Come Home to Me (A Brookside Romance Book 5)

by Abby Brooks

  I drag my beer closer to me and cross my legs. “I’m going to ignore that statement. And no. I’m not asking for money. I just thought you might like to know where I was, since it was kind of a dick move on my part to disappear without saying anything.”

  “Kind of a dick move, she says…” Colton sighs but I can hear the smile in his voice. Despite everything that’s happened between my family and me, he and I manage to stay close. I like to imagine he has a sense of what went wrong, even though I know for certain neither of my brothers knows the truth of what broke me. “Honestly, I’m really glad to hear from you. Believe it or not, people actually care about you around here.” He pauses. “Tessa says hi.”

  “Tell her I say hi back.” I clear my throat, the mention of my brother’s new bride planting fresh guilt in my already churning stomach. “Everyone good?”

  “You know how it is, things never change in Brookside. People are happy and healthy and living the dream. Mom’s been yelling at Dad because he keeps falling asleep all the time and she wants him—”

  I shift in my seat and tune out the rest of his sentence. The last thing I want to talk about is Dad. Not with all the history between us. Or rather, the lack of history, considering we haven’t spoken in years.

  I change the subject as soon as I can. “Look. I’m sorry I missed your wedding. It was a douchebag move and I’ll figure out a way to make it up to you.” I run a hand into my hair and wince as I graze the cut on my forehead. “I just wanted to let you know where I am, especially now that it looks like I’ll be here awhile.”

  “So you’re not asking for money?”

  “No. Colton. Damnit. I’m not asking for money. I thought you might want to know I’m alive. Silly me for thinking you might care.” I smile through my words, so he can hear I’m only teasing him in the same way he’s only teasing me.

  “Of course I care. That’s what I do. I care so much it hurts sometimes.” He pauses and I imagine the look on my brother’s face, all sarcasm and hilarity. “It’s just…this is you we’re talking about.”

  “You tell me the last time I called asking you for money and I’ll buy you a drink.”

  “How are you gonna buy me a drink when you’re halfway across the country?”

  “I won’t be halfway across the country forever. I’ll buy you a drink when I get home.” I lean in close to study my doodle before crumpling up the napkin and pushing it away. “Now, stop trying to distract me with technicalities. Honestly, when have I ever asked you for money?”

  There’s a long sigh on the other end of the line. “Fine. I don’t think you ever have. You might be a hot mess, but you’re a hot mess who can handle her shit.”

  “Uhh…thank you?”

  “You’re welcome.” Colton laughs and we chat for a few minutes before he has to go take care of something around the house.

  We say our goodbyes. I end the call, and then drop my phone on the bar before taking a long swig of my beer. My head throbs, but I ignore it as I wait for the alcohol and medication to hold hands and do their job.

  To help my hands stop shaking.

  My heart stop hurting.

  My soul stop screaming for answers I’ll never find.

  I clear my throat and take in my surroundings for the first time since I walked through the doors and sat down, anything to distract myself from the tragedy of thoughts and questions about to hit me in the face. The wooden bar gleams, and the bottles lining the shelf glitter in the lights hanging from the ceiling. The front wall is nothing but windows, and the other three are brick, covered in black and white photographs of people. Some laughing and smiling. Some looking pensive. All of them sitting in this very bar, a drink in hand.

  I know I shouldn’t be drinking this beer.

  Not with a head injury.

  Not after taking a pill.

  But I have more important things to worry about than getting a little too inebriated. Namely, Denver is expensive, my car is a mangled disaster, and my savings account isn’t healthy enough to pay for this unscheduled stop. As much as I don’t want to, it looks like I’m gonna have to pause on my journey to California and find a short-term job. Something to tide me over until I’ve built my savings up enough to pay for the repairs to Gerty and any other random emergencies that might pop up along the way.

  I finish my beer and order another when someone steps into my peripheral vision. “Hey there,” says a familiar voice, deep and soothing, the raspy timber enough to raise goosebumps down my spine.

