No One Like You

by Heather McGovern

  “I’m trying,” he promised.

  Instead of a vote of confidence, Brooke scoffed, walking away to pace her office.

  “I am.”

  “I told you we needed a backup plan. I told you we couldn’t celebrate too soon.”

  “I know. But I couldn’t predict the flu. What was I supposed to do?”

  “Your job, Trevor.”

  He refused to flinch at the edge in her voice or the jab at his competence. No way was this all about him and a DJ emergency. Something more was going wrong here.

  A pile of papers filled her desk, all of them folded as if from envelopes.

  He stepped closer to her desk, getting a better look. There were letters, formal looking, not invoices or advertisements. He couldn’t make out all of the words, but he saw enough.

  “What’s all this?”

  Brooke shrugged and didn’t answer.

  In the corner, by her desk, one letter sat wadded up.

  He was almost as nosy as Sophie and now was not a time to fight the compulsion.

  Trevor bent and grabbed the wad. Smoothing out the paper, he began reading as soon as he saw the names at the top.

  Nick Moretti

  v.

  Brooke Sargent

  The plaintiff, Nick, was seeking damages. Code for more money. And something about Chateau Jolie.

  He didn’t need to read every word to know all of it was complete and utter bull. And the date on the letter was over a week ago.

  “What is this?”

  “That is none of your business.” She picked up the letter, but he’d already seen all he needed.

  “Your ex is suing you?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Did you know he was going to do this?”

  “Maybe.”

  Sharp pain penetrated his heart. “And you never said anything?”

  “How is it your business?”

  “How?” he asked, his defenses prickling up like Beau’s hair when he caught a whiff of a predator. “Because I care about you.”

  Instead of answering, she tromped to the window by her desk. Arms crossed, she glared at whatever lay beyond.

  “Now isn’t the time to be bullheaded, Brooke. What is going on?”

  “You don’t need to be involved in this.”

  Was she serious? He wanted to be involved. “I am involved. The guy’s a jerk. You told me all about him. Or at least, I thought you had.”

  Her finger like a dagger, she pointed straight at him. “Don’t. Don’t you dare use that against me. You know how hard it was for me to tell you about him and everything that happened.”

  “I’m not using anything against you. I’m trying to understand. You could’ve told me about that.” He pointed at the letter.

  “I told you enough. More than I’ve told anyone else. But how does that help us now? We’ve got no music and you promised. You promised me.”

  The pain in her voice stole his breath.

  He had promised and he meant to keep that promise.

  But he didn’t know how.

  “This prom will be a flop, and you don’t even care.”

  “I do care. Don’t try to say that I don’t. But you’re not just upset over prom music. You’ve got the weight of this place on your shoulders and that”—Trevor pointed at the legal document—“to worry about, and you’ve been worrying alone. If you’d told me, I could’ve helped and you wouldn’t be in this situation.”

  She scoffed again, turning her back on him.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You don’t think I’ve tried to fix this mess? How could you possibly fix any of this? I could lose my family’s hotel in a divorce that I thought was behind me. A mistake that I made, and all I want to do is move on from it and I can’t. I could lose everything.”

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  “I can’t even count on you to get a DJ.”

  “This isn’t about some stupid DJ.”

  “Stupid DJ? Just—just get out. Go home, Trevor. I’ll figure something out myself. Like I always do.” She walked to her office door and jerked it open.

  Everything within him screamed against what was coming. “You can’t throw me out because you’re upset about your ex and a lawsuit. We can fix the DJ issue first and then figure out some way to deal with your ex.”

  Her beautiful dark eyes held no spark. Lifeless black holes as she looked past him. “There is no we. I will deal with my ex and, somehow, I’ll deal with not having a DJ. Alone.”

  He approached her, but didn’t walk out the door. With a deep breath and a focus on all he’d learned from yoga, he willed himself calmer. This wasn’t about him or the two of them or a DJ. This was about her ex and her past, and the blame she carried around, like weights chained to her ankles. He kept his voice even and low. “Why didn’t you tell me your ex was coming after you and Jolie?”

  “What difference does that make?”

  To him, the difference was huge. He’d believed she trusted him, in all things. That they were open with each other in ways they’d never been with others. But still, there was this huge thing she’d kept from him.

  Big and threatening enough that she’d probably been hiding from it all along.

  Perhaps it wasn’t his place to be the hero here, but that didn’t stop the desire.

  “The difference is, there’s being low on income and then there is your ex-husband lurking about, threatening to take part of your family business.”

  “But there’s nothing you can do. I need something I can count on, and right now.”

  That isn’t you.

  She didn’t say the words out loud.

  She didn’t need to.

  He’d heard them plenty of times before. Seen the same look on her face on every single one of his family members.

  His insides twisted, knotting into a ball of frustration like he hadn’t felt in years. He could yell in frustration or anger, but yelling was something he never did. He hated the yelling and screaming and hurt feelings. He’d had enough of that to last him two lifetimes.

