The Only One (Sweetbriar Cove Book 3)

by Melody Grace

  Lila looked impressed. “That’s a lot of trouble. Did Meredith explain we haven’t committed to anywhere just yet?”

  “She did.” Brooke smiled. “That’s why I’m going to do my best to convince you it should be right here. Shall we go inside?” she said, gesturing to the doors. “I have champagne and cake samples waiting.”

  Lila brightened. “Now there’s an offer we can’t refuse.”

  Brooke led them inside, explaining about the hotel facilities and the different options for the big day. “I like to use the formal salon here for the bridal party,” she said, showing them the space, which had been filled with more fresh flowers, candles, and décor in Lila’s favorite shade.

  “Lilacs,” she gasped. “They’re my favorite.”

  “I also read in an article that you love to read,” Brooke continued. “So I took the liberty of finding some vintage books to use as decoration. We could use classic fairytales as themes for each table, and there’s even a local artist who can sculpt the pages into centerpieces.”

  She opened the grand double doors out onto the back patio. “And here we are for the main event.”

  She stood aside, watching as Lila stepped out—and immediately reached to clutch her fiancé’s hand. “Oh my God, look. It’s perfect!” she breathed.

  Brooke had to admit, she’d outdone herself. She’d set up rows of white chairs leading down the lawn and a wedding arch strewn with fresh flowers and ribbons. It stood, fluttering in the breeze, overlooking the most picture-perfect ocean scene she could imagine. There wasn’t even a cloud in the sky—even the weather was on her side.

  Lila turned back, her face lit up with excitement. “It’s perfect. This is it.”

  “Are you sure?” Meredith interrupted. “We have two other appointments—”

  “I’m certain.” Lila cut her off. “This is where I want to get married.” She looked happily at Justin. “What do you think, babe?”

  “I think whatever you want is fine with me.”

  Brooke tried to keep her excitement in check. Wild celebration wasn’t exactly professional, so she kept it to a smile. “And you haven’t even tasted the cake yet,” she joked. Lila laughed, but Meredith’s head snapped up.

  “About that. We’re going to have to talk about the menus,” she started, flipping open that file of hers as Lila and Justin drifted off to look at the view. “Gluten-free is a must, and we need vegan options as well. Also, I’m going to need three other décor proposals, as well as the floral samples and music.”

  Brooke paused. “But Lila said she loved this design—”

  “Lila isn’t the one planning this wedding.” Meredith gave a brisk smile. “Justin’s mother, Bitsy, is in charge, and she’s a woman with very particular taste.”

  “Of course.” Brooke wasn’t deterred. She was used to mothers—and fathers—of the bride weighing in with their opinions. “I’ll be happy to sit down with her any time.”

  “It’ll have to be soon,” Meredith reminded her. “We’re on a deadline here. The wedding will be taking place in three weeks’ time.”

  Brooke swallowed hard. Three weeks to plan the wedding of the year? That was asking a lot, even for her. “No problem!” she exclaimed brightly. “We’ve got it all under control.”

  Meredith and the happy couple departed, leaving Brooke alone. She looked around the lobby, realizing just what a massive job this was going to be. Never mind rebooking everyone who already had reservations for that weekend; she still had to source, select, and deliver a wedding fit for Hollywood—and Washington, DC—royalty, with zero time to spare. Some people would spend a year planning for an event like this, but she had less than a month.

  Stop. Brooke managed to get a grip before she could spiral into stress and panic. She would have it under control. She always did.

  Her phone buzzed.

  Want to grab a drink? I know the owner, I could hook you up.

  Brooke smiled.

  Maybe later, she texted back, wanting to play it cool, but as she checked her schedule for the rest of the day, her thoughts returned to Riley. A drink sounded like fun, and besides, she should toast the win while she still had a free moment in her day.

  She deserved to celebrate.

  9

  M aybe later . . .

  Riley stared at his cellphone, trying to read between the lines of Brooke’s text. They’d been sending messages back and forth all week, just casual notes, but Riley would never admit just how much time and thought went into composing those brief messages.

