Love Is In the Air Volume 1

by Susan Stoker

  “My parents talked me out of it,” he says.

  “Wait, what? Your parents talked you out of being a doctor? Isn’t that, like, every parent’s dream?”

  He laughs and shrugs.

  “Not mine, I guess,” he says. “They wanted me to go into the family business, so that’s what I did.”

  I nod slowly.

  “Do you ever think about going back?” I ask. He smiles at me, narrowing his eyes.

  “You know, I never had until you just told me that story about you staying in Baltimore because you knew it was where you were supposed to be,” he says. I smile and nod.

  “Well, maybe you’ll figure out where you’re supposed to be someday,” I say. He smiles back.

  “Maybe.” He pushes himself off the edge of the fireplace and stands up, nodding his head toward the bedroom. “I’m gonna take a quick shower. I’ve got snow and firewood all over me.” I nod, our eyes locking. He takes a few steps then turns back to me. “You want to join?”

  I lose my balance from jumping up so fast, stripping down as I stumble across and into the bedroom to follow him.

  I wake up to him stroking my cheek with his thumb, staring ahead out the window. My back hurts from the hard floor, but I don’t dare complain. First, because I’m not even twenty-five. I’m supposed to still be a spring chicken, able to adapt, and definitely not be in need of my eye mask and memory foam pillow wherever I go.

  And second, because even though we may have had another sexcapade that landed us out here in the living room and on the hard floor, I’m wrapped up in his arms, staring out at the snow, the fire the only light in the room.

  “What time is it?” I ask, my voice scratchy.

  “Three a.m.,” he says, still staring out the window. I look at him and cock my head.

  “What are you looking at?”

  “The snow,” he says.

  “What about it?” I ask. He turns to me slowly then pulls me in for a long kiss. He turns back to the window and rests his hand under the back of his head.

  “It’s slowing down,” he says.

  My stomach flips. The storm will stop soon. Lily will come to get me, and this moment in time, these two days with Brew where time has stood still, will come to an end. I’ll go back to my life in the city while my mountain man stays here to hibernate. And I’ll probably never see him again.

  4

  I wake up and stretch out, happy to be back in his bed, covered in his scent, with memories of the things we’ve done with each other over the past forty-eight hours. I hear him clanking around in the kitchen again, so I scoot off the bed, this time pulling on one of his t-shirts, and walk to the kitchen.

  “Mmm,” I say, watching as he flips one pancake after the other. “Breakfast again? You’re spoiling me. I may never leave.”

  But as the joke leaves my lips, I realize the weight of the words, and our eyes lock on each other’s for a brief moment. His drop back to the stove as he flicks it off and scoops the last pancake onto the pile in front of me. He pushes a plate toward me, along with the syrup, and lays a fork next to the plate. But as I go to dig in, I catch him watching me intently.

  “What?” I ask. His eyes drop again, and a flicker of a sad smile crosses his lips.

  “The snow stopped,” he says just above a whisper. I set my fork down and slowly turn around, my heart dropping as I see the sunlight streaming in through the windows. I scoot off my stool and walk toward the back windows, wrapping my arms around myself as I look out. After a moment, I hear the floors creak behind me.

  “What are you thinking?” he asks, and I smile—another question I’ve never really been asked. I shrug. I turn to him slowly, and I suddenly feel a little choked up.

  This is so silly.

  I barely know him.

  But after these past two days, it feels like he knows me. My eyes trace every line of his face, his stubble, those eyes that sparkle in the sunlight. Those perfectly round lips that I wish I could kiss endlessly. My heart sinks as I realize that this hot weekend fling I’ve just had will always remain that: a hot weekend fling. A good story I’ll tell my friends, a guy I’ll think about every now and then.

  “Just thinking that these last two days went by pretty fast,” I say. He takes a step forward and tilts my chin up, bending down and pulling me in for another long kiss. When we come apart, he pauses for a moment, resting his forehead on mine.