  Plus, Brooke was already hurting. Arguing with her, forcing his point, wouldn’t help that pain. “I’m telling you, I will figure something out for the music.”

  Her gaze remained on something he couldn’t see.

  “Brooke. At least look at me.”

  She refused, staring at some faraway point. Away from him. Away from them. “For now, Jolie is still my hotel and I’d like to be alone,” she said. “Please leave.”

  He wasn’t her ex.

  He was nothing like that guy, so he wasn’t going to act like it and force his point. If he stayed, any words they shared would disintegrate into harsh accusations and blame they couldn’t take back.

  He hated that path as much as Brooke, so he left.

  But he refused to be gone for good.

  Chapter 30

  Trevor trudged around the lake’s beach area, hauling four umbrellas along.

  “Good Lord, you’re wrecking my raking job from this morning. I’m going to have to go over the sand again.” Sophie snatched the two umbrellas from his left arm.

  “That’s what you get for raking a lakeside.”

  “All the high-end resorts do it. Especially in the Caribbean.”

  “We aren’t in the Caribbean.”

  Sophie tilted her face up to the sun and sighed. “Tell me about it. I’d burn like toast, but I like a nice beach, so lay off my sand.”

  The day was beautiful: sunny with a cool breeze, low humidity, and a forecast of the midseventies.

  But he could find nothing delightful about the day. A storm cloud hung over him, ugly and dark, isolating him from everything except what’d gone down yesterday.

  Brooke threw him out
of Jolie. Through all of his adventures and experiences over the years, he’d never been thrown out of anywhere.

  She would’ve permanently thrown him out of helping with the prom too, if it were her call to make.

  “Trev? You all right?”

  “Not at all.” He trudged farther down the beach, dropped one umbrella, and began setting up the other.

  Behind him, his sister fought with the two umbrellas she had, before catching up with him.

  “Might as well spill your guts,” she said. “That’s some Roark-level moping you got going on and you never mope. So what’s up?”

  He shook his head. Where to begin? “For starters, we don’t have a DJ for the prom. But that’s a small hurdle compared to Brooke tossing me out of Jolie yesterday and refusing to talk to me.”

  “Holy—What?” Sophie dropped her umbrellas where she stood and circled around to face him.

  “DJ Knight. Bobby? He’s got the flu.”

  With big eyes, she blinked. “Not. Good.”

  “Nope. And Brooke is upset, stressed out, but she sure as hell won’t let me help.”

  “Have you offered to help?”

  Hackles raised, he scowled at his sister. “Of course I’ve offered. Have you met me?”

  “Yes, I have. That’s why I’m asking. How did you offer to help?”

  “What do you mean, how?”

  “How, Trev? What did you suggest to fix this DJ thing with the prom? Were you the Trevor who gets things done, hunts down our mom and reaches out to her so we can all work through things, goes to Dev to track down Zen and get a school its money back? Or were you the Trev who is all, ‘It’s cool, man. No worries. Everything will work out fine’?”

  Unease washed over him. “The former?”

  Sophie cocked an eyebrow.

  “I didn’t get a chance to suggest many solutions, but I told her I would fix it. I could DJ for the prom. It’d be fine.” He left out his suggestion about a playlist.

  “How are you going to DJ?”

  “I don’t know. It’s music. I’d figure something out.”

  In standard sister fashion, she rolled her eyes. “Trev. For the love. Do you have some turntables and a sound system I don’t know about?”

  “No. I could rent that though. Or something. I don’t know.”

  “That is exactly my point. You mean well, Trev. You always do. Full-throttle enthusiasm and, here lately, you get stuff done. But you’re still super laid-back about most stuff. There’s nothing wrong with that, but when someone is freaking out, you need to show some sense of urgency. Freak out a little bit too. Like you did with Zen.”

  He’d wasted little time in finding a way to go after that venue, and he’d kept Brooke in the loop the whole way. Because he knew how much it meant to her.

  “Brooke isn’t made like you. Most people aren’t. You can roll with whatever and keep a cool head without panicking. Other people can’t.”

  “But Brooke likes that I’m laid-back.”

  “I’m sure she loves it. I saw the two of you at the quinceañera, all giddy and dancing. She needs someone who knows how to relax and won’t worry about every little thing. But with matters like this, you can’t simply say things will be fine and expect her to feel all better and not be in a panic. You’ve got to make things fine.”

  Sophie was right.

  Brooke was already torn up about the letter from her ex’s attorney. Yesterday’s argument was a powder keg of her past and present. The DJ just lit the wick. Brooke was cracking under the financial pressures—anyone would—but she refused to accept any help.

  Sophie drove one of the umbrellas into the sand and leaned her weight against it. “Once you sort out this prom hurdle and pull the whole thing off, she’ll be fine. Everyone gets snippy when under pressure.”

  “Yeah, but this isn’t really about the prom.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I….” Brooke had said most people in Windamere didn’t know about her marriage or her divorce. She’d like to keep things that way.

  This was his sister, but still. Brooke’s past wasn’t his to share.