  Promises, promises, he typed back, then paused. What was the deal with these emojis, anyway? He’d spent years developing cutting edge apps and programs, but when it came to the finer points of technology, Riley came up blank. He was too old for this.

  “Hot date?”

  His head snapped up. His buddy Cooper was sitting at the bar, a quizzical eyebrow raised.

  “None of your business,” Riley replied good-naturedly, then shoved his phone deep in his pocket. “Isn’t it kind of early for you?” he asked, strolling over. Cooper was usually on his construction sites until late, working to restore the historical homes on the cape.

  “I’m on vacation,” Cooper replied.

  Riley snorted. “You?”

  “I know.” Cooper smiled. “I’m between projects right now, so Poppy suggested we both take some time to enjoy the summer. Right before her editor sent back notes on her new book,” he added wryly. “So now she’s chained to her laptop and sent me packing. Apparently, my mere presence is distracting.”

  “Well, you’re welcome to seek refuge here.” Riley poured him a pint of beer and slid it across the bar.

  Cooper took a sip. It was peak season, so even in the afternoon, there were some tourists enjoying a late lunch, and a group of women in the corner taking advantage of the happy hour deal on local wines. “You ever think about doing something with this place?” Cooper asked.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know,” Cooper mused. “A restaurant, some theme nights . . . The crowds here in summer would jump for that stuff.”

  “I don’t need any bells and whistles to get their business.” Riley leaned back against the bar. “Is this your way of telling me you want karaoke nights to become a regular thing? Because that mic is yours anytime you want.”

  Cooper gave him a look. “No thanks. I guess I’m just wondering if you ever want to try something different,” he asked thoughtfully. “I mean, you can run this place in your sleep.”

  “Which leaves me more time for extra-curricular activities,” Riley pointed out. Cooper was still waiting, so he shrugged. “Why make life more complicated than it needs to be? Work so hard, I need two weeks in the summer to call vacation?” he asked. “Thanks, but I prefer my whole life to be a vacation.”

  “You don’t get bored?”

  Riley smirked. “Bored of waking up at noon and making my own schedule? Sure, I’m just dying to get back to my morning commute.”

  Cooper chuckled. “Fair enough.” He checked his watch. “You think Poppy will be done with her chapter by now?”

  “Look at you, itching to get back home.” Riley was amused. He could remember the days when Cooper was a sworn a bachelor—before a certain romance author moved to town. “No more late nights and wild partying for you now.”

  Cooper gave him a look. “My partying days are long behind me. Thank God. I’d much rather spend the night at home, with a glass of wine and my woman.”

  “More fun left for me,” Riley quipped, but he had to admit that sounded pretty good to him too. Especially if the woman in question was a certain blonde events manager . . .

  A group of people came to the bar for drinks, and Riley went back to what passed as honest work for him these days. Pouring beers, chatting to his regulars, ringing up the sales—it was a long way from coding and software in Silicon Valley, that was for sure, but Riley had been out of the rat race so long now, his old life felt like a dream. Or
a bad nightmare.

  It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision to uproot and move out here. He was deep in the mess of the lawsuit when his brother insisted he get out of town. So, Riley flew to Boston on a whim and drove down the coast, trying to clear his head. A girl he’d met at the beach had invited him for drinks in Sweetbriar Cove one night, he’d seen the for-sale sign by the door, and—five whiskeys later—had written a check for the down payment. It made zero sense at all, but after the hammering he’d taken with lawyers and depositions, and the whole damn mess of his former company, Riley just knew that he needed a change. He’d spent ten years staring at computer screen; here, he picked up the phone to place orders and looked people in the eye to chat. He liked being a hub for the local community, seeing his friends every Friday night, and after a couple of years, Cooper was right: the place practically ran itself. He had a couple of assistant managers and a rotating parade of bartenders just passing through. He barely needed to think at all.

