by Melody Grace
“You want some help with that?” he asked, then reached up and lifted down the frame she’d been straining for.
“Thanks.” Brooke swallowed. The drama of the day had faded, leaving nothing but a dull ache behind. “Where’s Archer?”
“He left. A while ago. Said something about getting a red-eye out.”
She nodded. That was one thing less to deal with. Maybe, this time, he’d gotten the message that it was over.
“You didn’t say he was in town.” Riley stacked a couple of chairs.
“I didn’t know,” Brooke said. “He showed up about five minutes before you did.”
Riley nodded slowly. “And if I hadn’t interrupted you . . . ?”
“What, you think I would have fallen into his arms again?” Brooke paused, a flicker of irritation sparking to life. “I told you what happened with him, how he lied to me. I was handling it, I didn’t need you muscling in and humiliating me in front of everyone.”
“He deserved it,” Riley protested.
“And what did I deserve?” she challenged him. “You guys brawling in the middle of my biggest event? Don’t pretend you did any of that on my behalf. I don’t know what macho guy thing you were trying to prove, but it had nothing to do with me.”
“I’m sorry,” Riley said, looking chastened. “It got out of hand. I just couldn’t stand to see him standing there, after everything he put you through.”
“Put me through,” Brooke repeated. “What happened with Archer has nothing to do with you! You knew how much this wedding meant to me, how much time and work I put into making everything perfect. Did you stop for a second to think about that? About my reputation, and career? No,” she answered for him, emotions storming inside. “You just went in swinging. Because you have no idea what it means to work like this, put everything into a project so you can be proud.”
Riley’s eyes flashed. “Yeah, I think I do.”
“Since when?” Brooke shot back. “You’ve been here two years now, pouring beer, and partying late, and screwing everything that moves!”
The moment the words were out, she regretted them, but it was too late. Riley’s expression hardened.
“So it took me some time to figure out what I wanted,” he replied. “But I’m here now, trying to make it happen. You’re the one still running. You know there’s something real between us, but you’re still so scared of being hurt again that you don’t trust your heart at all.”
“What are you saying?” Brooke asked, confused. “You’ve been telling me from the start all you wanted is fun.”
He looked away. “I was wrong. I want more, Brooke.” He met her eyes again. “I was going to tell you tonight, that I want us to be exclusive. For us to do this, for real.”
Brooke stared at him in disbelief. He was saying exactly what she’d been hoping he’d say, but it was all wrong. How was she supposed to believe him now?
She shook her head. She couldn’t handle this, not after everything. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Look around!” she exclaimed, tears stinging in the back of her throat. “Everything’s a mess. I’m not ready. I trusted Archer. I trusted you! And then you turn around and pull a stunt like this!”
“I’m sorry, I screwed up.” Riley’s expression slipped. “But you and me, we’re great together. I know you feel it too.”
He reached for her, but she pulled back. She knew that if she touched him, held him, it would be too much. She couldn’t resist the chemistry between them, but she knew now she had to.
“This was a mistake from the start,” she said, her heart raw and aching. “I’m not ready.”
“You are,” Riley insisted. “You’re just scared, and I get that, but I’m not like him. You’re the first thing I’ve been sure about in so long. I promise, I won’t let you down again—”
“You’re not listening to me!” Brooke interrupted. “I can’t do this again. I can’t. You’ve spent the past month telling me all you want is a good time. No drama, no strings, remember?” she quoted his own casual promise back at him, and saw Riley flinch at the reminder. “Now you’re standing here, promising me . . . what? A date on Friday night? Commitment? A future together?” Brooke gulped back the tears. “Until you change your mind again. You don’t even know what you want, Riley, but I do. I want you to leave me alone.”
He shook his head. “You don’t mean that. I know you. I know you deserve someone who really loves you—”
“Stop,” Brooke said again, feeling her last thread fray. “Please, just stop. I have work to do here, and a million calls to make, and . . .”
