12. Brooks
12
brOOKS
Audrey’s cry pierced the silence of the night.
Brooks sat in his bed, listening. After a long wail sounded, Brooks tossed his sheets to the side and hustled to the room beside his. Audrey had insisted he lie down with her to fall asleep, but he’d left once she was solidly out.
Now she was awake and sitting up in the bed, crying.
Brooks flipped on the light on the bedside table, and she covered her eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. “What happened?” he asked, sitting on the edge of her bed.
Damn. His heart pounded in his chest.
“You left,” Audrey wailed, throwing herself into his arms.
Brooks gathered her into his arms and kissed the top of her head, holding her close. Lying back against the pillows, he reached over and flipped the light back out again, then rubbed her back.
She was so much like Kayla it wasn’t funny.
Mom had started leaving Kayla alone with him at the house when he was eight and Kayla was just one. North Carolina didn’t have a legal age for babysitting, and Mom needed all the help she could get. So it was Brooks’s bed that Kayla slept in more often than not. He’d learned to change diapers, make formula—all of it—while most other kids his age were playing outside or on their gaming systems.
Sports weren’t an option, mostly because Mom had no extra money to spend on registration. She needed him home anyway. So he’d found a hobby in his dad’s old guitar and library books on how to play.
Kayla had loved to hear him play.
When she had nightmares, it was the one thing that calmed her down more than anything else.
But that was then, when playing the guitar was something he shared just with Kayla. She was his only audience, the only one who listened. Kayla’s rapt attention made him want to play better, sing better, and eventually, write songs.
Now that he’d played for more people than he could ever count, he rarely picked up the guitar if he didn’t have to. When did I stop loving what I do?
When Audrey’s sniffling and breathing deepened again, Brooks peeled her away and stood. He started back to his room, but what was the point? Insomnia had plagued him for years, so he wouldn’t be able to sleep now.
He headed out to the back deck. Cormac had been out there when he’d gone to bed, hanging out by the firepit. Maybe he was still there.
The seat Cormac had occupied was empty, though, and the last log on the fire had nearly burned through. Brooks found a small pile of wood near the pit and threw on another log, then settled into the chair.
The night air chilled his skin through his shirt and pajama pants. He should have grabbed a sweatshirt on his way out the door. Still, he let the cold seep in, leaning his head against the tall back of the chair. This sort of thing was what he’d come here for, after all. Peace and quiet. Time away.
He just hadn’t known when he’d agreed to come out here with Cormac how much peace and quiet he’d need.
His problems continued to grow, and he wasn’t sure how to stop the rolling snowball from becoming an avalanche. First, the legal issues with Mike, and the subsequent fallout with the label. Then the car crash.
. . . and now Madison Yardley.
He had to give it to her. She’d taken her shot and practically swished with victory.
And maybe he could have told her no. Maybe he should have told her no. What was one more scandal in the tabloids at this point?
Except he was so damn tired.
He’d spent years thinking that if he ignored what they printed about him, he could walk away from it, and it wouldn’t make a difference. In some ways, he enjoyed the reputation. The more people thought of him as a temperamental jerk, the less likely they were to mess with him.
Most of the whispers didn’t really bother him—though the stuff about Paulette had infuriated him. He’d considered legal action that time, but Darren had convinced him a drawn-out court case of he-said-she-said would only do more harm than good.
Maybe he should have dumped Darren a long time ago.
He sighed, letting his gaze wander over the stars above the treetops.
For whatever reason, he couldn’t get Madison’s expression out of his mind as she’d repeated back to him the stuff about Paulette.
He shouldn’t care what she thought. She was a stranger...no one to him.
Yet the words had bothered him to his core.
He took out his phone and dialed Maddie before he could overthink it.
“What?” She didn’t sound amused to hear from him.
He smiled, cradling the phone against his ear. “Is that any way to say hello?”
“Sorry, majesty. I just can’t seem to remember my manners around you.” She yawned. “You do realize it’s almost midnight?”
The log he’d thrown on the fire caught at last, and a bright burst of flame and warmth radiated from it. “Weren’t you the woman who was taking a shower at four in the morning the other day?”
“How do you know that’s not when I get up every morning?”
I just know. He could picture her as the type of person who stayed in bed as long as she could. But picturing her in bed wasn’t the best idea either. He hardened at the mental image, those tanned legs bare against soft sheets . . .
“Brooks?”
“What?” Shut that image down. It had been too long since he’d had sex, clearly. One semi-nude encounter with a beautiful woman, and he was suddenly horny as fuck.
“I said maybe I get up at four every morning.”
“I don’t buy it.”
“You know what? It doesn’t matter. What the hell do you want? I’m going to bed eventually here.”
“How is it you can receive my call with your shitty service, by the way? Are you not home?”
He could practically hear her smirk.
“My, my, someone’s a little nosy tonight. There’s this thing called Wi-Fi calling. You really should think about adopting twenty-first-century technology, old man.”
Right. He should know that.
Why am I calling her? The whole idea seemed ill-conceived. Foolish.
