She brought the guys their drinks then sat down on one of the bar stools while she waited for their order to be ready.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she pulled it out. A text from Bex flashed on her screen. Bex Shepard was Hollywood’s It Girl and also happened to be dating Brooke’s brother, Chase. She looked at the message and the picture that accompanied it.
Heading out to do a TV interview. What do you think of this outfit?
Brooke cringed at the atrocity that was trying to pass as a dress. It was covered in asymmetrical shapes that did nothing for Bex’s amazing figure, and the colors looked like a mix between vomit and a used tissue that did no favors for Bex’s flawless complexion.
Oh no! What is your stylist smoking?
That’s what I thought. Any way to jazz this up?
Yeah, throw it in the trash. Better yet… fireplace. That thing needs to disappear.
I have to be at the studio in two hours.
Are you near a mall?
I can find one.
Go buy anything else.
On my way. Stay posted. I’ll be sending you pictures.
I’ll be here.
A smile played at the corner of Brooke’s mouth. This was exactly what she wanted to do with her life. Fashion was everything to her, until she couldn’t afford to go to school and had no choice but to let that dream go. She got to live vicariously through Bex who wore some of the most world-renowned designers and didn’t have to debate between paying a bill or buying a new pair of shoes.
Brooke looked at it as Bex’s way of paying her back after coming into her brother’s life and throwing their entire family’s life for a loop. Bex was the reason their father, who they hadn’t seen since he walked out on them all those years ago, came out of the woodworks just to get his five minutes of fame.
Unfortunately, the media kept extending his five minutes, and every time she checked her favorite celebrity gossip blogs, her father’s face was plastered somewhere on the page. Luckily, with Bex out of town shooting a new movie, the paparazzi had died down. At first Brooke loved it; Red Maple Falls needed a little dose of fun, but once her dad came into the picture and every paparazzi felt the need to bring it up, it was no longer fun. It was like pouring salt on a wound that had never really healed.
“Order up!” Ashton, the new chef called from the kitchen, followed by a ding of a bell. Brooke was going to take that bell and shove it where the sun didn’t shine. Ashton was new, and Declan wanted her to play nice, but Declan didn’t warn her that the new chef came equipped with a bell. The chef was lucky he was cute, or she would have thrown the damn thing into the fryer by now.
Brooke picked up the burgers and headed over to Tyler and Nick’s table to drop them off. She placed the burgers in front of each guy and glanced at the tablet Tyler had set up in the middle of the table. Nick’s childhood home Tyler recently acquired for his vacation rental business was pictured. It was cute, but with no one living in the house it lacked appeal. The flower beds Nick’s mom had maintained for years were now all overgrown, giving the house no added pizzazz. There was nothing warm or inviting and she had a feeling that was his problem. Hadn’t he heard of staging?
“You know what your problem is,” she said, pointing to the house.
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“This house looks like no one lives in it.”
“That’s because no one does.”
She shot him a look. “No shit, Sherlock. What I’m saying is if you’re scrolling through places to stay for a vacation would you choose the house that looks like this? Or…” She picked up the tablet and scrolled to a quaint house with manicured bushes, flowers lining the walkways and cute colorful bird houses hanging in the surrounding trees. “This?” She tapped the screen and turned it to him.
“She has a point,” Nick said.
Brooke turned to him with a big smile. “Thank you, Nick.”
“Fine, I get what you’re saying, but I already put enough money into buying the house.”
“Hey, I gave you a great deal. Less than market value,” Nick said.
“I know, but it still put a dent into my savings. I don’t think I can afford to pay someone to come in to do all the landscaping.”
A laugh burst from Brooke’s lips.
Tyler glanced at her, unamused. “What?”
“You can’t handle planting a few flowers?”
“Of course I can plant a damn flower, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to look good.”
“I’ll help you,” she said, surprised the words came out of her own mouth.
Tyler looked just as surprised as she was. “You hate me.”
She shrugged, brushing it off like it was no big deal. “I feel bad for you. It’s almost pathetic at this point, really.”
“How kind of you. But I’ve also known you for a long time.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Which is why I know that Brooke Marshall doesn’t do anything unless it benefits her. So, what is it, Brooke? What’s your angle here?”
“No angle.”
“Bullshit.”
“You either want my help or you don’t.”
He glared at her, making her feel like he was trying to burn a hole through her head and look inside her brain. God, that would be an actual nightmare if he could. There was no way in the world she’d want him snooping and finding out that she’d harbored a crush on him since she was twelve. It was her biggest secret and the reason she was mean to him.
It was just as well. Working with him was probably a bad idea anyway. She spun on her heel when Tyler grabbed her arm, sending an unexpected trail of goosebumps popping up along her skin. “Wait,” he said. She looked at him, meeting those deep blue eyes. “I’m desperate.”
“Desperation isn’t a good look on you,” she said, but her voice was a little too breathy for her liking.
He smiled, and she swore his eye twinkled.
“I’ll keep that in mind, but if you’re willing to help me, then I’m willing to accept your help.”
