flying by the end of the hour. “It’s just that … we were out when he started feeling off, and I personally hate being alone when I feel bad, so I offered to keep him company. We stopped by my place, I picked up a change of clothes, and then I actually drove him home.”

  Both women were silent for a moment, apparently deciding whether or not they believed her words. Fortunately, it seemed there was enough truth in the words to convince them. She just didn’t have the energy for gossip.

  Paula accepted her answer with a nod and a grin. “I assume he’s feeling better this morning?”

  “Yes,” Brooke replied easily. “All he needed was a good night’s sleep.”

  “Good,” Paula said.

  Seeing an opportunity to change the subject, Brooke waited only a moment before asking a question of her own. “Um, Paula … what happened with Ed?”

  Georgia froze again, her eyes moving between them but the rest of her remaining completely still. Her interest was obvious.

  Paula sighed, planting her hands on her hips. “Damned if I know,” she replied. “I chased him down, but all he did was yell and rant about how much he hates this place, so I lost my temper and told him never to come back.”

  Slowly, Georgia asked, “Do we have anyone to take his place?”

  It was Brooke’s turn to remain silent as she watched her supervisor.

  “No,” Paula declared somberly with a shake of her head. “For now, me and Earl are gonna help out, but we need to start looking. None of the other kids in the kitchen are comfortable stepping in—and that’s just the ones that are qualified.”

  Brooke and Georgia exchanged a look in silence. Nothing good could come of having no chef.

  Paula released another sigh and dropped her arms. “Don’t you two worry about any of that nonsense, though. Me and Earl are gonna sit down tonight and figure out if we might know someone interested. We’ll have a new chef before you know it. Now get out there and keep our customers happy in the meantime!” With a laughing wink, Paula turned and whisked from the room.

  After a long moment, Georgia said, “Well, I for one am not going to worry. Everything happens for a reason, right? See you out there!” And then she followed after Paula and slipped from the room.

  Brooke sighed and quickly finished securing her apron. She hoped Georgia and Paula were right, but even if they were, they were bound to be running a bit slower than usual. And days were always longer when they were running slower.

  ****

  “I feel like we’re being stalked,” Dean grumbled as he paced by the large, elaborate fireplace in his parents’ living room once more.

  Blake sighed and leaned back into the couch. “Tell me about it.”

  Angela scrunched her face thoughtfully and said, “It seems to me whoever’s doing all of this must be a large family, then. I mean, they’d need to have enough people to actually follow all of us around at any given time, right?”

  “But if they are stalking us,” Nate interjected, leaning forward from his own seat on the couch, on the other side of Angela from Blake. “Then how come we haven’t spotted anyone? I mean, even if they switched it up every day, by now you’d think they’d have had to recycle a few times, and we should’ve noticed someone following us. Or, what, are they invisible?”

  “I don’t think they’re invisible,” Christopher replied with a shake of his head.

  “There must be something we’re missing,” Logan declared gravely, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned into the couch.

  “All
right,” Christopher agreed. “Let’s back up. Blake, how many people knew about your date beforehand?”

  Blake hesitated. “That’s hard to say. I didn’t tell anyone who isn’t in this room, but Brooke has friends at the diner, she could have mentioned it to Georgia and Georgia could’ve told … anyone.”

  “Or someone could have just overheard her mention it,” Angela said. “Eric and I were at the diner yesterday, when Ed quit. And I asked her about your date. There were other tables nearby, someone could have been listening.”

  Nate sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “So we’re back to ‘it could be anyone’.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Fantastic,” Dean growled. As he paced past the fireplace again, the small, crackling flame flickered and flared for a moment.

  “From now on,” Lillian declared, speaking for the first time in several minutes, “no matter what time it is or what you think we might be doing, whenever one of us is attacked in any way, we need to call at least one other person in this family. This is as much to check in and let the rest of us know what’s going on as it is to make sure everyone is accounted for.”

