by Elle Wright
As they walked toward the bank of elevators, Parker greeted employees. Carter studied their interactions, noting the sincere admiration on many of the people’s faces when talking with Parker. He briefly wondered if they’d have the same reaction to Parker Sr.
“How are you enjoying Wellspring?” Parker asked.
“I haven’t had much of a chance to see the town. I arrived late Thursday night. Thank you for arranging for a rental, by the way.”
“It’s no problem. You’re going to be here a while, and hotel life is not what’s up.”
Carter’s business was based on being able to travel to different locations, nationally and internationally. Prior to the fire, he’d spent a lot of time in the airport and on airplanes. He hated living out of a suitcase. Temporary housing was an amazing benefit of any job, especially one lasting longer than a few weeks.
“Do you shoot pool?” Parker asked.
Carter grinned. “I don’t think anybody in this town wants to see me on that pool table.” He’d learned from the best, his mother. She was a bona fide hustler and had made hundreds of dollars off fools who assumed they couldn’t be smacked down by a woman.
“Ah, I sense a challenge.”
“If you’re ready to lose, I’m ready to school you.” Carter didn’t make it a point to get loose with clients, but he had a good feeling about Parker.
“Brook’s Pub has four-dollar pitchers on Thursdays. Me and a few others go down there to shoot pool after work. Why don’t you come out? It would be a good opportunity to meet some of our employees.”
Carter agreed to join Parker and his crew, and ended the meeting with another handshake before leaving. He picked up this phone on his way to the car and punched in a number. “What’s up? We need to talk.”
* * *
Brooklyn tossed her bag onto a barstool at the hotel café and ordered a double latte. After her morning, she needed to skip the coffee and head straight to the bar. If she wasn’t convinced she’d come off as paranoid, she would have accused the hotel valet of deliberately messing with her car. Because she’d rushed to her car, late to work, to find that she had not one, but four flat tires.
She’d spent the morning arguing with Sheriff Walker about not doing anything to deserve it. Brooklyn could admit that she was a little—or a lot—feisty. Yes, she had a touch of road rage and could be a little rude in the morning. But other than her penchant for being brutally honest, she’d done nothing to deserve vandalism as extreme as flattening her tires.
It wasn’t the sheriff’s fault, though. He’d watched Brooklyn grow up and knew she had never shied away from a good conflict, but that was back in her wayward teenage years, when she was a grieving, troubled child who’d spent far too much time with her brother and his football teammates. Yes, Brooklyn had been the ultimate tomboy and an honorable member of the “guy crew.”
Nicole wobbled into the café and sat down, groaning as if she was in tremendous pain. “What’s up? You rang?”
“I did. I figured since the doctor took you off work, we could hang out together, since work is obviously a bust for me.”
Her best friend hissed out a ragged breath, followed by another two deep breaths.
Frowning, Brooklyn assessed Nicole. “Are you okay?”
“Hell. No.” Nicole rubbed her stomach. “This baby is like a freakin’ horror movie in my stomach, always moving around and kicking me. The other day, I was sitting perfectly still and the baby kicked so hard, my boob jumped up.”
Unable to hold her laughter, Brooklyn dropped her head onto the table and giggled. “You’re crazy, Nic. That’s impossible.”
“No joke. Ask Kyle.” Nicole ordered a passion-fruit tea when the barista approached them. “He got a real kick out of it. I’m so ready for this to be over.”
“Girl, you better enjoy sleep while you can get it.”
“Whatever. I just keep praying my stomach bounces back. I still have a lot of bikini years ahead of me.” Nicole tapped the table. “Anyway, other than your car woes, how are you? I’m sorry I haven’t been by to see you. I’ve been sleeping and eating. That’s the only thing I can do with this bowling ball in my stomach.”
Brooklyn wished she knew the answer to that. Staying in the hotel wasn’t optimal for her. The rooms were immaculate, but she liked to sleep in her own bed. “It’s okay. I’ve been searching for places. I even put an offer on a house.”