  I turn to find the man who helped me after the accident. He smiles, helping himself to the stool beside me.

  “Wow.” I glance around the crowded bar and draw my eyebrows together. “Are you following me?”

  “What? No.” The man laughs and I can’t help but smile. “I’m here with people from work.” He gestures to a group clustered around a table behind him, all expensive suits, bold ties, and high heels. “I saw you walk in and just want to make sure you’re okay.” He glances at the bags propped against my stool but doesn’t say anything else.

  “Yeah. I’m fine. Thank you for your help this afternoon.” I offer a weak smile as I study his face. Dark-rimmed glasses cover dark eyes. Add in a pair of thick, dark eyebrows and this man should look heavy, severe, and intimidating as all hell. But the good-natured slant to his smile gives him a welcoming air and I feel oddly comfortable sitting next to him. An expensive suit and expertly styled hair offset the kind of dorky glasses perched on his nose. He has this whole geek chic thing going for him and I think I like it.

  He waves my words away. “Of course. Just the decent thing to do. Anyone else would have stopped.”

  “But no one else did.” A new song comes over the speakers, one that has me tapping my toe along with the rhythm.

  The group behind him erupts in laughter and he glances over his shoulder before folding his arms together and leaning on the bar. He indicates my bags with a flick of his finger. “Were you planning on staying in Denver or were you just passing through? Before the accident, I mean.”

  “I don’t really have much of a plan.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and wince as I graze the cut on my forehead. “The ultimate goal is to sit on a beach in California, but I’m taking the scenic route, spending time wherever something catches my attention. I had no plans to stop in Denver, but it looks like fate had a different idea for me.” I hear the tinge of sadness in my voice and hurry on, hopeful Frank didn’t hear it, too. “I set out to have an adventure,” I say with a breezy smile. “Wrecking my car in a strange city definitely counts as an adventure, don’t you think?” I take a drink of my beer, head injuries be damned.

  “Is it totaled? Your car?”

  “Probably, but I won’t know right away. The mechanic promised to look things over and give me a call, but I’m not holding my breath for good news.”

  The man bobs his head. “I’m Frank, by the way. In case you forgot. You were pretty rattled when I introduced myself this afternoon.” He holds out his hand and I take it with a nod. “Frank Wilde. I work in that building across the street.” He points to the giant conglomeration of glass and steel that inspired the doodle hiding in the balled-up napkin. Why do so many people think the second most important thing about who they are is what they do for a living?

  “Sarah Carmichael.” I release his hand as a woman from his group levels me with a glare that would reduce most women into quivering piles of apologies. Thankfully, I’m not most women. I lean in to Frank, all seductive smile and sultry voice. “Looks like your girlfriend isn’t happy with you over here talking to me.”

  He leans back, his jaw slack. “Who? Violet?”

  I laugh as I shake my head. “I don’t know. If that’s Violet—” I point at the angry brunette in the fitted dress “—then sure.”

  Frank glances over his shoulder and turns his focus back to me, annoyance flitting across his features. “No way. That is Bree and she is not my girlfriend. And for the record, neither is V
iolet.”

  “Whatever you say.” I give him a look that calls him a liar and take a sip of my beer.

  “She was.” Frank pushes his glasses up his nose. “But she’s not anymore.”

  “Who? Bree?”

  “Again. No way. Not once, not ever, not even a little bit. No matter how hard she tries to make it otherwise.”

  I laugh. “I see.”

  “I really don’t think you do. At least not the full extent of things.” He taps a finger on the bar in time with the music and another round of laughter catches his attention. “Anyway. I should be getting back. I don’t mean to bother you. Just wanted to stop by and make sure you’re okay. And since it sounds like you’re going to be in Denver for a while, let me give you my number. You call if you need anything.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” I hand him my phone and he types in his number. I swipe his and do the same, then lean close and breathe him in. “Want me to kiss you and drive poor Bree crazy?” I ask, while trying to ignore the fact that his cologne might now be my favorite scent in the world.

