No One Like You

by Heather McGovern

  Except, there was no we anymore.

  Thanks to her.

  She’d made sure to run Trevor off good and proper this time. If playing the ice princess didn’t work, acting like a snide shrew certainly did the trick.

  Now she was neck deep in disaster, without Trevor to help pull her out.

  Getting mad at him hadn’t been fair, but he didn’t get it. Nothing about her situation was going to be fine, and no amount of saying so would make it so.

  There had to be some other way to kick up room sales, and fast. They couldn’t use any more money from the winery, but maybe they could still use the winery. Give away more free tastings or packages. Perhaps even a drawing for a case of wine…or a bottle of wine every month for a year.

  She’d batted these ideas around with her PR lady, and promos like that took time to bear fruit.

  Time she didn’t have. The bank refused to increase their line at the moment. Her parents would dip into their retirement if need be, but that was a last resort.

  A last resort she was quickly approaching.

  “I really don’t want to go there,” she said to no one.

  The family business was hers now, and no, her parents wouldn’t let the place go under, but they shouldn’t have to bail her out. Again.

  She banged her head against her arms.

  All of this had been easier to shoulder with Trevor around. No denying that fact.

  He’d let her down with the DJ debacle, but she’d been a fool to run him off.

  We’ll figure something out, he’d say. Everything will be awesome. Just you wait and see.

  The whole time they were planning, he’d assured her of success and, as much as she hated to admit, true or not, his words worked.

  She’d believed him. Maybe that’s why this hurt so much.

  But still, with all of her fretting and perfectionism, she’d been more confident in planning this prom than she’d been with anything in years.

  All this time she’d doubted that there would ever be anyone there for her, but Trevor had been there from day one. No matter how many times she tried to keep him at a distance or shut him out, regardless of how difficult she’d been, he was there.

  Tiny tapping sounds made her lift her head. She expected Beans to scamper into her office. Instead, a mature female voice called out above the pitter-patter.

  “Hello? Is anyone here?”

  Brooke was upright, face swiped, and hair smoothed before she made it to her office door. “May I help you?”

  Standing in the lobby was a petite woman dressed in jeans, a soft pink sweater, and pink and green floral Wellingtons. She was probably in her sixties or seventies, and her hair was platinum white as she shook out the raindrops. At her feet stood two of the cutest squat little corgis Brooke had ever seen.

  “This is Chateau Jolie, yes?” she asked.

  “Yes, it is, welcome.”

  “Thank goodness,” the woman exclaimed. “You popped up on my phone as a hotel near me.”

  “Please, allow me.” Brooke took the umbrella from her hand and set it in their umbrella holder.”

  “Thank you. It is pouring out.”

  The corgis pranced about on their dual leash, their fur and feet damp.

  “I have something to dry them off. Hold on a moment.” Brooke darted into the downstairs bathroom and grabbed a couple of hand towels. “Here,” she said, returning and offering them to the lady.

  “Perfect. Reggie and Roscoe cannot stand to be wet. Can you, boys?” the woman cooed to her dogs as she dried them.

  “I’m Brooke Sargent by the way. The manager.”

  Once done, the woman straightened and offered her hand. “I’m Clarissa, and I cannot tell you how glad I am we found you.” She patted her dogs. “The boys and I were on our way to Tennessee, when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, the sky just opens up. Well, I’m not big on driving at night anyway, but we got a late start—you know how these things are—but I refuse to drive near dusk and it’s raining cats and dogs. Plus, Reggie and Roscoe do not care for thunder, so I am done. I don’t care that it’s only another hour or two, we’re stopping. I’ll call my friends and tell them we’ll be there tomorrow. But I can’t stop any old place, you know? Not with the boys. So, I asked my phone—my grandson taught me how to talk to my phone—I said, phone, find a pet-friendly hotel near me. And voila. Here you are. You are pet friendly? Please say you are.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Very much so.”

  “And gorgeous! This place is gorgeous.” Clarissa wandered across the lobby, her dogs following her.

  “Thank you. We like to think so.”

  She left the sitting area and headed toward one of the windows. “And did I see a sign that mentioned a vineyard?”

  “Yes, ma’am. We’re a hotel and winery, with our own vineyard.”

  That got Clarissa’s undivided attention as she faced Brooke. “A winery. And do you serve?”

  “Yes, the winery is in the cellar with a seating downstairs and out back.”

  She clasped her hands together, drawing her corgis’ attention. “Marvelous. Absolutely marvelous. I would be forever indebted to you for the teensiest bit of cabernet right now.”

  “Of course.”

  “Or maybe not so teensy. I’m not driving anywhere in this weather anyhow. You know how it is.”

  “I do indeed.”

  “Then join me, dear.” Clarissa was already headed toward the stairs.

  “I’d love to, but I have so much to do and—”

  With a flick of her hand, Clarissa dismissed her objection without even turning around. “Come on now. You can’t expect a little old lady to drink alone. You said downstairs, yes? Reggie and Roscoe can come too?”

  Brooke followed, having no choice. “Yes.”

  “You have made my week, my dear. Let’s have a not so teensy glass of red, and I will check in and all will be right with the world.”

