by Melody Grace
Brooke didn’t know what to say. Had she just sent this whole wedding into a tailspin? “Maybe he’s just trying to placate his mom,” she suggested. “I mean, with that kind of legacy, there’s always going to be pressure.”
“But he hates all that,” Lila said. “It’s one of the things that brought us together. Dealing with fame, all the paparazzi and attention . . .” Her voice caught. “I thought he understood I don’t want any of that, not when it comes to my personal life.”
Brooke felt terrible. “You just need to talk it out. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding, you guys can clear it up.”
Lila nodded, but she didn’t look convinced.
“I read you were starring in a new version of Sense and Sensibility,” Brooke desperately changed the subject. “I love that book.”
“Me too.” Lila seemed to brighten. “Everyone always talks about Pride and Prejudice, but I’m a sucker for all the unrequited pining, it’s so emotional.”
“Are you playing Marianne?”
Lila shook her head. “Elinor,” she said, and started chatting about Dash Everett, the hot British director they had signing on, and scouting for locations. She looked a hundred times happier than when she was discussing her wedding plans, but Brooke would take whatever she could get. By the time they arrived in Sweetbriar Cove, Bitsy’s bombshell was almost a distant memory.
“What do you think?” Brooke asked, leading Lila to the floral shop. It was a cute, lush corner filled with fragrant blooms. “Did you want to keep it simple, or go for something bright and exotic?”
“I don’t know why we’re looking,” Lila sighed, looking listlessly around. “Bitsy’s already decided on white roses.”
“Didn’t you want lilacs?” Brooke asked, remembering their first appointment.
“Bitsy says lilacs look cheap.” Lila toyed with the ribbon on the bouquet. “Which, in Bitsy-speak means I’m a common slut unworthy of her darling son.”
“Well, she’s not the one marrying him,” Brooke declared. She never usually stirred the pot; her job was all about compromise, but after a morning of Bitsy running roughshod over the whole event, she figured Lila needed someone in her corner. “It’s your day, you should have whatever you want.”
“No, it’s fine.” Lila sighed. “I don’t want to cause problems.”
Brooke watched her browsing listlessly. It was strange; she had such a reputation as being a diva on all her movies, but looking at her now, she seemed almost meek.
“You know, you’re not how I imagined you,” Brooke couldn’t help saying.
Lila arched an eyebrow. “You mean, a spoiled Hollywood drama queen? Don’t believe everything you read.”
Brooke blushed. “Sorry.”
“No, I get it. Drama sells magazines.” She shrugged, pushing her blonde hair back.
“I can’t imagine,” Brooke said. “I get tongue-tied just making a presentation. I could never get up in front of a camera like you do.”
Lila gave her a smile. “It’s all an act, in the end. I hate the spotlight, especially when it comes to my personal life. I just thought . . .” She swallowed. “I thought Justin was the same. He promised we would get away from it all.”
“You will,” Brooke insisted, but Lila didn’t look so sure.
“Not if he follows his family into politics. Even this wedding isn’t what we wanted. He said it would keep Bitsy happy, but . . . Well, she’s not exactly sunshine and roses.” Lila gave a rueful look.
“Here’s an idea,” Brooke said, hating how defeated her bride-to-be looked. “How about we let Bitsy worry about Bitsy, and focus on giving you a dream wedding?”
Lila smiled. “You’re sweet.”
“I mean it,” Brooke insisted. “This is your day. You’re only going to do this once, right?”
“Here’s hoping.”
“So, forget about Bitsy and the Cartwright way and Massachusetts crab,” Brooke grinned. “What do you want?”
“To be on a beach in the Caribbean with nobody else around?”
“OK, second choice,” Brooke said.
Lila paused a moment. “I did love the lilacs,” she said slowly. “And the peach cake, and all those gorgeous antique books you suggested.”
“Done,” Brooke declared.
“Really?” Lila bit her lip. “Bitsy won’t be happy.”
