Chapter 7
7
Brian watched the wedding guests twist and turn on the dance floor. He typically dropped off the plants Tracey needed, left, and picked up his stuff the next day. When he’d dropped things off today, he’d run into the groom, Levi Moore. An old high school friend who’d insisted Brian stick around and enjoy the wedding. He’d considered saying no, but watching Tracey run around and try to get things under control while Jessica didn’t offer any assistance had him nodding and saying he would come back.
He wasn’t a fan of weddings. His had been at some chapel in Vegas one weekend and then he and Renee had a party on the rooftop of her apartment building with their friends. Back then he’d thought it was the best day of his life. Now he tried to avoid weddings. All that happily ever after and ’til death do us part sounded good the day of but was hard to keep going once the shine wore off. He’d come back in time for the reception, and instead of enjoying the food and festivities, he searched for Tracey to see if he could help with anything.
He spotted her standing at the back of the inn watching the wedding guests on the small dance floor set up in the yard. Her arms were crossed and her brow knitted as she observed. Brian walked around the party toward her. She’d changed out of the Fresh Place Inn polo shirt and jeans she’d had on that morning while setting up and into a simple blue sundress. A gold name tag was pinned above her right breast, and her braids were pulled back in a ponytail.
“What are you doing here?” she asked when he strolled up the steps to stand next to her.
“I was invited back. Levi and I are friends,” he said.
She nodded. “Oh yeah, I remember. You two did hang out sometimes in high school.”
“I didn’t know it was his wedding. When he saw me dropping off the plants earlier he asked me to come back. I thought I’d check and see if you needed any help.”
“I’m good. It’s all downhill from now. Their wedding planner has taken over, and I can sit back and hope they enjoy the facility.”
Brian leaned on the porch rail opposite of her. “Then, why were you frowning?”
Her face immediately cleared. “I wasn’t frowning.”
“Yes, you were,” he said. “You were looking out at the people dancing with a frown on your face. I thought something was wrong.”
“Nah, nothing wrong. Just…”
“Weddings don’t hold the same appeal after a divorce?”
Her eyes darted to his. For a second she looked like she was going to brush him off before shaking her head. “No, they don’t. But they bring in good money, so here’s to the happy couple.” She brought two fingers to her brow and saluted to ward the bride and groom chatting with guests as they sat at the head table.
“How about we grab a glass of champagne for that toast?” he offered.
She shook her head. “I don’t drink with the guests during a wedding. I don’t want them to think I’m trying to butt in.”
Brian tapped his chest. “Well, I’m technically a guest now. And since I’m asking you to join me, it makes you my guest.”
She chuckled and shook her head. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m good. For real. Go on and enjoy the wedding.”
She turned to go back into the house. Brian reached out and took her hand in his. She froze then spun back to him with a surprised frown on her face.
“What are you doing?”
“Asking you to dance,” he said not breaking eye contact. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want Tracey to go inside and sulk about her failed marriage. He wanted her to smile. To see the spark back in her eye.
“I shouldn’t hang with the guests.”
He tugged on her hand. Her fingers were cold and felt delicate in his hand. The opposite of her tough-girl exterior. He considered twining his fingers with hers to warm them. He didn’t like her cold, and she was far from fragile. He gave them a slight squeeze instead. “One dance won’t hurt. I promise.”
She looked back out at the dance floor then at him. He thought she was going to say no again, but she sighed. “Fine. I do like this song.”
Smiling he helped her down the stairs toward the party. He kept her hand in his, and to his surprise, she didn’t pull away. They’d just made it to the edge of the dance floor when an older woman walked over. Brian thought she looked familiar, but he wasn’t sure where to place her.
“Tracey, I’ve been wanting to speak to you all day,” the woman said pointing a finger at her.
Tracey pulled her hand from his and clasped hers together. “Ms. Simpson, I hope you’re enjoying everything.”
Ms. Simpson nodded. “I am. I’m really proud of what you’ve done with yourself. You’ve turned this old house into an actual bed and breakfast.”
Tracey gave a polite smile. “That was always a dream of mine. I’m just happy to give people in Peachtree Cove a nice venue for weddings, birthday parties and other events.”
“Yes, we do need that. Though, I never would have expected you to do it. Not when you were always such a smart mouth in my class.”
