It isn’t my fault, he reminded himself. I’m not allowed to tell her the truth. And she wouldn’t believe it anyway. What, that I’m an undercover prince from a country she’s probably never heard of? He shook his head. It didn’t even sound true.
Still, he couldn’t shake his desire to include some truth in the story he was telling her, even if he couldn’t tell the whole truth. “Do you know the country of Shunayy?”
“It’s in the Middle East, right? Near Lebanon?”
He was impressed. “Most Americans don’t know that. It’s a pretty small place.”
“Well, I was really into geography as a kid.” She grinned a little, clearly pleased by his admiration. “I had all these maps. My dad would bring them home for me when he traveled, and I’d tape them up on my walls and stick pins in all the places I wanted to go someday.”
“And you put a pin in Shunayy?”
“No, I just thought it was cool that it had a double ‘y’.”
He laughed. “That’s where my family’s from.”
“Wow. Really? Have you ever been there?”
“I grew up there.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Wow. Really? You don’t even have an accent!”
Ali was pleased. Apparently the Blaine identity was working.
“I’ve been in the States for a long time,” he said. “I went to New York for college, just like you, but unlike you, I decided to stay put when college was over. It seemed like the place to be.”
“For a guy with a business degree, it probably was,” Brooke mused.
Ali didn’t answer. Of course, his reasons for staying in New York had very little to do with his degree. His father had pressed him increasingly over the years to do something useful with his education; start a company or get a job in one. But he’d never seen the point in that. It wasn’t as if he needed the money, so the only real reason to work would be if he felt inspired by a project, and so far, he simply hadn’t.
“I think my family is disappointed that I gave up the business,” he said after a pause. “They have pretty high expectations.”
Brooke nodded. “I know the feeling. My mom keeps sending me articles about sculptors who got shows put up in cities around here. I’m not saying that wouldn’t be great, but it’s not like I never thought of showing my work before. No one’s offered me a show.”
“What’s your mom like?”
“She’s sweet. She works hard. I was worried when my dad passed away a few years ago that she’d be on her own too much, but she joined a singles adventure group and she’s off on kayak trips and things like that every other weekend. She has more of a life than I do. It’s crazy.”
“Wow. She sounds intense.”
“That’s a good word for it,” Brooke laughed. “How about your family?”
“My dad’s the intense one. He’s got all kinds of expectations for me, because I’m the oldest, and he’s so over the top that I can’t help but fall short every time.” He rolled his eyes so she’d see he wasn’t exactly tormented by that fact, although if he were being honest, he did feel a twinge of shame when he thought of his father’s face. He knew his family disapproved of his lifestyle.
They just hate fun.
“You’re the oldest?” Brooke asked.
Oh, crap. Blaine Mustafi was supposed to be an only child. He’d forgotten! Well, the cat was out of the bag now.
“I have a little brother and sister,” he told her, relieved, once again, to be speaking honestly. “They’re both much smarter than I am, but you know. I’m supposed to be the successful one.”
“Just because you’re the oldest?”
“Yeah.”
“That seems unfair to all three of you.”
“Well, tell that to my parents.” Of course, part of the reason it mattered so much to his parents was that, as the oldest, he would assume the title of Sheikh of Shunayy after his father. He definitely couldn’t tell Brooke that part.
She turned toward a little shop. “Let’s stop in here, okay?”
“What is this place?”
“It’s my art supply store.”
She pulled open the door and walked in. Ali was struck immediately by the smell. It was an older, denser version of the smell in Brooke’s apartment. Distinctive, but not unpleasant.
“Hey, Brooke,” said the man behind the counter. He was in his late forties or early fifties, with a grizzly beard and ponytail. “You want to pick up a few shifts this weekend?”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” Brooke agreed, making her way over to a plastic cup full of strange tools. She picked one up and examined it. “I can’t do Friday, but Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning would work.”
“Far out. I’ll sign you up.”
“Thanks, Ray.”
“You work here?” Ali was confused. “I thought you made your money selling art.”
She shook her head. “It’s not always enough to get by, so Ray lets me pick up shifts when I need the extra cash. Ray, this is Blaine Mustafi,” she said. “He’s new in town, and I’m showing him around.”
“Right on. Welcome to Jasperville, Blaine.”
“Thanks.”
Ali set about exploring the store, trying to picture teenage Brooke in here picking out her art supplies. Small towns probably never changed. It would have been the same store, with the same drying clay smell, run by the same man, a few years younger. How could a girl like Brooke have chosen to come back here?
