by Rose Wulf
“Not here,” Blake insisted firmly. He knew he was going to get stuck answering her question, but he wasn’t going to do so when the woman they were talking about could walk up to them at any given moment.
Angela sighed exaggeratedly. “All right, fine, you can tell me later.” She shifted and reached over to pluck a couple of sugar packets from the porcelain container. “So what did you want to talk about?”
Pausing a moment to glance around, making sure no one had settled in the booth behind him, Blake leaned forward and proceeded to tell her about Brooke’s mystery man. When he was done describing both the man and his suspicions of him, Blake carefully asked, “Is there a chance you’ve ever seen, or heard of, someone like him?”
Angela frowned and slowly shook her head. “I’ve definitely never seen anyone who fits that description. But that just means he’s not stalking me.”
Blake sighed and clarified his question. “That’s good, but I actually meant specifically when you’re at Eric’s. Remember, I said the first time Brooke saw him, he was here with Emma.”
Angela’s eyes narrowed in defensive anger, but a heartbeat later, the look passed and she took in a breath. She took her time answering the question, her voice thoughtful as she finally said, “No. I don’t know anything about him.”
Blake nodded and relaxed into the booth. He had sort of hoped to get a name, or a clue as to the man’s identity, but all the same he was glad the guy seemed to be staying away from his sister. “This probably goes without saying, but … if that ever changes, you’ll let me know, right?”
“Of course. But I really don’t think the thing with Emma had anything to do with this. Eric was pretty shocked when I told him everything.”
“I was more hoping his association with Emma would give us a clue about him.”
Brooke stepped back up to the table a moment later, tray over her shoulder and balancing two drinks. “I come bearing gifts,” she joked as she readjusted her load in order to set down their glasses.
As she set down Angela’s tea, Angela once again lifted one of her pilfered sugar packets and exclaimed, “Thank you!” She wasted no time in tearing the little packages open and dumping in the contents.
Blake chuckled as Brooke set his soda down. “Thanks,” he said, shifting his gaze to her and offering her a smile.
Brooke tucked the tray against her side, grinning with amusement. “You’re both very welcome. So, did I miss anything interesting?”
Removing her lips from the straw, Angela said, “Your boyfriend told me about your stalker. And fortunately, I have never seen the guy in my life.”
“Lucky girl,” Brooke said with a faint laugh.
“So we’re back where we started,” Blake declared, frustration evident in his tone.
Brooke’s eyes drifted to follow the host of the night as he sat an elderly couple two tables over. “As much as I don’t want to cut this conversation short, it looks like I’ve got more customers.”
****
Blake came to a stop in his parents’ living room late the following morning, unsurprised to see his mother perched carefully on the edge of the coffee table and one of his brothers sleeping on the couch before her. Lillian’s hands were curved over Nate’s right forearm, hands and arm encompassed in a soft, golden glow. He took a deep breath and let his gaze move to his father, who was sitting in the armchair, fists clenched in his lap and frowning. His gaze shifted next to the loveseat, where Logan sat. Logan was scowling darkly, and his arms were crossed over his chest.
At length, Blake moved toward the loveseat. “What happened?”
Lillian’s voice was tight, but not quite strained, as she replied, “He was on his motorcycle when he rode into some sort of hail storm. He’s lucky his injuries aren’t worse.”
For a long moment, the silence returned. The accident that had crippled their Uncle Nicholas—and killed their Uncle Trevor—had been eerily similar. They’d been driving, and driven straight into a freak snow storm that had frozen the road. The car had spun out of control before either man could have reacted. And Blake, as well as his brother and their father, knew that Lillian was comparing her son’s wreck to the accident that had taken her brother from her.
Releasing a heavy breath, Christopher unclenched his fists and looked over at Blake, who had since settled into the seat beside his brother. “Did you get a hold of Dean?”
Blake’s attention shifted to his father, and he nodded. “Yeah. He’s fine, but he’s busy. There’s a fire downtown. He asked me to call if anything else came up.”
