by Holly Rayner
“But I like your place!” Blaine hopped up and down, tugging his pants up as he did so. “You have so many movies. And you have the popcorn kettle and the yellow blanket.”
“We could take any of that stuff over to your apartment,” Brooke pointed out. She dried her hands on the rag she kept by the sink and stepped out of the bathroom. “You’ve barely spent any time over there since you moved in. I mean, are you even unpacked yet?”
“Unpacking’s hard.” Blaine flopped down on the couch with his knees over the arm. “Why would I do that when I could just hang out here with you? Can we watch a movie tonight?”
She groaned and swatted his knee. “Pick one out. What if we take it over to your place and I help you unpack while we watch. That could be fun, right? I’d love to help you get the place set up, make it feel a little more like home.”
Blaine propped himself up on his elbows. “Are you just sick of having me around here all the time?”
“No, if it was that I’d just kick you out.” She grinned. “I just want a change of scenery.”
If she was being completely honest with herself, she also wanted the chance to dig in a little on the mystery of Blaine’s life. Maybe unpacking his few possessions with him would provide a clue as to why he’d come to Jasperville with so little. But it would also be nice to spend some time in his apartment after so many evenings in hers. It would feel more like he was opening up to her.
Brooke and Blaine were unofficially dating now. Nothing had been said aloud about it, but since their afternoon shooting in the woods they had spent every day together and ended each night with a kiss. But their physical relationship still hadn’t progressed, despite the fact that Brooke saw him naked at least three times a week. Based on what she’d seen, she was definitely ready to take the next step, but something seemed to be holding her back. Every time she felt on the verge of making a move, she would remember some secret of Blaine’s life, some little detail that didn’t quite add up, and hesitate.
It was silly. She didn’t know why she was so hung up on these details that, all things considered, didn’t matter very much. Who cared if he had a weird lack of stuff in his apartment, if he’d never invited her over. He’d told her stories about his childhood and shared his feelings about stepping away from his life in New York. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t letting her in.
So why did she feel so shut out?
As if to lend credence to the idea that she was imagining things, Blaine nodded. “I could definitely use the help,” he said, sitting up. “You’d be willing to do that with me?”
“Unpack? Of course. It’s not like you have all that much stuff anyway. In fact, we could do a whole redesign of the apartment for you. We could paint the walls, maybe swap out the fixtures for something a little nicer, get that gross wallpaper off in the kitchen…”
“Are we allowed to do all that stuff?” Blaine asked. “I mean, is it okay with the landlord?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s fine. I did all of that in here.” She gestured around. “This place was like a seventies train wreck when I moved in. I did everything in here that’s cool. I even retiled the backsplash.” She pointed it out. “I’m proud of that.”
“You could do that in my place?”
“Sure, it wasn’t that hard. We’ll do a whole renovation for you.”
Blaine got to his feet. “Okay, but let’s get started on that tomorrow. Sounds like a lot of work, and I’m too tired now.”
She shook her head. “Literally all you’ve done today is stand still while I sculpted you.”
“You try standing absolutely still for two hours. I bet you couldn’t do it.”
“I’ve modeled for life-drawing classes before,” she said, laughing. “You’re being dramatic.”
“Really? You’ve modeled naked? Would you do it for me?”
“Are you an artist?”
“I could be an artist.”
“Sure you could,” she grinned, grabbing his wrist and tugging him in for a kiss. “Tomorrow, then. Bright and early. Come over and I’ll take you to the hardware store, and we’ll get started turning that place into a home.”
8
Brooke
Brooke made her way up the apartment stairs, a can of paint in each hand. “At times like this, I really wish we had an elevator.”
Blaine jogged past her with his own cans of paint. “Keep up!”
“Show off,” she grumbled. She couldn’t really fault him, though. It had been clear at the hardware store that Blaine had never done any kind of home improvements before. He hadn’t known the difference between ball-peen hammers and claw hammers, what a stud finder was used for, or how to get paint mixed in the colors he’d selected. It made sense that he felt the need to show off a little after she’d so thoroughly one-upped him.
