by Darcy Burke
Kelsey grinned. “That’s great. Should I arrange to pick it up?”
Brooke almost offered to get it for them—and she could because she needed to stop by the winery sometime this week to restock her chardonnay supply before she headed to the coast this weekend for a sales trip. Why was she hesitating since she had to go there anyway? She could arrange the pickup with Hayden, not Cam. Was she avoiding Cam? In person, yes. She might’ve said last night was one and done, but the way she’d thought of him almost constantly today told a completely different story.
Brooke sipped her beer. It had a smooth wheaty flavor. “I can pick it up later this week, if that works. When are you planning to open the exhibit?”
The three women looked at each other, and it was instantly apparent that they didn’t know. “We’re still figuring out what should go in it,” Kelsey said. “It’s kind of turned into a massive undertaking.”
“Yes, and we’re trying to not have it be the Archer show.” Crystal chuckled. “But it just so happens that they have the best cache of historical documents and items.”
“Well, they’re the first family or something, aren’t they?” Brooke asked.
Alaina nodded. “Yes, Benjamin Archer settled here in 1856, but others followed. He made frequent trips into Portland, where he met his wife. Her brother and cousins came to the area and were involved in establishing the town.”
Brooke was intrigued by all this. “Is there a written history of Ribbon Ridge?”
“Nothing formal,” Alaina said. “It’s something the Archer family had planned to do, but it just hasn’t happened yet. Crystal has actually offered to document it for them. She’s not as busy working as my assistant since my career has taken a backseat to being a wife and mother. Plus, she’s a terrific writer. I keep telling her to finish the screenplay she started, but she keeps finding other things to do.” Alaina gave her friend a look that said they’d had this conversation many times.
Crystal returned the look with a mild, probably playful glare before taking a drink of her beer. She set the glass back on the table. “Maybe I have finished it. I certainly wouldn’t tell you.” Crystal looked pointedly at Kelsey and Brooke. “She’s a real nag once you get to know her.”
Alaina smiled broadly. “That’s me. And hey, what’s wrong with encouraging your friends toward things that you know will make them happy?”
They sounded like Brooke and her sisters. “You’ve been friends for a long time, haven’t you?” Brooke asked.
“Since we were kids,” Alaina said. She briefly rested her head on Crystal’s shoulder. “She’s held my hand through so much. Is it bad that I want her to be happy?”
“Of course it isn’t. You know I love you.” Crystal turned and kissed her cheek, provoking a grin from Alaina.
Brooke couldn’t help but smile in the presence of such a warm and deep friendship. She suddenly missed her sisters and planned to call them both later.
“So in the process of gathering information to write this town history, we’ve been trying to figure out what those letters on the brick stand for,” Crystal said. “So far, we’ve got nothing.”
“I assumed they were someone’s initials.” Brooke took another drink of beer.
“I think we all did, but we’ve pored over the birth and death records—well, those we have from those early years—and there isn’t anyone with a first name that starts with B and a last name that starts with R.”
“We’ve also scoured marriage records and still nothing,” Alaina said. “There’s a pretty good cache of letters too, and we’re not all the way through them. But so far, no mention of anyone that would match the initials BNR.”
“That’s a little frustrating,” Brooke said.
Kelsey pressed her lips together. “Tell us about it. Don’t suppose you have any brilliant ideas?” She stared at Brooke hopefully.
Brooke took a moment to sip her beer and think. She knew next to nothing about Ribbon Ridge. Maybe she should start by exploring every corner of the town, starting with the oldest buildings and places. A lightbulb went off in her head. “Hey, have you guys been to the cemetery? Maybe BNR’s death wasn’t properly documented or the documentation was lost.”
Kelsey’s face lit. “That’s a great idea! Nice going, Brooke.”
Brooke smiled. It felt good to be helpful. “Thanks. Should we plan a field trip?”
Alaina cocked her head to the side. “It would be faster if we all went together to canvass it. But Crystal and I are headed to LA tomorrow, and we won’t be back until Tuesday. Can you guys wait until then?”
