by Lisa Crane
Travis took his time putting his jacket on before answering, saying, “Ah, actually, I have plans for Friday evening.”
“Oh,” Brooke said, a blush staining her cheeks. She was an idiot! Of course, a man like Travis had plans for a Friday night! “Sure, no problem! We can do it another time. Sometime when you don’t have a date.”
“How do you know I have a date?” he asked, tugging lightly at the scarf around Brooke’s neck. “It could be work, you know.”
“I just assumed…don’t you have a date?”
“It’s not really a date. More like…catching up with an old friend.”
Brooke had a moment of clarity. She looked up at Travis and said, “Your redhead, right?”
“She’s not my redhead,” Travis said, holding the door open for Brooke. His eyes didn’t quite meet hers.
“Ha!” Brooke snorted. “I saw that kiss! If she’s not yours, what’s the story?”
“We used to see each other.”
“See each other?” Brooke burst out laughing.
“Okay, we dated,” Travis admitted, wondering as he did why he was so reluctant to say the words. “We dated for about six months before I left for my last tour of duty.”
“She didn’t send you a ‘Dear John’ letter, did she?” Brooke gasped.
“No, nothing like that,” he chuckled. “I was actually the one who told her she should date other people. I didn’t think it was fair to ask her to wait. We didn’t have any real commitment to each other.”
“Oh, so now that you’re back….”
“I’ve been back for over a year, Bunny-girl,” Travis said. “I just…didn’t call her when I came home. Running into her yesterday morning was a surprise. She’s the one who asked me out.”
They walked back to the bakery in silence. Travis was wondering why he’d felt it necessary to make sure Brooke understood about Lorna; specifically, he wanted her to know he hadn’t called the woman in over a year. For her part, Brooke was thinking how stupid she’d been to simply assume Travis would be free for dinner with her. Travis Cooper probably had women falling all over themselves to date him. The thought of all those women made Brooke just a little miserable. It didn’t seem to matter how often she protested to herself that Travis was out of her league; she was attracted to the man, plain and simple.
It wasn’t only a physical attraction, either, although remembering the feel of his tongue against her finger, Brooke had to admit that was certainly part of it! But it was more than that. Brooke enjoyed spending time with Travis; he was kind, caring, gentle and funny. Brooke enjoyed talking to him, listening to him talk in that deep voice, telling her about his business or his family or his time in the military. And all of it added up to sheer stupidity on her part. But Brooke could no more walk away from Travis’ friendship than she could stop breathing. She knew, without a doubt, that she would be hurt. How could she not be when she was falling in love with the man?
Chapter 20
By the end of the day, Travis had finished installing the security system. He showed Riley and Jazz how to arm it in various ways. Brooke occupied herself sweeping the bakery and kitchen; in addition to the usual “baking debris”, as Jazz called it, there were bits of wire and shavings from Travis’ alarm work. By the time Travis finished showing Riley and Jazz the alarm system, Brooke was finished sweeping and had begun mopping.
“Do you always work this hard?” Riley asked, watching her.
“I just like to stay busy,” Brooke answered, shrugging. “And I believe in giving my employers their money’s worth.”
“Exactly!” Jazz said. She took the mop from Brooke and handed it to Riley. “We’re your employers, not slave drivers. Go home! Travis, take her home!”
“You got it, Jazz!” Travis said. He winked at her and turned to Brooke. “You heard her, Cupcake. Let’s hit the road.”
“I thought she was your Bunny-girl,” Riley observed.
“Bunny-girl, Cupcake.” Travis shrugged, smiling. “She’s cute and sweet, so either one works for me.” He tilted his head, looking thoughtfully at Brooke. “Which do you prefer?”
Brooke merely rolled her eyes at him. She reached for her coat, but Travis took it from her hands and held it. She looked at him for a moment before turning her back to him and slipping her arms into the sleeves of the worn leather jacket. Travis put his hands on Brooke’s shoulders and turned her to face him; he zipped her jacket and wrapped the scarf securely around her throat. Riley and Jazz watched the whole scene, transfixed by what they saw.
