5. Maddie
5
MADDIE
Travis Wagner, Lindsay’s boyfriend, frowned at Maddie as he came inside from loading the wrecked car onto his tow truck. “Did Dan give him a breathalyzer at least?” Travis asked Maddie in a low voice, his gaze traveling over her toward where Officer Dan Kline was talking to Brooks Kent.
Brooks Kent. As in massive rock star Brooks Kent who is in my store at five in the morning.
Maddie had done everything in her power not to freak out when he’d revealed it. She should have recognized him sooner, but he’d grown a dark beard, and she hadn’t seen pictures of him recently.
And, of course, I blubbered on and made a fool of myself in front of him.
Back in the day, she would have been totally star-struck by him. She’d liked his music and had only stopped listening to him when Hank—one of her former boyfriends—had sent her down a country music rabbit hole.
But she never, ever would have expected that she’d run into him in the wee hours of the morning in her store while wearing a towel.
Oh God. If Linds and Naomi find out, they’ll never let me live it down. But they wouldn’t find out. She’d promised Brooks not to tell anyone and to store the security footage from the crash somewhere for her eyes only.
As much as she hated to lie to her family about the whole thing, those were the terms he’d set when he’d promised to pay back the damages plus any estimated revenue losses from the crash. She wouldn’t get that good of a deal from an insurance company.
Maddie’s attention went back to Travis. “I honestly don’t think he was drunk. Dan knows what to do anyway, but Brooks seemed pretty okay with it. Besides, he’s not the first city person who comes into town and doesn’t know what to do when a deer jumps in front of them.”
Travis appeared skeptical. “I may have fixed up my fair share of cars thanks to deer, but I’ve never heard of anyone driving into a store. He’s lucky he hit the window.”
“And we’re not so lucky. Naomi is going to freak when she sees this mess.”
Travis nodded. “She sure as hell will. You might want to warn her before she hears it from someone else.”
Maddie whirled toward him and wagged a finger. “Remember your promise. Not a word about Brooks to anyone. Not even Lindsay. He doesn’t want anyone to know, and I don’t want him to have any reason not to pay immediately for this damage.”
Travis rolled his eyes. “I remember. I better get back to the shop before sunrise, then.”
Maddie watched him go, then headed outside to where Garrett Doyle was stapling thick, opaque plastic sheeting over the broken window. Garrett glanced up with a grin. “Only the Yardleys could get me out of bed this early on a Sunday.”
“You know we love you, Doyle.” Maddie crouched down beside him. “What’s the likelihood of repairing this sometime soon?”
Garrett took out a box cutter and sliced at the plastic. “Honestly? It’s gonna be at least three weeks at minimum to even start. Maybe more. I’m booked solid, but I might be able to squeeze in some hours before and after to get things going. But this window’s going to have to be special ordered.”
She could barely remember a time when Garrett hadn’t been everyone’s first choice for home repair and contracting—his business had grown so large that she doubted he even took on smaller repairs like this personally anymore. Yet it always made her proud. Pops had always liked Garrett Doyle, even when other folks in Brandywood had seen only the worst in him. Naomi once told her that Pops had suggested she date Garrett when he’d come back into town, which made sense, considering they’d been in the same class through high school.
But for all the success Garrett had found, it didn’t make this current situation any easier. She needed to get the Depot back in shape as soon as possible. Three weeks or more—especially when the fall festival was at the beginning of next month—would mean the Depot might not be ready for the influx of tourists at peak fall.
That was terrible news for the Depot. Their location in a small, mountainous Appalachian town meant they relied on those seasonal tourist drops for income.
“We’ll take any time you can spare for us, Garrett. And bill accordingly. We’re not paying the tab, and my guess is that asshole in there can afford it.”
“What do you figure Brooks Kent is doing here?” Garrett’s brown eyes were curious as he continued stapling the plastic sheeting into the wooden window trim.
“No idea. Somehow, I don’t think it was to visit the Country Depot.” A snicker left Maddie before she could help it, a fresh wave of exhaustion hitting her. She must be more tired than she realized.