And if he kept talking any longer, she might just give in. Let him wrap her up in his strong embrace and promise that everything between them was going to be fine. And maybe it would, for a little while. But Brooke knew herself now, better than she had a few months ago, and jumping straight into a new relationship was the last thing she needed—especially with a man who prided himself on staying unattached.
How long would it be until she was just another tether holding him back? How long until Riley pulled up anchor and sailed away, and Brooke was left with a heart that hadn’t even begun to start healing?
“It’s finished,” she said finally, even though it felt the furthest thing from over. “It was fun while it lasted, Riley, but we were never going to be anything real. Good luck with everything, OK?”
She turned and hurried inside, before she could see the hurt in his eyes.
Before he could see the stitches on her beat up, broken heart rip open all over again.
23
1 month later . . .
Riley stared at the doors, willing them to open. He’d never believed in all that “positive thinking, manifest your destiny” nonsense, but maybe if he focused hard enough, Brooke would come breezing into the bar like all of this had never happened, flashing him a teasing smile, and strolling over to—
“Riley?”
Someone snapped their fingers right in front of him, and he blinked out of his daydream. Mackenzie was standing by the bar.
“Oh. Hey,” Riley sighed. “I didn’t see you there.”
“I’ve been calling your name for like the past five minutes.” Mackenzie frowned. “Still moping?”
“Real men don’t mope.” Riley flashed a smile. “We brood. In a manly, strong fashion.”
“Uh huh.” Mac didn’t look convinced by his nonchalant routine. “Same difference. Still no word from Brooke?”
Riley shook his head and busied himself wiping down the bar. “It’s probably for the best,” he lied. “We both know me plus commitment would have been a recipe for disaster. Plus, think of the damage to the Sweetbriar tourist industry. Hot girls would have been canceling their trips in droves.”
Mackenzie softened. “You don’t have to pull that routine with me. It’s OK if you miss her.”
“What’s to miss?” Riley shot back. “I barely knew the woman.”
He moved off to clear some dirty glasses—and avoid Mackenzie’s sympathetic smile. They both knew he was putting on an act, but these days, it was second nature to him. It had been a month now since that day at the wedding, when he’d screwed everything up with Brooke. He’d cycled through the usual stages of post-breakup grief—drinking, wallowing, and more drinking—but still, he didn’t feel like he was any closer to moving on. He could tell himself it was her loss, and that some things weren’t meant to be, but deep down, her words lingered.
You don’t even know what you want.
Riley’s jaw clenched. He’d straight-up told her what he wanted: the two of them, together. He’d put his heart on the line, and she’d thrown it back in his face. She was the confused one, not him. He had nothing to regret.
Except his timing could have been better, a small voice reminded him. Brawling through the middle of her big event didn’t exactly scream “trust and commitment.” And who could blame her for not believing him, when he’d bragged about his easy,
no-strings life for so long?
Riley stifled a sigh. He’d been over it all, a hundred times, but it still didn’t change the ending. Him, alone, the same as always—except this time, he knew just what he was missing.
“There you are,” a female voice cooed. He looked up as Lulu came sashaying across the bar. “I haven’t heard from you since our dinner. Have you been avoiding me?”
Her smile was flirty, but Riley’s heart still sank. He’d been on one ill-advised date with Lulu, back during his whole “drinking and wallowing” phase. He wasn’t even halfway through his appetizer before realizing what a mistake it was; he’d given her some excuse about an emergency at the bar and made a quick escape, but Lulu didn’t seem to mind his disappearing act. She’d been messaging him all month with invitations to get together, and clearly, she figured it was time to hunt him down in person.
“I’ve been busy,” Riley said, and cleared his throat.
“How about tonight?” Lulu asked. “You could come over after you’re done here and have a little fun. Unwind.” She grinned, and Riley knew exactly the kind of unwinding she was talking about, but even the prospect of wild, no-strings sex with this gorgeous woman couldn’t shake his mood.