She finished selecting tools from the cup and came to the counter to make her purchase. Ali picked up one of the items. It was roughly the shape of a pen, a long wooden shaft with a metal piece at the end that looked like it would be more at home in a dentist’s office. “What’s that?”
“A sculpting tool.” She grinned. “If I’m going to do a human figure, I need some new stuff.”
“Should I be paying for this?”
“Don’t worry. They’re cheap. Your fee will more than cover it.”
Ray rang her up. “You’re doing a human figure?”
“Yeah, Blaine commissioned me. I figured it might be fun to do something different.”
“Far out. Say hi to your Mom for me?”
“Sure thing,” she grinned, accepting the paper bag with her new tools inside. “Thanks.”
“You two have a nice time.”
Ali trailed after Brooke as she left the store. “So that’s where you work, huh?”
“Just sales. It’s pretty easy money. I worked for Ray in high school, too, and during the summer when I was in college. He likes that I actually earn a living with supplies from his store, so he doesn’t mind keeping the job open for me. Plus, I get thirty percent off on all my supplies.”
“Sounds ideal.”
“What about you? What kind of job are you going to be looking for in Jasperville? Or do you already have something lined up?”
“Oh. I…” This actually hadn’t been covered in his Blaine Mustafi dossier. A shocking oversight on Wellers’ part, he thought now, although at the time it hadn’t even occurred to him to wonder what his alter ego was doing for money. “I’m taking some time off,” he said finally, thinking it seemed like the safest choice. If he claimed to have a job, it would eventually become hard to explain why he never went to work. Besides, this town was so small that no matter what business he named, Brooke would probably know someone who worked there and could debunk his story.
“Wow,” Brooke said, and he heard the envy in her voice. “You’re so lucky you can do that.”
“Lucky?” He didn’t feel lucky. He longed to be back in New York, and the idea of being stuck here indefinitely doing nothing was oppressive. It was enough to make him wish he did have a job, just for something to do.
“Sure,” Brooke said. “I wish I could take some time off. You know, stop making bowls for a few months and focus on what I’m passionate about. That sounds like a dream.”
When she put it that way, he could see what she meant. If you had a passion
, like making art, having to work for a living would only get in the way. He didn’t really have a passion, though. At least, not for anything like that. Did parties count as a passion? Even if they did, it didn’t matter. There weren’t any in Vermont.
But he could see that she genuinely wished she was in his shoes, so he didn’t complain aloud. “I guess I am lucky,” he said. “It’ll be nice to have a little vacation.”
“You must have been really successful in your business dealings if you can afford that kind of time off,” she said. “You’re so young!”
“Well, my parents helped me out getting started.” That was true. That was a lot more true than she was likely to imagine. “Is that pathetic?”
“No,” she reassured him. “It’s nice. I don’t really buy the idea that you have to separate yourself from your family and make your own way in the world. If parents can help their kids, and if they want to, then good for them. It’s a fine thing to do with your money.”
“They’ve always taken care of me and my brother and sister. I guess we’re a pretty privileged bunch.”
She smiled. “It’s nice that you appreciate that.”
They rounded a corner and came upon a large grocery store, bigger than any of the other shops in town and certainly bigger than the bodega where he’d done his shopping in New York.
“This is it,” Brooke said unnecessarily. “Just a few blocks from home, so as long as you’re not buying anything really heavy, you can usually just walk it.”
“I’ll have to,” he said. “I don’t have a car.”
“You don’t have a car?” She stared. “How do you not have a car?”
“I was living in New York!”
“Okay, but now you live here. You need a car in Jasperville, Blaine. Half the things you’re going to want to do are forty minutes away on country roads. And even buying a gallon of milk is pretty tough if you have to carry it all the way back.”
“To be honest, I don’t have a driver’s license,” he admitted.
“Oh my God.”
“What? I’ve never needed one.”
“Well, you do now.” She blew out a puff of air. “Okay. We’re neighbors and we’re going to be working together, so I’ll help you get around when I can. But you’d better see about getting this situation remedied as soon as possible, or you’re going to find yourself stuck.”
4
Brooke
There was definitely more to Blaine than met the eye, Brooke decided as they made their way through the grocery store picking up essentials. For one thing, his idea of what was essential was strange. She had expected him to grab a few easy meals—things he could make out of a box, or maybe pasta. Instead he’d gone straight to the deli in the produce section, where the ready-made things were available on a buffet. It was the way Brooke shopped when she was on vacation, when she didn’t have a kitchen available or the inclination to do anything more complicated than opening a takeout box. None of this food was going to last more than about a day. What was he thinking?
