Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Brooke drove over to the party that night with butterflies dancing in her stomach. She’d left work on time for once, and she’d agonized over half a dozen outfits, standing in front of the thrift-store mirror she’d found in a little store outside town.
Would a dress be too dressy? Would Riley think she was trying too hard—for him?
Brooke tore through her newly unpacked closet of clothing and despaired. It was easy for someone like Riley; he probably rolled out of bed and threw on a pair of jeans whether he was heading to the beach or a five-star restaurant, but Brooke didn’t have it so easy.
What outfit said, I can’t kiss you again, but I want you to want me anyway?
Eventually, she settled on a pair of blue linen shorts, with her favorite red off-the-shoulder top, and pulled her hair back in a simple French braid.
She was being ridiculous, she knew—she was a grown woman, not a high schooler trying to impress her crush—but as she followed her GPS’s directions off the main coastal highway, Brooke felt sixteen all over again.
Snap out of it, she told herself, driving past open fields and woodland until she saw the turn.
He’d said it himself, this wasn’t a date.
No dinner, no flirting, and no kissing in the shadows at the end of the night.
She had no reason to feel this lurch of anticipation in her stomach, or to check her makeup in the rearview mirror as she parked alongside the other cars and trucks strewn haphazardly down the long driveway.
She got out of her car and took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. It was a warm summer night, still bright out with the last of twilight, and she could hear birdsong chirping and the distant sound of music coming from further up the track.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket as she started the walk. It was a message from Eliza.
‘Want to come to a party tonight? 52 Willow Drive.’
Brooke laughed. It was the same address Riley had scribbled for her, but in a small town like this, she shouldn’t be surprised.
‘I just got here!’
She rounded the corner and found a sprawling old farmhouse, lit up with Chinese lanterns hanging in the trees. People and laughter spilled out onto the porch, and music came, louder, echoing out across the fields.
Brooke climbed the front steps and made her way inside. To her relief, everyone looked as casual as her, drinking beer and wine and eating some delicious-looking pastries.
“How do you know Summer?” Eliza appeared from the crowd to hug her hello.
“Cake,” Brooke explained, and Eliza laughed.
“Same goes for the rest of us. Come on, let me introduce you to some people.” She led Brooke into the house, stopping every few paces to introduce Brooke until her head was spinning trying to keep up with the names.
“And here’s the birthday girl!” Eliza announced, as Summer emerged from the kitchen with a tray of cupcakes. “What are you doing baking at your own party?” she scolded her playfully. “Relax, you should be having a good time.”
“Baking is a good time,” Summer grinned. She had her dark hair tumbling in natural curls, wearing a cute print sundress and bare feet. “Brooke, hey!” she sounded surprised. “Great to see you again.”
“Riley invited me,” Brooke explained quickly. “I hope that’s OK.”
“The more the merrier.” Summer beamed. “How are things at the hotel?”
“Good. Hectic,” Brooke added. “But I like it that way.”
“You’re probably the only person who moved out here to work more,” Summer said with a rueful look. “The rest of us are all chasing a break.”
“You work around the clock at the bakery,” Eliza pointed out.
“True, but it doesn’t feel like work,” Summer replied. “I mean, I would bake all day long even if it wasn’t my job.”
“Lucky you,” Eliza groaned. “I was up until midnight finishing my latest article. And let me tell you, a thousand words on redistricting regulations isn’t my passion.”
Summer patted her shoulder sympathetically. “Have some cake, you’ll feel better.”
Eliza brightened. “You’re right. Thanks.” She took two of the mini-cupcakes and devoured them in five seconds flat.
“What was that you said about a detox?” Brooke teased her.
“Frosting doesn’t count,” Eliza protested. She waved at somebody across the room. “Be right back.”
Eliza ducked away, and Brooke took a cupcake. “These are delicious,” she exclaimed, tasting the tart frosting.
“Thanks.” Summer smiled. “I’m going crazy with the summer harvest right now, all these fresh blackberries around.”
“Do you have some time this week?” Brooke asked, seeing her opening. “I’d love to chat to you about some more wedding opportunities.”
“Sure, just swing by the bakery anytime,” Summer offered. “I’d love to pick up any extra gigs you have going.”
“Perfect.” Brooke smiled, relieved. Finding a master baker worthy of a Hollywood wedding was no short order, and having Summer as her secret weapon for the pitch might push her over the top.
The crowd shifted, and Brooke caught a glimpse of a familiar face. Her stomach turned a slow pirouette. Riley was making his way towards them, wearing a rumpled button-down shirt, white against his tanned skin, and was that . . . ?
“You shaved?” she said as he reached them.
Riley rubbed his smooth jaw. “Don’t get used to it. What do you think, I scrub up good?”
Try amazing.
“Sure, I guess.” Brooke shrugged and glanced away, hoping that her jolt of lust wasn’t written all over her face.
“So what did I miss?” Riley looked between them. “If you were singing my praises, please, don’t let me interrupt. Go right ahead.”
Summer snorted. “Find one of your coeds if you want constant adoration. Us grown women have better things to do.”
“Grown?” Riley teased. “I just saw a funfetti cake with milk shooters out back.”
Summer just laughed. “You’re never too old for funfetti.” She looked past them and winced. “I better go save Grayson from my mom. Here, have fun!”
She thrust her tray of cupcakes at Riley and took off, leaving Brooke alone with him.
“You made it, then,” Riley said, depositing the tray on a table before turning back to Brooke.
Was it just her, or did his voice drop, intimate? Suddenly, the alcove they were standing in felt like a separate room; away from the crowd, and close enough to touch.
“I made it,” she agreed, searching for something to say. “How’s the bar?”
Dumb.
“Fine,” Riley said, clearly amused at her terrible excuse for small talk. “How’s the hotel?”
