by Lisa Crane
“Ugh, Brooke!” she moaned. “You are the biggest idiot on the planet!”
When she was dry and dressed in a pair of sweats, she picked up her phone. She hesitated for just a moment. Her finger hovered indecisively over the buttons. Finally, she dialed a number, then waited for a voice on the other end.
“Riley?” Brooke queried. “I’m really sorry to bother you at home, but…” Her voice broke. “Is Jazz home? No? Oh…no…no message.” She cleared her throat. “Thanks – thanks anyway, Riley.”
Brooke hung up. About two minutes later, her phone rang. She answered it.
“H-hello?”
“Brooke!” Jazz’s voice came through the phone. “What’s going on? Riley said you sounded upset.”
“Jazz, I’m so sorry to bother you on Sunday!” Brooke said.
“It’s okay, honey,” Jazz assured her. She laughed. “I’m just helping my abuela with a few things before Thursday. But we’re taking a break, so tell me what’s wrong?”
“Travis kissed me!” Brooke blurted out.
“And that’s a bad thing, Brooke?” Jazz asked. Brooke could hear laughter in the other woman’s voice. “Isn’t that what we wanted?”
“Jazz, it was bad!”
“Bad? No way! Brooke, you can’t tell me Travis Cooper is a bad kisser!”
“No, Jazz!” Brooke wailed, tears threatening to choke her. “I’m bad! I’ve kissed four, maybe five men my whole life, Jazz!” A little whimper escaped her and when she spoke again, her voice was a whisper. “Jazz, it was such a bad kiss he – he pushed me away and told me I should go inside! Oh, I feel so stupid!”
“Brooke, calm down,” Jazz said evenly. “Where are you? Are you at home? I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay? Just sit tight.”
“Okay….”
Brooke hung up. She heard her front door open, followed by the sound of Boo’s claws on the hardwood floor. Hearing the front door close, she rose and walked out of her bedroom to the living room. The room was empty. Travis had simply opened the door, let the dog inside and left.
Brooke sat down in an over-stuffed chair and pulled her knees up. That was exactly how she remained until Jazz Valenzuela Parker knocked and walked in the front door. Jazz sat on the sofa and leaned forward.
“You okay, Brooke?” she asked gently.
“Yeah, I’m just peachy, Jazz,” Brooke answered. Then she sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“Just tell me why you think the kiss was so terrible, Brooke.” Brooke shrugged a little, but remained silent. “But Brooke, honey, that wasn’t the first kiss between you two, was it?”
“No.”
“How many times has he kissed you?”
“Maybe…maybe three or four.”
“Okay, think about this, Brooke,” Jazz said, her tone logical and reasonable. “If you’re such a bad kisser, why does he keep kissing you?”
“I have no idea, Jazz!” Brooke gave a humorless laugh. “Boo probably knows more about men than I do!”
“Boo?” Jazz echoed blankly. At the sound of his name, the dog came trotting in from the kitchen. “Oh, my goodness! I didn’t know you had a horse!”
Brooke laughed a little, then sobered again. She stroked Boo’s head between his ears and the dog plopped down to sit beside her chair.
“I’m so stupid, Jazz,” she sighed. “I’m sorry I bothered you with this. I guess I just needed a shoulder to cry on – one besides Travis’, that is!”
“It’s no bother,” Jazz said sincerely. “I’m glad you called me. And now that you’ve cried a little bit, I want you to listen to me. I have a plan.”
“What kind of plan?” Brooke asked doubtfully. “A plan for what?”
“A plan to shake Travis Cooper up a little.”
“Oh, I don’t think I want to do that.” Brooke shook her head. “Jazz, I don’t want to lose his friendship.”
“Do you want more than his friendship, Brooke?”
“Well…that’s not really an option.”
“Says who?” Jazz demanded. “This is what’s going to happen, Brooke. You’re going to act like that kiss never happened. And if he kisses you again, unless he proclaims his undying love for you, you’re going to pretend that kiss never happened! Do you understand?” Brooke nodded uncertainly. “You’re going to go on like nothing happened, letting Travis bring you to work and anywhere else you need to go until you get your car back.”