After Travis ushered Brooke out the door, Riley looked at his wife, asking, “Were we ever that oblivious to our attraction to each other?”
“Never!” Jazz chuckled, leaning against Riley as they watched the Hummer drive away. She looked up at him. “You walked in that door, I took one look at you, and I was a goner!”
“Me, too, mi amor,” Riley replied. “Me, too.”
In Travis’ vehicle, Brooke glanced over at her neighbor and asked, “So…do you have any work you’d like for me to do tonight?”
“Actually, yes,” Travis answered. “I’ve got some accounting work – billing, to be specific. We can do that together, so you can learn the system. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with it.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll come over after I shower.”
Travis gave her a curious glance. “Dirty job at the bakery, is it?”
“I smell like a cupcake.”
“I think you smell nice.”
“I feel sticky,” Brooke added. “Like I have frosting all over me.”
Travis suffered a sudden coughing fit at Brooke’s innocent declaration. Unbidden images of Brooke Valentine popped into his addled brain; images of Brooke, her head thrown back in ecstasy as Travis licked frosting from the smooth column of her throat. Brooke, moaning softly, as Travis scattered cupcake sprinkles down her body, between her breasts and across her bare belly.
“Are you all right?” Brooke asked, her violet eyes wide with concern.
“Yeah,” Travis choked out in a strangled voice. “Yeah, fine.”
Travis had recovered somewhat by the time he turned into his driveway. Brooke slid out of the passenger seat and walked toward her own house; she gave Travis a friendly little wave over her shoulder. Travis watched her walk away; when she closed her front door, he dropped his head forward and groaned. What was wrong with him?
Even if Brooke were the type of woman Travis usually dated – and she wasn’t, he assured himself again – she didn’t seem at all interested in him. Certainly, she was attracted to him; Travis wasn’t an idiot, he knew Brooke found him attractive. But other than that, she’d given him no reason to think she might be interested in anything other than friendship.
“She’s not my type anyway!” Travis growled, turning toward his house.
“Who are you trying to convince?”
Travis started at the voice from the shadows on his front porch. He recognized Nick’s lanky form and Will’s shorter, bulky one. He shook his head.
“Nobody,” Travis muttered.
“I thought you weren’t interested in her,” Will teased. “You said she’s not your type.”
“I don’t have a type!” Travis snapped.
“Sure you do, boss,” Will continued, laughing. In the stillness of the evening, his voice carried. “Your type is tall and cool, with legs up to here! Your type is thin and sexy and gorgeous! Your type is blonde or redhead. Your type is definitely not short, plain and plump!”
“Shut up, Will!” Travis raised his voice slightly to be heard over Will’s joking chatter. “There’s nothing going on between Brooke and me. Not now, not ever.”
Nick, still standing in the shadows on the front porch, was looking toward Brooke’s house. He saw the light in the bedroom nearest his friend’s house. He saw the shadow behind the curtains. And he saw a hand slip between the curtains and slowly slide the window shut. The shadow remained where it stood for a moment,
shoulders slumped, head bowed, before moving away from the window. The question, he thought, was whether or not to tell Travis Brooke Valentine had heard the whole conversation.
Travis’ cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the display before touching the screen to answer.
“Hey, Brooke,” he said casually. “What’s up?” He listened for a moment, frowning slightly. “Oh. No, that’s all right. We can do it another time. You should take it easy and get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Travis hung up. He continued frowning at the display on his phone for a moment, as if searching for answers to unasked questions.
“Problem?” Nick asked.
“No,” Travis answered thoughtfully. He shoved his phone back in his pocket. “No, not really. Brooke was going to help me with some of the paperwork this evening – she’s agreed to help until I hire someone full-time. But that was her on the phone. She said she’s too tired tonight.”
Nick’s gaze slid back toward Brooke’s window. He debated telling Travis Brooke had overheard his argument with Will. Before he could open his mouth, however, Will jumped in on a new topic; the trio went inside, discussing business as they went.
