by Melody Grace
Was this all he wanted out of life?
Most guys would kill for the set-up he had going here: great job, great friends, and a great woman happy to keep things low-stress and drama-free. He’d cut all the cords and skimmed through life, as easy as his boat bobbing on the evening tide. But for some reason, he felt an odd itch in his veins. Wondering if maybe there was something he was missing out on, if sailing on by meant he was leaving something better on dry land.
“Riley.”
He turned, glad for a distraction from the pesky existential questions buzzing around in his mind, and found his favorite potter, looking frazzled in cut-offs and a tank top.
“Mackenzie, hi,” Riley grinned. “What can I get you?”
Mackenzie fanned herself. “Two crates of beer and a dozen bottles of wine, please.”
Riley gave her a fake stern look. “Do we need to talk about your drinking problem?”
Mac grinned. “You mean the fact I invited half the town to this party, and forgot that meant we had to feed them?”
“You need some help?” Riley offered.
“Don’t tempt me,” Mackenzie groaned.
“I mean it,” Riley said, glad to be useful. “Neil can cover for me here, and when it comes to shifting beer crates, I’ve got the goods.” He flexed his biceps, and Mackenzie laughed.
“Who am I to stand in the way of a man offering help?”
“Smart woman,” Riley grinned. He threw down his dishcloth. “I’ll go grab the booze. Do you have your car, or do you want me to use the jeep?”
Mac batted her eyelashes. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re lucky to have me.”
Riley headed in back, loading up his trunk with enough booze to keep the people of Sweetbriar merry for at least a few hours. “You’re a lifesaver,” Mackenzie said, hopping up into the jeep with him. “Poppy and Coop bought out the wholesaler with steak and hamburgers, Summer’s got dessert locked down, but I totally forgot about my share.”
“Working on something new?” Riley asked, driving towards the beach.
Mackenzie nodded. “One of my weird projects,” she said vaguely, and Riley remembered how protective she was of her personal art. She was happy to churn out cute sailboat ceramics all day long, but when it came to anything else, he’d never even seen a glimpse.
“Are you ever going to show your personal stuff?” Riley asked. “I feel like you’ve kept it under wraps for years.”
Mackenzie looked awkward. “You’re not missing anything,” she said. “So, how’s Brooke?”
Riley snorted. “Way to change the subject.”
“Come on,” Mackenzie said, protesting. “Don’t hold out on me. She’s great, isn’t she?”
“Sure.” Riley tried to sound casual, but he couldn’t stop the smile spreading at the thought of her.
“I knew it!” Mackenzie whacked him in the arm. “I knew this day would come! You’re in lo-ove,” she said, sing-song, like the annoying little sister he’d never had.
“Mac,” he tried to stop her, warning, but she kept on, excited.
“When are you guys making it official? You know, moving in, settling down, setting a date.”
“Whoa, hold up!” he interrupted her stream of excited chatter. “That’s moving way too fast. We’re not even officially dating just yet.”
“Why the hell not?” Mackenzie frowned. “What are you waiting for?”
“Nothing,” Riley said evasively. “It’s just . . . not the right time.”
“Seriously?” Mackenzie fixed him with a stare. “That’s your play?”
He sighed. “C’mon . . .”
“I don’t get you guys sometimes.” She shook her head. “You know, I always figured you’d drop this playboy thing when the right woman came along, but here you are, with her standing right in front of you, and you still can’t bring yourself to get real. What are you so scared of?”
Riley blinked. “I’m not scared,” he protested, but Mackenzie just snorted.
“Sure.”
“I’m not,” he said again, less forceful this time.
“So you don’t want to be with her?” Mackenzie asked. “My bad.”
Riley scowled. Of course he wanted to be with Brooke, but is wasn’t as simple as that.
Was it?
“Hey, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be giving you a hard time.” Mackenzie reached out and patted his arm. “It’s none of my business. If you’re happy, and she’s happy, then it’s your business. Don’t listen to me. I mean, I’m hardly the authority on relationships, am I?”