“Fine.”
Brooke wracked her brain, feeling awkward as hell. What happened to the casual, flirty Brooke that she’d been earlier, bantering with him at the bar the first night they’d met?
That woman was long gone, and she knew exactly the moment for the switch. One kiss, all-out, and she waved goodbye to poise for good.
“It’s a great party,” she said eventually. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“No problem.” Riley reached out his hand to her face, and Brooke flinched back, startled. “Sorry.” Riley grinned. “But you’ve got some frosting . . . there.”
He touched his thumb to the corner of her mouth, then brought it to his lips. He licked it slowly, his eyes not leaving hers, and damn, if the heat there didn’t melt Brooke from the inside out.
How was this man so sexy?
“Bathroom?” she blurted, flushing hotly.
“Down the hall.” Riley nodded in the right direction.
“OK!”
Brooke turned and fled before she could do anything stupid, like yank that irresistible mouth down to hers for another kiss.
Brooke stayed at the party another hour, meeting Sweetbriar Cove locals—and giving Riley a wide berth. As long as there was a crowd of people between them, she was fine, so she threw herself into having a good time, getting all the local recommendations, and even some invites too.
“She has to come to book club, doesn’t she have to come to book club?” Summer’s friend, Poppy, insisted, after they got talking about a shared love for beach reads.
Mackenzie—a local potter—grinned. “Definitely. We meet in a couple of weeks,” she told Brooke. “Bring a bottle and something sweet.”
“I don’t know if I have time to read anything right now . . .” Brooke said regretfully.
Mackenzie laughed. “Neither do we. It’s just an excuse to get together and gossip,” she confided. “Poppy’s going to read us the dirty bits from her next book.”
“Am not!” Poppy protested. Her wine splashed. “Sorry, did I get you?”
“No, I’m good.” Brooke checked her blouse. “And I’d love to come, thanks.”
“I’ll send you the info, or just get your number from Riley,” Mackenzie said casually.
“He doesn’t have it.”
“Oh?” Mackenzie quirked an eyebrow. “OK.”
Brooke caught a glance between her and Poppy. “We’re not . . . I mean, we’re not seeing each other. I don’t really know him,” she hurried to explain.
Aside from the whole “life-changing kiss” thing, that was.
“Sorry, my mistake.” Mac smiled. “I can’t keep up with him these days.”
“That’s not to say he’s some kind of playboy,” Poppy added quickly, giving Mac a nudge. “Riley’s great. A really good guy.”
Mac nodded. “He’s just . . . friendly, is all.”
Brooke was amused. “It’s OK, I know his type. I mean, you don’t look like that and live like a monk,” she said, and they laughed, looking relieved.
“We love him, but yes, he’s pretty popular,” Poppy said.
“And by popular, she means the hottest bachelor on the Cape,” Mac agreed.
They all turned to look at Riley, who was currently surrounded by three gorgeous women. He caught them staring, and looked puzzled for a moment, before sending a wave and a wink.
They all laughed again.
Brooke relaxed. So Riley’s charm was legendary—she should have guessed. Which meant there was nothing special about their little rendezvous, and she didn’t need to tie herself up in knots speculating about it anymore.
She checked the time. It was getting late, and she wanted to be up early tomorrow to start planning her pitch. “I should get going,” she said reluctantly. “I have work in the morning.”
“Aww, well take some cake with you for the road,” Mac suggested. “And drop by my studio sometime.”
“I go there whenever I’m having a bad day,” Poppy agreed. “Just smash some pottery, and everything feels better again. It’s the perfect stress-reliever.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Brooke smiled.
She said her goodbyes, then headed out, driving back up the coastline, now shadowed in the dark. She rolled the windows down and took a deep breath of the sea air, feeling happier and lighter than she had in a long time.
Moving all this way, starting fresh—she’d been so focused on her job and everything she was trying to leave behind, Brooke hadn’t thought much about the life she could build to replace it.
But tonight, for the first time, she saw all the good things that could come from life in Sweetbriar Cove, things that had nothing to do with putting space between her and her heartbreak.
Friendship, a sense of community, the slower pace of life . . . Maybe she would even find some of that work-life balance she’d heard so much about, although, she wasn’t betting on anything.
Brooke smiled, thinking of all the new people she’d met and invitations she’d received. Things were turning around for her, she could just feel it. But she wasn’t even a mile outside Sweetbriar Cove when she heard a splutter coming from the engine.
She’d spoken too soon.
“No,” Brooke groaned. Her trusty old Honda was pushing 200K on the speedometer, but it hadn’t let her down yet. “Just a little further,” she pleaded, listening to the rough grinding noise. “You can do it.”
But it couldn’t.
The engine gave one more cough of protest, then gave up the ghost. Brooke was just able to steer over to the side of the road before the engine cut out completely, and her car came to a lurching stop.
Brooke’s heart sank. If she was back in the city, she would have just called triple-A and booked a cab to ride home, but she was pretty sure those options weren’t around this late in Sweetbriar Cove.
She got out of the car, and used the light on her phone to try and peer under the hood.
But who was she kidding? She could change a flat and refill her wiper fluid, but that was about the most of her auto skills.
She checked her call list, wondering if she could get one of the assistant managers to come pick her up…
Then she saw her cell reception. Zero bars. No reception.
A cricket sounded in the woods nearby, and the road lay dark, not even another house in sight.
Brooke felt a shiver of unease, but before she could head into full-on panic mode, a pair of headlights came around the bend.
Relief flooded through her. Brooke leapt out into the road and started waving. “Hey!” she called, as the Jeep drew closer. “Hey, over here!”
The vehicle slowed and came to a stop beside her.
“What seems to be the problem, little missy?”
The familiar drawl stopped her in her tracks.
It was Riley. Of course it was.