“I’m wondering if Cormac coming into town has anything to do with it,” Garrett said with a thoughtful look.
Maddie raised her brows. “Cormac’s in town?” Garrett’s older brother, who’d moved to Nashville long ago, only came home occasionally. Like all the Doyles, he was friendly and easygoing. He’d been good friends with Logan in high school.
“Yeah, he got in late last night. Texted me to see if I wanted to meet him at the pub, but it was like one thirty in the morning. I think he ended up meeting with one of my brothers, though.”
“You think Brooks Kent might be one of Cormac’s friends? That would be crazy.” She’d known Cormac had made it far in the music world, but not that far.
“Could be.” Garrett shrugged and finished cutting the plastic. “Come to think of it, Cormac said something about fishing with a buddy for the week. I hope he wasn’t planning on using Dad’s old cabin—the place got infested with carpenter bees and is on my to-do list for repair when I have time.” He squinted at the battered storefront. “Sorry it’s not more attractive of a solution.”
“Don’t apologize. You’re doing me a huge favor. And it’s not like you drove your car into the store.” Maddie opened the main glass door, the familiar scent of cinnamon wafting to her from a display of fall candles. She held the door for Garrett as he gathered his tools. “Want a cup of coffee or anything? I can get one brewing.”
Garrett hesitated and lifted the thick roll of plastic. “Normally, I’d take you up on it, but I should get back to Sam and the girls. The baby was up with a fever last night.”
“Still hard to believe that you’ve got two girls.” Maddie winked at him. “Say hi to Sam for me. Tell her to come by as soon as she’s feeling up for more work. Naomi wants some new product photos for the website.”
“I’ll tell her.” Garrett nodded a goodbye, and Maddie left him. She wrinkled her nose at the sight of the mess beyond the window. They would have to open late today. Thank goodness it was Sunday. Nothing on Main Street opened before ten in the morning on Sundays.
She approached Brooks and Dan, doing her best not to watch Brooks too closely. Even though she’d talked to him, there was an awkwardness there with him being a celebrity. No doubt he was used to being noticed in public—and let’s be honest—gawked at. The man was hot, even with the scruffy beard. He had dark gray, brooding eyes befitting of a rock star, chiseled features, and a strong jaw, and he clearly worked out. Maddie had hung a poster of him years ago in her college dorm, but thankfully, he didn’t have to know that.
And she’d greeted him fresh from the shower in a towel.
Which he clearly noticed.
The internal cringe made her want to run away.
“Where are you heading after this?” Dan was saying to Brooks. The blond, blue-eyed officer was taller than Brooks—who was tall himself—but the Klein brothers were known for their stature.
“My buddy has a place somewhere around here.” A tired expression crossed Brooks’s face. “But I haven’t been able to get a call out to him.”
“I can take you there if you like,” Dan offered, his gaze flicking to Maddie momentarily. “My wife and I also run a B&B, though, if you need a place to crash.”
“I think he already found that here,” Maddie quipped before she could stop herself.
Both men looked at her, and she smiled. “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself. Too soon?”
Is that a hint of a smile on Brooks’s lips?
Brooks turned his attention back to Dan, hesitating. “Uh, thanks for the offer, Officer, but I’m good. I’ll figure it out.”
Maddie studied his handsome face. There was that desire to stay away from the police again, too. And the fact that he’d referred to Dan as “officer” meant he viewed Dan that way, even if Dan wasn’t wearing a uniform or on duty.
Why does he not like cops?
“Need anything else, Maddie?” Dan asked. His gaze traversed the damaged displays. “Looks like you’re going to need a few sets of hands to clean all this up.”
“It’s fine. I’ll put a sign on the door that we’re opening late and try to get ahold of a few people scheduled to come in this morning. Hopefully, we can get it all done.”
