4. Brody
FOUR
“Damn, what’s this brownie laced with? I can’t stop eating it.” I shove another bite into my mouth and wash it down with a sip of the equally delicious coffee—rich and creamy, strong but not too bitter. Sweet but not overly so… perfect.
“Wouldn’t doubt it,” Hayden, my roommate and best friend, mutters. “How the hell am I supposed to convince the owner that she needs to let us buy out her lease, which will mean closing down her coffeehouse, when she makes shit as good as this?”
He pops a piece of brownie into his mouth. “And you should’ve seen her.” He groans and drops backward, looking up at the ceiling. “Gorgeous and sweet. Blond hair and blue eyes. Dimples, bro.” His eyes lock with mine. “She’s beautiful and sexy and fucking adorable all at the same time.”
I chuckle at Hayden, never having seen him act like this before. We’ve been friends since elementary school—only being separated during high school when his parents sent him to boarding school—and have shared an apartment since our freshman year of college, so I’ve seen plenty of women come in and out of his life, but I’ve never seen him act like this before—especially not after only talking to her a couple of times.
“You ask her out?” He glares my way, and I bark out a laugh. “You struck out.”
“It’s for the best.” He shrugs, playing off the rejection. “She’s business, and the last thing I need is to mix business with pleasure.”
My phone goes off with a text from my stepmom, Savy.
We miss you! Dinner tomorrow night? And bring Hayden.
“Dinner tomorrow night at my parents’?”
“Sure,” he says. “Maybe I can pick your dad’s brain as to how I should handle this lease situation.”
“So that’s all she is? A work complication? You’re not going to try again?”
“Nah.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “I need to focus on the endgame. Plenty of other fish in the sea.”
I eye the box of brownies. “Maybe I’ll stop by the coffeehouse and pick up a dessert. I bet Savy and Penelope would love some of these brownies.” Both my stepmom and sister have major sweet tooths.
My words, of course, get Hayden’s attention, but before he gives anything away, he schools his features. “You can do whatever you want.”
“Like ask her out?” I taunt.
“Go for it. But don’t be surprised when the only thing you leave with is a box of brownies.”
“Welcome to Heart’s. What can I get you?” The second my eyes land on the woman—the one with the blond hair, blue eyes, and sexy as fuck dimples—I know this is the woman Hayden was referring to… and holy shit, he was dead-on. She’s beyond gorgeous. When I mentioned asking her out, I was only messing with Hayden, but now, it’s on.
“A half-dozen brownies…” I eye the display, checking out the delicious sweets. “A few of those cupcakes…” I point at the vanilla ones my younger sister will love. “And your number,” I say, giving her my panty-dropping smile women can never turn down. Forward much? Maybe. But I know what I want, and in the business I’m in, having the confidence to back up the brains is the difference between those who dream and those who achieve.
Aubree—or Bree as it’s mentioned on her name tag—splutters. “Excuse me?”
“Brownies, cupcakes, your number…in any order.” I extend my hand. “My name is Brody Fields, and I want to take you out.”
Another woman—who appears to be around the same age as Bree—yeah, I’m going with Bree since we’ll soon be on a personal level—chokes on whatever she’s drinking.
“Did you put him up to this?” Bree hisses at her friend, her hands going to her hips. “This is not?—”
“I swear, I didn’t.” Her friend raises her hands in a placating gesture.
Bree turns back around to look at me. “She didn’t tell you to ask me out?” Before I can respond, she leans over the counter and whispers, “Did she pay you?”
I quirk a brow in confusion while her friend barks out a laugh. “I can honestly say she did neither.” Why the hell would this beautiful woman need someone to buy her a date anyway?
Bree glances back at her friend, who shrugs, then, with a sigh, she looks at me. “All right, I’ll go out with you,” she mutters, making her friend snort out a laugh.
When my brows rise, wondering what the hell is going on, she flinches. “Sorry,” she says, perking up slightly. “If you don’t want to go out with me anymore, I’ll understand.”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” her friend says. “He asked you out, so you’re going out with him.” She rips a piece of paper and scribbles something across it. “This is Bree’s number. Text or call to make plans. She’s going out with you.”
I look at Bree, who almost looks sick at the thought of going out with me. Did I forget to brush my teeth this morning? I glance down, and I’m dressed in one of my usual suits. I recently got a haircut, and I shaved a couple of days ago, so I’m not too shabby.
“Here are your treats,” her friend says. I glance down at her name tag and see her name is Lacey. “Don’t forget to call or text.” She hits me with a pointed look, and as I walk away, I can’t help but wonder what the hell just happened.
It’s been twenty-four hours since Bree, er, I guess her friend, gave me her number, and I’ve considered whether or not to call. On the one hand, she’s gorgeous, and I’d love to take her out, but on the other hand, she didn’t seem all that into it. It was almost as if her friend was forcing her to go out with me.