  “Sorry.” He focused on planting one of the other umbrellas in the sand. “It’s not my place to say.”

  “Is it about her being married before?”

  With a flinch, his mouth fell open and he turned to his sister. “How the—You knew?”

  “I might’ve pulled her up online.”

  Trevor shook his head like he was shaking off sand. “Unbelievable.”

  “All that stuff is public record if you look.”

  “You mean, if you stalk.”

  “I was not stalking. I googled her, one time, last year, and saw she’d gotten a divorce.”

  “Wait. Why were you googling her last year?”

  With a one shoulder shrug, Sophie bent to pop open the striped umbrella. “I met her after Wright and I fessed up about dating, and I thought she was awesome. Then she came to Dev’s wedding and you were making moony eyes at her. I look out for y’all whether you know it or not, so I figured I’d pull her up and make sure she really was awesome. Turns out, she is.”

  “I wasn’t making moony eyes at her during Dev’s wedding.”

  His sister laughed and laughed. “Okay, sure.”

  Trevor resisted the urge to jab his sister with an umbrella.

  “But I know she’s divorced. Is that what you thought wasn’t your place to say?”

  “Yes. So much for privacy. Her ex is trying to bleed more money out of her and he’s trying to take away her part of Jolie.”

  Sophie’s “What?” bounced across the lake water. “That will never happen.”

  “I know. But I don’t think that’s the issue. He can make Brooke’s life hell while he tries. Cost her a ton of money in attorney fees, that I guess she could countersue him later, but right now all of this costs money she doesn’t have.”

  “And she can’t borrow it off her sisters or the hotel?”

  “Definitely not.” Trevor dug the heel of his shoe back into the sand. “Thing is, I’ve seen how hard she works, how hard she tries. Everything matters to her, Soph. Everything. She wants this prom to be perfect. She wants her hotel and the winery to be the best, for her sisters to be taken care of. She doesn’t deserve this. She should be treated like gold.”

  “Have you told her that?”

  “I think she knows.”

  “Why don’t you make sure she knows? She needs someone who will be there for her. Someone she can count on. Prove to her that you’re that person.”

  Was he?

  Was he the kind of guy who’d be there through good times and bad? When the going got tough, would he stay put and push through the hard times?

  A couple of years ago? No. But now…

  Images of all he’d done since he’d returned home scrolled through his mind. The work at Honeywilde, even when he’d had his scattered moments, was worthwhile and quality. Reconnecting with his mom. All he’d done at Chateau Jolie with Brooke.

  No, for Brooke. He wanted to help the high school, but he’d worked his hardest because of her. She motivated him to do more. Be more. For her and for himself.

  He was that guy now, and she could always count on him. Even when she was upset about a DJ and mad at him.

  “You’re right,” Trevor told his sister.

  But how? How did he fix this? There was little he could do about her ex. He had more control over the DJ situation, but limited time.

  “You know, if the price was right, you could probably get someone to do the music on short notice.” His sister echoed his thoughts. “With all the bands and DJs we’ve used over the years, surely there’s someone who’s available.”

  Trevor made more shoe prints in the sand. “I tried everyone we’ve ever used. All booked
. And beyond that, we can’t afford the ‘right price.’ We’re on a budget, with only so much for music. I can’t exactly fly in a band.”

  “I’m assuming Jolie can’t supplement?”

  “No.” He could go to Roark. Swallow his pride and tell his brother this was important and they needed to help. Running to big brother was something the old Trevor would do. Sliding down the path of least resistance was fine back then. But he’d grown past that.

  This was his prom, his partnership with Brooke. He wanted to fix this.

  “What you need is a big ole chunk of change,” Sophie said. “I know money isn’t everything, but it wouldn’t hurt.”

  Their budget meant limitations, but…

  If he had access to additional funds, maybe some money stashed away for a rainy day.

  Or a trip abroad.

  “I’ve got an idea. I’ve got to go.” He jammed the last umbrella into the sand and turned to his sister.

  “O-kay.”

  He grabbed her, giving her a quick peck on her forehead. “Thanks for the help.”

  “How did I help?” she called out as he hurried from the lakeside.

  Her voice faded as he rushed away, but he didn’t have time to explain it all now.

  He had a lot of work to do but, for the first time in his life, he knew exactly what he wanted, where he was going, and how he’d get there.

  Chapter 31

  Maybe the lack of guests for the coming weekend would be a blessing. A couple hundred teenagers dancing and singing until almost midnight might turn a few grownups off of Chateau Jolie for life.

  Brooke stared at her computer screen.

  Who was she kidding?

  She needed people in rooms, even if they disliked teenagers, and the prom wasn’t having the effect she’d hoped for. Things would only get worse too, as soon as the kids realized they had no DJ and the only prom music they’d be hearing was a phone and a playlist hooked up to some Bluetooth speaker.

  If tale of this fiasco made the rounds, Jolie would be even more pitiful than it already was.

  “We’re screwed without music.” Brooke crossed her arms on her desk and buried her head. “We are so, so screwed.”