She almost regretted not asking Dan to stay and help. Moments after he’d walked out the door, the awkwardness of Brooks’s presence flooded her. She stuffed her hands into her pockets, feeling the weight of his proximity even though he was at least an arm's length away. “So . . . um, do you want me to call you a ride or something?”
Brooks didn’t answer, bending over and picking up the stem of a shattered, hand-painted wineglass. Grace Wagner would cry if she saw her gorgeous creations broken on the floor. They’d just put the fall collection on display a week ago. “Actually, I’d like to help you clean this up if you don’t mind.”
What now?
Brooks Kent wanted to help her clean?
Unexpectedly nice as he might intend that to be, she just wanted him gone already so she could crawl into bed and try to salvage a couple of hours of sleep.
“Um—no, you don’t have to do that,” she said flatly and snatched the stem from his hand.
Reflexively, he closed his hand around the stem as she pulled.
A bright burst of blood came from his palm, and he drew his hand back. “Christ!”
Oh shit. She gasped, dropping the stem to the floor, where it cracked into several pieces. “Oh my God, are you okay? I’m so sorry.”
He sucked in through his teeth, a hint of irritation on his face. “Consider this the cherry on top of the best night of my life. I’m just thankful I chose to come to this hellhole over a week in the Maldives.”
Arrogant son of a bitch. She glared at him. “You don’t have to be an asshole about it.”
“Sorry,” he said in a voice that was anything but.
She rubbed her temples, which throbbed with exhaustion. “Follow me,” she grumbled. She couldn’t believe she was considering taking him upstairs to her apartment, but she’d stashed the first-aid kit up there—and he could sit down more comfortably in her living room.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Upstairs. I have an apartment up there. I’ll clean that up for you.”
He clenched his fingers into a fist. “You don’t have to do that.” Blood dripped down to his wrist.
“Actually, I do. Or at least give you the first-aid kit. I am sorry, believe it or not.”
He opened his mouth but then said nothing as though thinking better of it. “Lead the way.”
She took him through the back hallway and up the stairs, her brain spinning. Maybe she’d wake up and find out this had all been a weird dream. She could practically imagine herself seeing Travis, Garrett, and Dan at something around town and telling them about the strange nightmare with the Wizard of Oz’s “. . . and you were there . . .and you were there . . .” line.
Brooks was oddly quiet as he followed her. His cheap shot about how much this sucked compared to his celebrity lifestyle stung—not that it didn’t make sense. But it also made her embarrassed to bring him up here. He was wealthy and had traveled the world.
Something about that made her feel like a country bumpkin from the backwoods.
She held the door to the apartment open. “Right through here.”
Thank goodness the door to her room was mostly closed. She could just barely see the mess through the slit in the door—she’d have to sneak over there and close it.
She flipped on a light in the living room and pointed at the couch. “Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, I’m good, thanks.”
He sat, and she avoided looking at him once again.
This is just too weird.
She needed to stop acting like a star-struck dope and get on with it. The sooner she patched up his hand, the sooner he could get out of here, and this whole strange episode would be over.
The first-aid kit was under the kitchen sink. She washed her hands and grabbed it, along with a bottle of peroxide. Going back toward him, she sat and unzipped the case, then set it on the coffee table, reaching for his wounded left hand. “Let me take a look.”
“I can clean it up.”
“It’s your dominant hand,” she said with a frown.
Brooks scanned her face. “How do you know that?”
She bit her lip, hoping she hadn’t given her former fangirl self away. She’d always liked the fact that she shared the lefty trait with someone famous like him. “You play left-handed guitar, don’t you?”
His eyes met hers, and he nodded.
He didn’t protest further and, instead, extended his hand for her. She took it gently. The cut wasn’t terribly deep, but it crossed most of his palm. Ouch. “I’m so sorry again,” she murmured as she started cleaning it with peroxide.
“Accidents don’t require apologies.”
Really? What an odd life philosophy. She frowned. “That’s not true. Just because something wasn’t done purposely doesn’t mean there wasn’t hurt inflicted. Or fault. Otherwise, how do you explain manslaughter sentences?”
