Then his stomach growled.
He slid from Brooke’s bed as quietly and carefully as possible and crept downstairs.
Food.
Holy hell, he needed food.
Jolie didn’t have a full-service restaurant like Honeywilde, but Sophie had said they served tapas with their fancier wine tastings. Surely they put out Danish or donuts for their guests in the morning.
As he reached the bottom of the main staircase, the scent of coffee greeted him.
A quick check of his watch. Barely six am. Someone was an early riser, God bless them.
He wandered toward the lobby area, following the coffee trail and the unmistakable smell of chocolate baked goods.
“Oh.” Brooke’s sister Laurel drew up short as she came around the corner.
Beans the pug circled her feet, paying him zero attention.
“Well, good morning.” Her sweet naiveté didn’t prevent a knowing smile from dancing across her lips. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be up yet. Or, you know, for you to be here at all this morning.”
More important than the awkwardness of the moment was the tray of chocolate croissants in Laurel’s hands.
He returned her smile and pointed to the tray. “Let me get that for you.”
She passed the croissants over and directed him to a seating area by one of the windows. “You can put that on the ottoman, thank you. Would you like some coffee?”
“I’d love some.”
While she left to get coffee, Beans remained, eye-balling the platter of croissants with a hungry black gaze.
“I don’t think those are for you,” Trevor told him.
Beans spared him a glance that said he wasn’t interested in Trevor’s opinion.
Laurel quickly returned with two cups, served on saucers. “Here you go. I guessed black.”
“You guessed right. Thank you.”
“Have a croissant.” Laurel folded herself into the wing-backed chair opposite him, her legs crossed.
Trevor didn’t hesitate or bother with a plate. He bit into a flaky, hot croissant. “Holy chocolate,” he muttered over a mouthful.
“Why do you think I get up so early to put them in the oven? Ensures I get to enjoy mine before they all get picked over. I don’t like to share sweets.”
Beans wiggled and grunted until he was centered on her lap, his face right in Laurel’s face.
“I don’t mean you.” Laurel tore off some of her croissant. She put the small bite of food on the floor, and Beans followed every movement with precision vision, jumping down to get his treat. “What’s mine is his. That’s how we roll.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
“You have a dog?”
“Beau. Big bushy brown baby.”
Laurel smiled, understanding warming her expression in a way only another dog lover understood. “You should bring him over sometime. Beans and Beau.”
“He’s mad at me right now for being busy over here so much. I’ll probably get the cold shoulder for being gone last night.”
“Speaking of, you were gone all day yesterday with my sister.”
“Is that a question or a statement?”
Laurel sipped her coffee, her expression giving nothing away.
Another Sargent stare. The look had to be hereditary.
“Yes, I was gone all day with your sister. We had some work to do, and then a date.”
“And then you spent the night here?”
“Yes, I did. And I have to say, I admire your complete lack of beating around the bush.”
She seemed to consider this over another bite of her breakfast.
The details about his time with Brooke weren’t anyone’s business and, thus far, the two of them hadn’t defined their relationship. If Laurel asked him the nature of it, he wasn’t sure he had an answer.
“I’m not looking for details,” she said. “Just confirmation of facts.”
Thank goodness.
Beans jumped back into Laurel’s lap, and she shifted him over her side. She tore off another bite of her croissant. Folding the food between her fingers, she hesitated. Her actions were driving the pug crazy. His big black eyes followed her every moment, his wrinkly face looking like he might open his mouth at any moment and beg her to drop the food already.
“She seems happy.”
Trevor pulled his attention away from the dog.
“Brooke, I mean. Planning this prom with you. She seems happy. I like seeing her happy. But, you know, don’t screw her over.” Laurel shoved the bite of croissant into her mouth.
Trevor gaped while Beans looked heartbroken.
“I have no intentions of screwing her over. Actually, I’d like to take her on another date, if she’ll say yes.”
“Good. Then I won’t have to sic Beans on you.”
He laughed, but Laurel didn’t appear to be kidding.
“Y’know, Brooke says she’s protective, but I don’t think she’s the only one.”
“Oh no, she’s definitely the protective one, but she’s my sister and I love her. She deserves only good things from now on.”
“Understood. I have a sister. I’d feel exactly the same way.”
They finished their croissants in silence, Beans getting his last nibble before Laurel set her plate on the ottoman. “How’s the prom planning going?”
“Very well. Your sister worries, but she shouldn’t. Brooke is amazing. I think we’re doing great.”
“That’s good to hear.” She scratched and pet Beans, focusing on her dog as she spoke. “I’ve had to take over hotel reservations because of this prom. Not my favorite thing in the world and particularly boring when no one is checking in, but if the prom is going to be great, then the suffering is worth it.”
“No one checking in? It’s early May. Almost peak tourism season. You guys should be packed.”
Laurel’s gaze went wide. “I…I meant this week. We don’t have many guests checking in this week.” She quickly made a production of studying one of Beans’s ears.
He waited for her to make eye contact, confirm that she was, in fact, lying her tail off to cover for her slip up.
