by Melody Grace
“Sure, I guess.” Brooke shrugged and glanced away, hoping that her jolt of lust wasn’t written all over her face.
“So what did I miss?” Riley looked between them. “If you were singing my praises, please, don’t let me interrupt. Go right ahead.”
Summer snorted. “Find one of your coeds if you want constant adoration. Us grown women have better things to do.”
“Grown?” Riley teased. “I just saw a funfetti cake with milk shooters out back.”
Summer just laughed. “You’re never too old for funfetti.” She looked past them and winced. “I better go save Grayson from my mom. Here, have fun!”
She thrust her tray of cupcakes at Riley and took off, leaving Brooke alone with him.
“You made it, then,” Riley said, depositing the tray on a table before turning back to Brooke.
Was it just her, or did his voice drop, intimate? Suddenly, the alcove they were standing in felt like a separate room; away from the crowd, and close enough to touch.
“I made it,” she agreed, searching for something to say. “How’s the bar?”
Dumb.
“Fine,” Riley said, clearly amused at her terrible excuse for small talk. “How’s the hotel?”
“Fine.”
Brooke wracked her brain, feeling awkward as hell. What happened to the casual, flirty Brooke that she’d been earlier, bantering with him at the bar the first night they’d met?
That woman was long gone, and she knew exactly the moment for the switch. One kiss, all-out, and she waved goodbye to poise for good.
“It’s a great party,” she said eventually. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“No problem.” Riley reached out his hand to her face, and Brooke flinched back, startled. “Sorry.” Riley grinned. “But you’ve got some frosting . . . there.”
He touched his thumb to the corner of her mouth, then brought it to his lips. He licked it slowly, his eyes not leaving hers, and damn, if the heat there didn’t melt Brooke from the inside out.
How was this man so sexy?
“Bathroom?” she blurted, flushing hotly.
“Down the hall.” Riley nodded in the right direction.
“OK!”
Brooke turned and fled before she could do anything stupid, like yank that irresistible mouth down to hers for another kiss.
BROOKE STAYED at the party another hour, meeting Sweetbriar locals—and giving Riley a wide berth. As long as there was a crowd of people between them, she was fine, so she threw herself into having a good time, getting all the local recommendations, and even some invites too.
“She has to come to book club, doesn’t she have to come to book club?” Summer’s friend, Poppy, insisted, after they got talking about a shared love for beach reads.
Mackenzie—a local potter—grinned. “Definitely. We meet in a couple of weeks,” she told Brooke. “Bring a bottle and something sweet.”
“I don’t know if I have time to read anything right now . . .” Brooke said regretfully.
Mackenzie laughed. “Neither do we. It’s just an excuse to get together and gossip,” she confided. “Poppy’s going to read us the dirty bits from her next book.”
“Am not!” Poppy protested. Her wine splashed. “Sorry, did I get you?”
“No, I’m good.” Brooke checked her blouse. “And I’d love to come, thanks.”
“I’ll send you the info, or just get your number from Riley,” Mackenzie said casually.
“He doesn’t have it.”
“Oh?” Mackenzie quirked an eyebrow. “OK.”
Brooke caught a glance between her and Poppy. “We’re not . . . I mean, we’re not seeing each other. I don’t really know him,” she hurried to explain.
Aside from the whole “life-changing kiss” thing, that was.
“Sorry, my mistake.” Mac smiled. “I can’t keep up with him these days.”
“That’s not to say he’s some kind of playboy,” Poppy added quickly, giving Mac a nudge. “Riley’s great. A really good guy.”
Mac nodded. “He’s just . . . friendly, is all.”
Brooke was amused. “It’s OK, I know his type. I mean, you don’t look like that and live like a monk,” she said, and they laughed, looking relieved.
“We love him, but yes, he’s pretty popular,” Poppy said.
“And by popular, she means the hottest bachelor on the cape,” Mac agreed.
They all turned to look at Riley, who was currently surrounded by three gorgeous women. He caught them staring, and looked puzzled for a moment, before sending a wave and a wink.