Blaine had chosen a sandy beige for three of his four walls. Brooke had recommended doing something more colorful with the fourth, just to incorporate a little variety, and they’d settled on navy blue. Up in his apartment, she laid out the drop cloths and began taping along the baseboards with painter’s tape.
Blaine pried at the paint can lid with his fingertips. “How do I get this open?”
“Here.” She popped the lid free with the hammer claw, poured some paint into a tray, and handed him a roller. “Why don’t you get started on this wall?”
“And I just roll out the paint on it?”
“Yup.” Brooke grabbed her own roller and began painting, and Blaine followed suit. Soon the wall was coated in an even layer of beige.
Brooke took up the hand brush, squatted low, and began to paint along the baseboard where the rollers couldn’t quite reach. Suddenly, she felt a drip of something cold and wet. She turned and looked up. There was Blaine, standing right above her, a mischievous look in his eye.
She raised her fingertips to her forehead, and they came away wet and tan. “Did you just drip paint on me?”
“Sorry.” Blaine shrugged. “Didn’t see you there.”
“Oh my God.” She wiped her wet fingers on his bare leg. “Look where you’re going next time!”
“Okay,” he agreed. He lifted his roller and shook it like a dog, splattering Brooke and the drop sheet around her with paint.
“Are you kidding me?” Brooke grabbed her paintbrush, dipped it in Blaine’s tray, and painted a stripe across the thigh of his shorts.
Laughing, Blaine pulled her up by one arm and pressed her back against the wet wall. Before he could pull away, Brooke grabbed him by the collar and hauled him close. She spun them around so it was Blaine pressed against the wall, leaned in, and pinned him with a kiss. All resistance left his body as he pulled her close, and Brooke lost track of whether her hands were on him or the wall.
The sound of Brooke’s phone ringing interjected itself into the moment, and she pulled back. The wall, which had been very neatly painted, was now smudged and messy. She and Blaine were both covered in beige paint. “I guess we’re doing that wall again,” she said ruefully.
“Worth it,” Blaine said, stripping off his shirt. “We’re going to have to throw these clothes out, too.”
“We’ll probably need showers. We could put up that new shower curtain…” She was falling back into him. With his shirt off, she didn’t stand a chance. She had seen him naked so many times, but today there was no clay to focus on, no professional boundary to keep in mind. There was just Blaine, sweaty and stripped to the waist, and…
“Are you going to get that?” he asked her, inclining his head toward the phone.
“Right.” Brooke dove for it and picked it up between two fingers, careful not to get paint on the screen. She held it an inch from her ear. “Hello?”
“Hi, honey!”
“Hi, Mom.” She met Blaine’s eyes.
“Are you coming down to Taste of the Town tonight? People have been asking after you. Your aunt Catherine organized the wine sampling, you know, and she’s really hoping you’ll be there.”
�
��That’s tonight?”
Brooke had completely lost track of the days. Taste of the Town was Jasperville’s big summer social event, held to benefit a different charitable cause each year. This year the money raised was going to build a playground for the children of Jasperville. Brooke’s aunt Catherine had two young grandchildren and had adopted the cause as her own.
“I’ll be there,” Brooke assured her mother, raising her eyebrows at Blaine. He shrugged, apparently game for anything. “I just need to shower and change first, okay?”
“Hurry down,” Brooke’s mother said. “You don’t want to miss the live band!”
Brooke hung up and tossed the phone on the table.
“What’s up?” Blaine asked.
“Want to go downtown for a bit?”
* * *
Showered and changed, Brooke and Blaine walked down Jasperville’s main street, pausing to step over the barricade that closed it off to traffic. “They just shut down the whole road for this?” Blaine asked.
“If people really need to get through, they can go around,” Brooke said. “Let’s go find Aunt Catherine and get some wine samples before they run out.”