Christopher nodded, and once again they fell silent.
As Blake returned his attention to his healing brother, his own lips tipped down in a frown. There was no doubt in his mind this was more than a case of ‘wrong place, wrong time’. It was shortly after eleven in the morning on a Thursday. Angela was in school, which meant she wasn’t available to heal her brother. And though Lillian had healing powers as well, her powers were slowly fading with the natural progression of time. Injuries that would take Angela ten minutes to heal, leaving her in need of only a few minutes rest, would take Lillian nearly half an hour, and leave her notably tired.
And then there’s that fire, Blake reflected as he continued to watch the healing. Everyone in town knew Dean was one of their volunteer firefighters. And of course accidents happened. But the timing was something Blake found himself not inclined to ignore. We’ve been separated, he realized. If that fire was, in fact, not an ordinary accident, then Dean could still be in danger. And if he got hurt, their mother would be hard-pressed to heal him properly.
Blake gave a slight shake of his head, squeezing his eyes shut. I’m being paranoid, he told himself. For all they knew they had only one enemy. They hadn’t seen any evidence that pointed to a second person’s involvement. Never, that he knew of, had there been a coordinated attack. It’s just a coincidence, he told himself. But that was problem. Blake didn’t believe in major coincidences, like the downtown fire and the freak hail storm.
Looking sideways at his silent brother, Blake kept his voice low and asked, “What happened to his bike?”
Without taking his eyes from the pair by the couch, Logan replied, “It’s in the back of my truck. I’ll take it in later.”
Blake nodded, accepting the answer. He imagined it had been Nate’s insistence that had made Logan bother with the motorcycle.
“Blake,” Christopher began again. “Could you pick up your sister from school today?”
“Of course.”
Lillian’s voice was somewhat strained when she spoke again. “Do you have work?” Though she didn’t specify, the question was obviously directed at Blake.
“I already called in and switched shifts.”
Christopher stood without a word and strode heavily out of the living room, headed toward the kitchen. His posture was rigid, matching his clenched fists and jaw.
Blake returned his attention to his mother, whose eyes were narrowed in concentration. Hesitantly, he offered, “I could go get Angie now…”
“No,” Lillian insisted firmly. “I’m about done.”
Logan quietly said, “Nate’s arm was pretty well shattered. But the rest of him was just scraped and bruised.”
“That’s good, at least,” Blake admitted.
After another minute, Logan pushed to his feet, pausing to nod at Blake before he continued forward, toward the stairs. Blake took the silent hint and followed his brother up the steps. Nate would be asleep for a couple more hours at least, and their mother would probably need a nap herself when she was done. The least they could do was make sure Nate’s old room was ready.
They were folding down the comforter when Logan spoke. “There’s something else.”
Blake paused, the edge of the comforter still in his hand, and looked up at his brother. “What do you mean?”
“Nate wasn’t exactly on the interstate,” Logan explained. “And when I was on my way to get him, I was passed by
this old BMW. It was the only car on the road, and going the opposite direction.”
“Did you get a look at the driver?” Blake asked, recovering enough to finish adjusting the comforter.
“Only a glimpse,” Logan admitted. “But he was older. And he gave me a nasty look when he passed me.”
For an instant, Blake was disappointed. He’d honestly expected to hear a description fitting the man that had been semi-stalking Brooke. But then the rest of Logan’s words settled in his head, reminding him of another encounter he himself had had. It had been over a month since that night, but all of a sudden the memory was crystal clear. He remembered going to the diner for dinner, wanting to see Brooke, and having an awkward run-in with an older man. The man had glared at him for no reason before shoving past. And he was with another man, closer to my age, Blake realized. And then it dawned on him.
He had seen their enemies—the man who’d probably attacked Nate, as well as the one who seemed to be stalking Brooke.
“Blake?” Logan asked, sensing his brother’s distraction and raising an eyebrow.
