by Melody Grace
“I’m meeting with the bride-to-be to go over some of the options, so it’s going to be a long day for me.”
“That’s OK,” Riley said. “Call, text, show up naked at the boat whenever you like, I’m not fussy.”
Brooke grinned. “So I’ve got options, then?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “I support your choices. Like if you choose to wear more of that lingerie . . .”
She felt a glow of triumph. So, the new set had worked its magic then? She would have to thank Eliza’s sister sometime.
They reached the bakery, and Brooke pulled up outside. It was still early, but the place was bustling, and the scent of vanilla and sugar made her mouth water.
“Brooke!” She was greeted the moment she stepped through the door. Poppy, Summer, and Mackenzie were sitting at a table by the window with a spread of delicious-looking pastries and coffee between them.
“I was meaning to call you,” Poppy said. “We’re having a big Labor Day barbecue, and we’d love you to come.”
“That sounds great,” Brooke said. “I’ll be there.”
“Be where?” Riley stepped inside just behind her.
There was a pause. Three sets of eyes looked back and forth between them with delighted smiles.
“Riley.” Summer smirked. “You’re up early.”
“The early bird catches the sticky buns,” he said, nonchalant. He rested a hand on the small of Brooke’s back, and she flushed. They couldn’t have been more obvious if Brooke had run through the Sweetbriar town square yelling, “We had epic sex last night!” but she forced herself to stay cool. She was a grown woman, she could have wild affairs and still show her face in town the next morning.
“Well, you’re in the right place,” Summer said, getting to her feet. “I’m trying out a new recipe, with hazelnut spread. Why don’t you guys join us?”
“Sorry,” Brooke said. “I have to get to work.”
“Another time,” Riley agreed. She caught his eye, and he gave her an apologetic smile. Once they were outside again, armed with bags full of pastries, he gave her a kiss.
“Sorry, small town. It’s hard to stay under the radar.”
“I’m beginning to see that.” Brooke checked her watch and sighed. “I really need to get going. Lila’s bringing her mother-in-law-to-be, so everything needs to be perfect.”
“Lila?” Riley’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, VIP . . . Hollywood . . .” He started joining the dots. “Is it—?”
“Shh!” Brooke clapped her hand over his mouth before he could say another word. “Forget I just said that. You don’t know anything!”
Riley laughed, kissing her palm before ducking away.
“You get to your top-secret wedding planning, that absolutely doesn’t involve Lila Moore,” he winked. “I’ll be expecting you later. Clothing optional.”
Brooke kissed him one last time before getting in the car. As she drove away, she was already thinking about tonight, and what kind of sexy adventures lay in store. After all, she had that lingerie set in peach, too . . .
She smiled, loving the lightness in her chest, and how her blood seemed to sing with anticipation. It felt good, being with him like this: simple, uncomplicated, and full of pleasure. After all the dark emotion of the past year, it was a relief to just feel happy for once, without the looming specter of guilt and shame.
There was nothing to be ashamed about with Riley. He seemed to know everything she needed—and exactly how to give it to her. He was the perfect fling. And maybe even . . .
Nope.
Brooke stopped that thought before it could even form. She shouldn’t get carried away on her tide of endorphins. Riley had been clear from the start about what he was looking for, and commitment was nowhere on the list. And, more importantly, she was in no state to open up her heart again. Just the thought of baring herself to someone—trusting them, putting everything on the line again—made her heart clench with fear.
No, she should just enjoy this for what it was:
The perfect rebound.
RILEY STROLLED the long way back to the harbor, feeling pretty damn good about the world. A night in bed with a beautiful woman, and a morning with her in the shower, too. Throw in a couple of fresh pastries, and life couldn’t get much better than this.
“And where have you been?”
Riley’s good mood disappeared at the sight of the man lounging on the deck of his boat. “Max,” he sighed. “To what do I owe this unwelcome visit?”
Max grinned from under his shock of dark hair. “Is that any way to greet your favorite brother?”