Nothing.
Beans continued to stare while Laurel refused to look up.
“I guess the dog and I can keep having a stare-off ’til tumbleweeds roll by, or you can tell me what you mean about no one checking in.”
With a heavy sigh, she finally looked up. “Brooke will kill me.”
“I won’t let her.”
“I thought maybe you knew already.”
“Clearly I don’t. You’re stalling. Tell me.”
“It’s nothing, just… our hotel business has been off. Slow. Business is slow. Has been for the past year or two. Brooke didn’t tell you?”
“She mentioned money was tight due to investing so much into the winery.”
“That’s true. But the other part is the hotel is sucking money down its gullet to stay alive.”
Trevor fought not to grin. Smiling now would be in bad form, but the girl had quite a way with words.
He couldn’t blame Brooke for not telling him every detail about Jolie’s business, but after everything they’d talked about and shared, it surprised him that she hadn’t.
Probably shouldn’t. Brooke played things close to the vest and he empathized. Still, in this, she could trust him.
Chateau Jolie was beautiful, the winery one of kind around their parts. Business should be booming, not in a slump. Then again, Honeywilde had had its share of struggles for years too.
The inn’s resurgence wasn’t exactly his doing, but he was involved. He’d learned some invaluable lessons over the last couple of years, and he’d gladly share anything he could to help Brooke and Chateau Jolie.
Trevor settled back,
pondering solutions.
Seemingly satisfied with his scratches and that there’d be no more croissant for now, the pug snuggled down into the narrow space between Laurel’s leg and the arm of the chair.
And just like that, an idea came to Trevor. Something that might help Chateau Jolie with its lagging reservation rates. His notion wasn’t so unusual, but might be a hundred yards left of field from what Brooke wanted.
Still, he’d toss his idea out there and see what she thought. He was also going to ask her out on another date.
Why not? The worst that could happen was she’d say no to both.
Chapter 21
“What time is it?” With her leg stretched out, Brooke expected to find a warm, slightly longer leg next to hers.
All she found were cold sheets.
“Trevor?” she called, and sat up.
No answer.
His shoes still sat by her bed. He couldn’t have gone far.
Or maybe he could’ve. Knowing him, he’d wander almost anywhere, shoeless.
She grabbed her phone and texted him, only for a vibrating sound to come from her dresser.
Of course he didn’t have his phone with him. That’d be too easy.
“Uh-oh.” Brooke jumped from her bed.
The sun was coming up, and it was almost seven in the morning. If Trevor was traipsing about the chateau, he was bound to run into Laurel. Better Laurel than Reagan, but still.
Brooke pulled a sweatshirt on over the pajamas she’d changed into and took off downstairs.
She wasn’t ashamed of spending the night with Trevor. Not in any way.
But sharing this tenuous step with her sisters?
Severely unprepared for that leap.
She’d shared a special kind of intimacy with Trevor last night. Not sex, but the night meant as much to her as if they had.
After her divorce, she’d been so certain she’d never want to be with anyone again. Definitely not anytime soon. Perhaps never.
But Trevor had strolled into her life, carefree yet steadfast, and altered her view.
The load of a serious relationship remained off the table. However, dating…Hanging out, having fun, that option held a lot of possibilities.
“Good morning.” Legs crossed, snuggled into one of the winged-back chairs, a lap full of pug, Laurel sipped her coffee as if it were any other morning.
Brooke approached slowly. “Good morning.” She eased down to the edge of the other chair. “Coffee smells good.”
An empty cup and a croissant-crumb-covered plate sat on the side table.
Laurel wouldn’t come right out and poke into other people’s business. That was Reagan’s style, not hers. But unless one of their few guests was an extremely early riser, even on vacation, Trevor had sat here and had coffee and pastry with Laurel. Who knew where he might be right now, but the bigger question was, who would crack first, her or Laurel?
“You want some?” Laurel asked.
“No, I’m good.”
“You sure? I figured you’d be hungry. After last night.” Her sister smirked.
“Ha-ha. Where is he?”
“Who?”
“Your breakfast buddy. I know he was here. Where did he go?”
“You mean Trevor Bradley? Your good-looking prom partner, with the floppy bedhead and sleepy smile? Trevor Bradley, who I ran into before six a.m.? That breakfast buddy?”
A growl of frustration filled her throat. “Yes. Him.”
A triumphant smile filled her sister’s face. “I don’t know.”
“Laurel.”
“I don’t.”
Beans woofed to back up her claim.
“I like him though.”
Ignoring the editorial, Brooke leaned forward to scratch the top of Beans’s head.
“Trevor seems like a really good guy, and he’s obviously into you. Do you feel the same?”
Brooke kept petting the dog.
“I mean it.” Laurel scooped Beans up to move him away. “I know Reagan gives you a hard time about getting back out there, and getting on the horse or whatever, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about him. Trevor, as an individual. He’s a good guy. Beans and I are excellent judges of character.”