“Bitsy doesn’t have to know.” Brooke grinned. “This is about you and Justin, and I promise, you’re going to have the wedding of your dreams.”
Lila smiled, for the first time all day. “Thank you. For everything. Seriously, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Justin said he’d be here for all the appointments, but he’s busy, and there’s no time, and my team are already freaking out in LA—”
“It’s my pleasure,” Brooke cut her off. “You worry about saying ‘I do,’ I’ll take care of everything else. Now, want to try out another round of appetizers?”
Lila shook her head. “You know, I think I need to take a walk and clear my head. I can make my own way home.”
“Are you sure?” Brooke didn’t want to strand her without a ride.
“Yes, I’m fine.” Lila smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks for everything. I’ll talk soon.”
She exited the florist shop and started walking across the town square. Brooke watched her go, feeling a lurch of apprehension in her stomach. She was used to skittish brides getting cold feet—but never with just a week to go before the big day.
Note to self: keep Bitsy far, far away from any future wedding plan sessions.
If there was even a wedding left to plan.
“Shall I put in the order?” the florist assistant asked.
“What? Oh, yes, please.” Brooke filled out the invoice. Luckily for her, the Cartwright deposits were non-refundable, so even if this whole thing fell apart, the hotel would be covered.
Her career, however? That might be a whole other thing.
Brooke finished up at the florist, then stepped back out into the Sweetbriar town square. She’d blocked off the whole morning for Lila, so she had some time before she needed to be back at the hotel, and even before she could think about it, she found herself strolling towards the pub on the corner. She could drop by and say hi to Riley—and maybe even get another kiss, or two, or three, to last her for the rest of her day.
Brooke smiled. One night together, and she was already craving her next fix. Whatever that man did, he did it well.
But when she stepped into the pub, she found another man behind the bar. “Hi,” Brooke said, approaching. “I’m looking for Riley?”
“Why settle for him when you can talk to me instead?” the man replied with a teasing blue-eyed smile. There was something familiar about him, and Brooke wondered if she’d seen him around town.
“I’m not sure about that,” she said. “Is he around?”
“Just on a call,” the guy replied. “He’ll be back in a second. By which time I’ll have charmed you so much, you’ll barely remember his name.”
Brooke laughed. “We’ll see about that.” She took a seat on a barstool to wait. It was quiet in the pub, just a few locals enjoying their lunch, and the new bartender leaning back against the counter, watching her with an assessing look.
“Drink?” he asked.
“Sure, just a lemonade, thanks,” Brooke replied.
“Coming right up.” The man poured and slid it over. “I’m Max.”
“Brooke.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Ah, the famous Brooke. It’s a pleasure.”
She paused. “Famous?”
“Riley may have mentioned you,” Max said.
Brooke sipped her drink, not sure what to say—or what Riley had said about her.
“Don’t worry.” Max must have seen her hesitance. “He hasn’t said a thing. In fact, he’s been uncharacteristically tight-lipped. Care to fill me in on all the salacious details? Since I’m family and all.”
“Oh, you�
��re his brother,” Brooke realized. The familiar blue eyes, the cocky flirting . . . Now it made sense. “You know, I can see the resemblance,” she added. “You’re both too charming for your own good.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Max grinned. “So, is my big brother behaving himself?”
“Does he ever?” Brooke asked.
He laughed. “Touché.”
“What brings you out here?” Brooke asked, relaxing. She was curious now, getting a window on Riley and the rest of his life. “You live on the West Coast, right?”
“He’s here to annoy me,” Riley interrupted, entering through the back door. He gave Brooke a questioning smile. “This is a surprise.”
“A good one?” Brooke asked.
“Always.” Riley leaned over the bar and kissed her, the kind of slow, lazy kiss that sent shivers down her spine and made Brooke forget for a moment they had company.
Then Max cleared his throat loudly. “Let’s keep things PG-13, people.”
Brooke pulled back, flushing, but Riley just chuckled. “See what I mean about annoying?”
