Chapter 15 Brodan
brODAN
Monroe was done playing nice.
I’d say I preferred her being honest over her fake bullshit “professionalism,” but there was no denying she’d pissed me off yesterday.
Mostly because what she said was true.
I’d been so busy trying to make sure she knew how little I cared about her I hadn’t taken Ava Reid’s position into consideration. I’d put her in a bad spot with Anita Cooley. It was selfish.
I fucking hated that it had given Monroe an opening.
Then again, after the way I’d treated her, I deserved it.
This whole situation with her had me off-balance.
One second I was seething, channeling every shitty thing that had happened that weekend I found her with Arran into my fury.
Then once I’d made it clear how little she mattered to me I’d swirl in a clogged drain of guilt.
Her face yesterday when I’d said that about her being a spinster …
I had a feeling she really, truly hated me now.
It was for the best.
Even if the knowledge of that was pressure crushing my chest.
During the break in Friday morning’s rehearsal, a bake sale would open for business. We had bake sales back when I was a kid at Ardnoch Primary. Every term, the kids and parents baked cakes, sold them at break time, and the money helped fund the school.
So as soon as the break bell rang, the kids took off for the cafeteria behind the gym for the sale. Monroe disappeared too.
Lewis caught up with me. “You coming to the sale, Uncle Brodan? Mum’s there with Eilidh.”
“Of course, wee man. I’m going to fill my belly with whatever she’s baked.” Regan had proven herself awesome in the kitchen.
Tables and parents and kids packed the cafeteria.
It smelled amazing. I wasn’t really a cake guy, but now and then, I liked a treat.
I was unsurprised to see Walker stride into the cafeteria behind us with a visitor’s badge hanging around his neck.
He’d insisted on having access to the school in case I needed him for security.
Regan had talked about the bake sale at dinner last night, the dinner to which we invited him, and despite his muscular physique, Walker Ironside had a sweet tooth.
He had tight control over it, but once a week, he bought pastries for breakfast and then ran a few extra miles to work them off.
“What are you doing here?” I teased.
My bodyguard scowled at me. “The place is packed. Thought it best I be here for you.”
“Sure. That’s believable.”
He cut me a dark look before a nearby table of cupcakes stole his attention.
“None of that.” I wagged my finger at him. “If you’re buying, you’re buying from the Adair table. Regan’s going to kick everyone’s arse.”
“It’s not a competition, Uncle Brodan,” Lewis informed me.
I frowned. “It was when I was a kid.” We always bragged about whose table got cleared first. It was never me. Dad didn’t bake, so it was left to Lachlan and Thane to put something together after Mum died, and let’s just say they weren’t natural bakers.
Following Lewis through the crowded room, Walker at my back, we reached Regan’s table only to discover she was sharing it. Apparently with Callie, our Dorothy’s mum.
Callie’s mum was a very attractive, very young blond.
“Brodan, Walker,” Regan greeted us with that dimpled smile as she rounded her table to hug Lewis into her side. She looked down at her stepson. “How was rehearsal?”
Lewis shrugged.
Guilt pricked me. He’d been off the last couple of rehearsals, and I was worried Monroe might be right about him picking up on the animosity between us.
“Uncle Brodan, I helped Mummy make scones!” Eilidh drew my attention to where she stood with Callie and the blond.
“They look amazing,” I complimented, rubbing my tummy for emphasis.
Regan pulled Lewis behind the table with her as she gestured to Callie and the blond. “This is Sloane Harrow and her daughter Callie. Though, Brodan, you know Callie already from the musical.”
“I do. She’s our wonderful Dorothy.” I reached across the table and held out a hand to Sloane. “Nice to meet you.”
People reacted one of two ways to meeting me: awkward starstruck delight or deliberate indifference as some manner of “putting me in my place.” Sloane, however, reacted normally.
She gave me a pretty smile and shook my hand like I was just the guy next door.
“It’s nice to meet you too,” she said, her American accent unsurprising.
“Callie is having a lot of fun, aren’t you, baby girl? ”
Callie nodded shyly. Apparently, she was one of those kids who came out of her shell on stage but turtled back inside as soon as she was off it.
“This is Walker Ironside.” I gestured to Walker, who was eyeing the cakes in front of Sloane like a starving man. To be fair, the cupcakes were decorated to perfection. They looked professional. As did the pie and madeleines she’d baked.
Sloane’s eyes lit up with interest at the sight of Walker. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman had thrown me over for Walk, the handsome bastard that he was.
“You work security at Ardnoch, right?” Sloane asked.
Walker looked up at her, his gaze searching. “I know you … you’re the new housekeeper.”
“You’re a housekeeper at Ardnoch?” Regan asked.