They all laughed again.
Brooke relaxed. So Riley’s charm was legendary—she should have guessed. Which meant there was nothing special about their little rendezvous, and she didn’t need to tie herself up in knots speculating about it anymore.
She checked the time. It was getting late, and she wanted to be up early tomorrow to start planning her pitch. “I should get going,” she said reluctantly. “I have work in the morning.”
“Aww, well take some cake with you for the road,” Mac suggested. “And drop by my studio sometime.”
“I go there whenever I’m having a bad day,” Poppy agreed. “Just smash some pottery, and everything feels better again. It’s the perfect stress-reliever.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Brooke smiled.
She said her goodbyes, then headed out, driving back up the coastline, now shadowed in the dark. She rolled the windows down and took a deep breath of the sea air, feeling happier and lighter than she had in a long time.
Moving all this way, starting fresh—she’d been so focused on her job and everything she was trying to leave behind, Brooke hadn’t thought much about the life she could build to replace it. But tonight, for the first time, she saw all the good things that could come from life in Sweetbriar Cove, things that had nothing to do with putting space between her and her heartbreak. Friendship, a sense of community, the slower pace of life . . . Maybe she would even find some of that work-life balance she’d heard so much about, although, she wasn’t betting on anything.
Brooke smiled, thinking of all the new people she’d met and invitations she’d received. Things were turning around for her, she could just feel it. But she wasn’t even a mile outside Sweetbriar when she heard a splutter coming from the engine. She’d spoken too soon.
“No,” Brooke groaned. Her trusty old Honda was pushing 200K on the speedometer, but it hadn’t let her down yet. “Just a little further,” she pleaded, listening to the rough grinding noise. “You can do it.”
But it couldn’t.
The engine gave one more cough of protest, then gave up the ghost. Brooke was just able to steer over to the side of the road before it cut out completely, and her car came to a lurching stop.
Brooke’s heart sank. If she was back in the city, she would have just called triple-A and booked a cab to ride home, but she was pretty sure those options weren’t around this late in Sweetbriar Cove.
She got out of the car, and used the light on her phone to try and peer under the hood. But who was she kidding? She could change a flat and refill her wiper fluid, but that was about the most of her auto skills. She checked her call list, wondering if she could get one of the assistant managers to come pick her up. Then she saw her cell reception.
Zero bars. No reception.
A cricket sounded in the woods nearby, and the road lay dark, not even another house in sight.
Brooke felt a shiver of unease, but before she could head into full-on panic mode, a pair of headlights came around the bend.
Relief flooded through her. Brooke leapt out into the road and started waving. “Hey!” she called, as the Jeep drew closer. “Hey, over here!”
The vehicle slowed and came to a stop beside her.
“What seems to be the problem, little missy?”
The familiar drawl stopped her in her tracks.
It was Riley. Of course it was.
7
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br /> Riley leaned out the window and thanked the gods of welcome coincidence. He’d been wondering where Brooke had slipped off to at the party, and now here she was, waiting on the side of the road in those ridiculous strappy sandals. “Flat tire?” he asked.
“My engine died,” she said, looking reluctant.
“I’m not surprised.” Riley got out and strolled over. He took in the peeling blue paint and whistled. “This thing is a zombie, how is it even running?”
“Hey!” Brooke protested. “I’ve had this car since I was sixteen.”
“And this is the universe’s way of telling you it’s time for an upgrade.” Riley went around and looked under the hood.
“What’s the problem?” Brooke trailed him. “Can you fix it?”
“Me?” Riley grinned as he slammed the hood shut. “You probably know more than I do about engines,” he said, “but I do have the local repair shop’s number, if you need.”
“Thank you.” Brooke looked relieved. “Can you please call? I don’t have any reception on my phone.”
“Sure. Tomorrow,” Riley added. “I saw Bill back at the party, and he’s in no state to drive. Come on,” he said, beckoning. “I’ll give you a ride.”
