28. Brooks
28
brOOKS
Fuck.
Brooks’s jaw clenched so hard, he practically had a headache as he sank into a metal folding chair on the lawn in front of a makeshift, roughly hewn stage.
He’d spent almost half his life on stages—they practically felt like home at this point.
This one, though . . . this one he wanted to run from.
But he had penance to do.
He’d hurt Maddie somehow—not on purpose. Considering how staunchly she’d stood up for consent the other night, he would have thought she appreciated knowing that he’d never kiss her if she didn’t want it. She’d drawn clear boundary lines the other day when they’d been making out—he wasn’t about to disrespect that.
Instead, he had somehow upset her.
He adjusted the hoodie he’d donned, using the sides of it to cover his face somewhat. His hat and sunglasses shaded the rest of his face. Being in the back row helped. No one appeared to have noticed him, but then again, the townspeople had left him alone on Thursday after Maddie had threatened them all.
The auction had started a full fifteen minutes earlier and still no sign of Maddie.
This is painful.
Brooks pinched right below the bridge of his nose, where his sunglasses had dug in. Why do I care so much?
He’d tried to keep his distance from Maddie as much as possible since Thursday. Even with Brian’s and Peter’s advice, well-intentioned as it had been, there were still too many hurdles.
His lawyer had emailed just this morning letting him know that Mike hadn’t dropped the charges yet—and that Brooks’s arraignment was scheduled for two weeks from now. And then there was the conversation he was still putting off having with Ava, where he needed to quit his job and put a temporary stake in the heart of his career.
Setbacks.
Maybe necessary ones, but setbacks all the same.
Then again . . . what more did he really want out of his career? He’d had the huge tours and played all the big venues. Put out all the songs he’d been inspired to write. His creativity had long since taken a nosedive, and in this industry, it was better to leave on top rather than hoping that the creativity would simply magically appear again one day.
I don’t love it anymore, so it’s the right time to walk away.
As Kayla had pointed out a few hours ago, he needed to spend more time with his family. That was what was important.
He had enough money to last him several lifetimes and had invested well. Set up a trust for Kayla and Audrey.
Any why he’d possessed to keep doing this had disappeared.
“Well, butter my biscuit, look who it is,” Kayla’s warm voice hissed beside him.
Brooks cracked an eye open. “Butter my biscuit?”
“Just trying out the country lingo. Feels good.”
He rolled his eyes, fully aware she probably couldn’t see it under his dark glasses.
“So . . . uh . . . you and Maddie caught up quick.”
“Not what you think. I just bumped into her in the orchard.”
“And her clothes fell off?” Kayla whispered.
“Don’t make me regret letting you drag me to this thing.”
“Oh, it’s fun.” She sat straighter. “Anyway, I just saw you sitting here and wanted to let you know I’m heading to the baking tent with Audrey and Logan. Cormac is already there, supposedly. I can’t get my texts to work consistently here. Logan says his grandparents make amazing apple desserts—including apple fritters—and I want to try some. Meet us over there in a bit?”
Brooks nodded. “If I can find it.”
“Would it kill you to ask for directions?”
“Probably.” He smirked at her as she left.
Kayla was damn near glowing.
She looks so . . . happy.
Like she fits here.
And she had people welcoming her into their fold, which made Brooks happy.
“Next up to the auction block, we’ve got a pretty lady offering some delicious Cortland apples. A fantastic choice for baking and eating, Cortlands have bright red skin and white flesh, with a juicy and tart flavor . . .”
Brooks stood, ready to go after Kayla. He didn’t really know what he was doing here. He wasn’t about to kiss Maddie this way.
Of course, if he won, you could just give her a kiss on the cheek.
“ . . . Maddie Yardley!” the emcee finished saying with a lift of his hand.
Brooks sat again.
Maddie came out on stage with all the confidence of a supermodel, carrying a wooden crate of apples in her hands. A megawatt smile lit her features as she displayed the apples and then stopped beside the auctioneer.
The thought of her kissing anyone else made him want to punch something. His fist curled reflexively.
“All right, the opening bid for this beautiful gal is fifteen dollars. Who’ll start the opening bid?”
A few seconds of silence passed, the crowd shifting and exchanging glances.
At last, a man, probably in his fifties, lifted his hand.