“It’s supposed to be ready tomorrow,” Brooke interjected.
“Perfect!” Jazz crowed. “Then you can ignore him until Thursday, when he takes you to Thanksgiving dinner at his parents’ house!”
“What if he doesn’t want me to go anymore?”
“Brooke, honey, enough with the pity party, all right?” Jazz continued. “Unless he’s a complete jerk, Travis is not going to rescind the invitation. So you are going with him on Thursday, got it? And you’re going to wear that dress we picked out, and those pretty little shoes with the ankle straps. You’re going to do your hair and makeup the way Marlena and that saleslady showed you. And you’re going to be your usual sweet, charming, adorable self.”
“Great, I sound like a puppy,” Brooke muttered.
“Stop it!” Jazz scolded, giggling as she did. “Then on Friday evening, you’re going to have a hot date!”
“With Travis?”
“No! With Rafa.”
“Who’s Rafa? And why would I have a date with him?”
“Rafa is my cousin,” Jazz explained. “My extremely handsome cousin. And you’ll have a date with him because I’m his favorite cousin.” She grinned. “He’ll show up here in his shiny black Corvette and a bouquet of flowers. You’ll wear that other dress – the hot pink one. You’ll go to dinner and have a lovely evening, and you’ll get home very late!”
“I will?” Brooke squeaked.
“Don’t worry, silly!” Jazz waved dismissively. “He’s engaged to be married, and madly in love with his fiancée. This is all for show, all for Travis’ benefit.”
“I don’t think I understand, Jazz.” Brooke sighed. “You see? I really am hopeless when it comes to men and romance.”
“Apparently, you’re no more hopeless than the idiot next door, mi amiga poco,” Jazz retorted sarcastically. “If a couple of dates with a hot guy or two…or three…doesn’t make Travis Cooper see what’s right in front of him, nothing will.”
“Do you really think this will work, Jazz?” the younger woman asked dubiously. “It sounds awfully complicated. And a little deceitful.”
“It will work. Trust me. And you’re only being deceitful if you actually tell Travis you’re romantically interested in one of these guys.”
“And where are you going to find all these hot guys?”
“Are you kidding?” Jazz laughed. “I have about a million cousins! And they all have friends!”
Chapter 28
The next three days were excruciating for Brooke. Each time she saw Travis, she pretended he’d never kissed her. Outwardly, she smiled and acted casual and friendly. On the inside, however, she was anxious and nervous, and still a little hurt.
For his part, Travis, too, acted as if the kiss had never happened. He, too, was friendly and casual with Brooke. They worked in his office on Tuesday evening, working on paying invoices; this time, however, Travis made sure he stayed a good distance from Brooke. When he wasn’t actively showing her something on the computer or in the paperwork, he stayed on the opposite side of the desk.
Brooke had no way of knowing her very presence was a sort of slow torture to Travis. From the time she walked into his house, his senses had been filled with her; her deep violet eyes, her full pink lips, the occasional touch of her hand, her soft voice and that smell that drove him to distraction! She smelled, as always, of the fresh, clean scent of some light soap, and the warm fragrance of cupcakes, sweet, but not cloying. Even after she left his office and his house, her fragrance hung in the air, keeping Brooke fixed firmly
in his brain.
Travis had felt at loose ends all day. He had plenty of work to keep him busy, but all day he’d felt as if he’d lost something important and couldn’t figure out what. He was stunned to realize, late in the afternoon, that he missed taking Brooke to work and picking her up! When she showed up on his front porch to help him with his accounting, he’d almost hugged her out of sheer happiness.
Now, though, Travis frowned, wondering about the phone call she’d gotten right after she arrived. She’d looked at the screen, blushed and told him she needed to take the call. Travis nodded at her, then bent his head over some bills in a file folder; he’d listened to every word on Brooke’s end of the call.
“Oh, hello, Rafa,” Brooke had said, a little shyly. “Yes, Friday evening is still good for me. Seven? Yes, I’ll be ready then. Are you sure you want to drive all the way out here to pick me up? Okay, I’ll see you then. Yes, I’m, um, looking forward to it, too.”