“You’re my only brother.” Riley hopped up onto the deck.
“Exactly.”
Riley tossed Max a pastry and took a seat, kicking back on a lawn chair with a view of the harbor. “So, this is where you’ve been hiding.” Max looked around. “Not too shabby.”
“It’s a quiet life,” Riley agreed. “Emphasis on quiet.”
“Which is why you didn’t come home last night?” Max quirked an eyebrow, and Riley was reminded of growing up with his younger sibling interrogating him at every turn—which was probably how he wound up such an all-star litigator.
“Sorry I wasn’t here to meet you.” Riley dodged the question. “If you’d given me some warning, I could have rolled out the red carpet for you. Thrown a parade.”
“Or pulled up anchor and sailed off into the great blue yonder,” Max said, giving him a knowing look.
“That too.”
“Well, since you’ve ignored my emails, calls, and certified mail delivery, I figured I should come bring you these in person.” Max reached down and pulled a thick sheaf of documents from his battered leather duffel bag. Riley didn’t need to look to know what they were: his settlement with Tate, and the final nail in the whole unfortunate coffin. “If you’ll just sign them right now, I can be on my way back to the airport.”
Riley groaned. “Come on, man. It’s too early for this.”
“Actually, it’s about six months too late.” Max stubbornly held out the settlement papers. Riley stubbornly refused to take them.
Max sighed. “I don’t know why you’re hanging on to this. Don’t you want to just put it all behind you and move on?”
Riley shook his head. “The minute I sign those papers, Tate gets what he wanted.”
“He wanted the whole company,” Max pointed out. “This only gives him half.”
“Which is still a hell of a lot more than he deserves.” Riley scowled, hating himself for being so petty—and hating Max for interrupting his good mood.
“So what, you’re going to cling on to a dead partnership out of spite?” Max asked.
Riley shrugged. “Maybe.”
Max set the file down on the deck. “I don’t understand you,” he said, shaking his head. “You could sell him your share and be even richer than you are right now. Hell, you’ve got other companies who are begging to take it off your hands. And instead, you’re sitting on it.”
Riley allowed himself a smile. “That’s the thing about intellectual property,” he said. “He can’t do a damn thing with our software unless I agree.”
“And you can’t either,” Max pointed out.
“Look around,” Riley gestured. “Do I need next-gen streaming apps out here?”
Max sighed. “You always were a stubborn SOB.”
“And you always were an irritating brat,” Riley said good-naturedly. “Now come on, I need to open the pub. Since you’re here, you can make yourself useful and pour a few pints.”
“And then you’ll tell me about your new girlfriend?” Max asked.
Riley opened his mouth to argue that he didn’t have a girlfriend, then stopped.
“I knew it!” Max exclaimed. “Don’t tell me you’re finally settling down, after all these years. Mom will love this. Maybe she’ll finally get off my case. She figured I was the only hope for grandchildren,” he added. “Now she can get back to bugging you.”
>
Riley sighed. “I’m not settling down, or having kids. I’m just . . . seeing someone.” He finally landed on the words.
“Seeing her naked, exclusively?”
Riley paused. They hadn’t said anything about exclusive, but Brooke couldn’t be dating anyone else, could she?
He felt a surge of jealousy that took him by surprise. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “We haven’t put a label on anything. It’s still early days.”
“You better lock that down quick,” Max warned him, looking amused. “Before someone else does.”
Riley shook his head, “It’s not like that. We’re just having fun.”
“Sure, that goofy look on your face is just fun.” Max laughed. “When do I get to meet her?”
“You don’t.”
“Come on, I’m family,” Max argued. “She’ll love me. And maybe she can tell you to sign the damn papers.”
“You leave Brooke out of this,” Riley glared. But Max just grinned wider.
“Brooke, huh? That’s a nice name. Mom will be so happy.”
Riley groaned. “Please don’t say anything to Mom, not just yet.”
“That depends . . .” Max kicked the papers closer.
“Anyone ever tell you how damn annoying you are?” Riley grumbled.