  “Your mother’s right,” Christopher agreed somberly. “We’re still not playing it safe enough.”

  One by one, the children nodded their agreement. Their father’s words were obviously true—there was no point in trying to argue.

  “And absolutely no skipping family dinners,” Lillian added pointedly. “In fact, Blake, why don’t you bring Brooke over this weekend?”

  Blake tried not to feel particularly flustered by the idea of bringing his girlfriend home for dinner so early in their relationship, and he failed spectacularly. “I’ll invite her.”

  Dean smirked, seemingly forgetting his anger for the moment. “How’d the rest of your date go?”

  “Oh no!” Angela interrupted quickly, launching to her feet. “If the family meeting’s over, I’m going upstairs. I don’t need to hear this!”

  Even as Angela darted to the stairs, and Nate chuckled, Blake shook his head and said, “Not the way you’re thinking, obviously. But it went fine, given the circumstances.”

  “So when are you seeing her again?” Nate asked, joining in on Dean’s fun.

  “This afternoon, when I pick her up from work,” Blake replied, his voice slightly firmer than he’d expected.

  “Okay, boys,” Christopher interrupted with a laugh. “Leave your brother alone. You don’t want him turning the tables on you someday, do you?”

  “Ah, come on,” Nate returned with a mock-whine. “How often do we get to pick on Blake?”

  Blake pushed to his feet. “Not nearly as often as I get to pick on you.” Switching his focus to his parents, he added, “I’m going to go. But I’ll ask Brooke if she wants to come to dinner Saturday.”

  “Be careful,” Lillian called as he started down the hall.

  Blake kept his sigh to himself until he was safely seated in his car. As it slipped free, he leaned back and let his head fall against the headrest. It really didn’t make any sense. They really should have noticed if someone was following them. But, what, did they just happen to be walking down that gravel road last night? Or by the creek when Angela was walking home? And that wouldn’t explain the incident at Brooke’s apartment at all. In his mind, there was no way this was all coincidence.

  Muscles tense, Blake reached up and started the car. As he gripped the steering wheel, his mind still going over what little they knew, he cursed under his breath. They needed to figure this out, and put an end to it, before one of them really got hurt. And before anyone else got dragged into it unnecessarily. In the meantime, he could only hope he’d be able to keep Brooke out of danger.

  ****

  “So, is it true?” Clarabelle Buchannon asked in an uncharacteristically conspiratorial tone after Brooke had taken her order. She leaned forward just slightly, letting her elbows rest on the table.

  Brooke lifted a curious eyebrow. “You’ll have to be more specific, Clare.”

  “About Ed,” Clarabelle elaborated quietly. “I heard that yesterday, he just stormed out of here and no one knows why. And then, about an hour ago, I heard someone saw a U-Haul in his driveway.”

  Brooke’s eyes widened. “The part about yesterday is definitely true,” she replied. “I was here when it happened, and it was incredibly awkward. But I haven’t heard anything else.”

  Clarabelle sat back, her fingers absently drumming along the table. “That’s so strange. I hope something’s not wrong with him.”

  “Yeah,” Brooke agreed. She might not have approved of his outrageous exit, but she certainly didn’t wish the man any ill. And then an idea struck her, inspired by the lingering twist in her gut, and Brooke shifted ever so slightly and lowered her voice. “Hey, Clare, can I ask you an odd question?”

  It was Clarabelle’s turn to arch a slim eyebrow, but she nodded anyway. “Of course.”

  Gesturing as subtly as possible to the corner booth a little behind her, Brooke asked, “See that man over there? Do you happen to know who he is?”

  Clarabelle’s eyes flicked past Brooke for a long moment, and her lips curved into a frown before she looked back and slowly shook her head. “No, I don’t know anything about him. But I’ve seen him around town, just here and there, for probably about a month.” She paused, lowering her voice even more, and looked away with an almost guilty expression. “Truthfully, he gives me the creeps.”

