Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Brooke liked the view from behind the bar, she decided as she leaned back to take in the room.
She was separate from the crowd, but a part of it too: the first stop for anyone stepping through the doors.
And seeing Riley up close at work, it was clear he was the most popular guy in town.
And not just because of his generous pours.
He had a word or a joke for everyone, asking about their family and work and even their pets.
“Mr. Freckles has a bad leg,” he explained, straight-faced, after an older woman spent ten minutes chatting about the vet visits before retreating to a table with her glass of lemonade. “We’re hoping he hangs in there until Pooch Day.”
“Pooch Day?” Brooke felt a long way from Chicago. She didn’t even know her neighbor’s names, let alone their pets’ medical problems. “Do I even want to ask?”
“Probably not.” He grinned. “Just look for the dog show.”
Brooke caught her breath. That man’s smile should be illegal—or come with a warning, at the very least. Danger: accelerated heart rate up ahead. May cause shortness of breath, dizziness, and public swooning.
“You know everyone and everything about this town, huh?” She’d thought Riley was just a natural flirt, but now she could see his easy charm actually came in useful and made everyone feel at home.
“Pretty much. This town likes to gossip,” he added, with a warning look. “And most of it passes through my doors.”
“I imagine you give them plenty to talk about,” Brooke teased.
“I’m a perfect gentleman,” Riley protested, giving her a virtuous look.
She didn’t buy it for a minute.
The doors opened and a group of women entered. It was the coeds; she remembered them from karaoke night, now looking fresh from the beach in bikinis and cover-ups. “Hi Riley!” they chorused, waving at him.
“Ladies.” He flashed that same smile at them all, and Brooke’s heart sank a little. Of course it wasn’t just for her. “Another hard day tanning?”
They giggled. “We’re on vacation.”
“We’re allowed to take it easy.”
“Of course you are,” Riley agreed. “Go, sit, take a load off. I’ll come get your orders in a sec.”
“You’re the best.” One of the girls, a tanned blonde who couldn’t have been more than twenty, gave him a flirty wink. She sashayed away, her cut-off jeans riding high over her long, twenty-year-old thighs.
Brooke had never felt frumpier. Why hadn’t she changed after work? She probably looked like that girl’s maiden aunt, all buttoned up in her linen dress.
“You OK hanging here?” Riley asked her, as he pulled out an order pad. “You want something to eat? I can have my guy rustle you up some killer tacos.”
Brooke shook her head. “I’m good.”
She watched him walk over to the group—and be greeted with adoring smiles. But who could blame them? They tossed their hair, flirting up a storm, and Riley . . . Well, Riley flirted right back.
Brooke felt a twist of disappointment.
She shouldn’t be envious of some kids barely out of high school, but she couldn’t help it. Watching him turn on the same easy charm he’d just been shining at her, it reminded her that her first impression had been right.
Riley was still a player, through and through.
Brooke tried to shake off the little voice whispering in her mind. She had no right to be jealous, she was the one who’d told him she only wanted to be friends. Riley was free to flirt with whomever he wanted.
But she didn’t have to stand around and watch.
She grabbed her purse and rounded the bar.
“Hey,” Riley called after her as she headed for the door. He crossed the bar. “Heading out already?” He looked confused, and Brooke pasted on a smile.
“I need to get started on work,” she said.
“On a Friday night?”
“Like I said, I’m on a deadline. Anyway, you don’t need me getting in the way here,” she added brightly. “I’ll see you around.”
Back at her apartment, Brooke turned on some music and set about planning a day-by-day schedule leading up to the big day. Riley was right, she thought ruefully, she sure knew how to party, but with Meredith already filling her inbox with notes and instructions, there was no time to delay.
Flowers, music . . . she made lists for her lists, color-coded and filed away under a dozen different tabs, until the plans were practically a work of art.
It was midnight before she finally set her laptop aside. She put on her PJs, drank her sleepy-time tea, and put on the soothing whale sound playlist that people online swore sent them straight to sleep…
Then she lay in bed wide awake, with her mind buzzing.
It happened almost every night now.
Brooke sighed, kicking off her sheets. She used to love sleeping, savor collapsing into bed and drifting off after a long day at the hotel.
But now, sleep taunted her, always just out of reach.
She’d tried everything: from herbal remedies to soothing baths to new-age meditation.
Her doctor had even prescribed some sleeping pills, but they just left her feeling like a zombie the next day, and with so much depending on her at work, she preferred feeling exhausted to missing some crucial detail that would spoil a guest’s important day.
Another sleepless night it was then.
Brooke was just thinking about grabbing her laptop again, when her phone lit up with a text.
‘You up?’
It was Riley.
‘Afraid so’, she texted back, and was surprised when her phone rang a moment later.
“It’s all this work you’re doing.” Riley’s voice was deep and soothing. “Your brain needs to rest, too, if you’re going to sleep.”
“Believe me, I’ve tried.” Brooke smiled to hear him, like he was right there with her. “I tried leaving my laptop at the office, I tried making my bedroom a no-tech zone. I even tried a sleep seminar, where we all did deep breathing exercises and imagined floating off on a sea of wispy clouds.”
Riley chuckled. “I’m trying to picture you relaxing. I bet you treated it like a competition.”
“Hey!” Brooke protested. “I can relax. And yes, I was the best in class.”
She stretched, yawning. It was a warm night, and her windows were open, but even the distant sound of the waves hadn’t sent her off to sleep.
“So what are you wearing?” Riley’s tone turned cheeky.
“Excuse me?” Brooke faked offense, even as her stomach flipped over.
“Being too hot or cold can stop you sleeping,” he explained, with laughter in his voice. “I’m just trying to help you out here.”
