Chapter Twenty-Four
“ARE YOU SURE I LOOK okay?” Brooke twirled in her flowy sleeveless light-blue dress that perfectly complemented her figure ... for the tenth time since I’d picked her up. The evening sunlight seemed to dance around her, making her look even more radiant.
I didn’t mind the fashion show, as I loved every opportunity to gaze at her. “You’re just as stunning in it now as you were when you bought it,” I assured her.
Admittedly, I rarely enjoyed shopping for clothes with women, but Brooke had made it fun. I think she’d tried on every piece of clothing at the boutique on Main Street—even if it wasn’t her size—and had done a catwalk for me with each outfit, making hilarious commentary about her ensembles in a French accent.
“I’m just nervous. I’ve never been to something as fancy as a book launch with a New York Times best-selling author.”
I took her hand and pulled her to me, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine. “You’re going to be amazing,” I whispered, looking into the eyes I was so easily lost in every time we were together. “Just be yourself.” I hated that she worried so much about belonging in Aspen Lake.
She smiled, her anxiety seeming to dissipate. “Since I don’t know how to be anyone else, I guess that’s what you’re stuck with tonight.”
“Thank goodness for that.” I pressed a kiss to her brow and lingered, soaking her in, feeling as if someone were pushing the fast- forward button on our time together. We were almost halfway through July already.
It was probably a good thing. Our connection was stronger than I’d expected it would be, and it frankly felt like a disruption of mass proportions. And I either couldn’t or wouldn’t face it, knowing it would disappoint Erica. So, I did my best to brush it off and reminded myself that this was a fling, even though I hated the connotation of the word.
“We better go inside before I kiss your face off and ruin my lipstick for that sweet comment,” Brooke quipped.
“I want a rain check on that lipstick-ruining kiss.”
“Rain check granted.” She smiled and grabbed my hand. “Let’s go be fancy.”
I followed her into Literary Haven, the eclectic bookstore in town with a famous reputation. It had a knack for bringing in the most popular authors of the day for book signings. People from all over the country, and even the world, would flock to these events. This night would be no different.
The owner, Martha Percival, had personally decorated the place. I knew this from previous visits to the store. She loved to tell everyone about it. Vintage framed book covers hung on the store’s walls. And she’d placed several reading nooks with armchairs and comfy couches throughout. A large stone fireplace sat in the middle of the store, and that was where most of the action was.
A sizable crowd gathered around Josie Cavanaugh, the guest of honor, and her husband Reece. He was obviously the inspiration for Josie’s pirate books, as he wore an eye patch.
“Oh, my gosh, I can’t believe that’s her,” Brooke squealed in my ear. “I’m going to play it cool and not word vomit tonight.” She laughed.
I wasn’t sure if she could accomplish that, but I didn’t mention it. Little did she know how much I’d come to enjoy her ramblings.
As we walked toward the crowd, a voice called out for Brooke. We turned to find Lola Harrington waving. Her boyfriend and parents accompanied her.
“Brooke, wait up.”
My attention immediately shifted to Maxwell Harrington. Something about him still rubbed me the wrong way. Brooke had mentioned a few days before that he’d once again offered to help her with monetizing her podcast or putting out some feelers for contacts in the top radio markets around the country if she wanted him to.
It felt untoward. Why would he take an interest in Brooke like that? He hardly knew her. My gut told me it was more than just him being protective of his daughter’s social life. I’d told Brooke what my dad used to say to me: “If someone offers to help your business, it’s never free. Always find out what it’s going to cost you in the long run.” That had thankfully resonated with Brooke.
I tried to covertly study how Maxwell behaved around Brooke as they approached. He seemed to purposely not look directly at her; instead, he gave her side glances as he draped his arm around his wife. That didn’t bring me any comfort.
I put my arm around Brooke’s waist and drew her as close as possible. This wasn’t an attempt to stake my claim on her—I didn’t believe women were a commodity. It was a warning to Maxwell that he would have to go through me if he had any thoughts of making a move on her. Sick bastard.
Lola pranced up to Brooke and kissed her cheek. “Look at you, gorgeous.”
“You’re the gorgeous one,” Brooke gushed back.
Mr. and Mrs. Harrington, along with Alejandro, weren’t far behind Lola.
“Logan, I’m not sure if you’ve met Lola’s parents. This is Camila and Maxwell Harrington. And you remember Alejandro, right?” Brooke made the introductions.
I’d briefly met Alejandro a few days earlier when he and Lola had dropped by to see Brooke. He seemed like a decent guy. I gave him a nod to acknowledge him before holding out my hand to Camila.
“I don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced. It’s nice to meet you.” I tried to sound cordial even though I was suspicious of her husband.
“It’s a pleasure.” Camila placed her hand, sporting two large diamond-encrusted rings, in mine and gave it a good shake. “Any friend of Brooke’s is a friend of ours. We have become quite fond of her this summer. ”
Unfortunately, I had a feeling her husband might be more than fond of Brooke.
“Maxwell Harrington.” He shoved his hand out to capture mine before I’d even let go of his wife’s, as if he were anxious to meet me.
I took his hand, and he gripped it harder than necessary while eyeing me carefully. Did he see me as his competition? The thought made me sick.
“Brooke says you’re an ER doctor.” He reluctantly let go of my hand.
“I am.”
“It’s a worthy profession. Where did you go to medical school?”
“Stanford,” I said dryly.
Maxwell seemed taken aback. “Impressive. I’m more of a Harvard man myself—that’s where I received my MBA. But Stanford is nothing to sneeze at.”