Blake pulled himself back to the present with a shake of his head. “There’re two,” he declared firmly. “That man you saw today, I just remembered, I’ve seen him before, too. Before the attack on Angela. And he was with another man, who I’m pretty sure is the same guy that Brooke’s seen around a few times.”
Logan’s other eyebrow rose as well, both arching toward his hairline. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” Blake said with a slow nod. “I mean, I have no proof, but I’m positive. It’s the only thing that really makes any sense.”
“Hell, it’s more than we had twenty minutes ago. I wish I’d thought to look at his plates.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Blake stepped back from the bed and crossed his arms thoughtfully. “I’m going to call Dean before I head back down. Even if he doesn’t get the message right away, at least he’ll know what we do.”
Logan nodded. “Good idea.” Then he turned and walked around the bed, slipping from Nate’s room.
****
Brooke tucked her notepad into a front pocket and stepped into the main room. The diner was moderately busy for mid-morning on a Friday, but even so, Brooke was intercepted before she could reach her first table.
“Brooke!” Shelly, the hostess, called from another table she was sitting. She gestured to the phone on the counter, which was ringing. “Could you get that, please?”
With a silent nod, Brooke turned and moved quickly to the phone. “Earl’s Diner, this is Brooke, how can I help you?”
The voice on the other end hesitated a beat, and the signal was slightly scratchy, but the woman’s voice was still easily discernable as she spoke. “Yes, hello, is Earl available? Or Paula?” The slightest of accents flavored the woman’s voice, though Brooke couldn’t identify it specifically.
Brooke’s eyes flicked around, though she knew she wouldn’t see either of them. She knew for a fact that Earl was in the kitchen that day, but where Paula was, she had no idea. “I’m sorry,” she replied. “They’re busy at the moment. Can I take a message for you?”
“Oh, I see.” Disappointment laced the unknown woman’s voice. “Well, could you tell them Missy called? I talked to Paula a few days ago about that new chef position.”
By now, Shelly had returned to the front and was standing beside Brooke with a curious expression. Brooke’s eyebrows shot up, and she said quickly, “Actually, if you can hold on a second, I might be able to get Paula for you.”
“Yes, please,” the woman replied immediately, the tone of disappointment gone.
Putting her hand over the mouthpiece, Brooke whispered, “Take this, I’m going to find Paula. She’s calling about the job.”
Shelly nodded and switched places with Brooke.
As soon as Brooke was free of the phone, she moved swiftly toward the back again in search of Paula. The older woman hadn’t been in the back room earlier, but it was possible she was there now. Or in the kitchen with her husband. A quick survey assured Brooke that she wasn’t in the drink station, so Brooke pushed open the door to the back room. When she found it empty, she turned and crossed to the kitchen door.
She found Paula standing at the half-wall, talking with Earl. Ordinarily, she was opposed to interrupting a conversation between the two people who signed her paychecks, but she knew they would understand. Still, she cleared her throat first to gain their attention. When the couple had turned their eyes toward her, Brooke hurriedly said, “I’m sorry, Paula, but a woman named Missy is on the phone for you?”
“Oh, thank goodness!” Paula exclaimed, immediately starting forward. She smiled in silent gratitude to Brooke even as she brushed past her and out of the room.
Brooke just stood there for a moment and watched the door swing shut. I guess this Missy woman is someone they were hoping to hear from…
Deep, gravelly chuckling from behind her drew her attention, and Brooke turned to properly face her boss. Earl Sanders was the official owner of Earl’s Diner—he’d had the restaurant nearly two years longer than he had been married. He was a good, if not overly straightforward, man; a good man who had been incredibly upset about his previous chef’s inappropriate departure.
With a lopsided grin, Earl said, “Missy’s an old friend of Paula’s. They’ve kept in touch, an’ it turns out Missy’s little girl took a couple years of culinary school. She also happens to be lookin’ for a job, so we thought we’d reach out an’ see if we couldn’t help each other.”