“Brooke!”
Brooke turned toward the voice. Her high school best friend, Tana, was running toward her. She flung her arms around Brooke. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever! Where have you been?”
“Working, mostly,” Brooke said. “Lots of commissions lately.”
Tana took in Blaine, looking him up and down appraisingly. “Work, huh?”
“This is Blaine,” Brooke said, taking him by the arm. She knew Tana well enough to see the opening forays of flirtation, the bite of the lip and lowered eyes. Tana was definitely interested in Blaine. And Brooke couldn’t blame her, but she wasn’t about to let her best friend make a move. “He lives next door to me,” she explained, keeping one hand on Blaine. “We’re working on a project together.”
“That’s fun.” Tana, sensing Brooke’s claim, stepped back. “Good to meet you, Blaine. Maybe we could all go out for a drink sometime.”
Blaine nodded. “That would be fun.”
Brooke pulled him along to the tent where the wine tasting was set up. Aunt Catherine stood behind a table, pouring merlot into glasses. “Brooke! You made it!”
“Hi, Aunt Catherine.”
“Five dollars per person for the tasting.”
Brooke placed a ten in the fishbowl on her aunt’s table and took two wristbands. She fastened one around Blaine’s wrist and then held out her arm so he could do the same for her. “How’s it going so far? Making a lot of money?”
“It seems like everyone in town showed up.” Catherine looked at Blaine. “I don’t know this one.”
“This is my new neighbor, Blaine,” Brooke explained.
“Annie! Come over here!”
“No, Aunt Catherine, don’t—” But Brooke’s protestations were in vain. Her mother was already picking her way over to them through the crowd, glass of wine in hand. She embraced Brooke. “It’s so good that you came, sweetheart. I haven’t seen enough of you lately!”
“Well, I’ve been busy,” Brooke hedged.
“She brought this young man,” Catherine said. “What was your name, son?”
“Blaine. It’s very nice to meet you both.”
Annie accepted Blaine’s proffered hand and shook. “Are you and my daughter seeing each other?” she asked.
“Mom!” Brooke felt like she was going to die of embarrassment. She and Blaine hadn’t ever discussed that question. Could this possibly be any more awkward?
“What?” Annie said innocently. “It’s just a question.”
“Do you mind?” She turned to Blaine. “You don’t have to answer that.”
Blaine shrugged. “I don’t mind answering. Yes, we’ve been seeing each other for a couple weeks now, Mrs. Bailey.”
Brooke was floored. It seemed every time she thought Blaine had no surprises left in him, he managed to throw her for a loop. She had assumed, possibly based on experience with other men she’d dated, that the two of them had been avoiding putting a label on their relationship deliberately. She had thought that if she’d pressed the issue, he would grow uncomfortable and break things off. And that had been fine with her, in the short term. She had been enjoying her time with Blaine enough that if a short-term fling was all it turned out to be, that would still have been worth the time and energy.
But if Brooke was honest with herself, she had wanted a relationship. Every day she spent with Blaine, she caught herself liking him more and more. Every new thing she learned about him filled out her picture of who he was, and she was enraptured by it.
“You seem like a very nice young man,” Annie said. “What is it you do, Blaine?”
“I was in business in New York. I’m taking a little downtime right now,” he said easily. “Brooke has been showing me how to appreciate the simple things.”
“Oh really!”
“So far I’ve learned to cook eggs three ways, paint a living room, and drive a car thirty miles under the speed limit.” Brooke noticed he didn’t mention their shooting lesson, and she was grateful. There was no way he could have known that would be a touchy subject with her mother, but he had known hunting was a hobby that Brooke and her father had enjoyed. Perhaps he had intuited that Annie wouldn’t want to hear about her late husband’s treasured rifle collection.
“It sounds like you kids have been having a great time,” Catherine chimed in, handing around glasses of cabernet. “Cheers to you!”
