Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Brooke spent the rest of the week finalizing her plans for Cape Cod wedding domination, but she remembered to drag herself away from her laptop in time to meet Eliza for their drink on Friday night.
Her new apartment was set above her landlord’s garage, in the back of the property.
She locked up and descended the rickety staircase, meeting Eliza just inside the gate.
“This place is so cute!” Eliza sounded surprised.
“The front yard is so overgrown, you would never guess there’s a whole property back here. ”
Thanks to her landlord’s green thumb, the small courtyard was crammed with old glazed pots and plants: bright golden marigolds and nasturtiums in one corner, lavender spilling from the other.
Small magnolia trees vied for sunlight against a wall of blooming roses, and honeysuckle and hydrangeas billowed up the trellis all the way to her balcony.
“I’d invite you up,” Brooke apologized, “but I haven’t unpacked yet, it’s just boxes everywhere. I keep hoping I’ll wake up one morning and it’ll all be magically put in its place,” she admitted. “Like something out of a cartoon.”
Eliza laughed. “Where are some magical forest animals when you need them?”
They headed out front to Eliza’s car, a vintage Mustang. Her friend slid behind the wheel and checked her lipstick in the mirror.
“You said it was casual, right?” Brooke asked. She’d thrown on some jeans and a navy tank top, but Eliza was wearing a cute red sundress, her brunette hair pulled up in a fancy twist, and looked ready for a cocktail party, not a night at the local bar.
“Oh, don’t worry, I came from work,” Eliza explained. “I was interviewing a new fashion designer, so I didn’t want to show up looking like a complete slob. Like usual,” she grinned.
Eliza was a freelance journalist, based up in Boston, but her family had a house on the Cape, so she traded her subway pass and studio apartment for beaches and a porch swing every summer—at least that’s what she told Brooke the day they’d met, contorting themselves into pretzel shapes in the back of a beginner’s yoga class.
Brooke had been there to try to relax and Eliza was researching a story, but they barely made it through the opening vinyasa before calling it quits and retiring to the nearest ice cream shop for a double scoop of chocolate chunk and some good old-fashioned girl-talk.
Now, Eliza was her closest friend in town, and Brooke was glad to have someone to drag her away from work—and Netflix.
“So Doug was a bust, huh?” Eliza asked, pulling out of the drive.
“To put it mildly. Turns out, he’s more interested in crustaceans than women. I can’t believe your sister dated him,” Brooke said.
“For two months!”
“No!” Brooke laughed. “Does she have a fetish for seafood or something?”
Eliza rolled her eyes affectionately. “Jane’s too nice for her own good. She was probably too polite to ever break up with him.”
“Still, it was probably for the best,” Brooke said. “It’s too soon to be dating, I guess it turns out I’m not ready.”
Eliza gave her a sympathetic look. “Aww, I’m sorry.
Breakups are the worst. You think you’re fine and then BAM, you see a guy who looks like him on the street or hear a song on the radio, and it’s like they stomped on your heart all over again.
I had this one boyfriend in college,” she added.
“It went down in flames, totally wrecked me. I thought I saw him everywhere—in the library, by the dorms—I had to brace myself just to leave my room. Months later, I find out he wasn’t even in the country.
He went on a study abroad program! All that stress was for nothing.
You did the right thing, moving away,” she added.
“At least here you know you won’t run into him on the way to the gym with no makeup on. ”
“There’s a simple fix for that, you know,” Brooke quipped lightly. “Don’t ever go to the gym!”
Eliza snorted with laughter, but Brooke felt a small pang of guilt. She hadn’t told Eliza all the messy details about what happened with Archer. Maybe it was selfish, but she didn’t want to see the judgment when she admitted she’d been the Other Woman, breaking a family apart.
“So where is this bar, anyway?” she asked, looking curiously out the window. They were driving down the main highway, Old King’s Road, with the shore along one side and lush green woods on the other. It was still light out, the sun sinking over the water, and she could taste the salt in the air.
“Sweetbriar Cove,” Eliza replied. “It’s just a few miles away. You must have been.”
“No, I don’t think so. I haven’t really done any exploring,” Brooke admitted. “I just head straight to the hotel, and then pick up groceries in Provincetown.”
“You’ve been here months!” Eliza exclaimed. “What have you been doing with your time?”
“Working,” Brooke protested. “Some of us don’t get to do it on a porch swing.”
“All day and night, and weekends too?” Eliza shot back.
“OK, OK,” Brooke admitted with a sigh. “So maybe I’m a workaholic. But I’m changing that. See, look at me: out with you instead of running revenue projections.”