Her friend’s eyes went wide. “Really? That is a big step, Brooklyn.”
Shrugging, Brooklyn said, “It was, but I didn’t get the house.”
“Not that I’m trying to get rid of you, but have you considered just moving back to Boston? You love it there. Or moving south? You won’t have to see Wellspring Water everywhere. You could drink Nestle or Smart Water.”
Brooklyn giggled. “Not really, not right now. I love my work at the clinic. Besides, moving south was never an option. That was your thing. I love the change in the seasons.”
“Yuck. What I wouldn’t do to be able to wake up to warm temperatures every day, and not just the sporadic days we have here.”
“Anyway, I’m thinking I want a house near the river, with a wraparound porch and lots of greenery.” Brooklyn loved to be outside, whether she was walking, riding her bike, or just sitting in the park and reading a book.
The barista, Harley, leaned over the counter. “Brooklyn, I hate to ask, but can you man the counter while I run to the restroom?”
Smiling at the young worker, Brooklyn nodded. It wasn’t the first time Harley had asked her to pitch in. Her father did own the hotel, and Harley trusted Brooklyn. She walked behind the counter, grinning at Mr. Flankman, who sat at the bar, nursing a coffee.
“What do you think about a house on the lake?” she asked Nic, who was gulping down the rest of her tea.
“Expensive.” Nicole burped. “And you’re just you. You don’t need a house that big. Unless you’re planning to get married and have babies like me.”
Carter walked into the café at that moment, and headed straight to the corner booth he’d sat in each morning. Brooklyn wasn’t sure if it was punishment, karma, or both, but it seemed like he’d been avoiding her. She’d seen him every day, but he’d barely spoken, and only waved once. She wondered what she’d done to turn him off.
“Nicole craned her neck to see what Brooklyn was looking at. “There’s Mr. Hotness right now. Go talk to him.”
“Again? He already turned me down for dinner once. What am I supposed to say?”
“Ask him what he wants to order, since you’re filling in for Harley.” Nicole wiggled her eyebrows. “You look hot today. He’ll pay attention.”
Brooklyn’s gaze dropped down to her suit. She did look pretty damn good, with her favorite black pencil skirt, wine-colored Bardot top, and pumps. Not to mention, her accessory game was on point. “Okay, you’re right. I’m Ms. Hotness. He better recognize.”
She grabbed a pad of paper and sauntered over to the booth. However, once she was right in front of him, a rush of nerves made her steps falter. He was reading his tablet, a frown fixed on his face.
This is it. Swallowing, she asked, “Can I get you something?”
His gaze flashed to hers, and he did a double take before meeting her eyes. “You . . . work here?”
“For about five minutes.”
He scratched his temple. “For five minutes.” He’d repeated it as if he had to say it aloud to be sure he heard her correctly.
Brooklyn licked her lips. “I’m filling in for Harley.”
“Okay.” He stared at her.
Shifting under his silent assessment, she asked again, “So, can I get you anything?”
“Nothing for now, thank you.”
Brooklyn let out a sigh, and gave a curt nod. “Fine.” Grumbling a curse, she stalked back over to the bar and slammed that damn pad of paper down. “Do I have something stuck in my teeth, Nic?”
Her friend leaned in, squinting her eyes as if she were
trying to see her teeth. “No.”
“He’s so standoffish.” She smacked her hands down hard on her thighs as a wave of frustration took over. “I give up.”
Nic turned to look over at the booth. Carter’s head was down as he studied the tablet screen intently. “What did he say?”
“Basically, nothing. He hates me.”
Nicole waved her off. “No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know you enough to hate you.”
“Whatever. You should have seen the way he was staring at me. Like I was disgusting or something.”
Nicole rubbed her ever-growing belly again. “Maybe he’s gay?”
Brooklyn tilted her head, watching the way he focused on whatever he was doing. He really was a beautiful man, long and lean with dark skin and full lips. Suddenly, she felt warm. Hot, really.