Brooke stood in her shower, wishing the warm water could wash away the heaviness in her heart as easily as it did the smell of frosting and sugar. She closed her eyes and tilted her face up to the steamy stream, allowing it to flow down her face along with a few wayward tears. When the water began to cool, she turned off the shower and reached for a towel. She dried, dressed in lounge pants and a camisole and reached for a comb. She stopped, looking at herself critically in the mirror. Her lower lip trembled slightly.
“I’m not fat,” she whispered miserably to her reflection.
Brooke turned away from the mirror. She quickly combed her hair and left the bathroom. She walked to the kitchen, where she stood looking in the pantry for a moment. While she was still in the hospital, Travis had put several bags of groceries in her pantry and her refrigerator. Now though, staring at the various packages, cans and boxes, Brooke found she had no appetite. Will Barnes’ words seemed to be stuck on an endless loop in her brain; short, plain and plump…short, plain and plump. Brooke shut the pantry, made a cup of tea instead, and went to the living room. She watched the evening news, let Boo out one last time for the night, then went to bed.
When Brooke slept, she dreamed. Her mother stood beside her in front of a mirror; her mother’s gaze was sharp and critical, missing nothing in her daughter’s appearance. She sneered as she pointed out Brooke’s flaws.
“If I didn’t know better,” Satin said, “I’d say you weren’t my kid. Look at those short legs! And now you’ve got that ugly scar, too! It’s a good thing you got some brains, Bunny, ‘cause you’ll never make it onstage!”
Satin’s image shifted and morphed into that of Will Barnes. His eyes roved up and down Brooke’s body and he laughed.
“Yep,” he chuckled. “Short, plain, plump, chubby, dumpy, dowdy….”
Will’s litany went on until the image shifted again. Lorna, Travis’ Titian-haired beauty, replaced Will. Lorna said nothing, merely looked at her own reflection, then at Brooke’s. Her olive-colored eyes raked over Brooke from the top of her messy ponytail, over her minimally made-up face and oversized sweatshirt and jeans, to her worn Converse sneakers. Lorna’s opinion was obvious; Brooke Valentine couldn’t hold a candle to the other woman.
Finally, the image next to Brooke changed again and Travis stood beside her. Smiling fondly, he patted Brooke on top of her head. He shook his head sadly.
“Sorry, Bunny-girl,” he said, his voice overly kind to Brooke’s ears. “A round little cupcake like you just isn’t my type.”
Brooke’s head turned from side to side on her pillow. She mumbled in her sleep. Tears slid from between her tightly closed lids, soaking into her pillow.
Chapter 21
The next morning, Travis stood on Brooke’s front porch, staring incredulously at a piece of paper taped to her door. He yanked it off and read it again.
Travis, Brooke had written in her quick scrawl. You don’t need to take me to work this morning. Don’t worry, I didn’t take the bike. I called a cab. See you later, Brooke.
Travis wadded the paper in his fist and threw it on the porch. After a moment, he bent and retrieved it, shoving it into the front pocket of his jeans. He stomped back to his own house, slamming the front door behind him. He stood there for a moment, trying to get a grip on his anger.
Travis couldn’t pinpoint a real reason for his anger. Brooke Valentine was a grown woman; as she’d repeatedly pointed out to him, she was not Travis’ problem. How she got to work was her own business. But this made twice that Brooke had stood him up, more or less. First she’d backed out of working with him last night. Now she’d left, knowing Travis would be over soon to take her to work. It was almost as if she were avoiding him. Still frowning darkly, Travis strode to his office, his boots sounding sharply on the wood floor.
Inside the warm atmosphere of Babycakes, Jazz and Riley watched Brooke climb out of a battered taxicab. They exchanged curious looks as their employee entered the bakery silently. Brooke mumbled a greeting and continued on to the kitchen in the back. She was tying an apron at her waist when Jazz and Riley pushed through the swinging door.
“You okay, kiddo?” Riley asked.
“Fine,” Brooke answered, her tone flat.
“Oh-kay,” he said slowly. Jazz gave him a tiny headshake. “All right, then, I’ll just be out front if you girls need me.”