  “I guess I should let you get to your friends,” he says, and I close my eyes, nodding. “I could drive you, if you want?”

  I look up at him.

  “I’d love that,” I tell him.

  I finish my pancakes and help him clean up, then I pack up my things and pull my boots on. I take a look around the cabin one last time before I follow him out the front door. I will never forget this place.

  He helps me call a local tow company to get the car, and I say a quick goodbye to good old Betty, knowing that I’ll probably never see her again. The cost of towing her back to Baltimore and having her fixed would probably be more than three times what she’s worth. I pat her hood as I hop into his giant black truck and close the door.

  The ride into Meade Lake is quiet, the low hum of the radio and the sound of his tires on the road the only noise. I can’t believe how clear the roads are after all that snow, but he tells me they’re really good about maintaining them up here.

  “You ready to see your friends?” he asks after a few minutes, zapping me out of my daydreaming. The mountains and trees are all blanketed, and it looks like we’re driving through a painting.

  “Yeah,” I say. “We haven’t gotten together in a while. It’ll be good to see them.”

  He nods as he turns left, headed up the mountain where I know the house is. My stomach flips again, realizing that the moments I have left with him are fleeting. After a few more minutes, he pulls into a driveway, and I see Lily’s car. He puts the truck in park, and I turn to him slowly.

  “Well,” I say with an awkward shrug.

  “Well,” he says with a nod.

  “I can’t thank you enough for everything this weekend,” I say. “Seriously. I’d probably be, I don’t know, frozen in a ditch somewhere without you.”

  He smiles and takes my hand, interlocking our fingers and bringing the back of my hand to his lips.

  “I don’t know where I’d be without you either,” he says, and I tilt my head, confused. I want to ask what he means, but I can tell he doesn’t want me to. So, I just let it rest, as I do the rest of the time we’ve had.

  Just gotta let it rest.

  “Well, can I, uh, give you my number? Ya know, in case you’re ever in Baltimore?” I ask, fully aware that he could shoot me down. But at least there’s no one here to hear it.

  “Actually,” he says, “I’m sort of without a phone right now. I got rid of my number all together.”

  I nod. Who doesn’t have a phone?

  “Well,” I say, reaching into my purse for a pen and an old Target receipt, “here’s mine. If you ever decide to get a phone again, and if you ever decide to visit Baltimore, give me a call.”

  He takes the receipt and smiles, folding it up and shoving it into his jeans pocket. He takes my hand again, kissing it and then pulling me across the center console to him. He wraps his fingers around my head again, kissing me softly but with much more urgency than he has before.

  “I will not forget you, Caroline Stanton,” he whispers. I smile.

  “That’s what they all say.”

  And after one more kiss, he helps me out, hands me my bag, and watches as I climb the porch steps, waving as he gets back in his truck. And in a moment’s time, he’s gone, driving back through the snowy hills, like he never existed in the first place.

  5

  Three Months Later

  “Well, I’m not gonna fail him just because he hasn’t been in for a few days,” I tell Lily over the phone. “I know that’s what Principal Haggle wants, but it’s not right. He’s a really s
mart kid. He just needs a little extra help.”

  “And I know you’ll give it to him,” Lily says. “He’s lucky you’re his teacher.”

  “Thanks, Lil. Love you.” I walk up to the counter of the convenience store on my block and plop down the Snickers bar, the large iced coffee, and the giant bag of kettle chips I plan on downing tonight while watching endless chick flicks. It’s been another week, and I am so ready for a break.

  As I wait for the teller to ring me up, I look around at the trashy magazines, seeing which ones I might want to add to my collection.

  But I’m distracted by the dinging of a breaking news segment flashing on the screen hanging above the register.

  “Sources say Damian Brewer, CEO of Brewer Technologies, was shot and killed today as he was leaving Brewer Tech Headquarters in Washington, D.C.,” says the reporter on the screen.

  I gasp.

  “Oh, that’s awful,” I say, putting my hand to my chest. The teller nods as we both stare up at the screen.