Travis wondered who Rafa was, and where Brooke had met him. Was he a friend? Based on Brooke’s demeanor, she’d just met the guy and was going out with him this Friday. Travis assured himself his disquiet was only based on his concern for Brooke’s welfare. She was such a sweet, innocent young woman, and it would be far too easy for some slick guy to take advantage of her.
Like you almost did, a little voice whispered in his head. The kiss he and Brooke shared Sunday afternoon had played over and over in Travis’ head. He tried repeatedly to compare it to the practiced, seductive kisses Lorna had pressed on him the previous Friday night. Each time he’d tried to tell himself those were the kisses of a real woman, the memories would shift and instead of Lorna, he’d be remembering the feel of Brooke Valentine in his arms, the feel of Brooke’s lips beneath his own. It was Brooke’s breathless sigh of submission and passion that sent a little thrill of heat through his body.
Travis rose restlessly and wandered aimlessly through his house. He’d never felt this unsettled – over anything! – and he didn’t like it at all. As Nick had pointed out, Travis liked to be in control of his life, and he liked to know what to expect. In his experiences in the Middle East, surprise could mean danger and even death. Now, with Brooke, Travis felt like the proverbial fish out of water.
Frowning, Travis strode back to his office. He snatched his phone up and dialed a number. He needed a distraction, that was all. Brooke Valentine had been a…a project, nothing more. She’d needed some help and Travis had been happy to provide that help. Now they were friends and that was just fine with Travis. He was happy that Brooke’s job at the bakery was allowing her time to have a social life; maybe this Rafa character would be a great guy. If he wasn’t, Travis would be there to watch out for Brooke’s best interests. In the meantime, Travis needed a distraction, and he thought he knew just the woman who could distract him; fifteen minutes later, Travis had made a date for Friday evening with another ex-girlfriend, a tall, leggy blonde he’d dated before Lorna.
“I’ll pick you up at, um, eight,” Travis said. “Sorry it’s a little late, but I have some things to take care of first.”
Yeah, he thought. He had to “take care of” making sure Brooke’s date was a decent guy. He’d wait until Rafa picked Brooke up before leaving for his own date.
Chapter 29
Thursday morning, Brooke woke up and immediately felt a wave of nervousness like nothing she’d ever experienced. She made herself a cup of tea, hoping it would calm her nerves; it was a good idea, but a dismal failure. She went to her room and started the shower. Travis would be knocking on her front door in about an hour, and Brooke wanted plenty of time in case she ran into trouble with her hair and makeup.
Brooke took her time, applying the makeup Jazz had bought her; she found it amusing that something so expensive was supposed to look like it wasn’t really there. When she finished, however, she had to admit, her skin looked smooth and dewy and her eyes looked large, luminous and mysterious. Next, she blew her hair dry, brushing it out until it shone like satin, the subtle highlights and layers looking artfully casual and natural.
The clock showed Brooke had five minutes before Travis crossed their yards to get her. She took the deep blue dress from her closet, enjoying the feel of the soft knit velvet beneath her fingers. She laid the dress across her bed and pulled off her old robe. She pulled on stockings, grimacing at the bright pink scar that ran the length of her thigh; at least the staples had been removed. She’d just pulled her dress on, smoothing it down over her hips when she heard a knock at the front door. With one last fluff of her hair, she stepped into the pretty blue shoes, buckled them and left her bedroom.
Jazz had hinted to Travis that Brooke had a special outfit for today. He was expecting a pretty sweater or maybe a nice pair of slacks. When she opened her front door, his eyes nearly bugged from his head. He tried to swallow, but found he couldn’t. He tried to speak, but his tongue seemed to be glued to the roof of his mouth. Brooke – his little Bunny-girl, his Cupcake – looked amazing; she looked sweet and sexy and completely, mouth-wateringly gorgeous! He wanted to tell her she looked beautiful. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to eat her up. Finally, Travis managed to clear his throat; words still failed him.
“Um, are you ready?” he asked.
“Y-yes,” Brooke said a little hesitantly. “Let me just get something from the kitchen. I made a pie.”