“Hello?” Nicole called, waving a hand in front of her.
She jerked back. “Sorry.” She spared him one last glance before topping off Mr. Flankman’s mug. Now to the question at hand. Is he gay? Even though he hadn’t spared her a second glance, she didn’t think so. She couldn’t explain it, but she would bet that Carter was a man who knew how to love a woman.
* * *
Carter tried to concentrate on his emails, but forcing his gaze from the attractive Brooklyn proved too difficult. He’d been shocked when she approached him, looking fine in her tight skirt and blouse. Her brown skin was glowing like a beacon of light in the dark. And her legs in those damn heels . . . Groaning, he swiped at his tablet.
There was nothing in particular he was searching for, he just had to keep himself busy. Because if he didn’t, he’d probably give in to the impulse to look at her.
He wasn’t an old man, but he acted like one. No woman since Krys had made him look twice—until now. The thought had thrown him off because it was unexpected. Most people would tell him he’d waited long enough to get back into the dating pool, but he didn’t think he’d waited long enough. Yes, it had been two years, but the thought of seeing someone, of letting someone get close to him, felt like disrespect to Krys’s memory. It was illogical, because he was a single man and should be going out with women.
He picked up his phone and dialed his sister.
“What’s wrong?” Aisha asked. “Everything okay?”
“Damn, can’t I call my sister?”
“Yes. It’s just that . . . you never call anymore.”
Carter felt like shit. He’d effectively pushed everyone he cared about away. “I know. I’m sorry.” He’d treated them badly, with no apologies. But he hoped they would eventually forgive him.
“Don’t apologize, baby brother. I love you regardless of whether you call or not.”
He chuckled. “I love you, too.”
“How was the meeting this morning?”
Carter gave her the same update he’d given Martin when he talked to him a little while ago. He expected to be able to bring a team out after Easter.
“That’s great. Meet any available women?”
He’d met a woman, alright. But he wasn’t sure she was available. More importantly, he wasn’t sure he was available.
“Aisha, am I ever going to be able to talk to you without you asking about my love life? You are my sister.”
Aisha laughed. “Whatever. I’m just concerned.”
“I know. But I’m okay.” It wasn’t an outright lie. He was okay. Just a little tormented.
“I may plan a visit down to see you. I could use a little getaway.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
He glanced up in time to see Brooklyn emerge from behind the bar with a pitcher of coffee. She walked over to an older gentleman. The man spoke to her with a wide smile, before she leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead. Then she filled up his mug.
“Carter?” Aisha called over the phone.
He shook himself out of his reverie. “I’m here.”
“I was just reminding you to check the shared drive on the network. There are a few requests for proposals for you to review.”
“Bet.” He checked his watch. “I better get going. I’ll check in later in the week.”
He hung up the phone and stood, stuffing his tablet into his laptop bag. It was still early in the day. A late lunch would hit the spot. He headed toward the exit.
On his way out, he stole a glance at Brooklyn, who was now seated at the bar talking to the barista and Nicole. As if she sensed his presence, she turned and smiled before returning to the conversation. Yep, I’m in trouble.
Chapter 6
Brooklyn was going stir-crazy. She’d been stuck in her damn room for hours. Harley had called to warn her that her father was in the hotel. And since she didn’t want him to see her, she’d holed up in her small-ass room for three hours. Three hours. It was Thursday night and her week had been one calamity after another. She’d planned to wind down with a few drinks at Brook’s Pub. Instead, she was sprawled across the bed in her bra and panties, staring at the ceiling.
I’m such a dud. Brook’s Pub was the Thursday night hangout for her age group. The fellas shot pool and drank beers, the women had shots and learned line dances. The music was loud and the food was good. And she was at home. Correction, she was at the stupid hotel.