  Which was probably why he had so much time on his hands to think about Brooke, and wonder if he was kidding himself with this whole “just friends” thing. He had plenty of female friends: Mackenzie, Summer, and Poppy, for starters. He certainly didn’t want to do the kinds of things with them he was imagining doing to Brooke—

  “Hi.”

  Brooke appeared in front of him so fast, Riley had to pause for a moment to check he wasn’t still having an X-rated fantasy.

  Beside her, Larry from the hardware store burped and scratched his bald spot as he read the local newspaper.

  Nope. Definitely reality.

  “Hey.” Riley smiled at her, his day suddenly way better. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing much.” Brooke smiled back, looking effortlessly beautiful in one of her buttoned-up blouses with a skirt that hugged all her curves. Riley tried to drag his gaze away from her body.

  Friends don’t check out friends’ asses, he reminded himself sternly.

  “So, this is what you do all day.” Brooke looked around. “Holding court with all your buddies.”

  Even though Riley had just been boasting how easy he had it, he didn’t want Brooke thinking he was a total slacker. “It’s harder than it looks. Come on, you try it.” He gestured for Brooke to join him on the other side of the bar.

  She laughed. “For real?”

  “Sure. Let’s see how you handle the fast pace and high pressure of a job like this.”

  Brooke circled around, and came to stand beside him. “How was your day?” he asked, resisting the urge to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

  “Great.” She beamed wider. “I landed a massive pitch. It’s going to be total chaos, working around the clock to get it done.”

  “And that’s a good thing?” He was only half-kidding.

  Brooke laughed. “To me, yes. It’s a huge opportunity,” she explained. “And I love a challenge.”

  “Them be fighting words,” Riley cracked. He pulled down a fresh glass, and beckoned her closer. “Pete needs a pint of cider. Ready for your first lesson?”

  “Yes, sir,” Brooke said, a flirty edge in her voice.

  She leaned in, close enough for him to catch a breath of her perfume, something light and floral.

  Riley clenched his jaw. Damn, this was going to be an exercise in self-control.

  “Tilt the glass,” he instructed her, “and then pull the lever . . .”

  Brooke poured a perfect pint on her first try. “Harder than it looks?” she asked, smiling.

  “Beginner’s luck,” he replied. “Try doing that on a busy Friday night, with six people waiting on their drinks.”

  “I take it back,” she said, placing the drink on the bar. “You’re a regular hero.”

  Riley chuckled. “They should put up a monument in the town square.”

  Another lock of hair fell in her eyes, and he couldn’t resist. His hand reached out of its own accord, and gently pushed it out of her face.

  Brooke blinked, her eyes locked on his.

  The world stilled.

  What was it about this woman that sent him from zero to totally distracted in just one breath? Riley had to hold onto the bar to keep from reaching for her—pulling her close to his body, the way he already knew she fit just right. Kissing her, the way he’d done that night in the alleyway, before he even knew how good it would be—

  The sound of smashing glass came from across the room. Brooke looked away, breaking the moment, and Riley felt a curious mix of relief and regret.

  “Duty calls,” he said, grabbing a dishcloth. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  BROOKE LIKED the view from behind the bar, she decided as she leaned back to take in the room. She was separate from the crowd, but a part of it too: the first stop for anyone stepping through the doors. And seeing Riley up close at work, it was clear he was the most popular guy in town. And not just because of his generous pours. He had a word or a joke for everyone, asking about their family and work and even their pets.

  “Mr. Freckles has a bad leg,” he explained, straight-faced, after an older woman spent ten minutes chatting about the vet visits before retreating to a table with her glass of lemonade. “We’re hoping he hangs in there until Pooch Day.”

  “Pooch Day? Brooke felt a long way from Chicago. She didn’t even know her neighbor’s names, let alone their pets’ medical problems. “Do I even want to ask?”

  “Probably not.” He grinned. “Just look for the dog show.”

  Brooke caught her breath. That man’s smile should be illegal—or come with a warning, at the very least. Danger: accelerated heart rate up ahead. May cause shortness of breath, dizziness, and public swooning.