Brooke looked over at Kelsey. “I can. I’m headed to the coast Saturday and won’t be back until Wednesday.”
“What time?” Kelsey said. “My next free day is actually Wednesday. Any chance we could make that work?” She glanced at Brooke.
“If we make it later in the day—say three or so—I can do that.”
“Sounds good to me,” Alaina said. “Crystal?”
Crystal nodded. “It’s a date.” She already had her phone out and was typing into it. “And now it’s in my calendar. I’ll send you all an invitation so it’ll be in your calendars too.”
Alaina grinned at Crystal. “I’m so glad you’re here to keep us all organized.”
Crystal chuckled. “Can’t help it, even when I’m not working.” She looked over at Brooke. “I just need your number, Brooke.”
Brooke provided it, happy to have found a group of friends here in Ribbon Ridge. She had barely talked to Naomi and Jana since the 10k, but that was probably for the best. They were single women on the prowl and too overbearing in trying to jump-start Brooke’s love life.
Alaina rubbed her hands together. “I’m so excited about this. Thanks, Brooke! And on that note, I need to get home and put my daughter to bed.”
The familiar pain ripped into Brooke. She wanted to ask about Alaina’s daughter but was afraid that it would only intensify her heartache. But she was also tired of letting that rule her life. “How old is she?” The question came out soft and tentative. Hopefully no one else noticed.
“Two and a half and such a spitfire.” Alaina pulled out her phone and scrolled to a picture, then handed it to Brooke. “She looks just like her dad.”
Brooke hadn’t met Evan Archer but could see the toddler didn’t have her mother’s dark blonde hair. Her hair was dark brown and a bit wild. She stood in a small inflatable pool wearing a bright yellow swimsuit with flowers and a huge grin. “She’s adorable.” Brooke’s gut twisted. She’d wanted that so badly—to be a mother, to share a picture of her own child, to feel that pride and that bond. She gave the phone back and didn’t ask any more questions.
Alaina tucked the phone into her purse. “Thank you. I’m grateful for every day with her—she’s such a gift.”
Her words made Brooke’s eyes sting with unshed tears. Her throat clogged, and she merely nodded.
“It was great meeting you, Brooke. I’m really looking forward to this project!” Alaina stood. “See you next week.”
Brooke summoned a wobbly smile and forced words past the emotion jamming her throat. “See you then.”
Crystal followed her out of the booth. “Alaina’s my ride. Great to meet you, Brooke.” She lowered her voice and looked at Kelsey and Brooke. “Us single ladies should plan a night out.” She winked at them and grinned before turning and joining Alaina.
Brooke watched them leave and drank more of her beer, hoping it would blunt the ache.
“Everything okay?” Kelsey asked.
Damn, she’d picked up on something. Maybe they all had.
“Yep,” Brooke answered. She liked Kelsey, but she didn’t share her infertility with most people, especially those she didn’t know well. A voice in the back of her head asked if Cam still fell into that category. How could he after last night? It wasn’t just that they’d had sex. It was that they’d both finally lowered their guard.
Kelsey finished her drink. “Well, if
you ever need to talk, I’m apparently a good listener. Or so my college roommate always told me. But maybe that was because she talked all the time and I didn’t have a choice.” She laughed, and Brooke joined her. She felt instantly better, and whether Kelsey had provoked that on purpose or not, Brooke appreciated it.
“Crystal and Alaina are really nice,” Brooke said, moving the topic in a new direction.
“Aren’t they? Alaina is so down-to-earth, and Crystal’s hilarious. You’ll see that the more you spend time with her.” Kelsey tipped her head to the side. “Maybe when we go out for our single ladies’ night out. Hey, did you ever go on that blind date?”
“I did, actually.”
Kelsey watched her expectantly. “And?”
Brooke chuckled. “It was fine. Nothing spectacular, but it didn’t crash and burn either.”