  “A suspect is in custody; sources say the suspect is an ex-employee of Brewer Technologies. Damian’s wife, Kat, passed away six years ago of breast cancer. He leaves behind four children: Aaron, Nina, Cole, and Emery. A spokesperson for the Brewer family says that Cole Brewer, Damian’s youngest son, has been off the grid for months.”

  And then I see him.

  Brew.

  Right smack-dab in the middle of the T.V. screen.

  A caption flashes across the screen. “Where is America’s Most Eligible Billionaire Bachelor?”

  I freeze, blinking wildly as I try to make out the picture. I take a step closer, squinting up at the screen.

  “What?” I say out loud. The teller turns to me and nods, pointing down to one of the trashier magazines below the register.

  “Oh, yeah,” he says. “He’s been missing for months.” I give him a curious look, and he

  shrugs. “What? I read a lot of magazines.”

  I snatch up the one he’s talking about. On the cover is a photo of Brew walking somewhere in D.C, dressed in a suit. He’s got a lot less stubble, but it’s definitely him.

  And suddenly, I feel like I’m going to faint.

  Billionaire? D.C.?

  I stayed with him in his tiny little one-room cabin. All the way up in Meade Lake. He drove me in a pickup truck.

  This makes no sense. I flip through to the article.

  Youngest son of Brewer Technologies, Cole Brewer, has been MIA for months, sources say.

  I swallow.

  “Ma’am?” the teller asks. “Will that be all?” I shake my head.

  “Uh, yes, I’ll take this too, please,” I tell him, slapping the magazine on the counter. He finishes checking me out, and I practically run out the door and down the street to my apartment building.

  I run up the stairs to my apartment and let myself in, kicking off my shoes and untangling my purse from my neck as I throw everything I have onto the counter. I snatch the magazine back up and bring it to the couch where I sink down and flip open to the article again, scanning every paparazzi photo of him, reading every word.

  Cole Brewer, youngest son of Brewer Technologies’ founder and CEO, Damian Brewer, has seemingly been off the grid since he resigned his position at the company.

  I re-read it at least five times, blinking like a maniac, trying to make it make sense. But it doesn’t. None of it. I turn the T.V. on, going to the news, watching the coverage. And every time I see Brew––Cole’s––picture on the screen, I gasp.

  And then my phone starts to vibrate on the end table next to me, making me jump. I pick it up, my hands shaking.

  Unknown Caller.

  I answer it anyway.

  “Hello?”

  “Caroline?” he says, his voice gruff and weary, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.

  “Hi, Cole.”

  6

  There’s an awkward pause on the other end of the line.

  “Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “It’s...Cole. Look, I’m in Baltimore. I, uh…I was wondering if I could…”

  I want to be mad. I want to demand he give me answers. Ask why he hid who he was from me. Why he never casually mentioned he was a fucking billionaire.

  But then I remember him carrying me out of that storm, taking care of the cut on my head, kissing me, making love to every inch of my body, treating me like a fucking queen when he didn’t even know me.

  And now his dad is dead. And maybe it’s his turn to be rescued.

  “Text me, and I’ll send my address,” I say.

  “Thank you,” he says, exasperated. He hangs up, and within moments, I’m firing off my address and frantically running around, picking up laundry, throwing away piles of old mail, and shoving dishes into my dishwasher.

  I run back to my room and shuffle through my closet, trying to find something a little more presentable for the best lay of my life, but before I can tear the old sweatshirt and yogas off, there’s a knock on my door. I sigh and try to remind myself that he literally saw me at my lowest. This has to be a step up.

  I tighten my messy bun on top of my head and head for the door. I look through the peephole, and the breath leaves my body. I wasn’t ready for the sight of him. I thought I was, but I wasn’t.

  I open the door and stare up at him, still with that same stubble, that dangerous jaw line. But his eyes are heavier. He looks drained, but when our eyes meet, he also looks a little relieved.