  “You know everyone and everything about this town, huh?” She’d thought Riley was just a natural flirt, but now she could see his easy charm actually came in useful and made everyone feel at home.

  “Pretty much. This town likes to gossip,” he added, with a warning look. “And most of it passes through my doors.”

  “I imagine you give them plenty to talk about,” Brooke teased.

  “I’m a perfect gentleman,” Riley protested, giving her a virtuous look.

  She didn’t buy it for a minute.

  The doors opened and a group of women entered. It was the coeds; she remembered them from karaoke night, now looking fresh from the beach in bikinis and cover-ups. “Hi Riley!” they chorused, waving at him.

  “Ladies.” He flashed that same smile at them all, and Brooke’s heart sank a little. Of course it wasn’t just for her. “Another hard day tanning?”

  They giggled. “We’re on vacation.”

  “We’re allowed to take it easy.”

  “Of course you are,” Riley agreed. “Go, sit, take a load off. I’ll come get your orders in a sec.”

  “You’re the best.” One of the girls, a tanned blonde who couldn’t have been more than twenty, gave him a flirty wink. She sashayed away, her cut-off jeans riding high over her long, twenty-year-old thighs.

  Brooke had never felt frumpier. Why hadn’t she changed after work? She probably looked like that girl’s maiden aunt, all buttoned up in her jacket and silk top.

  “You OK hanging here?” Riley asked her, as he pulled out an order pad. “You want something to eat? I can have my guy rustle you up some killer tacos.”

  Brooke shook her head. “I’m good.”

  She watched him walk over to the group—and be greeted with adoring smiles. But who could blame them? They tossed their hair, flirting up a storm, and Riley . . . Well, Riley flirted right back.

  Brooke felt a twist of disappointment.

  She shouldn’t be envious of some kids barely out of high school, but she couldn’t help it. Watching him turn on the same easy charm he’d just been shining at her, it reminded her that her first impression had been right. Riley was still a player, through and through.

  Brooke tried to shake off the little voice whispering in her mind. She had no right to be jealous, she was the one who’
d told him she only wanted to be friends. Riley was free to flirt with whomever he wanted.

  But she didn’t have to stand around and watch.

  She grabbed her purse and rounded the bar.

  “Hey,” Riley called after her as she headed for the door. He crossed the bar. “Heading out already?” He looked confused, and Brooke pasted on a smile.

  “I need to get started on work,” she said.

  “On a Friday night?”

  “Like I said, I’m on a deadline. Anyway, you don’t need me getting in the way here,” she added brightly. “I’ll see you around.”

  BACK AT HER APARTMENT, Brooke turned on some music and spent the evening planning a day-by-day schedule leading up to the big day. Riley was right, she thought ruefully, she sure knew how to party, but with Meredith already filling her inbox with notes and instructions, there was no time to delay. Flowers, music . . . she made lists for her lists, color-coded and filed away under a dozen different tabs, until the plans were practically a work of art.

  It was midnight before she finally set her laptop aside. She put on her PJs, drank her sleepy-time tea, and put on the soothing whale sound playlist that people online swore sent them straight to sleep. Then she lay in bed feeling wide awake, with her mind buzzing.

  It happened almost every night now.

  Brooke sighed, kicking off her sheets. She used to love sleeping, savor collapsing into bed and drifting off after a long day at the hotel. But now, sleep taunted her, always just out of reach. She’d tried everything: from herbal remedies to soothing baths to new-age meditation. Her doctor had even prescribed some sleeping pills, but they just left her feeling like a zombie the next day, and with so much depending on her at work, she preferred feeling exhausted to missing some crucial detail that would spoil a guest’s important day.

  Another sleepless night it was then.

  Brooke was just thinking about grabbing her laptop again, when her phone lit up with a text.

  You up?

  It was Riley.

  Afraid so, she texted back, and was surprised when her phone rang a moment later.