Damn, he really was in a bad way.
“Sorry,” he said, flashing a rueful smile. “I’m not in the market for that kind of fun anymore.”
Lulu looked surprised. “The great Riley Ford? Say it isn’t so.”
“I’m as surprised as anyone,” he agreed. “But you take care, OK?”
“Oh, I will.” Lulu reached up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Say, is your new bartender single?”
He laughed. “Jamie? Sure he is. Go tell him your drink’s on me.”
Riley watched Lulu head over to the bar—and slay poor Jamie with a single smile. She was a great girl: gorgeous, laid back, and fun-loving, but somehow, after Brooke, he couldn’t find it in his heart to want anyone else.
Brooke, with her smart mouth and endless ambition.
Brooke, who could render him speechless with a single, blissful smile.
Brooke—
“Earth to Riley.” Mackenzie snapped her fingers again. “Lord, if you’re going to wallow—I’m sorry, brood much longer, I should get a whistle or something.”
Riley shook his head, annoyed at himself as much as Mac. “Are you still here?”
“I figured we could walk over to the bookstore together,” she said, unbothered by his grumpy tone. “It’s boys versus girls at poker night. Which means Poppy’s going to wipe the floor with us all. And before you bail again, I’m not taking no for an answer.” Mackenzie fixed him with her sternest stare, and Riley knew he didn’t have a choice.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
He grabbed his jacket and held the door for her on their way out. The brisk October winds whipped around them, and Mackenzie shivered, pausing to bundle up in her brightly-knitted scarf and cap. “I think it’s going to snow soon,” she said, looking up at the cloudy night’s sky. “I can always taste it in the air.”
“I hate the cold,” Riley said, starting to walk across the town square. “I lived too long in California. I’ve half a mind to head back there and spend Christmas on the beach.”
“You don’t mean that!” Mackenzie protested. “Fall is my favorite time of year on the Cape. And Christmas, too. Hot apple cider, and the leaves turning, and sleigh rides at the Starbright Festival . . .”
“What are you, the official Sweetbriar tourist board now?” Riley teased.
“You better watch out,” Mackenzie warned him. “You’re turning into a regular Scrooge. If you’re not careful—”
She stopped, and the strangest expression crossed her face.
Riley turned. “What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I . . .” Mackenzie blinked. “Nothing. I thought I saw someone, that’s all.”
“An ex?” Riley asked, amused to see her so ruffled.
“No.” Mackenzie’s voice went quiet. “No, forget I said anything. So do you think Grayson’s going to pop the question to Summer yet? Soon we’ll be the only single ones left in the group.” She changed the subject without even pausing for breath, and then chattered the rest of the way about town gossip and her new line of snowfall ceramics until they reached Grayson’s bookstore.
“Hey!” Poppy greeted them the minute they stepped inside the snug store. The card table was already set out in the main room, and Grayson, Cooper, and Summer were seated, drinking beer and passing around a pizza box. “Are you guys ready for battle?”
“I should just empty my wallet and call it a night,” Riley said ruefully. Poppy’s poker skills were legendary around town.
“Aww, I’ll go easy on you, I promise.” She grinned.
They took their seats, and the game began—punctuated with teasing, and gossip, and their usual smack-talk. It was the perfect Friday night in Sweetbriar Cove, but looking around the table at his friends, Riley knew something was missing. Someone.
Brooke.
It was amazing how fast she’d found a place here in the community, but she seemed to fit, just right. She would have a plan to beat Poppy, of course, be trading jokes with Mackenzie and Coop, and suggesting new dishes for Summer to try at the bakery. She belonged here.
With him.
“Your turn,” Grayson prompted him, and Riley swallowed back his empty pang. He tried to get Brooke out of his mind and just focus on the game, but he couldn’t shake the regret that was lodged, cold and hollow, behind his ribcage.