  Frank puts a hand on my knee. “You don’t have to drive her anywhere. She’s already there. Besides. I’d hate to bring the wrath of that woman down on you. Sounds like you have enough on your shoulders as it is.”

  He’s right. I do. But something tells me kissing Frank Wilde would be worth whatever wrath Bree has to throw my way.

  Frank

  Jason perches on the edge of my desk, choosing to ignore the papers he’s crumpling under his ass. The man is the most talented person I’ve ever met and manages to get a day’s worth of genius-level work done in just a couple hours, leaving him with too much spare time on his hands. “So, that chick at the bar yesterday…”

  “Yeah?” I look up from my computer as images of Sarah flit through my head. “What about her?”

  “Was she as hot up close as she was from far away?”

  She was. My God, she was. But that’s not all there is to Sarah. There’s something more to this woman. Something I can’t put my finger on. Something that makes every second I spend with her feel like the most important moment of my life.

  But Jason doesn’t need to know that. He’d only roll his eyes and say something along the lines of me finding my next all-encompassing obsession.

  So, I lean back in my chair and fold my hands behind my head. “Yup.” A small grin tugs at my lips and I adjust my glasses. “Although she might also be a hot mess, it’s hard to tell.”

  “Aren’t those the best kind?” Jason raises an eyebrow. “Daddy issues are man’s best friend, aren’t they?”

  I smirk and sit forward. “Why don’t you go see what Bree has to say on that subject?”

  Jason’s face falls. “Oh, shit man. Enough said. The girl from Derby’s is a Bree?”

  “Her name is Sarah and no, I don’t think she’s a Bree. She’s…”

  Damn.

  That’s a good question.

  What is she?

  I’ve thought about her enough that I should have it all figured out by now, but I don’t. She’s not like any person I’ve ever met before. She’s a breath of fresh air in a world filled with people trying to be a different version of the same damn thing.

  Sarah’s beautiful, no doubt. That so-dark-it’s-almost-black hair, styled in messy loops down her back. Those shapely legs encased in black jeans, ending in little boots. Perky breasts poking through a white T-shirt. All of that added up to something spectacular, but when you get right down to it, her eyes are what really caught my attention. That woman has unexplored depths in those icy blue eyes. There’s a challenge there and it calls to me. And when you add in her almost brazen confidence, her offer to kiss a stranger just to annoy a woman she’s never met…

  Jason slides off my desk and pretends to peruse the books I have on a shelf behind me. “Shit, Frank. You really do have a type, don’t you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I lift my glasses and pinch the bridge of my nose, wishing he’d go back to his own office and let me work.

  “It means, you like the projects. The damsel in distress. The underdog. Take Bree for example…”

  I swivel my chair around and rest my elbows on my knees. “That woman doesn’t count and you know it. Nothing happened between us other than the fact that she doesn’t understand boundaries.”

  “Okay, fine. Then what about Violet?” Jason slides a book off the shelf and flips through the pages.

  “What about her?” I give him a look like a warning shot. “And shouldn’t you be, oh, I don’t know, working?”

  Jason arches an eyebrow but doesn’t say a word.

  “Fine.” I sit back and smooth my tie into place. “Violet definitely had her challenges and thank God that’s over, but how does Sarah have anything in common with her?”

  “She might not.” Jason shrugs. “But I have ten bucks that says you’re going to find out.” He slips the book back into place and then shoves his hands in his pockets, his suitcoat flaring behind his wrists. “I should probably go pretend to work at my own desk before someone figures out I don’t have enough to do. Let me know how it goes with Sarah.”

  And with that, the asshole leaves, shaking his head as he chuckles his way down the hall. He’s right, of course. I had already decided to call Sarah and invite her to lunch before he invaded my office this morning. Although that whole thing about me having a type? He couldn’t be further from the truth.

  I pull out my phone and dial Sarah’s number.