When Riley walked back to the front of the bakery, Jazz smiled easily at Brooke, saying, “I thought I’d have you start on the Taylor wedding cake this morning. The tiers you baked yesterday are in the cooler, so if you’ll get those and do the crumb-coat, we can frost and decorate this afternoon.”
“I’ll get started,” Brooke said.
“Okay,” Jazz said. “I’ll get started on pies for next week.”
Brooke’s head came up then. She looked blankly at Jazz.
“What’s next week?” she asked.
“Hello?” Jazz laughed. “Thanksgiving? You know, gratitude to our Creator. Turkey, dressing, pumpkin pie? How do you forget Thanksgiving?”
“Oh,” Brooke said. She gave a little sigh. “I never really do much for holidays.”
“Your family doesn’t do anything?” Jazz asked carefully.
“I don’t really have much family. Just my mother, and she’s not big on family celebrations. I’m used to it.”
“Well, maybe I can talk you into joining my family this year.”
“We’ll see,” Brooke said. “I usually go work at a soup kitchen.”
“You don’t have to decide right now.”
Jazz smiled and moved away to gather the ingredients she needed. Brooke went to the big walk-in cooler and rolled out a cart that held several large tiers of cake. She hefted the largest one onto the worktable and began working silently. As the two women worked, Jazz was able to observe Brooke.
The younger woman’s usual ready smile was nowhere in sight. She looked tired, pale shadows beneath her eyes. Her eyes were also slightly red-rimmed and puffy, as if she’d been crying. Jazz was certain there was a direct correlation between Brooke’s appearance and demeanor and the absence of a certain big, handsome man this morning. She wondered what had happened between the two neighbors; they’d seemed to be getting along fine the day before.
Brooke remained quiet throughout the morning. Shortly after one, when the lunch rush was over, Riley flipped the “Open” sign over. He and Jazz went to the office; they called Brooke to join them.
“Have a seat,” Riley said, pushing a stack of catalogs off a chair. “Get your lunch and join us.”
“Oh, I didn’t bring my lunch today,” Brooke replied as she sat.
“Oh, were you going to go get something?” Jazz asked.
“No, I…I’m not hungry.”
“What, a
re you on some stupid diet?” Riley asked, popping the top on a can of soda.
“Riley!” Jazz gasped.
Startled by her sharp tone, Riley looked up. He followed her gaze to Brooke’s face. It took a second before he understood the stricken expression on her face.
“No, no, that’s not what I meant, Brooke!” he said quickly. “I don’t think you need to be on a diet! You look great just the way you are!” He shook his head adamantly. “No, it’s just – my sister-in-law is constantly on a diet. She might eat one decent meal in a week. Other than that, if she eats at all, it’s something ridiculous like lettuce with vinegar.”
“Your sister-in-law also drinks like a fish and smokes like a chimney, so let’s not go there, shall we?” Jazz said tartly. She looked at Brooke, her dark eyes kind. “You do know Riley didn’t mean you should diet, right?”
“I know he didn’t mean that,” Brooke said, nodding slightly.
“But you think you should be on one,” Riley observed. He shook his head. “Why would you think that, Brooke?”
“Just…maybe fifteen pounds,” she mumbled.
“Brooke, honey, starving yourself isn’t the way to lose fifteen pounds,” Jazz said gently.
“That’s not why I didn’t bring my lunch,” Brooke said. “I really just wasn’t hungry this morning, and nothing sounded good.”
“You’re not getting sick, are you?” Riley asked.
“No, I’m okay.” Brooke shrugged restlessly. She stared at a swirl in the wood on the front of Jazz’ss desk.
“Something happen between you and Travis?”
“There is no me and Travis, so no,” Brooke said. She rose and turned to leave. “I think I’ll get some air. I’ll be back shortly.”
After they heard the bakery’s front door close, Riley turned to Jazz, an expression of chagrin on his face. He sighed.
“I feel terrible, Jazz!” he said. “You know I didn’t mean to imply she needs to lose weight.”
“I know, baby,” Jazz agreed, nodding. “But for some reason, Brooke seems to believe she does.”