Riley couldn’t argue. As long as he’d known her, Mackenzie hadn’t dated anyone—at least, not seriously. So either she was somehow carrying on torrid affairs out of the eye of Sweetbriar gossip, or she’d been single all this time. Which didn’t seem right for someone as warm and beautiful as her.
“No guys on the scene with you?” he asked, changing the subject.
Mackenzie snorted. “Not the last time I checked. If you see them lining up in the wrong place, let me know.”
She was kidding, but Riley thought he heard a wistful note in her voice. Still, he didn’t press her. It wasn’t his place, and Lord knew he wasn’t the man for a heart-to-heart about true love—not when he couldn’t even give her a straight answer about what was keeping him from having a real relationship. Instead, he pulled up outside Poppy’s and Cooper’s beach house: the location for the big barbecue that night. There was already festive ticker tape wound around the front porch railings, and the door was open, so Riley set about hoisting the crates of booze out of the truck, while Mackenzie went on ahead.
“Hello?” he called, stepping into the cool hallway.
“We’re in back!” the answer came.
He headed through the house to the back deck, where it looked like the entire contents of the local discount warehouse were stacked by the grill.
“We went a little overboard,” Poppy greeted him with a hug. “But Cooper swears you’ll all eat your body weight in hamburgers.”
“It’s true.” Riley set the crate down in a shady spot and looked around. They had a gorgeous property that Cooper had restored himself, right on the beach with a full panoramic view that almost rivaled his boat. Almost. “Mayor Keller underestimated the crowd at his Fourth of July bash last year,” he added, teasing. “There was a riot when they ran out of hotdogs. You know, we haven’t seen his German Shepard since . . .”
Poppy laughed. “Don’t even joke about it! It’s my first time hosting a town event,” she added with a bashful smile. “I just want it to go smoothly.”
“Everything looks great here,” he reassured her. Mackenzie was setting up folding picnic tables down on the sand, and he could see Cooper prepping for a bonfire, too. “Besides, this is Sweetbriar Cove. As long as you have beer and burgers, you can’t fail.”
AS THE SUN set over the ocean, Riley’s prediction was right: practically the whole town came out for the barbecue. Music echoed across the sand, kids ran riot, smeared with ice cream, and everyone was having a great time . . . except Riley.
Brooke still hadn’t shown.
He tried to shake it off and enjoy himself, but he couldn’t stop watching for her arrival. She said she was working late, but it was almost nine, and there was still no sign—
“Hey.” A pair of hands suddenly covered his eyes, and he caught a breath of lavender, faint but unmistakably sweet. A familiar voice murmured in his ear. “Guess who?”
Riley was already smiling. He would have known Brooke just from the feel of her, sending his blood surging. “Hmm, let me think about this one . . .” he teased, relishing her touch. “Angelina Jolie?”
“Nope.”
“Debra from the farmer’s market?” he said, naming a pensioner in town who was pushing eighty years old, and spry as ever.
Brooke laughed. “Try again.”
“I know. It’s Poppy. You’ve finally left Cooper behind for a real man.”
&nbs
p; “Sorry to disappoint.” Brooke dropped her hands, and he caught her around the waist, spinning her to face him.
“You could never be a disappointment,” he said, leaning in to kiss her. His tension melted away, and he relished the soft caress of her lips on his. “Did you finish up at the hotel?” he asked, finally drawing back. Brooke looked tired, still wearing her smart work outfit of a crisp navy dress. “I can’t believe you have to work the holiday. What’s the point of being boss if you can’t get your underlings to cover for you?”
She gave a weary smile. “It’s all hands on deck with the wedding. I’ve been running around all day dealing with last-minute disasters. Did you know organic and bio-dynamic flour are two very different things?”
“I’m sorry.” Riley touched his hand to her cheek. “Hey, at least it’ll all be over soon.”
