11. Brooke
Brooke
Meemaw insisted I drive her ancient Buick to Billy’s and grab her a cheeseburger. I could have made one at home, but I was too tired to argue. When I tried to make her promise she wouldn’t get into any trouble while I was gone, she practically guffawed.
“Brooke, you need to get into some trouble. I won’t get into any if you promise you will .”
I don’t know what to do with that statement. But that’s fine. As long as Meemaw’s behaving, I’ll be at her beck and call.
Ugh, Beck .
Why does that word have such a different meaning now?
Why does this have to bring to mind Meemaw’s hot doctor neighbor who asked me out because Meemaw told him to?
Was that some type of weird mountain man etiquette?
Or did he actually want to take me on a date?
I didn’t really help by insisting I’m not a charity case, but what was I supposed to do?
If you’re interested in me, just say so.
And maybe not only because Meemaw told you what to do.
And maybe , just maybe , if you aren’t interested in me, say that too.
Would it kill our generation to be direct? Sure would clear up a lot of confusion, and probably result in a lot less heartbreak and heartache.
My phone rings with a video call as I put the car in park.
“Hey, Lizzy,” I say to my younger sister.
“Hi, Brooke!” She’s breathless and flushed. “Guess what?”
“What?”
“I got asked to the homecoming dance by Shane.”
Shane ’s name is squealed at such a high pitch it takes me a moment to figure out who asked her.
“Oh, wow! That’s so awesome. So, how did he ask you?”
Lizzy jumps into the whole elaborate dance proposal, and I try not to roll my eyes at the way she makes it sound like this is the start of true love.
“Did you go dress shopping yet?” I ask.
“No, I’m going with Mom on Saturday after the cross-country meet.”
“Well, you have to send me pictures of every dress. I want to cast my vote too.”
“Ok, but would you please tell Matt to make Joey ask Lara?”
“Me tell Matt to tell Joey to ask Lara?”
“Or maybe you just call Joey and tell him to ask Lara?”
“Your best friend, Lara?”
“Yeah, no one’s asked her, and I don’t want her to be left out.”
“Does Joey want to ask Lara?”
“I don’t know, but everyone listens to you. Please, Brooke, you’ll be my favorite sister forever and ever and ever.”
“I’m your only sister.”
“Yeah, but are you my favorite?”
I shake my head as I approach Billy’s run-down exterior. “I appreciate the attempt at bribery, but I can’t force anyone to do anything.” Lizzy sighs. “Just try for me?”
“I’ll try, but I have to run.”
“Oh, I hope you’re meeting a cute guy!”
I snort at my fifteen-year-old sister. “Ha. I’m getting Meemaw a cheeseburger.”
I start pushing the door just as she giggles. “With a side of cute guy, right?”
The door flings open with way more force than what I pushed it with, and I stumble forward. My phone drops and skates across the floor, and I find myself caught in the strong and toned arms of…
Dr. Beckett Whistler.
It’s hard to see in the dim interior of Billy’s, but the light from the door shows his chocolate eyes locked on my face and his mouth set in a deep frown.
His eyes flash with something as he looks me over from head to toe. “Are you hurt?” he asks, his voice low.
I shake my head, unnerved by the way my arms sizzle from the pressure he’s placing on my skin.
He swallows, then abruptly lets go. “Good,” he grumbles before pushing past me and out the door.
I shake my head, trying to make sense of whatever just happened. Meemaw’s neighbor and I are clearly destined to only have odd interactions, and never romantic ones—despite both Matt and Meemaw hinting otherwise.
My vision adjusts to the dim lighting just in time for a large man to approach me, holding my phone out. “Ma’am,” he says in a thick mountain accent. “You dropped this.”
I smile at him and gratefully accept the phone. “Thanks.” “So…” He draws out the ‘o’ and tips his head to the door as he stuffs his hands into his front jeans pockets. “Do you know Beck?”
“Not really. He’s Meemaw’s neighbor.”
“Oh,” the man breathes. “You’re the kid?”
My eyes narrow in suspicion at this man.
I take him in. He's dressed in faded blue jeans and a dark green tee shirt with a motorcycle silhouette on the breast pocket. He has curly brown hair that’s cut short, and a hint of stubble on his jaw.
He’s also at least a foot taller than me, and has massive arm muscles. Matt would be jealous.