Brooke slapped a hand to her chest with as much exaggeration as possible. Her mouth dropped open, and she fluttered her eyelashes. “Oh my God. Is Tyler Carrington saying he wants my help?”
“Yes.”
“Nick, you heard that, right?”
“I did,” he said.
Tyler let out a loud sigh. “Must you make a scene?”
“Sorry,” she said with a smile. “I just never thought I’d hear those words coming from you.”
“Well, now you have so… where do we start?”
“Pick me up at my place tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock,” she said since her car was being a bit temperamental. “Don’t be late.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
Chapter 4
Tyler pulled up to the Marshall household at five after ten in the morning. The house hadn’t changed much since their childhood other than the slow deterioration. A dark spot sat in the corner of the tan roof, the light blue siding needed a little tender love and care, and the yellow door wasn’t nearly as vibrant as it once was when Mrs. Marshall had painted it. It was all cosmetic bullshit Tyler could fix in a weekend, but the entire Marshall clan was too proud for their own good. They’d prefer to pile everything on their own plates and refused outside help. It was actually something he admired.
Every time he hit a bump in the road he wound up in his father’s office, tail between his legs, while Dad helped him out of another situation. He never asked, but he never refused either when Dad swooped in to save the day. He doubted any of the Marshall siblings would sit there quietly.
They made do with what they had and worked harder for what they needed. They relied on each other and managed for years.
Tyler couldn’t comprehend what it would have felt like to one day wake up and no longer have a parent in his life. As much as his dad got under his skin, he was still around.
&n
bsp; He lifted his hand to knock on the door, but before he could make contact it swung open. Brooke stood in the doorway, brown hair set in loose curls and falling just above her chest. She was in a white t-shirt and a pair of skintight jeans that hugged every curve like a well fitted glove. The bottoms were cuffed and sat just above a pair of navy-blue slip-ons.
Even when she was dressed down, she managed to look good. Not that he’d tell her that. Her ego was inflated enough. But she had a way with clothes that always made her look like she’d walked off a runway. It was a shame she never made it to fashion school.
“Hey,” he said.
“Shh…” Brooke put a finger over her lip and pulled the door shut behind her. “Layla just got in from an overnighter, and she finally fell asleep on the couch. I don’t want to wake her.”
Layla was a nurse’s aide at the nursing home just like her mother. Their other brother, Jax, headed off to the military and, from what Tyler knew, sent a portion of his paycheck home to help cover the bills, but had yet to return himself. Brooke didn’t talk about it, and the little Tyler did know was from the murmurings heard around town. He also knew never to ask Brooke. She took being private about family life to a whole new level.
“Where are we heading?” he asked.
“Muddy Boots Nursery,” she said with a tone that sounded like he was an idiot who should have already known that.
She headed to her own car and he called out to her. “I’ll drive.”
“I know. I just have to get something.”
Tyler got into the truck and waited for Brooke. A few moments later, she pulled herself up into the truck and handed over his hammer.
“I told you to keep it.”
“You told me I could borrow it, and I don’t need it anymore.”
“Was it eating you up that much?”
“I just don’t take advantage of a nice gesture. You let me borrow it, I no longer need it. That’s all. No need to make a bigger deal out of it than it is.”
“So, you admit I was nice?”
She rolled her eyes as she clicked her seatbelt into place. “Can you drive, please?”
“Only because you said please.” He winked at her then put the truck into motion.
She immediately reached for the radio and started pressing buttons. He hit the brakes, causing her to fling back in her seat. “What the—”
Tyler held his hands up in front of him. “You did not just touch my radio.”
“Um yes… I did. The station you were listening to was garbage.”
“It’s classic rock.”
“Like I said garbage.”
“If my music is garbage then what do you call this?” He pointed to the radio that was currently playing some old boy band song from the early 2000s that made him want to puncture his ear drums.
“Talent.”
“Keep talking and you’ll be walking alongside the truck.”
“It’s not my fault you have bad taste in music.”
He scoffed. “Bad taste? I don’t think you would know good music if it slapped you in the face.”
“Music doesn’t have hands so it can’t slap me.”
“Must you always be impossible?”
Brooke smiled. “It’s part of my charm.”
“I haven’t looked at a thesaurus in a while, but since when does charm and annoyance mean the same thing?”
“Don’t make me regret helping you.”
“And don’t make me regret letting you.”
Brooke’s eyebrow cocked, and she shifted in her seat, pinning him with her gray eyes. “Let’s get one thing straight. You are not letting me do anything.”
“I’ll agree to that only if you don’t touch my radio again.”
“Seriously?”
“It’s a hard limit for me.”
“Jeez, if it means that much to you, I won’t touch the stupid radio.”
He took his foot off the brake and started to drive. “Thank you.”
“Still doesn’t mean your music doesn’t suck.”
He laughed; it was either that or throttle her.
Muddy Boots Nursery was across town just north of Main Street. Tyler made sure to blast Led Zeppelin the entire way while Brooke made sure to show her irritation as often as possible in the form of sighing loudly and quietly growling.
He pulled into the dirt lot and threw the truck in park, flashing her a grin. “We’re here.”