Tracey’s shoulders stiffened, but the polite smile remained. “We were all a little smart-mouthed in middle school.”
Recognition clicked for Brian then. Ms. Simpson had taught eighth-grade history at their school. He was pretty sure she’d retired. She’d been rude to the kids and hadn’t been anyone’s favorite teacher.
“Ms. Simpson, it’s good to see you again,” Brian cut in, hoping to take the woman’s attention off Tracey.
She looked at him and gave a stiff nod. “I must have taught you in school, too. I’m sorry, but with so many kids I don’t remember everyone.” She looked back at Tracey. “Just the ones that were troublemakers.”
Brian blinked. Still rude apparently. “Well, we were just about—”
“You know, Tracey,” Ms. Simpson cut him off, pointing a finger at Tracey again, “when Old Man Sullivan gave you this place we all wondered why. Of course, I didn’t want to think that you were doing favors.” Ms. Simpson held up a hand when Tracey started to talk. “You were a hothead but you weren’t fast. I give you that much credit. When you married Bernard, well, I realized he was a good influence on you. You were very dif ferent while married to him. Got your life together and settled down. I don’t condone what he did at all. Men will be men, but to betray you with your own employee…” Ms. Simpson shook her head. “That was so unlike him.”
“I’d have to disagree,” Tracey said. “Since he did it, I’m pretty sure that was very much like him.”
Ms. Simpson lifted her chin as if affronted that Tracey would disagree. Brian hoped that was the end of the discussion, but she kept going. “Maybe so. I heard about the little scene you caused at that bar last night. I want you to know that I was very disappointed to hear that. I thought you’d turned over a new leaf. No matter how bad it gets, a lady should never show it in public. Now, the next time—”
“The next time she better hope I don’t do more than throw beer in her face,” Tracey said in a tight voice. “I didn’t cause a scene. She antagonized me. And honestly, I don’t have to be the bigger person when my ex-husband’s mistress tries to embarrass me. Now, if you’re done sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, I have work to do.”
Tracey turned and stalked back toward the house. Brian watched her go then looked back at Ms. Simpson.
She had her hand to her chest. “Well, that was uncalled for.”
Brian raised a brow then smirked. “Nah, that was called for.” Ms. Simpson gasped, but he didn’t wait to see what she said next. He turned and hurried to follow Tracey back into the house.
***
Tracey wanted a meteor to fall from the sky and squash her into a pancake. No, scratch that. She wanted the meteor to squash Ms. Simpson. Or, even better, have it squash Ms. Simpson and erase all of Brian’s memories of Tracey being humiliated. Why did that man always have to have a front-row seat whenever she was embarrassed? Did the universe want to remind Brian that Tracey was from the wrong side of the tracks?
As for Ms. Simpson, Tracey had been dealing with that woman’s sly remarks since setting foot in her class. Tracey didn’t know exactly what had happened, but Ms. Simpson did not care for Tracey’s mom at all. The rumor in school was that Tracey’s mom had once “sniffed around” Ms. Simpson’s beloved oldest son, but Tracey hadn’t bothered to confirm the story. A lot of people had problems with her parents, and she’d been taking the brunt of that all her life.
She stormed into the inn. Thankfully, the other guests were either occupied elsewhere or sitting on the back porch observing the wedding festivities. She headed for the kitchen and then over to the fridge. She pulled out a beer, quickly twisted off the top and took a swig.
“Damn, you move fast,” Brian said behind her.
Tracey spit out the beer in her mouth and swung to face him. He watched her with that bemused look he gave her whenever he saw her. As if he couldn’t quite figure out what to do with her. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Damn, Brian, can you try not to sneak up on people?”
He held up his hands in a move of surrender. “My bad. I thought you heard me behind you.”
She shook her head. “Nah, I didn’t.”
She’d been so upset and embarrassed that she’d only focused on getting as far away from him and Ms. Simpson as possible.
“Why are you following me? You’ve gotten your show for the day.”
A line formed between his brows. “I didn’t come for a show. I came to check on you.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. That was uncalled for. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Why?” she tossed out, irritated.
“Because I like you,” he shot back, sounding just as irritated.
Tracey blinked. Heat flooded her cheeks and prickles went up and down her arms. She tugged on her ear and raised a brow. “You what?” She had to have heard him wrong.