When Brooke returned, she carried a box like the ones in which pies were sold at Babycakes. Travis took the box from her hands and walked out of her house without another word. Brooke wanted to close the door behind him and go back to bed. Jazz was so wrong, and Brooke felt even more idiotic than she had following that last kiss! Taking a deep breath, she pulled on a pretty sweater Jazz had thrown on top of the pile of clothing when they were shopping, and followed Travis outside to his waiting Hummer.
Several miles passed in silence. Brooke heard the little ding of a text message and she looked at her phone. The message from Jazz consisted of one word: Well? Brooke looked at it for a moment, then replied with a single word, as well: Nothing. A moment later, Jazz texted again, asking, What do you mean nothing? You’re wearing the dress, right?
Brooke stared at the phone for a moment, then finally texted back, Yes. He didn’t say a word and now I feel stupid again. Stupid and overdressed.
Aw, honey, hang in there, Jazz replied. Call me later if you need to talk.
“Everything okay?” Travis asked suddenly.
“What?” Brooke asked. “Oh, you mean the texting. Yes, just Jazz wishing me a happy Thanksgiving. You, too.”
“Oh. That was nice of her.”
They fell silent again. Brooke stared out the window at the passing landscape. Travis kept shifting quick little glances at Brooke. He knew he needed to say something about that dress…her hair, all of it. He was afraid he’d left it too long, though; would Brooke think his words were an afterthought? Would she think he wasn’t sincere? Or would she understand that he’d been so shocked – pleasantly so – that he’d been rendered speechless? Finally, he spoke, but still said nothing about Brooke’s appearance at first.
“Here’s Mom and Dad’s place,” he said awkwardly. He turned in at the gate and drove up the drive to a large three-story house. He killed the engine and looked over at Brooke. “Brooke, I should’ve said something earlier.”
“What’s that, Travis?” she asked quietly.
“You look amazing, Brooke,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. “Really. You look completely amazing.”
“Really?” Brooke asked, relief flooding through her. “Are you sure? I – I thought maybe you didn’t…I was afraid I was overdressed.”
“No. You look perfect. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. I was…surprised, that’s all.”
Brooke smiled and Travis felt as if the sun had emerged from behind a cloud. His breath caught in his chest and he found he was speechless again. Instead of trying to think of something to say, he just grinned back at her and slid from beh
ind the wheel. Brooke waited for him to come around and open her door, then slipped her hand into the crook of the arm he offered.
Butterflies resumed fluttering in Brooke’s midsection. She had no idea what to expect when she walked into the Coopers’ house with their only son. She could hear the sound of a football game, children playing in the distance, teenagers laughing in another room and women’s voices from yet another direction.
“Travis!” a man’s voice called out.
“Hey, Dad!” Travis replied, hugging the older gentleman. He pulled Brooke forward. “Dad, this is Brooke Valentine. Brooke, this is my father, Wilson Cooper.”
“Mr. Cooper, it’s so nice to meet you,” Brooke said, extending her hand.
There was a slight hesitation before Mr. Cooper accepted her hand and shook it politely. He smiled at her, but it seemed forced to Brooke, and the butterflies turned into huge vultures.
“Is Mom in the kitchen?” Travis asked, giving his father a curious look. He smiled down at Brooke. “Come on, I’ll introduce you. I’m sure the girls are all in there together.”
“Travis, honey!” a female voice cried as he stepped through the kitchen door.
Travis was enveloped in the arms of a woman. Brooke, behind him, couldn’t see anything or anyone past Travis’ broad shoulders. Once again, he reached behind him and pulled Brooke forward.
“Mom, this is Brooke Valentine,” he repeated his earlier introduction. He smiled down at her, missing the tiny look of panic across his mother’s face. “Brooke, this is my mother, Allison Cooper.”
“Mrs. Cooper, it was very kind of you to allow Travis to bring me,” Brooke said graciously. She extended the bakery box. “I brought a dessert.”
“Oh, that was thoughtful,” Allison said, taking the box from Brooke’s hands. She turned and looked at her son again. Her panicked expression had turned to one of chagrin. “Travis, honey, I didn’t realize you were bringing a young lady.”