  She answers on the second ring. “I was just thinking about you.” Her sultry voice sends a jolt through my system.

  “You were?” I spin my chair and stare through the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the city. It’s another gorgeous day with a striking blue sky that makes me think of Sarah’s eyes.

  “Yep,” she replies, popping the p. “Since you’re officially the only person in Denver I know, I was about to call you and see if you wanted the pleasure of alleviating my boredom.”

  A flock of birds flies past the window and for some reason, they remind me of Sarah, wild and free. “That’s funny. I was calling to see if you wanted the honor of alleviating my boredom. Meet me for lunch.”

  “So that’s a yes?”

  I smile, pleased with her response. “That’s a hell yes. Meet me at, say, twelve thirty? There’s a great steakhouse called Guard and Grace on California Street…”

  There’s a rustle on the other end of the line as she jots down the name. “It’s a date.”

  We say our goodbyes and I hang up feeling excited. We didn’t say much, hell, barely more than a few sentences, but there’s something between us and I can’t wait to find out what it is. I bury myself in work and head out of the office around noon, only to get stuck waiting on an elevator next to Violet, her chin dropped, a cardboard box filled with personal items in her hands.

  “I quit today.” She won’t make eye contact. “Didn’t even put in my two weeks notice, just told them I was done. And I definitely told them it was because of you.” Violet glances at me, her typically sweet face a tragedy of smudged eyeliner and red-rimmed eyes.

  Well great. That’s the last thing I need. I did my best to keep my fling with the receptionist quiet because, despite the weekly relationship building get-togethers at Derby’s, office romances are frowned upon. And while the Bree situation was obviously a miscommunication, Violet citing me as the reason she quit officially counts as two strikes against me.

  Though, when it comes right down to it, I’m pretty much invincible around here. I’m good at my job. Really good at my job. As a receptionist, Violet is replaceable. Me? Not so much. It’s a shitty truth, but it is a truth.

  “Vi…”

  She turns away. “I get it. It happens. I loved you but the feeling wasn’t mutual. You just shouldn’t have let things go so far. Especially since we worked together…” The elevator dings and she sniffs as she steps in, her pastel skirt flowing around her ankles.

&nbs
p; I cram my hands in my pockets and stare at my feet. Neither of us wants to spend time stuck side by side in the elevator, so I do us both a favor. “I’ll wait for the next one. I’m sorry, Vi. I really am.”

  The doors close between us and I almost sag with relief, then feel like a class-A dickhead for the response. Violet Dunham is a sweet girl who fell in love way too fast. I was a fool for letting things go as far as they did, but I kept hoping I’d fall for her in the same way she fell for me. Daddy issues aside, Vi’s a good person, the kind of woman my mother would approve of. Try as I might, it grew ever more obvious that there was nothing real between us. I called things off and it’s been a challenge—to put it lightly—trying to figure out how to work around her broken heart ever since. The thought of not having to see her sad face day after day is a good one to say the least.

  The elevator dings, the doors slide open, and I step inside. Now, if only I could figure out how to get rid of Bree Marshall, things around McDougall & Kent will be looking up for sure. With zero distractions and even less drama, I can dedicate myself to reminding everyone just how good I am at my job.

  Frank

  I find Sarah leaning against the outside of the restaurant, fiddling with her phone, a pair of aviators hiding most of her face from view.

  “Whatcha doing?” I ask as I step up beside her.

  She slides her sunglasses onto the top of her head and squints at me. “Looking for a more affordable place to stay while I’m stuck in this city. Looks like this place is going to break the bank.” She gestures toward the restaurant with her chin, a sly grin on her face.

  “Don’t be silly. Lunch is my treat.” I place a hand on her lower back and guide her toward the entrance. The scent of her perfume—something sweet and spicy and all too delicious—works its way into my nose and I breathe it in. “You look better than you did yesterday,” I say, after the hostess leads us to our table in the middle of the well-lit restaurant.