by Melody Grace
“You trusted someone, and you had that trust betrayed. We’ve all been there.”
He paused. He hadn’t spoken a word of his own bitter history to anyone, not since arriving on the Cape, but something made him want to confide in Brooke—if only to take that guilt out of her eyes. “For me, it was my business partner,” he admitted to her. “My best friend. We built a company from the ground up, and then . . . he tried to take it all.”
Brooke frowned. “That’s terrible.”
Riley found himself wishing he had a glass of that whiskey in his hands, after all. Somehow, tea didn’t take the edge off that betrayal that still reared its ugly head whenever he thought about Tate, and everything that went down between them. He took a gulp. “It’s a long time ago now, going on . . . four years. We had a tech company, over in Silicon Valley.”
“Wait, what?” Brooke looked so surprised at that he laughed.
“I know, not a lot of streaming video apps in Sweetbriar Cove,” Riley agreed. “I was always into programming, ever since I was a kid,” he explained. “Tate was my roommate in college, and we landed on a way to compress video files—I won’t bore you with the details. We found some investors, lived off ramen, built the thing ourselves, working eighty-hour weeks for years until we had something.” Even now, he couldn’t help but smile at the memory. It had been stressful and chaotic but there was nothing like it, that feeling when you’d been working all night but suddenly you found the fix that turned everything around.
“Anyway, things blew up, we got too successful, too fast,” he continued. “Suddenly, we were being courted by the whole town: press, investors, the works. It’s what we always wanted, but, well, be careful what you wish for, I guess,” he said, rueful. Sure, they were on the VIP list for every hot event in town, getting flown on private jets, and giving talks to adoring crowds, but at the end of the day, that stuff was a poisoned chalice. “We started fighting more, the people we hired were picking sides . . . It got toxic. Then a big competitor came along, offered us stock options and all the perks to sell out. I said no, but Tate wanted to take the deal. We went round and round on it, God, it was ugly.”
“So what happened?” Brooke asked, her eyes wide.
He shrugged. “He stabbed me in the back. Got some of the investors together and held a vote of no confidence, used some small-print buried in our partnership agreement to try and say I was jeopardizing the future of the company, and was unfit to have a say.”
“No.” Brooke looked outraged, but it wasn’t even a fraction of the anger Riley had felt, the pain that had fueled his fight and stopped him from just rolling over and letting Tate take the whole damn thing. “What did you do?”
“I fought back. I sued him, he counter-sued, we dragged the whole mess through the courts. It took another couple of years,” Riley said grimly. “But I didn’t stick around to wait it out, I moved out here and let the lawyers duke it out. We settled last year,” he said with a sigh. “They finally caved to a fifty-fifty split.”
“That’s great,” Brooke said. “You must be relieved to have it all behind you.”
“Not quite.” Riley gave her a wry look. “We’re not officially divorced just yet.”
Brooke shook her head and sighed. “I don’t understand people,” she said, looking out into the dark. “How they can just lie and cheat and steal. How are you supposed to trust anyone when the people you love can just turn around and stab you in the back?”
Riley had wondered the same thing for a long time, but the worst of his bitterness was behind him now. “Not everyone,” he told her gently. “The assholes are out there, sure, but there are good folks too. People with integrity. The trick is, you just take things as they come until you can figure out which one they are.”
“It sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.” Brooke looked over at him.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Riley said. “But I’m working on it.”
They fell silent, and for a moment, he listened to the distant crashing of the waves and a couple of noisy crickets nearby. It was peaceful out here—with her. Some people couldn’t sit still, they vibrated with restless energy, but Brooke was calm and totally at ease. She didn’t say a word, she just seemed content to sit there in the stillness with him, under the dark, star-scattered sky.
“You can actually see the stars out here,” he said, looking up. Back on the West Coast, there was so much light pollution, it had taken him by surprise those first nights out on the water on his boat, seeing the constellations lit up so clearly.