With a sigh, Brooke leaned back. “I know.”
“Then why aren’t you saying anything?”
“I don’t know.”
A lie. Her reason was fear.
Admitting the tangle of feelings she had right now would make them real. She barely understood them herself.
“I think it’s a bit too early to be thinking about how I feel.”
Another lie.
She liked Trevor, admired him, cared for him. He was good looking, made her laugh, made her feel stronger.
Before Nick, she would’ve been able to admit she was falling for Trevor, hook, line, and sinker. Now, attraction automatically came with mountains of doubt.
Four years ago, her ex-husband had been the bee’s knees. And then everything was a disaster.
“I don’t think it’s too early for him. He acted like he was pretty much done thinking. I think his mind was made up. He called you amazing.”
He’d said as much to her face too.
What if he did fall in love with her? What if he was able to love fully and she was incapable of giving that to him in return? She was damaged goods. He was still young and fresh and new.
“Part of me thinks he’d be better suited with someone like you,” Brooke confessed.
Her sister’s response included cackling in her face. “Whatever.”
“I’m serious. He’s adventurous, unpredictable, loves to be outside. The two of you would have a lot in common.”
Laurel scoffed. “Liking nature and being a bit of a spaz does not a suitable pair make. Mr. Hubbard, the barber in town, likes the outdoors and is quirky as heck, but you don’t see us hooking up, do you?”
“Mr. Hubbard is seventy-eight years old.”
“So? If he were twenty-eight, we still wouldn’t be a good match. You need to understand one another. Trevor gets you.”
“How do you know after one croissant together?”
“Because, believe it or not, I get you, and I know when someone else does too. Nick never did. Your ex wanted to win. He wanted kudos and prizes to stroke his pride, the best of everything, and that included having you. Trevor likes you for you. Bossiness, neurosis, and all.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“He’s got a family and a family business that he’s committed to. He’s supportive and caring and successful. The two of you have a lot more in common than you know.”
Brooke swallowed the raw knot in her throat. “You think I’m all those things?”
“Duh.”
She laughed over her urge to cry at the compliment. “You’re a lot of trouble when you’re profound.”
Laurel grinned. “I know. Brings me such joy.”
They shared a smile and Laurel moved Beans back within Brooke’s reach.
“Trevor’s still here, by the way. I don’t know where he went, but he borrowed a quilt and went outside about fifteen minutes ago. I doubt he went far, seeing as how he didn’t have on any shoes.”
“I don’t know. Knowing him, he could be hiking right now.”
“But I bet you could catch him, if you tried.”
“You’re right. Thanks, sis.” Brooke hurried out the front doors of Jolie, the morning mist beginning to burn off with the rising sun.
Trevor could be in the vineyard, strolling around, eating grapes. Or down by Laurel’s barn, chasing chickens around the pen. Or stopping to smell the roses somewhere because that’d be a very Trevor thing to do.
Rounding the side of the hotel, she caught sight of a brightly colored quilt on the grou
nd, beyond the garden, underneath a couple of oak trees.
In the center of the quilt sat Trevor, his back to her.
She approached, but he didn’t turn around. Not until her shoes hit the edge of the quilt did he turn, opening his eyes. “Morning, sunshine.” He smiled, blue eyes twinkling.
Brooke slid off her shoes and joined him on the quilt. “You must’ve missed the memo about me not being a morning person. You’re out here before seven a.m. You’re the sunshine.”
As soon as she sat down, he leaned over and pressed his lips to hers, tasting of chocolate and coffee and Trevor.
She shivered and pulled her hands inside the sleeves of her sweatshirt. “What are you doing out here?”
“A little quiet time, watching the sun rise.” He moved closer and rubbed her arms to warm them.
Before, the affection would’ve put her on guard. Now, she welcomed his touch.
“I slept like a baby last night,” he said.
“Me too.” Surprising, but true.
“I enjoyed talking to your sister this morning. Nothing like you or Reagan, but still decidedly a Sargent.”
“Uh-oh. What did she say?”
Trevor kept rubbing. “Don’t worry. Nothing bad.”
Her shoulders relaxed a smidge more. For a moment, she enjoyed the early-morning quiet, the sun growing warmer on her face with each passing second.
“She did say something about Chateau Jolie’s struggling room sales though, which you’ve failed to mention.”
Immediately, the stiffness returned. With a groan, Brooke bent forward to bury her face in her hands.
“So it’s true?”
What if she simply didn’t answer? The route of no reply or no eye contact had a lot of appeal right now.
Trevor tugged on her shoulders, urging her to sit up. “Come on. Your reaction is pretty much all the answer I need. No point in avoiding the topic.”
He was right. Again.
Brooke eased herself up.
“You could’ve told me. I understand why you didn’t, at first, but there’s no reason not to discuss it now.”
“No, I know. I hate that we’re in this position though. And I don’t want to dump my problems all over you.
“You’re not dumping.” He bumped his elbow against hers. “We’re partners, remember? You know me. I’m not going to judge.”
No One Like You Page 14