“And look at that, an opening bid from Maddie’s own father! Fifteen-dollar bid, now fifteen, now fifteen, will ya give me sixteen?” the auctioneer started.
More quiet glances.
What the fuck was happening?
Even Maddie’s smile seemed frozen in place.
Why in the hell was no one bidding on Maddie?
At last, an old man lifted his hand. “Twenty!”
Brooks’s gaze darted back to Maddie, his gut twisting.
The bidders were still quiet. Maddie’s father raised his hand again. “Twenty-five.”
Maddie had gone pale.
This didn’t make sense. Maddie was gorgeous. She seemed to know everyone in town when they’d walked through it the other day.
“. . . twenty-five, who’ll give me twenty-six . . .”
“Twenty-six!” the old man called.
“. . . now twenty-seven, now twenty-seven. . .”
Whatever the situation was, it was as though someone had purposely made sure Maddie wouldn’t get bids. Was someone really that petty here?
This was the side of small towns he was familiar with.
The cutting, nasty side. Where one rivalry could make a person’s life miserable.
Anger bloomed in Brooks’s gut. “Two hundred,” he called out, barely thinking about it.
Heads turned his way, including Maddie’s.
Her eyes widened as she saw him, her smile long gone.
“Two hundred!” the auctioneer announced. He kept the chant going.
No way in hell someone is going to bid more. The highest Brooks had heard was a hundred twenty-five.
“Two hundred and one!” the old man called out. He turned toward Brooks with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
“Five hundred,” Brooks said in a voice that sounded bored.
“ Holy smokes, it’s five hundred. Now five hundred, now five hundred, who’ll give me five hundred one . . . ”
“Five hundred and one,” the old man said, puffing his chest out.
Man, this dude really wants to kiss Maddie.
“One thousand,” Brooks countered, giving the old man a cool look.
Gasps sounded from around him, murmurs breaking out as people stared at him.
. . . and now I probably look like the creep.
The old man grinned. “One thousand and one.”
Then Brooks startled. The old geezer was driving up the bid.
And he’d fallen for it. Hook, line, and sinker.
He’d been betting that Brooks would continue to outbid him for any price.
Two could play at that game.
Brooks crossed his arms, raising his brow at the man.
“ . . . do I hear one thousand two? One thousand two, folks. Who’ll give me one thousand two? Going once, going twice . . .”
The man was good at this game of auction “chicken,” but a bit of panic showed in his eyes now.
“ . . . sold! To Milton Hirsch for one thousand one dollars. And I believe we’ve set a record for the highest bid ever placed at Auction-a-Peck, folks. Everybody give a great big round of applause for our Maddie Yardley.”
The crowd—the same folks that had refused to bid on Maddie—clapped, though there were frowns on a few people’s faces, who continued to look back at Brooks.
. . . fuck.
Brooks’s gaze whirled back to Maddie, who stared at him with what could only be called a death glare as the old man wobbled over toward her, bewilderment on his face.
He’d gotten so caught up in the game of it, he’d forgotten that losing meant Maddie had to kiss the old man—who might not even be able to afford such an expensive bid.
And I basically announced I wasn’t willing to pay over one thousand dollars to kiss her.
To her entire town.
Moron.
Maddie stepped off the stage and greeted the old man with a smile, then pressed a preemptive kiss to his cheek. Her face was bright red as she handed him the apple crate and hurried away, fleeing into the crowd that milled just beyond the auction.
Brooks bolted from his chair and followed, but he hadn’t gotten far when Cormac seemed to appear from nowhere beside him. He put a hand out to stop Brooks. “Just let her go cool down, man.”
“You saw that?” Brooks asked, slowing.
“Yeah. That was . . . interesting.”
“Why the hell did no one bid on Maddie?” Brooks allowed Cormac to lead him away from the throng toward the back of a large, paneled tent.
“I asked a friend. There’s a rumor going around that the Cortland apples were mealy. Sounds made up.”
Yeah, that’s bullshit.
“Also . . .” Cormac grimaced. “I heard Maddie was getting it on with a famous rock star in the back storeroom of Brandywood’s oldest ice cream shop, and that the rock star then disrespected the hell out of the owner when they were caught. Depending on which folks you catch at an event, their loyalty might be with the shop owner.”