Brooke nodded. “To tell the truth, I wonder if it’s even going ahead at all. I just get this vibe from Lila, like she doesn’t want any of this . . .” She shook her head. “Ignore me, I’ve been obsessing over this stuff too long.”
“What can I do?” Riley asked, and Brooke gave him a smile, brighter this time.
“A kiss would help.”
He obliged, cupping her cheek and gently brushing his lips against hers. Brooke gave a little sigh. “Now, if you could just put a burger in my hand, I’d be set.”
He chuckled. “Coming right up.”
Riley took her hand and led her towards the grill. It felt so natural, intertwining his fingers with hers, and for a moment he let himself imagine what it would be like if he did take the next step, and make this something real. Waking up with Brooke in the morning, falling asleep with her there in his arms at night. No tentative texts and casual, “maybe” plans, but someone he could depend on.
Opening up, and really letting himself trust again.
Part of him shrank away from the thought, the same way it had ever since his business went down in flames. He’d joked about it feeling like a divorce, but in a way, it was true. He’d invested everything in that company, and been left bitter and burned out at the end. It was why he’d escaped out here and built a new life, with zero attachments tying him down.
If he didn’t care too much about anything, he wouldn’t get hurt again.
But what if he wanted to care?
Riley swallowed. For the first time, he wished he hadn’t been so brazenly casual with Brooke. Strolling around town, swearing he was only looking for a good time seemed like the most honest, upfront approach at the time, but now that he was thinking about more, he suddenly realized his plan had backfired.
What if she believed him? And, worse still, what if that was all she wanted from him, too?
“Brooke?” he found himself asking.
She turned, her hair flaring gold in the firelight, and Riley’s voice caught in his throat. She was beautiful—and his, for the night at least. Things were just fine the way they were. Did he really want to ruin a good thing while he had it?
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” he said, exhaling. “It can wait.”
19
Brooke spent the rest of the evening learning to unwind, Sweetbriar-style. There was food, and cocktails, a local band playing music, and people dancing right on the sand. Summer had even set up a s’mores station, where you could build the perfect skewers with candy and chocolate before toasting them in the open bonfire.
“I’m a purist,” Summer said, snuggled up to her boyfriend, Grayson, as they all watched their marshmallows melt in the flickering firelight. “Plain chocolate and graham crackers all the way.”
“You’ve got to mix it up,” Mackenzie argued, wrapped now in a big blue blanket. “Live life on the edge.”
Brooke smiled. She was tucked in the crook of Riley’s arm, feeling more relaxed than she had in a long while. “Is it ready?” she asked him.
“Let’s see.” Riley pulled their branches out, and expertly slid the gooey toasted marshmallows onto their waiting crackers.
“I haven’t had one since I was a kid,” Brooke said, nibbling the edge. The taste of chocolate and sugar took her back. “We used to go to my grandpa’s cabin, eat nothing but s’mores and hot dogs all summer long.”
“Sounds like fun.” Riley smiled at her, his eyes bright in the firelight.
She nodded. “It was. I always thought . . .” Brooke caught herself in time. She’d always thought she’d like to do that with her kids one day, let them run wild in the woods and by the lakeshore the way she had. But of course, that wasn’t the kind of thing she should be saying to Riley. Any talk of kids and the future, and he’d probably bolt before their s’mores got cold.
“You were saying?” he nudged her gently.
Brooke shook her head. “Nothing. You know, it’s getting kind of cold. I’m going to grab my sweater from the car.”
“I can go,” he offered.
“No, you stay here. Toast me another.” Brooke kissed him on the cheek and headed back to the house. People greeted her as she passed, now-familiar faces she’d seen at other events, and as she made her way out to her car, Brooke felt a quiet sense of satisfaction. She was finally settling in: making friends and putting down roots. She may have wound up in Sweetbriar Cove by accident, but perhaps it was exactly where she was supposed to be.