Sloane nodded, still gazing up at Walker. “We started around the same time, I think.”
“Right.” Walker’s attention dropped back to her cakes, oblivious to how her eyes raked his shoulders and chest.
Or he was ignoring her interest.
It was hard to tell with him.
I sighed under my breath. “Walker is my bodyguard but is working at Ardnoch while we’re here.”
“Oh.” Sloane’s gaze ran down his body and back up again, a tinge of pink cresting her cheeks.
I grinned at Regan, who smirked knowingly. Aye, she’d caught it too.
“What’s funny?” Eilidh asked loudly.
“Life, princess,” I answered, and then rubbed my hands together. “Okay, how much for one of those delicious scones?”
“Would you like to try a cupcake?” Sloane asked Walker as I handed over the money to my niece.
“Aye, how much?”
“Two pounds.”
Walker frowned and pulled out his wallet. He handed her a five-pound note. “Keep the change. You’re not charging enough.”
“Oh. I’m still getting used to what everything should cost here.” She reached down and plucked a cupcake with white buttercream icing and held it out to Walk.
“Thanks.” He peeled back the paper to bite into it. His eyes widened as he chewed. “Holy fuck,” he murmured, as his attention dropped to the other cupcakes.
Regan glowered at Walker. “There are children present.”
He wasn’t listening. He inhaled the rest of the cupcake and retrieved his wallet again. “I’ll take a box.”
Laughing, I considered betrayal of the Adair bake stand at his reaction. “That good?”
“Try one,” he answered while Sloane beamed as she boxed up four more cupcakes for Walker.
“Do you want to try my madeleines too?” She gestured to the seashell-like cakes.
“Aye, throw in a few of those.” Walker nodded to the pie, already sliced. “What’s in the pie?”
My shoulders shook with amusement as Regan snorted. “Sloane does kick my ass in the baking department.”
Sloane flushed. “The pie is chocolate and salted caramel.”
“You baked it?” he asked.
“Yes. I baked everything here.”
“My mom is the best baker in the world,” Callie offered quietly.
Walker’s gaze moved to the wee girl and softened. “Is that right?”
She nodded, pushing into her mum’s side. “You should try the pie.”
“Then I will. Slice of pie.”
“You’ll go into a sugar coma at this rate,” I warned him.
He cut me a look and answered belligerently, “If you’d try her cupcakes, you’d understand.”
Chuckling, I looked at Regan. “Do you mind, sis?”
“Have at it. Callie does not lie. Eilidh and I had a cupcake before you arrived, and it was …” She made a chef’s kiss.
“Oh, Ms. Sinclair!” Sloane suddenly called behind us, and I stiffened as Monroe came into sight. It surprised me when Sloane enveloped Monroe in a hug, like they were friends. My ex-best friend noted me and quickly looked away toward the array of baked goods.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you that my neighbor and I devoured the cupcakes you gifted me, Sloane. Best cupcakes ever. Seriously. In fact, I need more.” Monroe opened her purse. “How much for one?”
“Five quid,” Walker answered around a mouthful of madeleine.
Sloane shot him a surprised look, her lips twitching. “I think we can discount for Callie’s favorite teacher.”
He grunted.
Monroe chuckled, and it set off a sharp pain near my heart. I hadn’t heard that sound in eighteen years. “I’ll pay the fiver. It’s for the school, and your cakes are worth it.”
“Try a madeleine.” Walker picked up the tray and held them out to Monroe.
“Oh. Okay. I’ll take one of those too.” Monroe reached for one. “How much?”
“One—”
“Two pounds fifty,” Walker interrupted Sloane.
I could hear Regan choking on her laughter, and despite Monroe’s presence, amusement filled me at Walker’s proprietary reaction to Sloane Harrow’s baked goods—and the fact that the gorgeous young woman was staring up at him like he was a god and Walk was oblivious to it.
“The pie’s fuc— is amazing too,” Walker added.
Monroe’s gaze dropped to her purse, and I saw the slight pinch around her lips before she waved him off. “A cupcake and madeleine will more than see me through.”
Was cash a problem for her? Is that why she was in Gordon’s caravan, freezing her arse off?
It shouldn’t bother me, the idea of Monroe struggling.
“You must take a scone, Ms. Sinclair,” Regan called to her. “Eilidh and Lewis helped me bake them.”
“Really?” Monroe’s face lit up, and she moved around the table, passing me to get to them. I caught a whiff of her perfume, and my gut tightened, my eyes dropping to her tight arse as she sashayed past me in a skirt that molded to her body. A short split in the back was annoyingly tantalizing.
The clothes she wore to school switched between young at heart and playful and sexy receptionist.
“These look so good. Well done, Eilidh. Well done, Lewis.”