“Thank God!” She flung the door open and looked at him. “I was ready to start banging my head against the dashboard.”
“Quick, close the door! I can do another few laps around the block.”
With an exaggerated eyeroll, she climbed out of the truck and slammed the door. He watched her for a few seconds as she made her way through the arched entryway that was adorned with vines until she stopped and turned around hands planted firmly on the swell of her hips. “Hello?” she called out across the parking lot.
He shook his head as a laugh bubbled up and got out of the truck. He caught up to her in a few long strides. “I honestly have no idea what we’re looking at,” he admitted. Give him a piece of wood and a few nails and he could make a bird house. A pipe burst, no problem, he could handle it. Drop him in the middle of a nursery and tell him to buy flowers, and he was about as clueless as a pirate in the desert.
“Lucky for you, that’s why I’m here.”
“Since when do you know anything about flowers and gardening?”
She shrugged. Her eyes casted downward, the morning sun highlighting her long lashes. “Picked it up along the way.”
“Gardening isn’t something you just pick up along the way.”
“Well, I did, so do you want to stand here and play twenty questions, or do you want to get to work and make your rental the most desirable on the internet?”
He couldn’t argue with that. He scanned his hand across the hundreds of flowers placed in pots that lined weathered wood tables. “Lead the way.”
Brooke walked through the makeshift aisles, looking at all the flowers with profound interest. “You’re going to want flowers that don’t need a lot of irrigation, and since you’re planting late in the season, you might be better off with perennials.”
“What does that mean?”
“Perennialswill grow back again next year. You won’t have to buy more flowers and plant again. Just tend to the beds that you have.”
“I like that idea. If it can be a one-time purchase, it will help minimize my overhead costs which equals more profit for me.”
“That’s the point. Problem is, it’s late in the season so we have to see what we can find.”
“That’s your department. I’ll let you do your thing.”
Tyler spent the next twenty minutes following Brooke back and forth through the nursery as she looked from one flower to the next. After a while they all started to look the same. She came to a sudden halt. His feet stopped, but his body kept moving. He pulled back and managed to keep himself from knocking her over.
She rested her hand under a yellow flower. “This was my mom’s favorite.” Her thumb brushed against the petal.
“What is it?”
“Stella de Oro. She loved the rich-yellow gold, and they’ll continue to bloom all summer with the proper care.”
“Then we definitely have to get some.”
“You want flowers that require little maintenance; these probably aren’t best. My mom used to spend her free time in between work and shuttling us around deheading the old blossoms. After she died, the plant turned into a ragged mass of vegetation. Eventually we filled in the garden bed with grass seed.” She cracked a smile, but it fell short. “I always imagined it made her roll over in her grave.” Her eyes watered and she sniffed it away.
“You don’t talk about her much.”
Brooke swiped angrily at her eye. “There’s nothing to talk about. She’s dead.” She cleared her throat, straightened her shoulders and sidestepped him. She pointed to an orange fl
ower. “What about these?”
He had no idea why he thought she was going to open up or why he was disappointed that she hadn’t, but a part of him deep down wished that she had.
Chapter 5
Brooke sat at the kitchen table scanning through the newest edition of Vogue. While most kids hid under their covers reading books about faraway places or finding an idol in a comic book, she lost herself in the glossy pages of fashion magazines.
After her mom died, those magazines became her lifeline. Looking at pretty things helped her forget about the ugliness of reality. She’d imagine wearing a five-thousand-dollar dress, walking the red carpet of some big Hollywood premiere as she waved to her adoring fans. As she got older, she became more interested in the construction of clothes and how completely separate items could make a killer outfit.
“Bex needs your help,” Chase said as he walked into the kitchen, holding a tablet that had been permanently attached to his hand since Bex left for her latest movie shoot.
It was obvious that Chase missed her, but they were making do the only way they could. Bex had bought Chase a plane ticket to fly out to see him at the end of the month, but Chase had her return it and used his own money to buy the same ticket. It caused a bit of a fight since Bex didn’t understand why he wouldn’t let her just pay his way since he was going to see her, but it was something Brooke completely understood. It was pride… and a little shame, too.
“Give me the tablet,” Brooke said.
Chase placed the tablet in Brooke’s hand, and she smiled at Bex only to curl her lip at the dress she was wearing. “Seriously, what is wrong with your stylist lately? She’s either completely off her game or she’s purposely trying to make you look like a fool.”
Bex sighed. “She told me in order to stand out in the fashion world I need to think outside of the box a little more.”
“That dress is across the universe on another planet.”
Bex plopped onto a bed with a white down comforter. Her shoulders slumped forward, defeat radiating off of her.
“That’s just one dress. I’m sure you have another option, especially after the last fiasco.” Her stylist was supposed to be providing her with multiple choices, but it seemed she was just giving Bex the outfit she wanted her to wear, insisting it was the best one. Brooke might have thought the worst in people, but she really believed her assistant was accepting bribes from designers to make sure Hollywood’s It Girl was wearing their pieces for publicity.
Blindsided by Brooke Page 3