  “Caroline,” he says, his voice low. “Look, I’m so sorry I didn’t...I should have—”

  I step out into the hallway and throw my arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug. It feels so good to have his arms wrapped around me.

  “I’m so sorry about your dad,” I whisper in his ear, and he wraps his arms tighter. He puts me down, and I usher him inside, closing the door and showing him into the living room. If he wasn’t a billionaire, this apartment would be nothing to turn his nose up at, judging on the one-room cabin we stayed in. But now that I know his secret, I feel a little insecure.

  “It’s not much,” I say with a shrug, “but please, make yourself at home.”

  He looks around.

  “It’s perfect,” he says. We sit down on the couch with a little awkward space between us. Finally, he speaks again. “Caroline, I’m sorry. I should have been up front with you about everything.”

  I don’t say anything; I just look at him.

  “After college, I started working for my dad,” he says, “and I fucking hated it. I resented my parents so much for pushing me into following their dreams, ya know? So I bought that cabin a few years back as sort of a refuge for myself. I didn’t tell anyone in the family. I meant it when I said you were the only person to ever step foot in that cabin besides me. You still are,” he says. “I finally had enough about six months ago. I couldn’t do it anymore, so I took off. I quit, turned off my phone, and hid up there in those mountains. Undisturbed. Until you.”

  Our eyes lock.

  “Why didn’t you tell me who you were, Cole?” I ask. The name still feels foreign on my tongue. I’d heard the name before, Cole Brewer. But I’d never paid much attention. And never thought that the rugged, bearded man in the tiny-ass cabin could have been him.

  Cole’s eyes travel from me down to the magazine that sits on my coffee table. I swallow.

  "I didn’t tell you,” he says, lifting his finger and pointing to the magazine, “because that is not who I am. This is who I am. The guy in the cabin. Brew. And when you walked into my house, you were the only person on the planet who knew that guy. And I wanted to keep being him. I wanted to be the guy I am without being the guy they made me. Don’t get me wrong, Cole Brewer’s not bad either. But the facade, it's so...uncomfortable. Unnatural. And I didn’t have to be any of those things that weekend.”

  I swallow.

  “I was in a dark place when you landed in my ditch,” he goes on, a sad smile flickering across his lips. “I didn’t know what the fuck I
was doing. I didn’t know how to build my own life when I’d spent thirty years becoming who they needed me to be. But you came along, and the things you said, the way you took control of your own life...you got me out of the woods, Caroline.”

  I scoot closer to him, taking his hand in mine, our fingers interlocking like puzzle pieces, magnets that click together perfectly. He stares down at them.

  “Two days,” he says with a smile, shaking his head slightly. “Two days was all it took. And I haven’t gone one day without thinking about you since.”

  Our eyes meet again, and I swallow nervously, tucking my hair behind my ear.

  “Neither have I, Brew,” I say.

  “When I got that call this morning, you were the first person I wanted to call. You were the first person I wanted to be with.” He pauses for a moment. “After you left, I had decided I was going back to medical school. I was going to be who I wanted to be. But...how can I let him down like that now?” And when I see his jaw tremble, I scoot closer to him, putting my hands on his face. “He knew that guy was trouble. He fired him a year ago for stalking another employee, and then the guy wouldn’t leave my dad alone. He had a restraining order, but it clearly didn’t work. I can’t believe he’s gone.”

  “Look at me,” I whisper to him, and when he collects himself, he does. “You pulled me out of a crashed car, carried me into your house, patched up my head, and made me stew. You got me to spill my guts about things I hadn’t been able to talk about with anyone. You took care of me, made sure I felt safe. That’s all I need to have seen to know that you could never be a disappointment, Brew. And if your father loved you, he wouldn’t want anything but your happiness.”

  He slowly takes a hand from his face and kisses my palm, sending tingles down to every extremity.

  “But how can I walk away from the company now? How can I let my family down? How do I let all my dad’s lifelong work die along with him?”

  I think for a moment.