Was he trying to one-up me? What a sleazeball. I refused to play his petty game, so I just nodded and shifted my attention to where it belonged—Brooke.
“Should we go meet Josie?”
“Yes,” she said with nervous excitement. “Just stop me if I start rambling about my life story.”
“Not a chance.” I kissed her head. “I like it when you ramble.”
“Actually,” Maxwell interrupted, his voice dripping with self-importance. “I was hoping to introduce Brooke to a new friend of mine who’s here tonight—Sidney Harper. He’s the CEO—”
“Of the SoundWave Broadcasting Network,” Brooke finished for him, her eyes wide with astonishment. “How do you know him?” she asked, clearly impressed. “He’s huge in the radio industry.”
Lola jumped up and down, her excitement bursting at the seams. “Isn’t it amazing? Papi wanted to surprise you.”
Maxwell stood a little taller, waves of self-approval rolling off him. “I sent him a couple of your podcast episodes, and he’s impressed. He’d like to talk to you. Sidney thinks he has a couple of stations with large markets that might be a good fit for you. A syndicated show could potentially be in your future. ”
Brooke faltered, overcome with the thought, and I had to steady her. “Are you serious? A syndicated show?”
“No promises,” Maxwell said with an air of conceit, clearly enjoying the moment.
Camila beamed up at her husband, pride evident in her eyes.
The entire scene turned my stomach. Something wasn’t right, but what could I say? All my suspicions were currently unfounded. It didn’t seem prudent to start throwing accusations around because of a gut feeling.
“Shall we meet him?” Maxwell almost sounded like he was pleading with Brooke.
I didn’t like that at all.
“Yes,” Brooke sang. “Logan, you have to come with me.”
There was no way in hell I was leaving her side. “Absolutely,” I responded, more to Maxwell than Brooke.
Maxwell’s brow furrowed, but he quickly recovered and said, “Of course, he’s welcome.”
Brooke waved at Lola, Camila, and Alejandro before she slipped her arm through mine and we walked toward one of the seating areas at the back of the store near the nonfiction section, with Maxwell leading the way.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispered for my ears only. “I hope I don’t screw this up. Seriously, stop me if I start word vomiting.”
“It’s part of your charm. Don’t hide that from anyone.”
Brooke’s doe eyes peered up at me. “Seriously, Logan, you are dangerous.”
“Why do you keep saying that? What does that mean?” The last thing I ever wanted was for her to fear me.
“It means you’re wonderful.” She popped up on her toes and pecked my cheek.
I touched my face where her warm lips had left their mark, understanding what she meant. She was just as dangerous, as were the emotions we were playing with that summer.
A man in his fifties dressed in designer jeans and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows approached us. No doubt it was Sidney Harper. Despite his casual attire, he wore an air of self-importance to match Maxwell Harrington’s.
Maxwell made sure he was the first to greet him. “Sidney, it was so good of you to come.” The men shook hands like old friends.
“How could I refuse when you presented me with such talent?” Sidney’s gaze shifted over Maxwell’s shoulder and landed on Brooke.
Brooke’s cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink as she gripped my arm tighter, steadying herself.
“Shall we sit?” Maxwell waved to the seating area, clearly used to being the one who called the shots.
Brooke and I took the small couch across from the two chintz chairs that Sidney and Maxwell occupied. Brooke’s small frame trembled beside me, so I took her hands in mine, cradling them, hoping to lend her some support. Maxwell’s eyes immediately zoomed to our clasped hands. The way he flinched showed he didn’t care for it. It only made me sit closer to Brooke.
“Sidney, this is my—” Maxwell halted, clearly flustered. “This is Brooke,” he quickly corrected himself, his voice strained. “And Logan,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
What the hell? My mind raced. What had he been about to say when he introduced Brooke? What did he think she was to him?
I glanced at Brooke to see if she found any of this odd or inappropriate. She looked bewildered, as if she couldn’t believe it was happening. I didn’t want to steal the moment from her, as it could prove monumental for her future—a future that I knew didn’t include me. It shouldn’t have been such a sobering thought, but it was.
“It’s a pleasure to meet both of you,” Sidney commented before diving right into the conversation with Brooke. “I have to say, you are a skilled storyteller, Brooke. You know how to engage an audience. Tell me, how long have you been in radio?”
Brooke squeezed my hands before responding. “Since high school. The station hired me to do odd jobs after school, like making coffee and running errands, but I begged anyone I could to let me in the booth. I think they got tired of me asking, so they finally relented.” She laughed.
I could picture her badgering her bosses, and it made me smile .
“They let me fill in during a weekend spot, late at night, probably thinking no one would listen to me, but people called in to say how much they loved me.” Brooke’s face glowed as she spoke about what was obviously a memorable event for her. “So I started filling in more until I got my own show about ten years ago.”
Sidney nodded, seemingly impressed. “Sounds like you have tenacity and talent.”
Brooke nibbled on her lower lip. “I hope so.”
Sidney leaned forward, studying Brooke more intently than before. “Tell me what kind of preparation you put into your shows and how you go about choosing content.”
Brooke sat up taller, rising to the occasion. “That’s easy. I let the music guide me. Of course, I do my research to make sure the stories and behind-the-scenes glimpses are factual. But honestly, I do my best to present every song I play like a gift because that’s what music is.”
Both Sidney and Maxwell sat back, appearing to be taken in by Brooke’s enthusiasm and needing a moment to process.
How I ever thought she was a hot mess, I’ll never know. I’d come to realize that her brand of crazy was just passion, and I was lucky enough to get a taste of it. I would do my best to enjoy it while it lasted.