“I should really go help the band get set up,” Annie said. “It was nice to meet you, Blaine.”
“It was nice to meet you, too. And if you need an extra hand, just say the word.” He grinned. “Or maybe that guy could help you?”
“What guy?” Brooke recognized the guilty look on her mother’s face.
“The one you keep looking at. He’s the one from your art shop, right, Brooke?”
Brooke followed Blaine’s gaze. “Oh my God, you’re right—that’s Ray! Mom, do you have a thing for Ray?”
Annie’s face was bright red. “I hardly know him, Brooke.”
“Sure you do! It’s Ray! You’ve known him since I was a kid.” Brooke had often worried about how she would react if her mother were to start dating again, and she was pleased to discover she had nothing but positive feelings about the idea. “You should definitely go for it.”
Later that evening, as the band played and the street filled with dancing people, Brooke watched Ray take her mother by the hand and lead her out into the crowd. She watched her mother dance, for the first time in years, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. And as Blaine took Brooke in his arms, dipped her, and pulled her close, Brooke felt that things couldn’t possibly be any better.
9
Brooke
The calendar told Brooke that today marked the one-month anniversary of the day she and Blaine had first met. It felt like it had been much longer. Spending every day together had given rise to a quick emotional intimacy between them, and Brooke now found herself wondering what she had done with all her free time before he’d arrived. She hadn’t been seeing her friends this regularly. Had it really been enough for her to sit alone at home working on her sculpting and rewatching old movies all the time?
Thank God Blaine had come into her life. He liked to make a big deal about how much she was teaching him, how his appreciation of Vermont had come through her, but Brooke felt she had gained just as much from being around him. She had a newfound confidence in herself. Everything she did, no matter how ordinary, Blaine seemed to regard as worthy of admiration.
The plan tonight was to hang out at his apartment, as they usually did. Blaine seemed to be compensating for the fact they’d spent so many of their early days together at her place, because now he always invited her to come to his. They had finished painting about a week ago and picked out some new furniture that was more to his taste. In addition, se
veral boxes had arrived—she supposed they’d been shipped from New York—and the shelves were now lined with books, movies, and knick-knacks that made the apartment look much more homey.
In preparation for the evening, Brooke had decided to dress up a little bit. So often they saw each other in clothes appropriate for hiking and other outdoorsy activities. Or, of course, there were the occasions when Brooke was in her grungy art clothes and Blaine was in the nude. Tonight, though, she put on her favorite summer sundress and a bit of makeup. It felt nice to be making the extra effort for someone. It had been a long time since she’d had the opportunity.
She knocked at his door at ten to seven, a little earlier than they had planned. “Hang on!” Blaine yelled from inside.
Brooke leaned back against the wall and waited. He probably wasn’t dressed yet. She shouldn’t have come over early. Of course, it was silly for the two of them to make a big deal about whether he was dressed in her presence—she’d seen him naked dozens of times now—but there was something different about it when they were off the clock. Brooke had worked hard to maintain her professionalism when she worked with Blaine, and after a few hiccups in the beginning of the process, she thought she’d done a pretty good job of it. It no longer fazed her when he stripped down before sculpting sessions.
The door opened. There he stood, hair neatly combed, in a nice polo shirt and designer jeans. She hadn’t seen him so well dressed in weeks. “You look nice,” she said, mildly surprised.
“So do you.” He grinned. “Great minds think alike.”
“I guess so! Maybe we should go out, since we’re all spruced up.”
“Nah,” Blaine said. “Let’s stay in.” And he pulled the door open wide.
Brooke gasped. The apartment had been transformed. Fairy lights hung from the ceiling and the sliding door leading out to the balcony. Blaine had moved a small table and two chairs outside. The table was draped with a white cloth, and a candle had been placed in the center and lit. The rest of the lights in the apartment were dimmed. As Brooke looked from the balcony to Blaine and back, she caught sight of the kitchen, where several covered pans sat on the counter. “What’s going on?”