“Are you going to see him again?”
She’d thought so, but then she’d hooked up with Cam in a bathroom, and now a second date with Justin seemed disingenuous. Never mind that she wasn’t with Cam and didn’t expect a repeat performance. Probably because in the recesses of her body and mind, she hoped for a repeat.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“That doesn’t sound promising. Any chance Cameron Westcott is holding you back?”
Wow, she was good. But then she’d noticed the crazy sparks—that was what she’d said, wasn’t it?—between them. Brooke considered brushing her off, as she’d done a few minutes ago, but she suddenly wanted to talk to someone about what had happened.
“Yes, I think he is.”
Kelsey looked surprised, her eyes widening. “I see. Did something happen?”
Brooke couldn’t withhold the smile from her lips. “You could say that. We, uh, had a moment last night.”
Kelsey turned on the bench and faced her. “What does that mean?”
Brooke winced, her eyes squinting. “We had sex in a restaurant bathroom?”
Kelsey clapped her hand over her mouth and giggled. “That’s a bit more than a ‘moment.’ You are too funny. Are you guys together now?”
Brooke shook her head definitively. “No. In fact, we both agreed it was a one-time deal.”
“Yet you’re holding back with the blind-date guy.”
“A little.” Brooke set her elbow on the table and put her forehead on her hand. “Ugh. What am I doing? I would much rather things move forward with blind-date guy—uh, Justin—than with Cam.”
“And why is that? The work thing?”
“Yes, and—” And what? Cam’s history as a player? Certainly, but he seemed to have relaxed that behavior from what she could tell. Or maybe it was something far deeper. Something she didn’t want to explore. Something to do with her and her inability to give him, or anyone else, a family. She slammed back the rest of her beer.
Kelsey was still studying her, likely waiting for the rest of whatever Brooke meant to say.
“That’s pretty much it—the work thing.” Brooke was done sharing for the day.
“I understand. That’s a bummer, though. Maybe there’s a way around it?”
Only if Brooke gave the account to someone else at Willamette, and she didn’t want to do that. She felt personally invested in their wine, and she wanted to be a part of its success. But if life had taught her anything it was that you couldn’t have your cake and eat it too. “I don’t see one, but really, it’s okay. I’m pretty sure I got him out of my system. Talking to you has helped me see that. I think I’ll give Justin a call.”
Kelsey nodded. “Sounds good. I’m a little jealous, actually. I wish I was ready.”
Brooke wanted to return Kelsey’s kindness. “Anything I can do to help?”
“No, it’s all me. I’ll get there eventually. I hope.” She smiled and glanced toward her empty glass. “Alaina must’ve paid the bill. Or maybe George comped it.”
Brooke slid out of the booth. “He comped mine as a sort of welcome to town.”
“George is the best. He’s one of the reasons I’m still here in Ribbon Ridge. He made me feel welcome from day one—like family.”
“That’s so great.” Brooke missed her family, but more and more she felt like Ribbon Ridge was home.
They parted and went their separate ways, and as Brooke walked to the store to grab something for dinner, she thought about what she’d told Kelsey, that she’d call Justin. Would she, really?
Or would she continue to obsess about Cam? She was fairly certain it would be the latter, unfortunately.
Chapter Thirteen
Cam stared at the prepackaged meals stacked in the deli refrigerator at Ribbon Ridge’s sole grocery store. It was a perfectly fine store, albeit small, but didn’t offer much in the way of variety for a single guy who didn’t cook. If it couldn’t be prepared in three steps or less, Cam didn’t make it.
So what was it going to be tonight—pulled pork or pasta with meatballs? He glanced at the items already in his handheld basket: paper towels, cereal, a half gallon of milk, and a bottle of microbrew. Beer went better with the pork. “Winner, winner, pork dinner!” he said as he grabbed it from the reefer.
“Are you talking to that?”
He swung his head around at the familiar sound of Brooke’s voice. Her hair was pulled up, and she wore cropped jeans and a fitted T-shirt. She looked casual and comfortable and heart-stoppingly sexy.