“Hmm?” Brooke yawned.
He looked over and saw her curl in her chair, sleepy. She wasn’t just calm, she was almost out for the count. He smiled.
“Come on, you should get to bed while you’re still tired.”
She got up, yawning again. “Thanks again for the ride. And the conversation,” she added, taking their empty mugs. “I’m glad we’re going to be friends.”
Friends.
Riley looked at her. Her blonde hair was falling out of that braid, and the sleepy smile on her face seemed so innocent and warm, it was like all her anxious defenses had melted away.
She was beautiful.
And just a friend.
Riley bit back a sigh. “Me too,” he said instead, and he meant it.
Whatever Brooke wanted right now, that was just fine with him.
8
With her car on life support over at the auto shop, Brooke spent the week begging rides from her delivery guys and rolling out of bed at dawn to catch the morning bus, which chugged slowly through every small village and dead-end stop on its way up the Cape. At least it gave her an extra hour in the mornings to plan her show-stopping wedding pitch—and think about Riley. He’d texted the morning after the party: nothing special, just a link to an article with insomnia tips, but she’d replied, and now, she felt a skip in her stomach whenever her phone lit up with a new message.
Instead of counting sheep, you could count puppies. There’s a shelter in need of foster homes.
Brooke paused a moment then tapped out a response.
Because puppies are so restful and quiet.
She tucked her phone away with a smile. It was silly, she knew. The whole text thing had always passed her by, and she preferred speaking to people on the phone or in person, but still, there was something about seeing his name on her screen, along with a funny picture or message, that made her day seem a little brighter.
Friends, she reminded herself sternly, as the bus wound down the coastline—this time towards Sweetbriar Cove. He was just a friend.
A friend who looked too damn sexy in the moonlight.
Brooke sighed. The stretch of blue ocean blurred outside the window as she remembered the way he relaxed in that chair the other night, looking so at ease. Shadows cast along his jawline, lamplight gold against his hair. He was almost too gorgeous to resist, and she’d had to wrap her hands tight around her tea mug to make sure she didn’t accidentally do anything stupid.
Like reach for him.
Kiss him.
Take his hand and lead him upstairs—
The bus suddenly stopped with a lurch, and a gaggle of older ladies got on with their wheeled shopping trolleys. Brooke blushed.
She shouldn’t have asked him to stay. She regretted it almost as soon as the words left her mouth, but sitting there, talking and laughing like that, it was the most comfortable Brooke had felt in a long while. Riley had a way about him that was just so open and at ease. It’s why she found herself spilling the whole story about Archer. She winced to think of it now, but instead of judging her, Riley had surprised her with his supportive words. And it turned out he had his own difficult past lurking beneath that easy smile, his own betrayals, and new beginning.
Maybe she’d underestimated him.
“Sweetbriar Cove.”
Brooke glanced up at the driver’s announcement, and found they were already in town. “Wait, this is me,” she called, grabbing h
er bag and scrambling for the doors.
Outside, she got her bearings and headed for the auto shop. It was still early, and none of the stores were open yet, but she had Lila and the Hollywood team coming for the pitch at three, and she needed her hulk of a car back to get those last-minute preparations set. She crossed her fingers as she reached the garage and found Bill, the grizzled mechanic, who explained the long laundry list of things they’d had to fix.
“So what’s the damage?” she asked, bracing herself.
He passed her the invoice. She winced. “Old cars like this, it keeps adding up,” he said with a shrug. “Let me know if you want to upgrade. I have a lead on a couple of used models, fifty thousand miles on the clock.”
“Maybe in a little while.” Brooke sighed as she signed the check. Her car, the apartment, furniture . . . This move was costing her big-time—which was why it was even more important she land this wedding pitch, wow Lila Moore, and get the hotel schedule booked solid for years.
Then, maybe, she could ask her boss about a raise.