Jumping up, she paced the room. Why the hell do I let him control my life and my actions? If she could figure that out, she would be one step closer to having the semblance of the life she’d always wanted for herself. An independent life. Yes, she’d made it a point to assert her own will for her life by leaving town multiple times. Yes, she defied her father by going into a field that he abhorred. Yes, she worked and made her own money, which was huge. Still, she needed access to her trust fund to live. And for that, she depended on Senior to give it to her.
It was time to make some lasting changes or she’d always be put in the same position—moving away every so often to prove a point, only to return because there was something that always brought her back to Wellspring. Safe to say she’d never return to her father’s home, but she hoped she would be able to put down roots in her hometown.
Marrying Sterling was the last straw in her already tenuous relationship with her father. There was no way she was going to fall in line and marry a man that she couldn’t stand. She’d suffocate slowly. Shaking her head out of those thoughts, she called the café.
“Is he still in the building?” she asked when Harley picked up.
“Yes. He’s in the hotel restaurant.”
“Fine.” She slammed the phone down on the base. There was no way her father didn’t know she was staying in the hotel. Where else would she go? Staying with Parker wasn’t an option for her. She loved her brother, but he deserved to have a life.
Senior was probably doing this on purpose, dragging out his visit. Parker had told her about her father’s surprise trip out of town earlier in the week. It had been a welcome reprieve for Brooklyn. She wished Senior would stay gone. Forever.
I’m still letting him control me. Brooklyn had waited long enough. Her father wasn’t going to keep her from living her life. Period. She pulled on her black skinny jeans, a black-and-white sheer blouse and a pair of high-heeled Mary Jane shoes. She twirled in the mirror once she was done. In a last-minute decision, she pulled her wig off and mussed her short hair. She’d wear it curly and natural.
With a burst of confidence, she tugged the door open and walked out with her head held high. On the first floor, though, she peeked around the corner like a thief. The coast was clear. She dashed through the lobby, throwing a hand over her face.
Home free, she walked out into the street. The temp was holding steady at fifty-five degrees. It was the perfect night for shenanigans and ice cream. Unfortunately, her partner-in-crime had turned down an invitation earlier, in favor of Netflix and ice cream with her husband.
Brooklyn was happy for Nic. Really, she was. But damn if she didn’t need to make another friend. One who was single and ready to party. She was only twenty-six years
old. She wasn’t ready for Netflix and boring. She was ready for shots and table-top dancing. Throw in a little sex every now and then, she was living the life.
Brook’s Pub was packed, standing room only. She stood on the tips of her toes and scanned the bar, hoping to spot Parker among the patrons. Brooklyn made her way over to the bar. Smacking a hand down on the bar, she shouted, “Juke, I need a shot over here.”
The bartender, Juke, turned and winked at her. “You got it, Brooklyn.”
Juke and Brooklyn had been friends for years, since they were students in Mr. Smith’s seventh-grade science class. He was an imposing figure, a six-foot-one, brown-eyed block of muscle with tattoos covering his arms. But he was also the sweetest, most considerate person. And she loved the hell out of him.
When Juke bought the bar, he’d named it Brook’s Pub. They were such good friends people had assumed he named it after her, and Juke had never corrected them. She figured it was probably because he was too manly to admit he’d named his bar after his dog. Juke returned, a full Kamikaze shot in hand. He slid it over to her and she took it, slamming the glass back on the bar.
“Thanks, Juke. Give me some love.”
Juke reached out and pulled her to him for a quick hug. “I was wondering if you were going to come in here tonight. It’s been crazy. Want another?” He motioned to the empty shot glass.
She nodded, before she leaned forward and kissed him on his cheek. He busied himself helping several customers before bringing her back another shot. “I almost didn’t make it. Senior was at the hotel.”
He frowned. “Hotel?”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you I moved out.”
“When did this happen?”
Brooklyn made quick work of taking her shot. When he asked her if she wanted a refill, she shook her head. “Friday, man. Right after he and Sterling ambushed me. He wants me to marry Sterling.”
He snorted. “Does he realize that you hate that fool?”
“He doesn’t care. But I don’t want to talk about that. Have you seen Parker?”