Yet outside of Cormac, he didn’t know anyone else around here.
“I was hungry. You know of any good places for takeout around here?”
“At midnight?” She laughed. “My grandfather’s pub is still open. I might get the kitchen to make something for you, but how will you pick it up?”
“You can bring it to me.” He leaned into his chair with a self-satisfied smile.
“I’m not your errand girl.” Her voice was flat.
“You are now. You can deduct it from the time you owe me.”
Maddie groaned. “You’re the worst, you know that? Fine. What do you want?”
“Surprise me. I’m on the back deck...not naked this time.”
“Good. I think I’m still half blind. Be there in like a half hour.”
He hung up with a smile on his lips. Had he really just called her and demanded she bring him food? He wasn’t even that hungry.
But there was something inherently thrilling about having her at his disposal.
True to her word, Maddie pulled up about a half hour later and climbed onto the back deck, a paper bag in hand, scowl on her face. “I brought you a pit beef sandwich and fries. The kitchen was closing. Also, Travis told me to tell you that you should come by his shop tomorrow. He wants to discuss the car repair with you.” She thrust the bag into his lap. “Good night.”
He hid a smile. She wore leggings and a white crop top, a zip-up fleece hastily thrown on top of that. Despite the casualness of her outfit—it was a far cry from that breezy skirt she’d worn over here today—she looked cute.
And she’s already leaving.
“What’s pit beef?”
“It’s a Maryland thing. It’s good. Like a roast beef sandwich, but way better.” She kept walking without looking back.
“How much do I owe you?”
“On the house. I got it for free.” She was already approaching the stairs.
“Care to join me?” he asked, gesturing to the other empty chair beside the firepit.
“Are you serious right now?” She glared at him. “Some of us have businesses to run. Lives to live. We’re not all on vacation this week.” She turned to go down the stairs.
A strange, desperate feeling floated through him. “I just wanted you to know...about Paulette. It’s not true.”
She froze in place. Slowly, she glanced his way over her shoulder. “It’s not any of my business.”
Brooks stared at her figure in the moonlight. Why did it matter to him that she know the truth? She didn’t care, and he shouldn’t either.
But he pressed on. “You asked me about it, and it makes a difference. I have never, not ever, lifted my hand to a woman. I never will, either. I never slapped Paulette.”
She turned toward him with a frown. “Then why would she say that?”
Why indeed? He’d wondered so many times.
He reached into the paper bag and pulled out a foil-wrapped sandwich that smelled heavenly. The chef made beef bourguignon for dinner, and while it was delicious, Brooks spent so much time trying to convince Audrey to eat her food that his own plate had gone cold while he played airplane with her fork.
“Dating in Hollywood or as a celebrity is hard. My manager thought it would look good for me to find someone to settle down with, so he set me up with a celebrity matchmaker. She paired me with a few different women and eventually Paulette.”
Evidently curious, Maddie came back over and sat. “There are celebrity matchmakers?”
He chuckled. “Sure are. And they make a small fortune for their lovely service.” He took a bite, nearly groaning. God, this is good. Maybe he had been hungrier than he thought.
“Anyway, Paulette really wanted things to work. She’d just broken up with a movie star who had cheated on her, and she wanted him to see how happily she’d moved on. She leaked our ‘relationship’ to every outlet she knew. When I realized things between us were going nowhere fast, I told her I was done, and she was infuriated. She didn’t want to be broken up with publicly again after what she’d gone through, so she asked me if she could tell the media that she’d dumped me. I just didn’t know she’d get so carried away with her story.”
Maddie stared at him, unblinking. “Wait. So let me get this straight. You let her tell the press that you’d slapped her?”
He took another bite, thinking about his answer. “I didn’t like it. Actually, I hated it. I asked her to change her story, but she refused. Anyway, the damage was done. I just never spoke to her again.”
He’d also only told a handful of people the truth about it. Most people just assumed it was true, and his casual friends didn’t ask. Moments like those are when I’ve felt the loneliest. What sort of creep do those so-called friends think I am?
“That’s . . . terrible. Like super shitty of her to do.” Maddie leaned closer to the firepit. “Why did you let her get away with something that damaged your reputation so much?”
“People look at me and see what they want to see.” Brooks shrugged. “Apparently, I look like an abusive ass who’d hit a woman. No one really seemed to think it was out of character for me.”
“I doubt that. You have to have dated women who could speak up in your defense.”
“Like I said, dating as a celebrity is hard.” He dug around the container for some fries. “Sure, I could hook up with women after every concert if I wanted—and believe me, I did my fair share of that when I was young and stupid. But those weren’t relationships. They were one-night stands.”
“What about before then? Don’t you have a high school or college sweetheart who could sing your praises?”
The hoot of an owl from the woods beside them made him look away, his gaze piercing the dark. He didn’t need to tell her what his life had been like back then, but he was in a sharing mood for some reason. “I didn’t have time to date in high school or college. My mom died in a car accident when I was eighteen. Kayla was only eleven, so I became her guardian.”