She climbed in the driver’s seat and started the engine. This time, at least, it started with a purr. “Thanks again,” she called out the window, and Keith waved as she drove away.
Next stop: the bakery.
Brooke found the leafy back lane with people lining up and enjoying their morning coffee and muffins at the bistro tables outside. Her stomach gave a rumble. She’d left the house too early to grab breakfast, and it would be a crime to look a gift pastry in the mouth . . .
“I’ll try one of those sticky buns,” Brooke said when she reached the counter. “And three wedding cake samples, please.”
Summer was minding the register, wearing a bright-pink apron around her waist. She lit up. “Brooke! I’ve got them all boxed up for you in the back. Come on through.”
Brooke followed her behind the counter and into the back kitchen, where every surface was covered with a tray of something delicious, and the scent of cinnamon and sugar wafted in the air. “This is heaven,” she sighed, looking around.
“Yup.” Summer grinned. “But hell on my waistline. Here,” she said, pulling some confectioner’s boxes from the refrigerator. “I know you said three, but I went a little crazy trying some new flavors. I hope that’s OK.”
“Uh, yes.” Brooke laughed. “More is always a good thing.”
She lifted one of the lids to peek and found a small, perfectly-formed cake nestled there, decorated with elaborate swirls of white and tiny rose petals. “This is beautiful!” she exclaimed.
Summer leaned over to check. “That’s the white chocolate and guava,” she said. “Most people do raspberry, but I wanted to try something exotic.”
“You’re a real artist,” Brooke said admiringly. “Hopefully, these will help land me the pitch. I figure they can’t turn me down with a mouthful of cake.”
“Good plan.” Summer grinned. “Here, let me help you take them out to the car.”
They carefully stacked the boxes and made their way outside. “Thanks again for letting me crash your party,” Brooke said, following her around the side of the building. “It was a really fun night.”
“You’re welcome any time,” Summer replied, ducking past a thicket of blackberry bushes. “Any friend of Riley’s is a friend of mine.”
Brooke’s stomach did an impromptu flip.
“Have you known him long?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
“A few months.” Summer flashed her a smile. “I only moved here in the spring.”
“Oh.” Brooke blinked. “I didn’t realize. You seem so . . . at home.”
“I do, don’t I?” Summer sounded pleased. “Don’t get me wrong, there have been some bumps along the way, but that’s the thing about this town: you can try to resist its charms, but it gets you in the end.”
Brooke laughed. “I’m beginning to see that now.”
They reached her car, and Brooke opened up the trunk. “Be sure to invoice the hotel,” she said, as they placed the boxes gently down. “Fingers crossed we get the event, it could be a big job—and great exposure for you.”
“You still won’t tell me who it is?” Summer asked hopefully.
“Can’t. I’m pretty sure I signed my soul away on that contract,” Brooke said. “But let’s just say, this wedding will make a splash. At least, if I do my job right.”
“Good luck!” Summer told her. “Oh, wait right here.”
She dashed into the bakery and re-emerged a moment later with a paper bag. “Your sticky bun,” she said, handing it to Brooke. “On the house.”
“Thanks!”
Brooke couldn’t even wait until she’d started the engine before tearing into the soft, yeasty dough. Mmmm. There were definitely some perks to the job.
She turned back onto the main highway and headed for the hotel, running down her mental to-do list. Cake samples, check. Floral design, check. Sixteen-point plan how she would pull off the most elegant, understated, and drama-free wedding Lila Moore had ever seen? Check, and check!
She had just plugged in her headphones and was about to record a voice memo to herself, when her cellphone rang. It was her mom. Brooke answered, surprised. “Hey, everything OK?”
Her mom was notoriously flaky with phone calls—she preferred to stay in touch with long forwarded email chains and care packages full of newspaper articles about how chocolate gave you (or cured) cancer.