She unlocked the car and grabbed her sweater, but couldn’t stop herself from reaching for her phone, too. She’d stashed it in the glove compartment to put Archer out of her mind for the night, but after what had happened at the hotel last time she went no-contact, she couldn’t resist checking it, just in case.
No SOS text messages from the hotel. She exhaled in relief, then saw the little icon flashing. A voicemail was waiting.
Brooke clicked through, and then she heard it. Archer’s voice, clear as the day before she’d left him.
“It’s me.”
She froze. In an instant, he was right there with her. Flashing that apologetic smile, his dark eyes full of charming remorse.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” the voicemail continued. “I know I screwed up, I should have told you about her sooner, but baby, you have to understand, I was always going to choose you. You’re the one I want, our life together, and I know you want it too. Please, just give me a chance to explain. Don’t throw away the rest of our life together because I made one stupid mistake. I love you, baby. I’ll do anything to make this right.”
The message ended. Brooke slowly lowered the phone. She felt sick to her stomach, as if she’d just stepped off a roller coaster, solid ground not so solid anymore.
What the hell was he playing at?
But she knew that answer already. He thought he could turn back the clock, charm her into loving him again and conveniently forgetting just what a liar he’d been. Archer was used to getting his way, and now, he was turning all that charm and smooth focus on her.
She gulped for air.
Running away from him had been a mistake, she could see it now. If she’d told him to his face it was over, then maybe he wouldn’t be chasing after her like this. They would have fought, and screamed, and yelled; she would have told him he was a liar, and a cheater, and she never wanted to lay eyes on him again.
It would be done.
But instead, she’d let shame and guilt drive her out of town, trying to forget her own foolishness by pretending it had never happened at all. As if paying penance by planning a dozen perfect weddings could ever erase the marriage she’d helped tear apart.
This is what denial got you: skulking in the shadows outside a party, feeling like one rogue voicemail was blowing all that hard-won resolve apart.
She wasn’t ready for this. She didn’t have space in her heart to deal with him, not with the biggest event of her life in just two days, and Riley waiting down on the beach, and a million other things to juggle—that didn’t include raking up the biggest betrayal of her life.
Brooke could hear the music and laughter from the party, b
ut she couldn’t imagine going back in there and faking a smile. Not now.
She got behind the wheel, and typed out a quick text for Riley.
Sorry, not feeling great – heading home.
She already felt guilty hitting send, but she didn’t know what else to do. Tell Riley that even a message from her ex sent her spinning? She was supposed to be over him now. Immune. And she would be, one day.
But this wasn’t that day.
SHE DROVE HOME, feeling terrible for leaving the party behind. She could hear her phone chirping with new messages, but she didn’t pick it up; she didn’t want to have to answer Riley’s concerned questions, not when she was bailing on him like this. Back home, she changed into sweatpants and put some tea on the stove, then stood there in the middle of her empty apartment, feeling lost.
This wasn’t just about Archer anymore. It was everything. Wondering if she was making the same mistake all over again, opening up to a man who should be off-limits. Setting herself up for heartbreak when love should be the last thing on her mind.
When you don’t see the truth that’s right in front of you, how can you ever trust yourself—or anyone else—again?
Brooke didn’t even hear the tea kettle whistle until there was a knock at the door, breaking her reverie.
“Just a second!” she called, hurrying to take it off the flame before opening up.
Riley was standing outside. He looked too good in the darkness, in those jeans and a T-shirt, soft enough to touch, and Brooke’s heart twisted to see him there.
“Oh. Hey.” She gulped. “Sorry I left in a hurry like that. I, umm, had a headache coming on.”
Riley didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure everything’s OK? What’s going on?”
He looked so tender and concerned, Brooke hated telling these half-truths. But what could she say?
She’d been wrong before. So wrong. And now, that mistake was lingering in the back of everything she did, making her question her instincts, and carefully second-guess each new choice.