His expression darkened. “I was just saying?—”
“No, you were just excusing. You didn’t mean to ram your car into my store, did you? But that doesn’t absolve your responsibility for wrecking the place.”
The space between them filled with tense silence once again, and she kept her head down, focusing on cleaning the cut. It was too long for even a large Band-Aid, so she pulled out some pieces of gauze and the tape instead.
Maybe she’d spoken too harshly. But something about his statement had unsettled her. Disappointed her. Not that she’d expected much out of him—she’d seen in the tabloids over the years that he had a reputation for partying hard and leaving a trail of broken hearts.
When she’d finished bandaging his hand, he sat back and rubbed his eyes. “Thanks. You really didn’t have to do that. I wrecked your place, after all.”
Her eyes narrowed at him. Was he mocking her?
She didn’t have the energy to deal with another jerk. Not after spending the past couple of weeks mourning Josh. She was ready to swear men off altogether.
She checked the clock on her wall. Wow. Almost five thirty. She needed sleep.
For that matter, Brooks probably did, too. He looked just as tired as she felt.
She nodded stiffly and stood. “I’ll be right back. Just going to wash up. You sure I can’t get you a cup of coffee or something?”
“Yeah, I guess coffee would be good. I need to call a friend who has a family cabin nearby, but my service keeps disappearing.”
She was tempted to ask him if Cormac was his friend, but that just seemed too nosy. It had to be, didn’t it? Brandywood has its fair share of people who’d gone out and done some big things after high school, though.
“Welcome to Brandywood,” she said with an eye roll. “Service is spotty all over town. But we do have Wi-Fi in the store, so if you hang on a minute, I can grab one of the cards we hand out downstairs with the passcode. I think I have some in my room.”
“You don’t know the code?”
She shrugged. “My sister changes it monthly. I don’t bother to keep up with it.”
She stood and grabbed the first-aid supplies, dropping them off in the kitchen. After washing her hands again, she started a pot of coffee, then went down the hallway to her bedroom. Her limbs were oddly jittery—probably a combination of her tiredness and the fact that Brooks Kent was in her living room.
That was a mind trip all by itself.
She slipped into her room as discreetly as she could, hoping Brooks wasn’t watching her and seeing what a disaster her room was. Catching her reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall, she grimaced. Her hair had dried wavy and messily, and she wore sweats.
Yikes—and it was clearly obvious she didn’t have a bra on despite the sweatshirt dampening the effect.
She plucked a bra off the floor, then dug around for a clean T-shirt. Clearly, she needed to do laundry soon.
Finding an old college shirt at last, she yanked it on and then traded the sweats for leggings. She brushed and tied her hair back quickly. Her features were drawn and tired, but she couldn’t do much about that now. Besides, she didn’t want Brooks to think she was trying to impress him. An outfit change could be explained because she’d shown up in a towel before. Makeup would be ridiculous.
She tugged a pair of socks on, then grabbed a Wi-Fi card off her dresser. The delicious, warm scent of coffee greeted her as she opened the door once again. The living room was still only lit by the warmth of a yellow lamp, and her window curtains were tightly shut. Brooks had nestled into the corner of the couch, his head resting against the back cushion. His eyes were closed and . . .
He's asleep.
She hadn’t been out of the room that long, had she?
Maddie bit her lip.
She should wake him up, give him the cup of coffee, and send him on his way. The last thing she wanted was a strange man sleeping in her living room, no matter how famous he was.
But something about him resting there made her feel bad for him. He had just been through an accident and—apparently—not slept for a while either.
Dammit.
Considering the amount of trouble he’d caused her, she didn't feel like being nice to him. His attitude wasn’t great either. He was standoffish and sometimes even rude. Clearly not interested in being friendly.
Then again, he offered to stay and help clean up the Depot.
He must be exhausted if he’d fallen asleep so quickly. And what harm could really come from letting him take a nap? She sighed, then headed back into her room, locking the door behind her. Let him nap. She could use one, too.
I just hope I don’t regret this.