“Of course you are.” Brooke smiled. “For your information, I’m wearing a tank top and sleep shorts. Light and comfortable.”
“Cute.”
“Are you still at work?” she asked, thinking of those women at the bar.
“Just walking home now.”
Alone.
For some reason, the thought made Brooke grin. “To your boat.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You don’t ever get seasick?”
“Nah, the water’s pretty calm. There was a storm last winter, kicked up some real waves, but I hung in there OK.”
“Lucky you,” Brooke said. “My old job, they took us all out on a cruise on the river. It was supposed to be a team-building thing, but I spent the whole trip hanging over the side, vomiting.”
She stopped. Vomit wasn’t exactly the most attractive mental image, but Riley didn’t seem to mind. He chuckled. “Aww, don’t worry. Those bigger boats are bad, but my girl is a smooth ride. I’ll take you out sometime, and you’ll see.”
“Just bring a bucket,” Brooke warned.
“It’s a date.”
Brooke caught her breath. Date, or . . . Date?
“So are you going to tell me about this big event of yours?” Riley continued, so smoothly Brooke felt silly for picking over the meaning of his words.
“I would, but I’m sworn to secrecy,” she said. “Seriously, I think they’d sue.”
“Well, I know a great lawyer if you need one,” Riley replied.
“Don’t even joke.” Brooke yawned, loud enough for him to hear.
“How long has it been now since you had a decent night’s sleep?”
“Ugh.” Brooke didn’t even want to think about it. “I got four hours last night . . . a couple the night before. I don’t understand it,” she sighed. “Some nights, I zone out the minute I hit the pillow, and others, I’m lying awake for hours counting the cracks on my bedroom ceiling.”
“Has it been going on long?”
“Just a few months,” Brooke replied. “Since I moved here.”
“Maybe you’re still adjusting to the change.”
“Maybe.”
Brooke didn’t say, but she knew the real reason for her insomnia, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out. She hadn’t slept through the night since finding out the truth about Archer. It was the guilt still keeping her awake—the guilt, and shame, and whole tangle of heartache.
But she didn’t want to dwell on it now, so she changed the subject. “Tell me about yourself,” she said instead, getting out of bed.
“With pleasure,” Riley replied. “It’s my favorite subject. What do you want to know?”
“Hmm,” Brooke padded barefoot out of her bedroom. “Siblings?”
“One. Brother. Max. He’s the lawyer I was talking about,” Riley replied. “You’d like him. He’s a stickler for details. You?”
“Two brothers. I’m the oldest… and my parents’ sole source of disappointment.”
“C’mon, I don’t believe that. They’ve got to be proud of you.”
“I guess . . .” Brooke grabbed a blanket from the couch and opened the front door.
She sat on the steps, breathing in the sweet scent of the night-flowering jasmine, looking out at the pitch-black bay.
“But my mom wants grandkids, so I’m failing her in that department so far.
She was already married at my age. They’re still together, going on forty years now. ”
“Mine are the same,” Riley said. “High school sweethearts, if you can believe it.”
“That’s nice.” Brooke leaned back against the stair post, snuggling deeper in her blanket. “You think they knew, what they were getting into? Or do you just make the leap and figure it out along the way?”
“You know,” Riley said, his voice husky. “When it’s real, you know.”
“I love staging weddings at the hotel,” Brooke found herself admitting.
“I mean, I tell everyone it’s good business, and it is, but there’s more than that, too.
I get to give them a day they’ll remember for the rest of their lives.
I mean, maybe they won’t remember what color the napkins were, or if the balloons were pink or gold, but they remember how they felt, just starting out on the rest of their lives together.
It’s special, being a part of that. Seeing them say their vows and mean every word.
It helps me remember that kind of love really exists out there. ”
Brooke stopped. What was she doing, going on about marriage and commitment with a guy who probably changed women as often as he changed his socks? “I’m keeping you up,” she said.
“It’s OK. I’m a night owl,” Riley said. “Comes with the territory, at the pub.”
Along with hoards of admiring cuties, Brooke silently added.
“I should try to get some sleep,” she said reluctantly.
“Want me to come tuck you in?” he asked, teasing, but Brooke gulped at the thought.
Sleeping would be the last thing on the menu with Riley in her bed.
“That depends,” she answered lightly, “Do you snore?”
“Not that I’ve heard,” Riley replied. “But I steal all the covers.”
“Then it’s a no from me.”
“Shame,” Riley drawled, low enough for Brooke to shiver. “But good luck.”
“I’ll need it.”
“And I mean it, you need to relax,” Riley added. “Take some time off work, unwind. That brain of yours needs to switch off sometime.”
“Maybe.” Brooke headed back inside. “After this big wedding is done.”
“And when’s that?”
“A few weeks.”
Riley groaned. “That’s no good. You’re going to be a zombie soon.”
“Think I could win Pooch Day?” Brooke teased. She yawned, finally feeling tired now. “OK, I’m really going to try this time. I’ve got my sleep mask and earplugs and everything.”
“Just lie back and imagine you’re on vacation,” Riley suggested. “Palm trees, white sand, me rubbing in your lotion.”
Brooke laughed. He really was incorrigible. “Goodnight, Riley.”
“Goodnight, Brooke.”
She hung up and hid her phone in a drawer, far out of reach. Still, his voice lingered in her mind, that seductive whiskey drawl. She lay back and closed her eyes, just like he’d told her to.
Tropical sands . . . a clear ocean . . . and him. His hands smoothing over her skin, slowly caressing . . .
Brooke groaned, her body suddenly wound tight and alert.
Now how was she supposed to sleep with an image like that in her mind?