He’d pushed her too fast.
Brooke was right. She wasn’t ready—but he hadn’t listened to her, not really. He’d been so swept up in his own feelings, finally wanting to commit, that he didn’t stop to think about her past heartbreak, and how she was still rebounding from Archer’s betrayal.
If he’d slowed down a beat . . . If he’d given her time to move on . . . They could have built a relationship moment by moment, adding up to something real. Instead, he’d barreled ahead, ignoring everything she’d told him, and assumed that just because he was finally ready to take that risk and open up with someone, she would be too.
He was wrong.
“You think he’d notice if I peeked at his cards?”
“Nah, I already know what he’s holding. His poker face is the worst.”
Riley came back to reality and found the rest of the table staring at him. He was missing his turn all over again. “Sorry,” he said, glancing half-heartedly at the cards in his hand. “Uh, fold.”
“You’re no fun,” Poppy complained, with a heap of M&M winnings already piled in front of her. “You used to be my only rival.”
“Gee, thanks,” Mackenzie piped up, munching on a slice of pizza.
“Please. You have zero game face,” Poppy laughed. “All your emotions are written all over your face.”
“I’ll have you know, I’m a woman of mystery,” Mackenzie declared—with pizza sauce smeared over her chin.
They all laughed, but Riley’s thoughts were a million miles away. Or, to be precise, fifteen miles up the coast. He wondered if Brooke was still up—or if she’d kicked her insomnia for good. He’d almost driven over there a dozen times to apologize and beg for her back, or better yet, seduce her until she couldn’t resist him anymore. Sometimes he made it out the door, into the car, halfway up that dark coastal road. One night, he even sat outside her apartment with the engine running, talking himself out of storming up those stairs. But every time, he managed to turn back around and come home, alone.
She wasn’t ready.
She needed time.
He hadn’t listened before, but he wasn’t going to make that mistake again, no matter how much he wanted to.
He pushed back his chair. Distraction wasn’t working when it came to forgetting her. Maybe drinking would.
“Anyone want another beer?” he asked, then headed in the back to the tiny kitchenette. He remembered the days when Grayson’s refr
igerator had been empty, save a six pack and some questionable takeout remains, but now it was packed with Tupperware from Summer’s bakery: neat stacks of brownies and quiches and other snacks.
He paused to read the messages, scribbled on bright post-it notes.
Sweets for my sweet.
Can’t wait to see you tonight.
XO.
It hit him in the gut, the casual affection in every note. They had each other, in a way he could only imagine.
“Want to pass those brownies?”
He turned. Grayson was in the doorway, dressed casually—for the Englishman, at least—in a button-down and corduroy pants. Riley retrieved the container.
“How are things with you these days?” Grayson asked, arching an eyebrow. “We haven’t seen you at the harvest festival events.”
“Not in the mood,” Riley said, opening another beer.
“No?”
He caught the look on Grayson’s face and sighed. “Is this where you give me a pep talk about love and risk and following my heart?”
“You mean, the way you’ve done with the rest of us?” Grayson looked amused.
“Yeah, well maybe I should have kept my mouth shut,” Riley sighed. That was the thing about being a bartender: you wound up giving everyone a heart-to-heart sooner or later. But just because he’d dispensed his share of motivational speeches, it didn’t mean he wanted them coming back to haunt him.
Luckily, Grayson could take a hint. He just munched on a brownie and gave a thoughtful nod.
“What’s cooking?” Summer appeared behind them and wrapped her arms around Grayson’s waist. “Save some of those for the rest of us.”
“Like you don’t already have another batch of dough stashed at home,” Grayson grinned, tipping his head down to smile at her. They shared a private look, and Riley felt that blow again, watching something intimate from the outside, a glimpse of the one thing he wanted more than anything, but was far out of reach.
“Come on, time for another hand,” Poppy called from the next room. “Double or nothing. The M&Ms will be mine!”