I raise a brow. “Kid?”
“June MacCord’s granddaughter, the kid Beck has been all upset about having to keep an eye on.”
I bristle. “I can assure you, Dr. Whistler doesn’t have to keep an eye on me at all.”
“Somehow I don’t think he isn’t keeping an eye on you.” The man sticks out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Ben.”
“Brooke Bastion.” I grasp his meaty hand in mine.
His hazel eyes narrow. “Brooke,” he repeats. “Well, I’ve known Beck for a long time, and don’t mind me saying this, but give him a chance.”
I blink. “A chance? I’m just here for a burger for my grandma.”
Ben steps back. “So you’re a local now.”
“I’m here till Meemaw recovers.”
“That’s local. Come on over, let me introduce you to Logan. He’s another friend of Beck and me.” He lowers his voice and whispers, “But you have to ignore the tourists he strings along at every opportunity. Beck’s not like that at all.”
Ben leads the way across the sticky floor to a table in the back corner where another man sits. This one has short but spiky blond hair, wears a white t-shirt with an oar on it, and his arm is wrapped around a woman next to him.
“Hello,” the man says, with a tiny bit too much emphasis on the last syllable. The girl gives him a sharp glare. “I’m Logan. This is Trina. How do you know Beck?”
I almost roll my eyes. “Why does everyone assume I know Beck?”
Logan flashes a blindingly white smile. “Apologies. How does Beck know you?”
“She’s June’s granddaughter,” Ben cuts in.
Logan’s smile grows to Cheshire cat proportions. “The neighbor.”
The woman under Logan’s arm stares at me, then tosses her platinum blonde hair over her shoulder and widens her eyes. “You know the grump?”
Ben laughs. “That’s one way to put it.”
I shrug. “Not really, he’s my grandma’s neighbor. And I’m here helping Meemaw through her ankle recovery.”
“But do you, like, want to know him?” She takes a sip of something fizzy. “He’d be so hot if he wasn’t so grumpy. And a doctor. Goodness.” Trina fans herself with one hand.
Logan tenses for a moment, then shrugs. “Ahh, but that means us lowly rafting guides with personality get the beautiful women all to ourselves.” He hooks her closer with his arm and presses a kiss to her temple. When she turns her face to his, I look away.
Ben’s eyes widen, and his attention is studiously not on the two people making out right in front of us.
I’m saved from the awkwardness when a waitress saunters over. “What can I get you?” she asks.
Relieved, I order two burgers to go.
“That will be just a few minutes. Do you want me to bring it to the table or up front to the to-go counter?”
My eyes catch Logan and Trina still lip-locked. “The to-go counter, please,” I murmur before giving a general wave and turning on my heel.
I sink into one of the benches by the to-go counter and am surprised when Ben sits next to me. For such a big man, he’s light on his feet.
“Sorry about Logan. He doesn’t think much these days.”
I bite my lip, not sure where this is going. Or why Beck’s friends are so interested in me.
“Listen,” I say, trying to be direct. “I’m not sure why or how you know I exist. Or what Beck has to do with me. But I’m glad to meet other locals. There’s not a lot to do when it’s just me and Meemaw, and she’s recovering from ankle surgery.”
“I get that.” Ben nods. “It’s just that Beck mentioned you. But he didn’t mention you . And he’s…” He sighs. “I know him well enough to know that he likes you, but he’s dense. Anyone with his past would be.”
“Past?”
Ben waves a hand. “Forget I mentioned it.”
“Ok…”
The waitress arrives with my burgers. “Here you go,” she says, passing me the paper bag of food and walking away.
I turn to Ben, who’s standing now. “It was nice to meet you. I don’t really know what to do with myself, so if you have recommendations for short-term jobs or things to do, that would be great.”
“Sure thing. Are you Catholic?”
“No,” I say. “I’m a Methodist. Why?”
He bites his lip, clearly hiding something. “No particular reason, just wondering. Also, Miss June knows Logan and me, by the way. Please tell her I’d love some more of her chicken when she’s feeling up to it.”
This day continues to get stranger, and that’s saying something because it started with me in the hospital in my pajamas after Meemaw decided to bake at two in the morning. “Ok. Yeah, sure.”
As I turn to leave, I hear Ben mutter, “Beck better not mess this up.”