“Aw, he likes having me around, really,” Max said. “So, what are we doing tonight? We should all grab dinner and get to know each other.”
“Nope,” Riley answered, at the same time as Brooke said,
“I’d love to.”
“Great.” Max grinned. “Meet around seven?”
“I’m working,” Riley reminded him, looking irritated.
“That’s OK,” Max said. “Brooke and I can spend some time together. Isn’t that right?” He smiled at her, and Riley’s scowl deepened.
“I’ll get someone to cover.”
Brooke looked back and forth between them, interested to see their sibling dynamic. It was obvious they were used to bickering like this, but despite the barbed words, the affection between them was clear. But the show was interrupted as Max’s phone buzzed. “I’ve got to take this, but I’ll be seeing you later.” He winked and strolled away.
Riley let out a sigh.
“Don’t worry.” Brooke patted his arm gently. “It’ll be fun.”
“You don’t know Max,” he said darkly, and Brooke had to laugh.
“Let me guess, he’s a smooth-talking, charismatic player?” she grinned. “I guess he learned that from you.”
Riley didn’t look any happier, so she leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Relax. You’re still my favorite Ford brother.”
“Want to blow off dinner and show me just how much?” Riley suggested, his smile returning.
Brooke laughed. “Dinner first, fun later.”
Riley gave her a smoldering look. “I’ll be holding you to that.”
17
Riley had always liked his brother. Sure, he could be annoying sometimes, and just loved getting under Riley’s skin, but at the end of the day, they’d always had each other’s backs, played wingmen, and offered whatever help and advice the other needed—especially when it came to women.
So why was Max keeping him stuck in a crowded bar listening to stories he’d heard a dozen times before when Riley could have been alone with Brooke somewhere?
Naked.
“. . . and then the wife started whaling on him, right there in the courtroom. Grabbed my briefing papers and whacked him around the head,” Max said, halfway through the tale of his favorite case. They were sitting at a corner table down by the harbor, with a spread of fried seafood and beer.
“No!” Brooke gasped, looking rapt. “What did you do?”
“Put her in an armlock and called for a continuance,” Riley finished for him.
Max gave him a look. “Way to ruin the good part.”
“I thought about becoming a lawyer,” Brooke said, with a wistful look. “I even took the LSATs in college.”
Riley paused. “I didn’t know that.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know.” Brooke gave him a teasing grin.
“You had a lucky miss,” Max told her, peeling some shrimp. “I clocked fourteen-hour days at the firm starting out, and now that I’m partner, it’s not much better.”
“Talk to me when you’ve got three weddings in one weekend on back-to-back shifts,” Brooke retorted. Max raised his glass to hers in a toast.
“Here’s to the workaholics.”
He looked to Riley then back to Brooke, and gave a curious smile.
“Uh-oh,” Brooke said, taking a gulp of beer. “Do I want to know what that look’s about?”
“Nothing,” Max said. “Just . . . You’re not his usual type, that’s all.”
“Max.” Riley gave him a warning glare.
“What?” Max protested. “That’s a good thing. It’s a compliment,” he reassured Brooke. “It’s about time my brother wised up and found someone who could give him a run for his money.”
Brooke arched an eyebrow. “Sounds like there are some stories there.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Max said. ‘You’re the first one I’ve met in a long while.”
“You live across the country,” Riley interrupted, uncomfortable now. “And since when did this become a debate about my love life?”
“You’re right,” Brooke said, patting his shoulder. “If we start now, we’ll never stop. We can’t go anywhere without running into one of his old flings,” she said to Max. “Women practically line the sidewalks, swooning over him.”
“No wonder his ego is getting so big,” Max laughed.
“Come on,” Riley protested. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” Brooke grinned. “Our waitress the other night nearly lay down in the middle of the restaurant. I’m surprised she didn’t try and slip you her number,” she added. “Oh, wait, she already has it, doesn’t she?”
He coughed. “Maybe.”