Cam took a minute to put his thoughts into coherent speech. “Uh, yeah. I always talk to my food. Don’t you?”
“I try not to, actually.” She held her hand up to the side of her head and twirled her finger. “People might think I’m crazy.” She whispered the last word, and he laughed.
He glanced at her basket, which was full of veggies. “Look at you being all healthy.”
“Sometimes a girl’s just gotta have a big salad.”
His stomach grumbled. Damn, that sounded good. “Boys too. But that’s a lot of work.”
She flicked a look toward her basket before tipping her head to the side. “What, chopping vegetables? That’s not a lot of work.”
“Yeah, it is.”
Now she laughed. “Then you either have the wrong knife or you’re lazy.”
“Both, probably.” He smiled, glad she’d approached him. It would’ve been easy for her to simply avoid him and any awkwardness. But this didn’t feel awkward. It felt…good.
“Well, I can’t help you with lazy, but the right knife is actually super important. You can cut much more efficiently if you have a good blade. I can’t believe a bachelor like you doesn’t have good knives. That’s pretty much the only thing you can count on a guy to have, right? And maybe a grill or a smoker.”
He shook his head. “I don’t have any of those. Didn’t I tell you that I don’t cook?”
“Maybe? But you’re serious, you don’t cook, like, at all?”
“Nope, much to my mother’s chagrin. My brothers are much better at it. Dylan is actually pretty good, or has gotten that way anyway. He designed himself a badass gourmet kitchen, and then he went and got married. All that domesticity breeds cookery, I guess.” He shuddered but smiled playfully.
“Ah yes, domesticity. The arch nemesis of a confirmed bachelor like yourself. I’m tempted to invite you over to demonstrate how a good knife can change your life.”
Tempted… He was tempted to do far more than that, but he reined himself in. They had a pact. Or an agreement. Or an assumption. Whatever. They weren’t supposed to repeat what they’d done the other night, and if he went to her loft for salad making, he was pretty sure it would lead to lovemaking.
At least on his part. Maybe she really was over it.
“You could save me from prepackaged pulled pork.”
She peered into his basket. “I’ve had that, and it’s actually pretty good. Besides, you’ve already talked to it—it’ll be sad if you reject it now.”
He laughed again, loving her sense of humor. “I think it’ll survive. Or not—I’ll eat it tomorrow.”
“Just salad.”
She watched him warily. “I’m quite skilled with that knife.”
“I don’t doubt it.” He couldn’t resist a grin. “You may not want to show me all your tricks.”
She squinted at him for a second. “I can’t tell if you’re flirting. If so, knock it off or I’ll rescind my invitation.”
He held up his hand. “You win. No flirting.”
She turned toward the checkout registers, and he followed. She seemed quite over their…whatever it had been. His chest felt suddenly hollow. Because he wasn’t over it. He’d tossed and turned at night, his thoughts consumed with her touch and her scent. He longed to feel her against him again but was afraid that would never happen. Now he was even more sure of that.
This was stupid. He was in lust with her, nothing more. Okay, there was plenty more, but screw it. They could be friends. He wanted to be friends.
She started unloading her veggies onto the conveyer belt.
“Hey, I can pay for everything,” he offered.
She tossed him a gimlet eye. “This is not a date, mister. I’ll pay for my own salad makings, thank you.”
She said it in a good-humored enough voice that he didn’t take offense. He still couldn’t help wishing it was a date. God, he wanted to date her.
Yes.
Maybe he could convince her to give it a try…
She cleared her throat loudly.
He looked down at the belt and saw that she’d put out a divider so he could unload his groceries. “Thanks.” He transferred everything from his basket and set it under the check stand.
“Hi, Cam!” Marcia, the checkout clerk smiled at him. “What’s for dinner tonight?” She looked at Cam’s groceries on the belt as she scanned Brooke’s items. “Pork again? You just had that a few nights ago.”