Brooke took a look around at the dark and empty woods, then grabbed her bag and locked up. “Thank you,” she said, climbing into the passenger side. “I don’t know how long I would have been standing there if you hadn’t come along.”
Probably only a couple of minutes, until the rest of the party guests started heading home, but Riley wasn’t about to wreck his white knight moment.
He started the engine. “Where are we heading?”
“Just up past Wellfleet.”
“That’s not far,” he said, “you could have walked it.”
“In these?” Brooke stretched her leg, displaying a wedge sandal with ribbons crisscrossing her calves.
Damn, they were some sexy shoes. “Don’t you wriggle your toes at me,” he teased. “A man could get the wrong idea.”
Brooke snorted. “Sure, because my bunions are so sexy.”
“I don’t know about that.” Riley smirked. “There are all kinds of internet groups just dying for some close-up shots.”
“Eww!” Brooke laughed. “That’s disgusting.”
“I dated a girl once who had a thing about my ankles,” Riley confided, glancing over. “I don’t know what it was, but the girl went crazy when I wore flip-flops.”
Brooke was still laughing. “This guy I knew in college was obsessed with knees. Not anything kinky, just, women’s knees. I found him in the library once, hiding under a table to stare.”
“Humankind is a rich tapestry,” Riley proclaimed. “What about you? What’s your fetish?” He glanced over and waggled his eyebrows, only half-teasing. He already knew Brooke wasn’t half so buttoned up as she seemed, and he wondered what other wanton secrets she was hiding under her polished surface.
“Hmmm,” Brooke mused. “There is one thing . . . But no, I can’t tell you that.”
“Go on!” he urged her. “I won’t tell. Scout’s honor, I swear.”
“Something tells me the only merit badges you got were for flirting and teasing girls.”
“And navigation,” Riley said proudly. “I can find my way out of the woods with just a compass and a pencil. But don’t change the subject. You can’t tease a guy like that and leave him begging for more. What is it, hairy guys? Tattoos? Whips and chains? It’s always the quiet ones,” he added with a smirk.
“Well, OK . . .” Brooke seemed reluctant, and it only made his curiosity burn stronger. “It’s weird, I know, but one thing just drives me crazy . . . I can’t seem to control myself around . . .”
Riley leaned closer in anticipation.
“ . . . Competence.”
“What?” Riley blinked.
“Nothing sexier.” Brooke fanned herself. “Someone with skills and efficiency? Ooh baby. Gets me hot under the collar every time.”
Riley chuckled, and shook his head. “You’re an odd one, Brooke Delancey.”
“Why thank you.” She grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She glanced out the window and pointed to a gate up ahead. “This is me,” she said, and Riley pulled over. “Thanks for the ride,” Brooke said, getting out. “I really appreciate it.”
“No problem.” Riley got out too. He caught her look. “Hey, I’m a gentleman. I know to walk a lady to her door. You never know what’s lurking in the bushes,” he added, opening the gate for her.
“Probably just the neighbor’s cat.” Brooke climbed the stairs to her apartment ahead of him, while Riley thought fast for an excuse to stay. Not because he still held out any hopes of seduction, but because somehow, he’d had more fun just talking with her on the ride over than he had all night.
“Do you want to stay for a drink?” Brooke asked suddenly. “Just a drink,” she added quickly, and Riley tried not to jump over himself to reply.
“Sure,” he agreed casually, and he followed her inside. He stopped just inside the doorway and looked around the room. A table, a couch . . . and not much else. “Wow. Either you’re big on the whole ‘minimal design’ thing, or you just got robbed.”
“Don’t.” Brooke sighed. She flipped on the lights, and headed for the small kitchen area. “Believe it or not, this is me unpacked. I think there’s some whiskey in a cabinet somewhere . . .”
“Actually, some tea would be great.” Riley looked over. “I’m not much of a drinker.”
“But you run a bar.”
“And the profits stay in the register this way,” Riley said.