Her eyes widened. “I’m sor?—”
“Don’t be. Everyone always says that, but it’s sort of meaningless.” That phrase had always bothered him. “Sorry for your loss.” No, you’re not. You just want to fill the awkward silence. “The point is, I don’t think anyone will step forward as a character witness anytime soon. Anyway, people have spread worse lies about me.”
She stared him down, then scooted her chair closer, plucked a fry out of the container, and ate it. “You’re crazy. If someone had said something like that about me, I would have been shouting from the mountains about what a liar they were.”
“So you believe me?” He raised a brow. She’d been surprisingly easy to convince.
She took another fry. “I guess I do.”
“That’s not too persuasive.” And why does it make me nervous that she might not?
“I mean, I do.” She chewed slowly. “I don’t know why.” She was quiet, then picked up the bag. “Didn’t they give you any ketchup?” The lid to a small container of ketchup popped, then she plopped it on the arm of his chair.
“I didn’t know we were sharing food now.”
“You have no idea how many fries I already stole out of that bag on my drive over here.”
He threw back his head with a laugh. “Why can I picture you doing that?”
She smiled mischievously. “At least I’m honest with you. We’ll both go to hell lying to everyone else, but you and me? We’re in it together now.”
“Trust me, you don’t want to be seen in public having anything to do with me. Everyone you know—and don’t know—will assume the worst.” He handed her another fry.
“God, you’re negative. Do you only see the awfulness in people?”
“No. There are a couple of people I like.”
She rolled her eyes. “Your sister and niece don’t count.”
“Of course they count. They’re the only ones who count, as far as I’m concerned.”
Maddie shook her head. “I don’t know if that makes you a psycho or surprisingly human and sweet.”
He finished the sandwich and crumpled the wrapper in his hand. “You’re safer believing the first. I’ve been called a lot of things, but sweet isn’t one of them. Not sure human is either.”
She pursed her lips. “You know, for someone whose songs have sometimes brought me to tears, you’re surprisingly closed off to emotion.”
He grinned, oddly pleased with the backhanded compliment. Maddie had gone out of her way to tell him she didn’t listen to his music. “I thought you weren’t a fan.”
“That’s what you got out of what I said?” She took another fry and dipped it in the ketchup. “So what are you, like this tortured soul who can only do feelings when he sings? Is that where you get your outlet?”
“Maybe.” He was growing alarmingly comfortable around this woman, something that rarely happened. But she was forward in a way he wasn’t used to.
Not forward. Earnest.
He almost chided himself. The woman who blackmailed him . . . earnest? Maybe he was getting dumber the older he got. Still...“I don’t sing that much anymore when I’m not actively doing something for the label. I barely even write my own songs these days. Honestly, I can’t remember when I took out my guitar for an outlet...or for fun.”
“That’s . . . sad, Brooks.”
“Eh. I’m over it. The whole songwriting thing. You can only write so many songs about being empty inside. People want love songs.”
Her lips parted with surprise.
Time to change the subject.
He didn’t like where this was headed.
No more.
He held out the remaining container of fries to her. “What about you? What’s your story? Just a small-town girl who got stuck running her family’s business?”
She froze for a minute, then licked the salt from her fingers. The action sent an unexpected shiver through him.
“I’m not just a small-town girl, thanks. But do I want to stay here? Yeah, I do. My family’s here. They mean everything to me. Plus, Brandywood is a pretty great place to live.”
“You never get the urge to see other things? To me, living in the same place your whole life would get old quick. Dealing with the same people’s idiosyncrasies.”
“Fancy word.” She wiped her hands on her thighs. “I’ve traveled. And I plan to do a whole lot more of it. And, sure, there can be a negative side to living in a place where everyone knows who you are and your business. You’d die here. You think as a celebrity you lack privacy? That’s nothing. The rumor mill here works even when people are sleeping. The morning you crashed into the store, my grandfather got a call about the window from at least five different people before seven o’clock.”
“You’re totally selling the whole experience here,” Brooks remarked dryly. He glanced over his shoulder. “I need something to drink. You want something to swallow those fries down with?”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were lonely and called me for company, not food.” Her eyes bored into his.
He was tempted to kiss the smirk off those full lips, but if he was honest, her words also hit close to home. He’d lowered his armor a bit too much for comfort, and she was looking at him like she knew him now. “You got me. Who needs friends in high places when I’ve got enemies who blackmail me? You want a drink or not?” He stood and stretched.
She chewed on her lower lip, then gave a nonchalant shrug. “Whatever. You’re the one who’s on the clock.” She checked her phone. “As far as I can tell, I owe you only nine hours and ten minutes now.”
Right. This is a business arrangement.
The reality check was all he needed.
She’s just another person who wants whatever she can get from me.
“Don’t worry about it, then.” The desire to play his own card and shift the power dynamic came hurtling back to him. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow afternoon? Say four o’clock?” He started the walk back toward the house.
“I have to work.”
He glanced over his shoulder to find her standing there, hands on her hips.
“Not my problem.” Then he went inside, leaving her alone on the deck.
She might be gorgeous, but I’m right to keep my distance. Unfortunately.