Brooke nodded slowly. “Gotcha.” With a genuine smile, she added, “Well, I for one hope she comes through.”
Earl held up his hands, which were covered in spice-rub, and said, “Me, too.”
Chapter Nineteen
“It turns out Missy’s daughter, Madison, is working a temporary job right now,” Brooke was explaining as Blake turned onto his parent’s street Saturday afternoon. “It should be done in a couple of weeks, and she doesn’t like it so she’s definitely not staying longer, and then she’s going to be moving up here after that’s over.”
“She’s moving all the way up here for a ‘probably’?” Blake asked with a raised eyebrow. He slowed the car as he approached the driveway.
“Earl and Paula have promised her a job,” Brooke said. “The only part that’s not for sure is whether it’ll be as Ed’s replacement or as a sous chef. They finally talked one of the guys into stepping up if she doesn’t work out.”
Blake nodded, pulling in behind Logan’s truck. “That makes more sense. Well, I hope she works out. I know you’ve all been a little more frazzled since Ed ditched.”
Releasing a frustrated sigh, Brooke replied, “That’s one way to put it.”
They fell silent for a moment as Blake turned off the car and tugged the keys easily out of the ignition. He released his seat belt and looked over as Brooke did the same. “You ready?”
“I was hoping this would be easy, since I’ve already technically met the parents,” she declared. Her eyes flicked to the house visible beyond the windshield, and she added, “But it’s still a little daunting.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Blake replied, reaching over and wrapping a hand around one of hers. Their eyes met. “They already know and like you, remember? It will be easy.”
Brooke leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on his lips before pulling back and saying, “I’m certainly hoping so.”
Without another word, the couple stepped from the car, and Brooke self-consciously smoothed out her new light blue, loose-collared t-shirt. When she’d raided her closet for something other than regular denim to wear with it, she’d discovered a pair of ivory pants that she had thought lost the year before. Now she was fairly confident that she looked fine, but she was still worried about making a good impression. This was actually her first time interacting with the Hawkes as a family, all at once, in a non-emergency.
Blake’s chuckling drew her attention, a
nd she realized he was standing before her. “You look great,” he promised, his eyes only briefly skimming over her before returning to hers. “Come on.”
She took his proffered hand and allowed him to lead her up to the house.
As they stepped into the foyer and Blake paused to ease the door shut, Brooke realized that she could hear talking coming from down the hall. Multiple voices—which didn’t surprise her, considering the truck they’d parked behind.
“Sorry we’re a little late,” Blake declared as he and Brooke stepped into the large living room.
Christopher and Lillian were spread out in two of the three armchairs, and Eric and Angela were settled in the loveseat. Nate and Logan had claimed two spots on the oversized couch. The family looked over when Blake spoke, and multiple smiles were aimed their way.
Angela’s smile of greeting morphed into a grin. “The only one who’s late is Dean. Again.”
“Brooke.” Lillian rose to her feet and moved toward them, a smile on her face. “I’m so glad you could come.”
Brooke returned the smile and let herself be pulled into the loose embrace. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“Of course we’d invite you.” Nate shifted closer to Logan in order to make more room on the couch for the couple. “We get tired of teasing Angie all the time.”
Logan reached up silently and smacked his brother upside the head.
Guilt washed over Brooke as she followed Blake to the couch, realizing she had completely forgotten that Nate had been injured just a couple of days prior. She couldn’t believe the attack had slipped her mind after how shaken up Blake had seemed. Still, she knew she had no real reason to be feeling guilty, so she smiled and said, “Hey, guys.”
As they settled on the couch, Blake looked over at Nate seriously. “How’re you doing?”
Nate’s face scrunched unhappily. “My bike’s in the shop, and probably will be for a while. I’m grumpy.”
Blake lifted an eyebrow. And from what Brooke remembered of his story, she understood why. Apparently, Nate’s bike had been pretty well totaled. “Why not just buy a new one?”