I’m not a playboy by any means, but I’ve been told I’m a good-looking guy. I’ve never had a problem drawing the attention of the opposite sex—or in my college days, the same sex. (What can I say? I’m an equal opportunist.) So I’m not really sure what to make of what happened back in the coffee shop with Bree. If it was her or me… Guess there’s only one way to find out.
I pull out my phone and type out a message, then erase it. Then after a few minutes, I glance at the clock and see it’s just after noon, so the coffeehouse is still open. Without second-guessing myself, I let my assistant, Hillary, know I’m leaving for a late lunch and head out of the building with my laptop bag in hand. Since the coffeehouse is several blocks from where Fields Enterprises is located—the headquarters for the investment company I own with my dad and run—I grab a cab. Thank goodness I didn’t walk because we’re not even halfway there when the sky opens and rain covers everything it touches.
I’m checking a few emails on the way when one comes in from Bill, my CFO, informing me of an issue he’s having with a contractor handling one of our renovations. I email him back that I’ll video-call him as soon as I get to where I’m going. When the cab stops, I swipe my card and then dart out into the rain, jumping over the puddles to get inside where it’s dry.
The door chimes as I step inside and glance around, immediately recognizing Bree, whose eyes widen when she realizes who’s just entered. The place is almost empty, save for what looks like a couple sitting in the corner chatting quietly.
“Hey,” I say, smiling at her. “Can I get a coffee and a croissant, please?”
Her brows pucker, no doubt confused as to why I’m asking for food and a beverage instead of discussing our date. Usually, I’m not one to play games with women, but something tells me this particular woman is different, which means I’ll need to handle her differently.
“Sure,” she chokes out.
Once I have my coffee and pastry, I grab a seat at a table and pull my laptop out of my bag, powering it on. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her watching me, but I pretend I don’t notice as I type in my password and click on the video chat.
Bill’s face has just come over the screen when a throat clears. “I’m sorry, but this is a laptop-free coffeehouse,” Bree says, looking slightly uncomfortable.
“A what?” I ask.
“Laptop-free,” she repeats, pointing at a sign sitting atop the table.
This table is laptop-free.
Reading, conversing, and daydreaming are encouraged.
“Hey, Bill, I’ll have to call you back.” Without waiting for him to reply, I hit end on the call and close my laptop. “Is this for real?” I ask, perplexed at the thought that there’s a place in New York City that doesn’t allow one to use their laptop.
“Yep,” she says, unwavering. “You can call your mom, or read a book, or you can people watch… enjoy the quiet.”
Holy shit, this woman is dead fucking serious and so damn adorable. Now that she’s out from behind the counter, I’m able to take her in. She’s sporting a flowy top and skinny jeans. Despite the cute little frilly apron over her front, I can make out every one of her delectable curves. As my gaze ascends, taking in her thick thighs, hips that I’d love to grab ahold of and dig my fingers into, and perfect breasts, I wonder what it would take to get her to bake me some of those delicious brownies in nothing but that apron.
“All right.” I lock eyes with her. “Then let’s talk.”
“What?” she splutters.
“Well, my mom isn’t available, I don’t have a book with me, and if I’m honest, the only person I want to watch is you.” I nod toward the seat in front of me. “So have a seat, and let’s talk.”
“I…” Her eyes dart around, but when she realizes the place is dead and she has no excuse, she sighs and plops into the seat in front of me.
“I’m Brody Fields,” I tell her, figuring it’s best if we start over. Yesterday didn’t exactly go as planned.
“I’m Aubree Heart.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Aubree,” I say, using the name she gave me instead of the one on her name tag.
“You can call me Bree,” she says as a young girl, who looks to be in her teens and wearing a matching apron, comes over and sets a cup of coffee down for her.
“Thank you,” she says to the girl.
I glance over Bree’s shoulder and see the woman from yesterday—Lacey—standing to the side with a wide grin on her face. She winks at me and then disappears behind the wall. Although I don’t know her, I’m almost positive that was her way of saying she approves of me.
“It’s a cute place you have here,” I tell Bree, focusing my attention on her.
“Thanks.” Pink tints her cheeks. “It was my grandparents’ place before they passed away. Now, it’s mine.” I already know this since Hayden filled me in, but since she can’t know that, I go with it.
“Are they the reason for the no laptops signs?”
Bree nods. “She hated it. Died at eighty-two years old without ever owning a single piece of technology.” The way she smiles when she talks about her tells me they were close, and I wonder how the fuck Hayden thinks he’s going to convince this woman to walk away from here.
“So what do you do?” she asks, eyeing my suit.