Brooke laughed out loud. “I bet you five bucks she texts, inviting you to a little rendezvous.”
Riley busied himself with his beer. The truth was, Lulu had already sent a flirty message inviting him to get together, but he hadn’t replied. He still got messages all the time from his old hookups, just checking in, or suggesting a late-night rendezvous. He used to think of it as a good sign—that they all stayed friendly, no hard feelings—but now he wasn’t so sure. Did they all just think he was available for a good time, no questions asked?
“I have to say, I’m impressed.” Max sat back, regarding Brooke. “You’re taking this all in stride. Most women would be jealously checking his messages by now.”
Brooke shrugged, eating another fry. “Riley’s a free man,” she said. “He can do whatever he wants, with whoever he likes.” She smiled at him, looking relaxed, but Riley felt a strange twist in his gut.
He wanted her to be jealous. Or at least not so fine with the idea he could pick up and date some other girl anytime he chose.
Didn’t she care about them at all?
“That’s . . . wow. Mature.” Even Max looked surprised by her casual reply. “Hey, good for you. I wish my dates could be so relaxed about things. It’s like we have one dinner, and suddenly, they want me to pick out end tables and meet their parents.”
“You just have to be upfront about things, like Riley is.” Brooke smiled at him, then bobbed up. “I’ll be right back,” she said. Riley watched her weave through the crowd towards the bathrooms.
“Don’t screw this up.”
He looked back at Max. “Seriously,” Max said. “She’s awesome. And doesn’t seem to mind your long, long list of conquests.”
“Will you stop talking like that?” Riley scowled. “You’ve done nothing all night but make me look like a total man-whore.”
“Aren’t you?” Max shot back, then he laughed. “Come on, relax. Brooke doesn’t care.”
“But I do.” Riley still felt unsettled. He and Max ribbed on each other all the time, but for some reason, it was hitting close to home. “I’m trying to impress the girl, not make her think I’ll never settle down.”
Max’s eyebrows shot up. “So i
t is serious. Hey, sorry man, I didn’t realize. You said it was just some fun.”
“It is. Was,” Riley corrected himself. He sighed. “I don’t know.” He took another drink of beer. “It’s complicated.”
“Message received,” Max said. “Want me to start playing up your respectability? I can tell her about all that babysitting you did for our cousins, back home.”
“Little Elliot fell down the stairs and broke his leg,” Riley said, remembering.
“So I’ll leave out that part.” Max grinned. “Come on, you’re great. Annoyingly successful, and almost as handsome as me. She’d be lucky to have you.”
Riley shrugged off the praise, but watching as Brooke made her way back towards them, he couldn’t help noticing the way heads turned to watch her, every guy in the bar tracking the sway of those hips, and how her blonde hair was falling temptingly out of that bun . . .
He was the lucky one. He knew how her sweet lips tasted, and the way her body moved, the little gasping moans she made when he touched her, just right, and the look in her eyes as she came apart, begging for more.
He’d craved her from the start, but he was only just realizing how much more there was to want. Mornings with her, just laughing in bed. Late-night phone calls, and those texts that brought a smile whenever he saw her on the screen.
His name on her lips as she came undone.
“What did I miss?” Brooke was smiling when she reached their table.
Riley shot to his feet. He needed to get her alone, and fast. “Max has to call it a night. Jet lag, you know how it is.”
Brooke frowned. “Isn’t that going the other way?”
Riley gave his brother a look. Max obliged with a yawn. “I’m beat. All that travel.”
“We’ll let him get his beauty sleep.” Riley took her arm, already needing her so badly he couldn’t think straight. “You can take the boat,” he said to Max. “Don’t sink it.”
“It was great meeting you—”
Riley dragged Brooke away before she could finish. “Hey,” she protested. “What’s the rush?”
Riley leaned in, still propelling her through the crowd. “In five seconds, I’m going to kiss you. I can do it right here, wherever you want, but I’m guessing you’ll want us to be alone.”