“On a Friday night? Wild.” Eliza grinned.
Brooke laughed. “So, Sweetbriar Cove, why does that name sound familiar?”
“They have an annual Christmas festival, it’s a big tourist draw,” Eliza explained. “And in summer there are all kinds of street fairs and outdoor movie screenings. Last year, they did a harvest hay-bale maze right in the middle of the town square.”
“No!” Brooke laughed. “You’re making that up.”
“Cross my heart.” Eliza beamed. “I got lost twice.”
They turned off the highway and down a winding road before reaching the Sweetbriar Cove town square.
Brooke had to admit it looked idyllic: set around an open green with cute stores, cafes, and even a picture-perfect gazebo overlooking the bay.
“This would be a great spot for wedding photos,” she mused, already adding it to her mental list of package options.
Eliza grinned. “Do you ever stop working?”
“Sorry,” Brooke sighed. “I promise, no more work—or wedding—talk for the rest of the night.”
They parked and made their way across the square to the pub on the corner.
It was an old, charming building with exposed beams, an open fireplace, and walls crammed with nautical souvenirs, and it was busy with Friday night locals.
“You guys definitely have a thing for ships,” Brooke said, looking around.
“You can’t move for anchors and oars on the Cape. ”
“We’re big on history,” Eliza agreed. “Ooh, look, there’s a free table.
” She darted across the room and slid into a seat, almost before the other party had even stood up.
A rival group of women were caught off guard, drinks in hand, halfway to the table.
“Sorry!” Eliza beamed at them with an innocent look. “Were you waiting on this one?”
They slunk away as Brooke joined her. “You snooze, you lose,” Eliza crowed under her breath. She caught Brooke’s surprise. “Sorry, it’s a journalist thing. Too many years spent loitering in coffee shops, fighting over a free outlet.”
Brooke smiled. “I’ll get the drinks, you guard our territory.”
“White wine for me, thanks,” Eliza said. “And fries. There should always be fries.”
Brooke headed to the bar. She could see a karaoke machine set up on the other side of the room, but she was guessing they would all need a few drinks before anyone was brave enough to give it a try.
“Well, look who it is.”
She turned and promptly lost her breath.
It was him, Riley, the guy from the other night, leaning casually against the bar just a few inches away.
What was he doing here, of all places? Her pulse leapt, but she fought to keep her cool. This was why it was safer to stay home, working, on a Friday night: she didn’t stumble over the one guy she thought she wouldn’t see again.
But had been secretly hoping she would.
“Oh. Hi.” Brooke managed to speak.
“I was just thinking about the other night, and then here you are,” he said, looking pleased. “The universe delivered you right to me.”
He smiled at her, and damn it, but he was just as gorgeous as she’d remembered; unruly blonde hair falling over those stormy blue eyes, his jaw dusted with tawny stubble.
“What can I get you?” he asked, and she had to remind herself of why she’d turned and fled from their amazing kiss.
Dating kryptonite. Swearing off men. Past mistakes.
OK then.
“Thanks, but I don’t need you to buy me a drink,” Brooke said, trying to sound polite.
“I wasn’t offering.” Riley smirked. “I was taking your order. This is my bar.”
Brooke flushed. “Oh. Good for you. It’s very . . . nautical.”
He chuckled. “It came with the decoration, I didn’t have the heart to take it all down. Half the people in town have a relative up on the walls, so I didn’t think it would make the best first impression to go trashing their ancestors.”
He grinned, and Brooke felt lightheaded. How could this man ever make a bad impression?
“You know, I never got your name,” Riley said, rounding to the other side of the bar. “Granted, we were busy with . . . other things.” He shot her a wickedly suggestive look that had Brooke flushing all over again.
“It’s Brooke,” she blurted quickly. “Brooke Delancey.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Brooke Delancey.” Riley held out his hand.
Brooke hesitated, but it would have been rude to ignore it, so she reached across and shook it firmly.
“Excellent handshake you’ve got there,” Riley teased. “Very professional.”
Brooke didn’t know what to say. She dealt with high-stress, unexpected incidents all the time at work, but she didn’t know where to start when it came to making friendly conversation with the guy she’d been wantonly kissing in a dark alleyway.
The guy who was looking at her like he wanted to do it all over again.
Brooke gulped. “Two white wines, please. And some fries.”
Riley looked amused. “Coming right up. Another blind date?”
“No!” Brooke exclaimed quickly. “I’m with a friend.”