Max chuckled. “All the time. Usually right before I send them to jail.”
Riley sighed. Something told him he wouldn’t be getting his usual relaxing morning coffee today. “I’ll just go change. Then you can earn your keep.”
“Sure thing.” Max rose and grabbed the file. “I’ll just bring these along, in case you change your mind.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
“I missed you too, bro.”
Riley shook his head, going below deck to change out of last night’s clothes. Max didn’t know when to quit nagging, but maybe he had a point about Brooke. Riley wasn’t sure she even had time to be seeing anyone else, but even the possibility made him tense. He didn’t want to be with anyone else, and he sure as hell didn’t want Brooke out on any romantic dates with some other guy.
Talking to him . . . laughing with him . . . kissing him.
He scowled. He didn’t know where they stood, but he knew he wanted it to be something.
Something real?
He paused. Was he ready for that? Finally trusting someone again. Starting over, and putting his heart on the line. Making room on the bathroom vanity for an extra toothbrush, even.
Riley looked around the cramped cabin, and for the first time, he wondered just how much longer he could keep this up. Hiding out here, pretending like the rest of the world didn’t exist. If he was brutally honest, he’d been in limbo ever since the lawsuit, and while Sweetbriar Cove made a damn fine escape, all the festivities and small-town charm in the world couldn’t keep real life at bay forever.
Sooner or later, he was going to have to decide what he wanted out of life. And for now, there was only one thing he could think of that might be on the list.
Brooke.
16
Brooke breezed into work, and found Lila waiting in the lobby with an elegant older woman. “You’re late,” the woman said in greeting, her lips pursed.
Brooke glanced at the clock. It was 9:01.
“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” she apologized, coming back down to earth with a bump. It was a long way from soaping up in the shower with Riley to presenting catering plans, but she needed to get her game face on right away.
“You didn’t, it’s fine.” Lila spoke up quickly. “Justin couldn’t make it, but this is his mother, Bitsy.”
“A pleasure to meet you.” Brooke shook Bitsy’s hand. The dreaded mother-in-law. She was usually able to keep the peace, but Bitsy looked like a force to be reckoned with in a Chanel tweed suit and pearls. “Shall we go through and get started? I can’t wait show you the plans.”
Brooke steered them into the salon and ordered tea. “How are you feeling?” she asked Lila. “You must be getting excited, with the big day so close?”
“Excited . . . and nervous,” Lila admitted, glancing over at Bitsy. “There’s a lot to figure out.”
“Just over one week to go,” Brooke agreed, and tried not to feel panicked. At least the computer system was up and running, thanks to Riley, and she had a twenty-point plan to see her through the rest of the hectic schedule. “I’m sorry the planning stage will be so rushed. Usually, I have months with a bride to figure out their style and taste, but with you . . .”
“We need to get everything locked down today,” Lila finished. “It’s fine, really,” she said, looking remarkably cheerful for a bride who had to cram her dream wedding into just a few sessions. “I trust your instincts, so whatever you pick out is great with me.”
“Wow,” Brooke laughed. “That should make this easy.”
She pulled out the folder she’d assembled for the big day. She still felt scattered, wrapped in the morning afterglow of everything that happened the night before, but she tried to pull it together. This wedding was her opportunity to prove herself and get her career back on track after this unplanned detour out to Cape Cod.
“I’ve narrowed things down to a few options,” she began. “I know you wanted classic and beachy, so I’m thinking white, with some pink and gold accents.”
“Pink?” Bitsy snorted. “That’s far too gaudy,” she said. “This is a Cartwright wedding, after all.”
“Oh no, it’s a blush pink,” Brooke explained, showing them the swatches. “With pale gold. Very classic and understated.”
“That looks great.” Lila smiled.
Bitsy pursed her lips, but didn’t complain again, so Brooke moved on. “For music, I know you had some ideas. A jazz trio, and a DJ—”
“There will be a string quartet,” Bitsy announced. “Playing traditional classical music. Some Vivaldi, and Brahms.”
