Chapter 2
Chapter Two
brOOKS
“Uncle Brooks!”
I can’t help my grin as my sweet seven-year-old niece, Birdie, comes running into my garage and throws her arms around my legs, hugging me.
“I have oil on my hands, peanut, or I’d pick you up.”
“I know.” She smiles up at me, and my heart lifts. It always does when she’s around. She’s the light of my life, and now she has a little brother I love just as much.
Additionally, Blake and Billie are both expecting.
It’s about time we had a bunch of babies to spoil around here.
“What are you up to? Are you by yourself? Did you steal your dad’s fire truck again?”
Birdie giggles and shakes her head. “I’m not old enough to drive.”
“What? You’re seventeen, right?”
“I’m seven.” She rolls her eyes. “Dad! Uncle Brooks is trying to be funny again.”
“Ouch.” I chuckle and wash my hands real quick so I can pick my girl up and kiss her soft cheek. “It’s good I have you to be honest, Birdie girl.”
“You’re not too busy today,” Bridger observes as he walks in, wearing a baby strapped to his chest. My nephew is fast asleep, sucking his little blue binkie.
“It’s just been steady.” I shrug. “Not too crazy. What are you all doing? Where’s your wife?”
Bridger married Dani almost two years ago. We’ve all known her pretty much all our lives, and I’ve never seen my brother happier.
“She’s having lunch with the girls.” He presses a kiss on the baby’s head. “The kids and I took a walk, and we decided to come see you.”
“I missed you.” Birdie bats her pretty dark eyelashes at me.
“You did?”
She nods and kisses my cheek.
“I just saw you at Sunday dinner last week.”
“That was days ago.”
“You’re right. I always miss you, too.” I blow a raspberry on her cheek, making her giggle. “I love it when you come see me.”
“Did you know there’s a restaurant here that’s safe for my tummy?”
My eyes move to Bridger, and he watches me with sober eyes.
I fucking hate this.
“Is that right?”
Birdie nods. “I can have anything there. Mommy doesn’t have to study the menu and worry that there was cross contamimem.”
“Cross contamination?” I ask her, and she nods.
“Well, that’s good news. I bet you’ve missed eating out, haven’t you, baby?”
She nods but then shrugs. “It’s okay. At least I feel better.”
“That’s the most important thing.”
“Maybe we can go there on a date. Just you and me. Daddy takes Mommy on dates. You should take me on one.”
Bridger grins from ear to ear, and I can’t help but chuckle at her. “You’re my best girl. Of course, I’ll take you out.”
But I might have to get takeout from the one safe restaurant in town for my peanut.
The baby starts to squirm and fuss, and Bridger sways side to side.
“Someone’s about to wake up, need a diaper change, and a bottle. We’d better head home, baby bird.”
“Okay.” Birdie sighs as if it’s the saddest thing ever, then gives me a hug. “Don’t work too hard, Uncle Brooks.”
“I’ll do my best, baby girl.”
I set her on her feet, then walk to Bridger so I can kiss the baby.
“Thanks for stopping by.”
“Come for dinner tomorrow night. I’m grilling steaks.”
“I’ll be there.”
He nods. Birdie slips her hand in his, and the three of them walk out of my garage.
I’m alone in here today. I have three guys who work for me. My other master mechanic, Gabe, is on vacation with his husband and wife. Mitch took the afternoon off to take his wife to the doctor.
Jake Wild, who just graduated from high school in the spring, worked his ass off for me all summer, but now he’s off to college. He’ll put hours in for me whenever he’s home. I was sorry to see him go.
The kid has one hell of a work ethic.
He had to get it from his dad. Ryan Wild is a billionaire several times over and one of the best men I know. He and Polly are raising one hell of a kid.
I grab a cold bottle of water and drink half of it down before I turn on some music—some Aerosmith today—and get back to the truck I’m working on. I’d like to have it done by the end of the day.
Birdie looked good today. For too long, she was a tiny thing, and she was so sick. We couldn’t figure out what in the hell was going on, and it really upset Blake, the doctor in the family, that he didn’t have answers.
But finally, Birdie was diagnosed with celiac, and now that we know what foods aren’t safe for her, we can keep her healthy.
I both love and hate that there is a clean kitchen in our town. I didn’t even know what clean kitchen meant until everyone in the family had a sit-down with Blake to talk about what Birdie’s diagnosis meant, and how we all could protect her.
So yeah, I love that there’s a place here where Birdie can walk in, carefree, and order anything she wants, just like any other kid without food sensitivities.
But I fucking hate that it’s Juliet who brought it here.
I never spoke to her again after the day she chose to go back to that asshole. Not once. She tried to call me, but I ignored it, and after a while, she gave up. I told my family she was gone, and that was the end of it.
I’ve never told a soul what actually happened on the day I was supposed to propose to her and start my life with her.
I’ve done a good job of keeping it all in the past. It took a while, but I eventually dug myself out of the grief and started to feel, to live again. I fixed up the house and still live there. Bought this business from Old Man Hanson, and I’ve done quite well with it.
I don’t date. I’ll never be in a committed relationship again.