“Coming right up.” Brooke set the tea kettle on the stove, setting out two mugs and an array of herbal teas on the counter. “I’ve got chamomile, peppermint, rosehip, rooibos . . .”
“What are you, the neighborhood dealer?” Riley chuckled, coming closer.
“I have trouble sleeping sometimes,” Brooke explained. “It’s been better since I moved here, but some nights I just can’t get settled. I usually give up around two a.m. and get some work done instead.”
“That’s rough,” he said sympathetically. “I went through it a couple of years ago.”
“What cured it?” Brooke asked.
“Three lawyers and a disappearing act,” Riley answered wryly, then caught her curious look. “Long story. Don’t worry, I’m not a fugitive or anything.”
“I figured. You couldn’t stay under the radar to save your life,” Brooke teased. The kettle began to whistle, so she poured it into their mugs and looked around. “Let’s sit outside,” she proposed brightly. “It’s so warm out.”
Riley followed her back outside and down the stairs to the courtyard. There were a couple of patio chairs set up by a table, with a string of lanterns hanging nearby, casting them in a warm glow. Riley kicked back, relaxing, and took a sip of his tea. “Have you tried exercise?” he asked. “For the insomnia, I mean. I started running, could have trained for a marathon by the time I was through.”
Brooke shook her head. “Not yet. It’s only been a few months. I’m hoping it just goes away naturally now.”
She let out a sigh, wistful and weary, and Riley wondered what it was keeping her up all night. Something had happened back in Chicago, that much was clear, and he was guessing it had something to do with the bad breakup that had her swearing off all mankind. Still, he didn’t want to pry into anything painful, so he changed the subject. “How did you like the party?” he asked instead.
“It was fun.” Brooke smiled again. “Everyone’s so friendly.”
“Let me guess, they recruited you to book group.”
“And the carnival committee, and local restoration team, whatever that means.” She laughed. “And Mackenzie says I need to come learn pottery, too.”
“That sounds about right,” he chuckled, remembering the culture shock when he’d first moved to town. He was more used to flying solo, but he’d learned fast just to ro
ll with the endless events and town spirit. “Granted, all the festivities can get kind of suffocating sometimes, but when that happens, I just pull anchor and dock a little further out in the bay.”
Brooke looked delighted. “You live on a boat?”
“Most of the time. I have an apartment over the bar I use in winters,” he explained, “but I prefer to stay out on the water. No nosy neighbors.”
“No room for a woman to start leaving her stuff behind,” Brooke added perceptively.
Riley shrugged, feeling oddly self-conscious. “I prefer it this way. No baggage.”
“I wish it was so easy.” Brooke’s smile dimmed again. “I thought leaving everything behind would help, but sometimes baggage has a way of following you around.”
She gripped her mug with both hands and paused a moment, as if weighing something. “The breakup, in Chicago . . .” she said slowly. “He was married.”
He blinked. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that.
“This is the part where I say I didn’t know,” Brooke added, looking miserable. “I mean, he said they were getting a divorce, that the relationship had been dead for years . . .” She trailed off, and Riley could see it in her expression: the guilt and misery.
This was what she’d been beating herself up over? It was the oldest line in the book.
“It’s not your fault,” he told her gently, but she shook her head.
“No, it is. Because I did know. I knew enough, at least. He was married,” she repeated sadly, “and I should never have gone anywhere near him, not until the ink was dried and the papers were filed. So everything that came after . . . ? I deserved it.”
“Come on, you don’t believe that.” Riley frowned. “He’s the lying, cheating asshole, not you.”
Brooke gave him a weak smile. “I know. And I’m not making excuses for him, believe me. But I should have known better. I should been on my guard, or asked more questions, or something. But I was too in love with him to see the lie that was right in font of me.”
“So you’re human,” Riley said, hating to see her like this. He didn’t know her well yet; hell, he didn’t really know her at all, but he could tell that she wasn’t someone who took honesty lightly. Some people didn’t think twice before breaking up a relationship, but here Brooke was, months later, still blaming herself for her part in it.