  This is what Trevor’s sister, Sophie, would be like in about fifty years. A tornado in a teacup, but Brooke welcomed the sense of being overwhelmed. A glass of cab sounded ideal right now, and her new guest wasn’t entertaining a no for an answer.

  They found a seat in the empty tasting area of the winery. There were no tastings this late, so Brooke did the honors and poured.

  Clarissa was a talker, and all Brooke had to do was nod. Clarissa’s command of the conversation allowed Brooke a reprieve from thinking about Jolie or the prom or Trevor.

  Fine with her.

  “You don’t know how nice it is to have a pet-friendly place that’s still a high-end hotel. I can’t tell you how many times the boys and I have stayed in roadside motels because I am not leaving them at a kennel.”

  “I’m so glad you found us.”

  “Well, can you imagine how it’d look if a board member didn’t bring her babies to the regional meeting?”

  “Meeting for what?” Brooke asked.

  “Humane Society, dear. We have our regional meeting tomorrow. No one leaves their pets at home. We rent pet-friendly houses and sitters for while we’re out.”

  “You’re…you’re on the board of the Humane Society.”

  “Yes, I am.” Clarissa clinked her glass against Brooke’s.

  Their one glass turned into a bottle and when they finally made it back upstairs, Laurel was checking in two gentlemen and their sweater-wearing greyhound.

  She gave Clarissa and the gentlemen their room keys. They all left with their luggage and fur babies.

  Laurel turned to her as soon as they passed the sitting area. “I think this pet thing is really going to take off,” she force whispered.

  Brooke smiled. “I think so too. Maybe even bigger than we imagined.”

  “Those guys saw our ad on the Bark in the Park flyer. And they were saying a lot of peop
le travel for that Wag-a-thon, and we’ll probably get a ton of bookings since it’s near here.”

  “And the lady you checked in is a board member of the Humane Society.”

  “Shut up.” Laurel gaped. “Advertising this more was such a great idea, sis.”

  And it wasn’t Brooke’s. “The pet-friendly promo was Trevor’s idea. Remember?”

  Laurel bobbed her shoulders as she stacked some papers. “Yeah, but y’all came up with the details together. It’s awesome, and not only because Beans is bound to make new friends. Speaking of, where is Trevor? I figured you two would be inseparable and he’d be camped out here, what with the prom two days away.”

  “I don’t know where he is. Maybe he’s got some Honeywilde stuff to take care of.” Brooke cringed at her lie and cowardice. “That’s not true.”

  Laurel did a double take, one eye brow twitching into a comical wrinkle. “Do what?”

  “Trevor. I do know where he is. He’s probably at Honeywilde, but only because I ran him off.”

  The papers in Laurel’s hands hit the reception desk. “Dang it, Brooke. What did you do?”

  Her sister didn’t ask, What did he do?

  “Do you want to talk about what happened?” Laurel asked instead.

  With a heavy sigh, the story came pouring out, about the attorney’s letter, the DJ, everything.

  “You didn’t have to run him off though, sis. The two of you working together are more likely to fix a little DJ problem than you alone.”

  “I realize this. I know I messed up. I don’t need a lecture now.”

  “Really? Because sometimes I think you do.”

  Brooke peered over at her typically more forgiving and patient sister.

  “I mean it. You’re awesome and you do a great job of keeping me and Reagan straight and all, but sometimes you can bulldoze straight ahead without the patience to think.”

  “I was upset.”

  “The DJ bailed on him. So what? Y’all should get out there and find another one. You don’t kick Trevor out of the hotel and your life, definitely not out of the prom partnership. That’s not even your call to make.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?”

  Their gazes clashed.

  “You’re so accustomed to being in charge, to being responsible for any and everything, that you feel you have to go it alone. Especially when the going gets tough. But you don’t. You’re surrounded by people who love you and can help. Me, Reagan. And now Trevor.”

  “I doubt Trevor loves me, especially now.”

  Laurel nailed her with a look. “I don’t. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but you tend to shut people out when you get overwhelmed.”

  “I…I know.”

  “Then do something to change that habit. You don’t have go it alone, sis. Not even when the dog poo hits the fan. You don’t have to be alone, either.”

  Brooke’s vision blurred as she blinked.

  Laurel was right. Admitting she put up walls was one thing, tearing them down was another.

  But Trevor had been beyond her walls and done no harm. She trusted him. But she’d gotten scared.

  And more than anything, she missed him.

  She still didn’t have a solution for the prom music, or a quick injection of income, but these weren’t problems she had to solve on her own.

  Her sisters were there for her. And so was Trevor. They’d known each other mere days, but he’d been there. When she’d freaked out over the budget, he was there; when she’d launched onto her soapbox at one of the owners of Zen, Trevor had had her back. When she’d confessed the truth about her marriage, Trevor hadn’t batted an eye.

  She’d kept the full truth from him anyway.

  She could’ve told him about Nick’s attempts to take Jolie. Trevor wouldn’t have judged her. More than likely, he would’ve tried to help.

  That’s all he’d done since this whole thing had started. He’d never given her any reason to think he wouldn’t stand right beside her while she sorted out this latest legal mess.