I do, however, fuck. Usually tourists.
Although, since someone moved back to town, I’ve been in a dry spell. Because I can’t stand the thought of touching someone else when she’s right here.
And that’s stupid as fuck because she hasn’t been mine in more than fifteen motherfucking years. A lifetime. I don’t even know her anymore.
But I can’t bring myself to want anyone else, and that’s what really pisses me off.
I see her everywhere, and the pull is still there. For the first six months or so that she was back, I never saw her. I don’t know how, but I never ran into her at all.
It was fucking bliss.
Now, my wildfire seems to be everywhere I fucking turn.
Jesus, she was even at my brother’s engagement party because she and Harper have become friends.
I see her coming out of the grocery store. This morning, she was across the street when I exited the coffee shop.
Everywhere.
Am I being punished for something? And if so, what? Because I did everything right by that woman. I was faithful. I was going to marry her, provide for her, and have a family with her. Fuck, I loved her more than anything.
So why am I being ambushed by her now?
I send a text to my customer and let him know that he can pick his truck up tomorrow morning, then I wash my hands and close the shop for the day. I take a quick shower in my shop bathroom. Installing this shower was the best thing I ever did. I don’t have to go home covered in grime and grease.
Then I decide to grab dinner at Kay’s Diner by myself.
After a short drive across town, I park my truck and walk inside, wave at the server, and take a seat at the bar.
Kay’s is an old-fashioned 1950s-style diner. The booths and seats are covered in red vinyl, the floors are black-and-white tile, and old rock-and-roll paraphernalia hangs all over the walls. The jukebox in the corner is pumping out an old Fleetwood Mac tune.
It’s a great spot.
“Hey, there,” Shirley, one of the servers, says. “Your usual?”
“Please.”
I don’t have to see the menu. I get the same thing every time. Mushroom burger with fries and a Coke.
“You must be a regular.”
I turn to my left and find a pretty little redhead smiling up at me. She’s a tiny thing with deep dimples in her cheeks and bright blue eyes.
She’s beautiful.
And not at all what I want.
“Might be,” I reply.
“I’m Layla,” she says.
I just nod and pull my phone out of my pocket to check my email.
“What’s your name?” she asks, not giving up.
“Why do you want to know?” I set the phone down and turn back to her.
“I’m obviously really bad at this, but I think you’re handsome, and I thought I’d make conversation. That’s all.” She lifts a shoulder and tucks her hair behind her ear, obviously flirting with me.
“Do you live here?” I ask her.
“No.” She shakes her head and smiles again. “I’m visiting from back East. I came to see an old college roommate, but she’s busy.”
“Do I know the roommate?”
She tips her head to the side. “Probably not. I don’t know, actually. Margie Smith?”
I don’t know her.
Shaking my head, I take a sip of the cola that was just set in front of me. “Never heard of her.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“For the purposes of this conversation?” I tilt my head back and forth. “It’s probably good.”
“Would you still be talking to me if I told you I lived here?”
“No, ma’am. It’s nothing personal.”
That makes her laugh, and it’s the kind of laugh that grates on my nerves.
“At least you’re honest. I’m staying—”
“No.” I shake my head, and her face loses the smile. “I’m sure you’re nice and probably a great fuck. But I’m not interested.”
“Gay?”
I snort, and Shirley sets my basket of food in front of me, then gives me a wink.
“Not that it matters, but no.”
“Married? I don’t see a ring.”
“Sometimes the answer’s just no, Layla.”
“Huh.” Her shoulders slump. “I’m not used to that.”
I’m sure you’re not, sweetheart.
I have to respect her for not changing seats. She also doesn’t try to drag me into any other conversations, and we eat side by side in a comfortable silence. She gets up to leave, but pauses.
“Do you want my number, just in case you change your mind?”
Jesus.
“I won’t change my mind. Safe travels, Layla.”
She nods and then walks away. Shirley crosses over to hand me my bill.
“You’re just breaking hearts all over town, Brooks.”
“I didn’t break her heart. That’s not what she was interested in.”
Shirley laughs and takes my credit card.
And now, I really want a glimpse of my wildfire.
Which is stupid as fuck.
Because she’s not mine, and I can’t have her, and seeing her, even for a second, is not healthy.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t want it.
So to torture myself after dinner, I drive back into downtown and park in front of Sage & Citrus. I can admit, it’s a cute place. It’s classy. It looks like something from one of those farmhouse home improvement shows.
And moving back and forth behind the long counter at the back is Juliet.
She’s wearing a white T-shirt with a red apron over it. Her blond curls are teased up into a bun, and she has little ringlets that have sprung free that hang around her face.
I want to touch them. My fingertips rub against my thumb involuntarily because all I can think about is touching that soft hair.
Does she still smell like jasmine? Or has she changed her shampoo?
Is anything still the same?
Jules laughs at something someone says, and it makes my heart physically ache. Rubbing my hand over my chest, I start the truck and pull out of the parking spot.
I need to stop this shit. Go back to avoiding her.
Stay away from her.
Because now it’ll be weeks before I’ll feel like I can breathe again.