He shifted back then rubbed the back of his neck. “Not like that. I mean, I like you. You’re cool. Plus, we work together. Of course I’m going to check on you and make sure you’re good.”
“Oh.” Another wave of embarrassment hit her. She should have known that’s what he meant. She felt foolish for even having half a second of thinking he meant those words in a different way. She was even more upset by the flicker of disappointment in her chest. She shifted her shoulders and hoped to extinguish the flame.
“Well, seriously, I’m good. I knew the tongues were going to start wagging after what happened.”
“What exactly happened?”
Sighing, she gave a brief update on her interaction with Monique the night before. Brian’s face became more thunderous as she spoke.
“I can’t believe she did that. What the hell is her problem?”
She shrugged, and the tension left her shoulders at his outrage on her behalf. “I have no idea. She got him. He did what lots of married man who cheat don’t do. He actually left his wife. She should be the next president of Mistresses R Us.”
Brian chuckled and shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re making a joke about this.”
“I have to joke. Crying about what happened won’t change anything.” She took another long swig of her beer.
Brian moved cautiously as he came farther into the kitchen. Maybe he was worried she’d snap at him again. “I know how that feels. That doesn’t mean you should put up with crap like that from Ms. Simpson.” He stood in front of her, and he looked just as upset by Ms. Simpson’s words as she felt.
“I’ve been putting up with crap like that for as long as I can remember. Your mom is a saint, but my parents were the talk of this town. My entire life I was trying to not care about one scandal or another. I stopped trying to make my own scandals once I married Bernard. I thought that if we did things right, then people would respect me in a way they didn’t respect my parents.”
“You don’t have to make up for your parents’ sins.” He reached over and took the beer out of her hand. “And my mom isn’t a saint.” He sipped her beer.
Tracey placed a hand on her hip. “No you didn’t just take my beer.”
“I did,” he said and held it out. “Want it back?”
She rolled her eyes and went into the fridge for another one. “Keep it. I don’t know where your mouth has been.”
“Nowhere it shouldn’t be,” he said with a grin.
Tracey’s stomach flipped. Damn him for being as fine as he was. She recognized that Brian was good-looking. She wasn’t stubborn enough to pretend like the man wasn’t appealing, but she was smart enough to know that while he may like her as a colleague and friend, he would never think of her in a romantic kind of way. She’d seen the kind of women Brian dated, the ones who would look great on the covers of magazines or in designer clothes and with perfect hair. She scratched the new growth at her scalp and then dropped her hands. She was not in that category.
“Look, I know you hate me getting in your business,” he said. “But I like the way you handled Ms. Simpson. You didn’t let her talk to you any kind of way. Keep standing up for yourself.”
She opened the other beer and leaned against the counter. “Oh, I’m going to do a lot more than that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m tired of trying to live up to the expectations of the people in this town. First I wasn’t good enough for Bernard, then when he cheated on me and I defend myself, suddenly I’m not acting ladylike. What kind of mess is that?”
“I have no idea.”
“Me either. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. So you know what? I don’t care anymore.” She sipped her beer as an idea popped in her head, sprang and grew.
“What does that mean?”
“Everyone said I changed when I was with Bernard. That I wasn’t me anymore. And you know what? They were right.” She pushed away from the counter and started pacing. Her heart rate increased with excitement. “I wasn’t me. I was who they thought I should be, and that wasn’t good enough. Not anymore. To hell with what the people in this town think. To hell with trying not to create scandals like my parents did. From now on, I’m going to do whatever the hell I want to do.”
Brian’s eyes widened. “Oh really.”
She nodded. “Really. Screw Bernard, Monique, Ms. Simpson and everyone else who thinks they can tell me how to live. From here on out, the only person I’m living for is me.”
Brian stepped forward and stopped her pacing. He stood close enough for her to smell the faint scent of his cologne. She’d noticed his cologne before. The spicy scent that seemed made just for him. His dark eyes bored into hers. Eyes filled with respect. Not pity or amusement. She liked that look in his eyes. Even if it made her heart rate increase.
Brian held his beer bottle toward her. “I like the sound of that. To the New Tracey.”
She grinned and clinked her bottle against his. “The New Tracey.”