Oh fuck.
“So no one bid on her?” Brooks nearly exploded. “Besides, the prick deserved my disrespect. He called Maddie trash.”
Cormac’s eyes widened. “It’s true?”
“I mean . . .” Brooks let a slow breath out between puffed cheeks. Shit, that sounds bad. Real bad. “There were reasons. And anyway, I wasn’t trying to leave her hanging out here. That people would try to embarrass her like that is crazy.”
Cormac stopped and cringed. “I get what you were trying to do, but Brandywood has its way of dealing with things. You driving up the bid wasn’t probably the best idea. If the Stricklands have it out for Maddie, they’re not going to leave it alone. They’ll just use this for ammunition. I doubt old Milton has the money for that sort of thing, and they’ll paint him as one of your victims now, too.”
“I wasn’t driving up the bid, he was.” Brooks searched Cormac’s face. “Wait. You think I was just trying to drive up the bid?”
“Weren’t you?”
Brooks shook his head. “No . . . I just stopped because I realized that’s what the old man was doing. I had every intention of outbidding him until then.”
Cormac’s brows drew together. “You were going to pay over one thousand dollars for a crate of apples and a kiss from Maddie?”
When you put it that way . . .
Brooks yanked his sunglasses off, his face flaming. “Look, it’s complicated.”
“Complicated? I thought you were hooking up. I didn’t realize you actually liked her this much.”
“I didn’t actually want the kiss,” Brooks tried to explain. “I just didn’t want her to get such a low bid.”
“So you didn’t want to kiss her?” The confusion on Cormac’s face was only increasing. “Not that it’s any of my business, but this isn’t one of those ‘kissing is extra’ arrangements between you and Maddie, is it?”
“For the last time, I haven’t slept with her.” This whole conversation sounded insanely juvenile. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had any sort of discussion about his love life—or lack thereof—with Cormac. Or any other friend.
“So you haven’t slept with her, and you don’t want to kiss her?”
“No, I want to. I just haven’t.”
“And she knows this?”
“That I want to sleep with her? Yeah, I told her. You know, when I tried to kiss her while I was drunk, thanks to a certain friend of mine that sent her my way when I was in no condition to make sound decisions. Anything else, Father Cormac? Should I say five Hail Marys and come back tomorrow? I’m sure I’ll have more to add to the list by then.”
Cormac chuckled, his posture relaxing. “I wasn’t trying for a confession, but I’ll note your guilt for the file. Holy fuck, Brooks. Do you have feelings for Maddie Yardley?”
Brooks replaced the sunglasses slowly. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know, or you’re just not ready to admit it?”
“What I feel is irrelevant. I’m not like Kayla, ready and able to date the first person I meet from this town. My life doesn’t have room for a woman right now.”
“Why the hell not?” Cormac’s gaze traveled to the cornfield that served as a perimeter to the wide, open field where the festival was being held. “Look, I may not know a lot about what’s going on with you in general or between you and Maddie, but I left this town thinking the world could offer me so much more. And the more I’m out there, the more I understand that meeting someone who makes you act as crazy as you just acted is . . . rare. The more people you meet, the rarer it becomes. The lonelier it gets.”
“So you are planning on moving back home?”
“Not anytime soon. And don’t change the subject.” Cormac shook his head. “I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about the fact that you met a girl who makes you feel something. That’s not something you should dismiss so easily.”
Brooks didn’t know what to say.
But it felt as though he was running out of chances.
Their lives didn’t naturally intersect, and Brooks knew that. He had so many time-consuming and life-changing undertakings ahead of him, but he knew one thing for certain.
He didn’t want to go through all of that alone.
He could share his troubles with Kayla and Cormac, sure, and he was going to work on that. But Maddie?
She’d cracked open the door to his past without trying.
He’d shared things with her he’d never felt he could share with anyone.
That was what was rare.
She calms me.
Her kisses consume me.
And her heart? It.. . she compelled him to be a better man, one who had more drive to do the right thing. If she’d consider giving whatever they could be a go.
He couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her anymore. The look on her face just now had damn near crushed him. If she wanted something more, he’d be a fool to turn her away.
“Do you know where Maddie is heading later? She doing any more competitions?”
A slow smile spread over Cormac’s face. “I know of one.”