  Brooke was glad to hear it wasn’t just her, but at the same time she was concerned. Clarabelle was the town sweetheart; she loved everybody. And even she was freaked out by the man currently sitting in the back booth. The same man that had given Brooke such a funny look at the beach only a handful of days ago.

  Looking back up, Clarabelle asked, “Why?”

  “I’ve seen him around a little, too, and I feel the same way. I guess I’m just curious is all.”

  With a natural smile, Clarabelle said, “Well, if I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

  Brooke nodded. “We have a deal, Ms. Buchannon. I’ll be back with your drink in a minute.” Brooke turned, still keeping her back to the man’s booth, and made her way to the drink station.

  Georgia followed her in almost immediately. “Did you notice? That weird guy who was with Emma before is back,” she said in a hushed voice.

  Brooke did her best to suppress an almost sarcastic smile. “Yeah, I noticed. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad he’s at your table and not mine.”

  Now standing directly beside her at the station, Georgia said, “That’s the weirdest part. Shelly said he specifically asked not to be seated with you.”

  Her hand halfway to the straws, Brooke paused. She turned her head toward her friend in a reflexive effort to hear her better. “What? Why would he do that? He only sat with me the one time, and I’m sure I was perfectly fine.”

  Georgia shrugged. “Apparently, he didn’t say anything else. But it is kind of weird. Have you run into him since?”

  The day at the beach immediately flashed through her mind, and Brooke had to repress a shiver. “That depends on your definition,” she replied carefully. “We saw each other at the beach early last week, before St. Patrick’s Day. But we didn’t talk or anything.”

  “I take back what I just said,” Georgia declared as the ice clinked into her glass. “It’s really weird.”

  “Tell me about it,” Brooke said on a sigh. She set Clarabelle’s drink on the tray and stepped back. “Good luck,” she added before she turned and walked back into the dining area.

  Brooke did her best to keep her back to the mysterious man in the corner booth while he was there. He stayed for a while, though no one ever joined him. He was there for nearly thirty minutes longer than Clarabelle. And when he finally made his way to the exit, he brushed past Brooke, bumping into her as she was jotting down an order.

  Reflexively—and without realizing who had bumped into her—Brooke took
a small step forward, trying to move out of the person’s way, and said, “I’m sorry, excuse me.” Her head turned as she spoke, and the man paused for a beat after he was past her.

  When their eyes met, something strange flashed through his dark, haunting gaze. And then he turned his head forward and continued on, not saying a word. He barely paused to set down exact change at the register before sweeping out the door.

  The look in his eyes haunted Brooke for the entire rest of her shift, and by the time Blake arrived to pick her up she felt like she was in need of much more than a scalding shower.

  “Hey,” Blake greeted as she ducked easily into the car. “How was work?”

  “I feel like my answer to that is not what it should be,” Brooke admitted as she buckled herself in and he pulled away from the curb.

  “What do you mean? Did something happen?”

  “Technically, no. I had good tables, no one made any type of a scene, and Paula swears we’ll survive losing Ed. So, when you look at it that way, it was a good day at work.”

  Frowning now, Blake said, “But something did happen that bothered you.”

  Her eyes followed the buildings and trees that passed as he drove toward her apartment. “Do you remember that guy I told you about? The one from the beach?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He came in again today. Apparently, he asked specifically not to be seated with me. Plus he stayed way too long for a guy eating lunch alone. But what bothered me most was when he left. He bumped into me—which, looking back, had to have been deliberate—and when he looked at me…” She paused, shivering faintly, before she said, “There was something in his eyes. Something dark, and definitely not nice.”

  Blake’s grip tightened on his steering wheel as she talked. Brooke could only assume he was thinking the same thing she’d been thinking for the past few hours—that this stranger was somehow related to what was happening. Whether he was directly responsible or working with the responsible party, they had no way to know. Though, Brooke supposed, she had to consider the possibility that the man was simply an anti-social jerk.