  But telling him about the lawsuit would’ve meant accepting it was real.

  As long as she hid from her past, denied what haunted her and pretended none of this was an issue, then it wasn’t real.

  Trevor would’ve wanted to tackle the problem like heroes, even if they failed. But he never would’ve ignored it.

  The problem wasn’t Trevor. The problem was her.

  “I have to talk to him.”

  Laurel smiled. “Yeah, you do.”

  This was too much to handle on the phone though. Instead, she’d call Honeywilde and make sure he was there. Then she’d go and speak with him in person. She owed Trevor an apology and, as long as he accepted, they had to figure out a fix for the prom music.

  “I can keep an eye on the front while you try to call from the office. I have a feeling you’ll want the privacy.”

  Brooke hurried to the office, her mind a flurry. As soon as she got her thoughts together and sat down to dial Honeywilde’s number, Laurel called out. “Um, Brooke?”

  “Hold on. I’m about to call the inn.”

  “I know, but you need to come back out here first.”

  With a grumble, Brooke got up. Maybe she should write some of her thoughts down, so as not to forget anything.

  “Brooke!”

  “I’m coming!” She begrudgingly rushed back to the reception desk.

  There, standing across from Laurel, were five dark-haired men. All vaguely familiar.

  “They said they’re here to see you,” her sister whispered.

  “Why are you whispering?” Brooke looked at the group of men again.

  “Ms. Sargent? Brooke Sargent?” One of them stepped forward.

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “We were told to come by and see you about a performance Saturday night.”

  “A what?” She glanced at Laurel.

  Her sister shook her head and shrugged.

  “For your dance. We wanted to talk to you about what kind of music you might like, maybe have a look at the room and setup so we’ll know what to do with our instruments and equipment.”

  Brooke stared, words spinning around in her mind, but none coming out. She knew she recognized them. They were the band from Camila’s quinceañera.

  “Wait, are you guys going to play for the prom?” Laurel asked for her.

  “Yes. We play all the top forty, classics. Pretty much anything you want.”

  Brooke’s brain finally found the right gear. “I—I’m sorry. Evidently I’ve missed something.”

  “Trevor Bradley called us today. An emergency he said. For your dance.”

  The man next to him nodded. “Please tell me you’re available, he said.”

  “Normally we wouldn’t be free on a Saturday night, but our bass player is out of the country, so we didn’t book any shows. Señor Bradley said he’d find us a stand-in to play bass though, not to worry.”

  That sounded exactly like something Señor Bradley would say.

  “I…That’s…But there’s no way we can afford you.”

  “We have already been paid. Evidently someone can afford us.” The leader of the group grinned.

  Laurel bounced on the balls of her feet. “Are you telling us you’re going to play the prom tomorrow? Trevor Bradley already arranged everything and paid you?”

  “Sí.”

  Brooke gaped.

  She’d seen them live; they were phenomenal and probably charged an arm and a leg, because they were worth it, so how in the world could Trevor afford to have already paid them?

  With him, he could’ve done anything from taken out a loan to robbing a bank.

  “Never mind her. She’s in shock.” Laurel patted Brooke’s arm and stepped forward to shake h
ands with the band’s leader. “I’m Laurel. Please, come in. I’ll show you around the ballroom and the stage. You can check out the layout and decide how you’ll set up.” She turned back and smiled as she led the solution to at least one big problem to their ballroom. “My sister Brooke has another matter to take care of.”

  Chapter 32

  The damp, foggy dusk fit his mood better than the bright sun of yesterday morning.

  His shoulders refused to relax, his neck insistently tense. He wasn’t in a bad mood, per se, but he could do hours of yoga right now, and it’d barely make a dent.

  Trevor planted his hands on the dock, leaning back as his feet dangled in the lake.

  A chill from the water crept up his legs, doing little to cool or calm the restlessness inside.

  His heart and mind galloped, with no place to go. The racing wasn’t because he’d given up thousands of dollars this morning. That was all for a good reason and the right thing to do. He didn’t need that money to survive, and Peru could wait another year or two.

  His disquiet had everything to do with Brooke.

  He’d let her down, true. But his misstep was only a spark that ignited the real issue between them.

  Whether or not they could work through that issue wasn’t up to just him.

  He was ready and willing, but Brooke had to be too. She had to trust him, and more than that, she had to learn to trust herself.

  A mighty tall order given what she’d been through.

  What if she wasn’t ready? Maybe she couldn’t.

  There’d been a time, in the not so distant past, he’d thought he could never truly be open or vulnerable or trust anyone again. He’d been so certain that the best way to protect himself was to remain aloof, distant, carefree.

  You never worried if you didn’t care about anything.

  But along came Brooke and her sisters and the kids at Windamere High, and he couldn’t help but care.

  His carefree attitude had morphed into not caring at all. And that was a lonely way to live.

  Brooke wasn’t any different. Except instead of adopting an air of cool nonchalance, she kept everyone at arm’s length. Sometimes even her sisters.

  By keeping people at a distance, they only hurt themselves. Trevor knew that now. And he wanted Brooke to know.