“I run Fields Enterprises. We mostly find restaurants and clubs and renovate them. We help companies that are going under save their businesses and bring them to the next level. Sometimes, we buy and sell them. Other times, we’ll hold on to them when we think they’ll bring in a decent profit. Once in a while, the owner will take us on as a partner to help manage the establishment for a percentage.”
“Are you good at what you do?”
I bark out a laugh at her question. “I do all right,” I say nonchalantly.
She looks around her bakery. “What do you think of my place? Anything you would change?”
I wasn’t planning to talk business, but at this point, I’ll talk about anything she wants if it means I have her attention.
As I take in the place, as I would any other potential investment, assessing it as an outsider, the first thing that comes to mind is her food. “Do you make all of your own food?”
She nods.
“Sell it anywhere besides here?”
She shakes her head.
“If you were my client, I would suggest you get your name out there. A lot of cafes and bakeries get their products from third-party distributors and would be more than willing to support a small business, especially a local one. Not only would it bring in additional income but with your company’s name on the products, it’d also be free advertising.”
She sucks in her bottom lip and then lets it slowly slide out. “I never thought of that.”
“Most don’t.” I shrug. “It’s why eighty percent of restaurants and clubs fail their first year in business. But from what I can see, you have quality products, and your prices are reasonable. You have a prime location with a welcoming atmosphere. You’re already ahead of most of those places.”
“Well, I’ll have you know,” she says, her face lighting up with what looks like pride. “This coffeehouse has been in business for fifty years and has no intention of going out of business any time soon.” The passion and determination in her voice are such a damn turn-on. It also tells me that she knows about Shea trying to buy her out, and she isn’t having it.
Fuck, Hayden is in for a fight.
Good thing it has nothing to do with me.
“So tell me about you,” I say, shifting the conversation toward where I’m hoping it will go—with me asking her out again and her saying yes this time without it sounding like someone ran over her puppy. “When you’re not baking and running this place, what do you enjoy doing for fun?”
She opens her mouth, then closes it, and then laughs softly. “That should be an easy question.” She takes a deep breath as if to mentally prepare for what she’s about to say. “Honestly, this bakery is pretty much my entire life these days… aside from my children.”
It takes a second for me to wrap my head around what she just said. She has children. Not a child—children. Plural. As in more than one. I wait for the sirens in my brain to go off, for me to be turned off and no longer interested, but for some crazy reason, it doesn’t happen.
“Where’s the dad?” I ask, making her flinch. “Sorry,” I tack on. “I just don’t want to be encroaching on another man’s woman.”
My eyes go to her ring finger, and she follows my line of vision. “I’m not married,” she says softly. “Well, I was, but he died.” She sighs and closes her eyes. “Dammit,” she hisses, her lids opening and her blue eyes shining with emotion. “I swore I wouldn’t do this.” She shakes her head and laughs, but it comes out bitter and mockingly. “Feel free to run any time.”
Normally, had a woman spilled all that baggage at my feet, I’d take her up on that offer and run… fast and far. But once again, I have no desire to go anywhere. It’s clear the woman has enough emotional baggage to fill a 747, but the only thing that comes to mind is what it would take to help her organize those bags and maybe clear some of them away.
“I’m good right where I am.” I reach across the table and swipe a falling tear, catching it with the pad of my thumb. “So the other day, when I asked you out, the reason you looked like I stole your favorite cupcake was because you’re not ready?”
She snorts out a laugh. “Cupcakes aren’t my favorite. White chocolate chip cookies are.” She waggles her brows and jumps up. A few seconds later, she sets a plate of delicious-looking cookies down.
I grab one and take a bite, and holy fuck, they’re even better than the brownies. “Jesus, woman,” I groan playfully. “Don’t you know the key to a man’s heart is through his stomach? Keep feeding me this stuff, and I’m going to beg you to marry me.”
She chokes out a laugh. “I think we should probably go on a date first.”
“Is that your way of asking me out?” I joke.
She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, then lets it drag out slowly. “You’re right,” she says, confusing the hell out of me. Our conversation is all over the place, and I can barely keep up. “The reason I reacted so badly when you asked me out,” she explains. “It’s because I haven’t dated since my husband died. Well, I did once, and it didn’t go well at all.”
I nod in understanding. “I get it. Well, I don’t get it, but I do,” I say, sounding like a dumbass. “I mean…” I run my fingers through my hair.
“I know,” she says with a smile, saving me. “But I do want to try… if you still want to go out with me, that is. And if you don’t? If the kids and the dead husband are too much, I totally?—”
“I do,” I tell her, cutting her off. “I want to take you out.”
She releases a harsh sigh. “Well, okay, then. When?”
“Tonight.”
“Oh, I?—”
“She’d love to,” her friend calls out from somewhere. “She has nothing to do, and her kids are out of town.”
“Go away!” Bree yells back, then takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “Yes, I would love to go out with you…tonight.”