Brooke paused. “Lila?” she shot her a questioning look.
“Sure, why not?” Lila gave a polite smile.
“Okay . . .” Brooke made a note. “Our chefs are preparing the menu options as we speak for you to sample, and you’re using your own photographer—”
“Henry Miller,” Bitsy interrupted. “He does all the Cartwright occasions.”
“Right. So let’s talk about—”
“Is the hotel unionized?” Bitsy spoke over her again.
Brooke stopped. “Excuse me?”
“The hotel staff. Servers, janitors, etcetera,” Bitsy looked around, assessing. “Are they part of the local chapters?”
“Umm, yes, they are.” Brooke frowned.
“And there have been no issues here? Disputes, complaints, scandal?” Bitsy continued.
“No, not that I know of.” Brooke was still confused. “I’ve only been working here a few months, but the place has an excellent reputation. You don’t need to worry about anything disrupting the big day.”
“Hmmm.” Bitsy made a note in her little leather notebook.
Brooke was unsettled. “Let’s go see about those catering options,” she said, getting to her feet. She took them through to the private dining room, and soon they were sampling smoked salmon sandwiches and an array of hors d’oeuvres.
“These are all delicious,” Lila said, reached for another sandwich.
Bitsy cleared her throat. “Is that wise? You’ll want to fit into your dress.”
Lila paused. “No, I’m good.” She took a deliberate bite, and smiled at Bitsy.
Uh-oh. Brooke sensed tension in the air, so she quickly moved onto the drinks, but Bitsy—predictably—had more questions.
“The seafood is all local?”
“That’s right.” Brooke tried not to sound impatient. “We keep in-season as much as possible.”
Bitsy peered at the crab cakes. “It’s very important this all be Massachusetts crab,” she said sternly. “None of that Maine stuff.”
Brooke blinked. Most bridal parties cared about flowers and wedding fav
ors, not the provenance of the shellfish and whether or not the hotel staff were part of a union. Nobody would notice those details unless—
Oh. Brooke put two and two together.
“So the rumors are true,” she said, finally understanding. “Justin is going into politics.”
Lila snorted with laughter. “No way,” she said. “I’m the performer. He’s happy out of the spotlight. He’d never go for that.”
“Oh, my mistake,” Brooke said. “I just thought, you know, with the requests. Local, unions . . . Isn’t there a Congressional seat opening up in the district?”
“Nope,” Lila said. “Over my dead body . . .” She trailed off, a strange look suddenly coming over her face. “He’s not . . .”
She frowned, looking at Bitsy. “Is he?”
“That’s a conversation for another day.” Bitsy stood there, looking smug. “Now, about the cake . . .”
But Lila didn’t move.
“A Cape Cod wedding,” she said slowly. “I wondered why you all were so set on it being here in Massachusetts. We could have eloped, or done it in California, but no, it had to be here.”
“Lila.” Bitsy sounded stern. “This is neither the time nor the place.”
Lila shook her head stubbornly. “We talked about it. He promised.”
“Well, plans change,” Bitsy said brightly. “Now, about the dessert?”
Brooke saw Lila’s stormy expression and quickly stepped between them. “You know, I think we’re all done here. Lila, there’s a great florist nearby, I’d love to take you to see their arrangements.”
Bitsy scowled. “But we’ve already decided.”
“No, you decided,” Lila spoke up, stronger. “I’d love to see my options.”
“Great.” Brooke steered her out of the room. “Let’s go now. Lovely to meet you, Bitsy!”
WHEN THEY WERE DRIVING a safe distance from the hotel, Brooke looked over at Lila. “I’m so sorry, I put my foot in my mouth back there.”
Lila slowly shook her head. “It’s not your fault. You weren’t to know. God, I can’t believe I didn’t put the pieces together before now.” She looked upset, toying with the sleeves of her casual sweatshirt. “We talked about it, I asked him point-blank, did he want a career in politics, and he swore the answer was no.”