“Oh, fine, hon. I just had a moment here at the office, and thought I’d give you a call. It’s all quiet here until Gladys Weathers comes in about her hip replacement. She says she put it out playing tennis with her trainer, but I bet that’s not all they were doing—”
“Mom!” Brooke cut her off. Her mom still worked as a secretary in her dad’s medical practice, and was liable to break all kinds of confidentiality rules gossiping about the patients if Brooke gave her half a chance. “I really don’t need to know.”
Her mom tutted. “I’m just saying. You never know with some people.”
No, Brooke thought sadly, you didn’t.
“So how are you settling in?” Her mom’s voice took on a fretful edge. “I looked you up on Google Maps, and you’re miles from anything. What if there’s a storm and you get cut off from the mainland?”
“It’s summertime,” Brooke reassured her, trying not to giggle. “And the cape is fifteen miles wide. It’s not getting washed out anytime soon.”
“Oh, good.” Janice took a breath. “Archer called.”
Brooke almost slammed on the brakes. “What? When? What did you say?” She felt a chill all through her body. “You didn’t tell him where I was, did you?”
“No, I just said what you told me to say. That you didn’t want to hear from him. But I still don’t understand why.” Janice turned plaintive. “You didn’t have to take this job, and you could have tried long-distance. You two were just perfect together.”
A perfect sham.
Brooke gulped. She still hadn’t told her parents the whole sorry story. She felt too ashamed, so she’d just told everyone that she got this opportunity on the cape and broke up with Archer to start fresh. It was easier to field their confusion and disappointment than have to take their judgment, and putting a few thousand miles between her and the fallout hadn’t hurt either. But her mom had loved Archer—what’s not to love? He was handsome, successful, and charming, everything a parent would want for their daughter.
Everything, except that whole “secret wife” part.
“Thanks for not saying anything,” Brooke said carefully. “Trust me, it’s better this way.”
“For who?” Janice countered. “You should have heard him, honey. He sounded so broken up. He misses you terribly.”
Brooke’s heart clenched. “He’ll be fine,” she said shortly.
Fine with his wife.
She saw the hotel driveway up ahead. “Look, Mom, I have to go. It’s crazy here at work.”
“There’s more to life than work,”
Janice scolded. “You should think about calling Archer back. Talk to him,” she added. “I’m sure he’d be willing to give you a second chance.”
Brooke said her goodbyes and hung up. Maybe taking all the responsibility for the breakup wasn’t the best strategy, but she hadn’t been thinking straight through the tears and heartbreak. The only thing that mattered at the time was getting out of town as fast as possible, before her humiliation was revealed. She could take some misguided scolding from her mom if it meant her shameful secret affair stayed hidden a little longer, and right now, she didn’t want Archer taking up any more of her heart—or her mind.
She strode into the front entrance of the hotel and called one of the desk clerks aside. “Can you please grab everyone for a staff meeting?” she said, checking the time. Just past nine a.m. Six hours to game time. “I need all hands on deck.”
WHEN THE BLACK town car pulled up outside the hotel that afternoon and Meredith emerged with the happy couple in tow, Brooke was waiting on the front steps.
“Welcome to the Sandy Lane Hotel,” she beamed, striding forward to greet them all. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
They all shook hands. Meredith was tapping on her cellphone, already looking stressed, but Lila seemed every inch the off-duty starlet, in casual cut-offs and a pair of designer sunglasses that probably cost more than Brooke’s entire wardrobe. Her fiancé Justin was clean-cut and had the trademark Cartwright smile—and a politician’s handshake.
“Wow.” Lila blinked, looking at the entrance, which was festooned with fresh lilacs and elegant ribbons. “Do you have an event here today? I’m sorry if we’re interrupting.”
“No, this is all for you,” Brooke said, doing a mental fist-pump. She’d take that Wow and turn it into Where do I sign? before the afternoon was through. “I thought about showing you samples of our vendors and our vision for the wedding, but it’s much better for you to see it for yourself. That way, you can imagine everything the way it will be on your special day.”