Then there was the state of his apartment. When they’d stopped to pick up a change of shoes for him, she had noticed how few possessions he actually had. She’d expected the place to be lined with boxes, waiting to be unpacked, but instead she’d seen only a few pieces of furniture and a duffel bag tossed on the sofa. It was strange, especially given what he’d told her later about his parents having money. Had he been lying?
Money certainly didn’t seem to be a problem at checkout. She caught a glimpse of what looked like a platinum credit card. She reached for a couple of his bags, intending to help, but he waved her off and loaded them all up on his arms.
“I can take some of those,” she said.
“Nonsense. I’ve got it.” He flashed her a smile, and she noted once again his perfect teeth. He was either incredibly genetically gifted or his parents had paid for good dental work when he was a kid. So why the sparse apartment? It didn’t add up.
Then there was the fact that he didn’t have a car, or even a license. She could understand not owning a car in New York, of course, but who didn’t have a driver’s license? Was it a Shunayy thing? She would have to look it up later, she supposed. Maybe people didn’t drive there either.
They stepped out of the store and into the afternoon sun. “Why don’t you show me the rest of the town?” Blaine suggested.
“You’ve pretty much seen it all,” she told him.
“Come on, I know there’s more. You told me there was a bar!”
“The bar doesn’t open until four.”
“Seriously? What do people do for a drink before that?”
“They…wait until four.”
“Okay, well, what else?”
“We should get your groceries home,” she said. “They’ll go bad if they aren’t refrigerated.”
He seemed to ponder this. “You think?”
“Of course. Haven’t you ever gotten takeout before?”
“I just usually eat it right away.”
“Well, you need to get this home and put it in your refrigerator.”
He nodded and jerked his head in the direction of their apartment building. “Let’s go, then.”
What he reminded her most of, Brooke suddenly realized, was the boys she’d known in college. Fun-loving and charming, but often seeming as if they had no idea of how to conduct themselves in the real world. But how could Blaine have become a successful New York businessman if he didn’t have any more common sense than a college student? There was definitely more to his story than she was getting, and she was determined to find out what it was.
Back at the apartment, Blaine stowed his grocery deli boxes in his refrigerator. Peeking over his shoulder, Brooke could see that he hadn’t exaggerated—it was completely empty. Not only that, the glass-fronted cupboards were bare. That was weird. Every time Brooke had moved, she’d packed a box with some food—boxes of cereal, canned goods, things that would survive the trip. She’d always tried to finish all her food before moving day, but of course, something always remained, and there was no sense wasting it.
“You really came here with nothing, huh?” she said.
He shifted, looking a little uncomfortable. “I just don’t have a lot of stuff.”
“It looks like you skipped town or something,” she joked. “Like you just came with the clothes on your back.”
Blaine laughed. It didn’t exactly sound natural. “Like I’m a fugitive from justice?”
“Or maybe you’re in witness protection,” she said, getting into the game.
He shook his head. “You’ve got a wild imagination.”
“I’m an artist. That’s how we roll.”
“Well, how I roll is that I’m hungry.” He opened his refrigerator and searched it as if he hadn’t just put in all the food it contained. “Do you want some potato salad?”
“I’ll pass on that, thanks.” A thought occurred to her. “Hey. Do you want to come eat at the diner with me?”
Blaine nudged the fridge closed. “I don’t know. Is it any good?”
“I like it. They make a good popcorn-shrimp basket. Besides, everyone in Jasperville eats there from time to time, so you should definitely check it out. We’ll call it a part of the tour.” She grinned. “My treat.”
“I won’t say no to that.”
He returned her smile, and for a moment Brooke questioned her motives. Was she taking him to lunch because she thought he should see the diner, or was this something more? After all, there were no single men her age in town, and now along came this handsome, charming guy with more than a little mystery about him. Of course she wanted to spend time with him. It was only natural.
But she knew she had to take it slow. Jasperville was an impossibly small town—a fishbowl—and it was impossible to get any distance from a bad breakup. Her good friend Kyla had split with her boyfriend three months before, and they still ran into him and his parents all the time. It would be even worse to live next door to so
meone with whom things had ended badly.
Oh my God, Brooke, she told herself. Don’t overthink this. It’s just lunch.
But it was also the first one-on-one lunch she’d had with a guy since she’d moved back home, and if she squinted a little she could convince herself that she and Blaine were on a date. Dates had begun to seem like something from another life, something almost mythical, and as she watched the handsome man across the table from her sip his chocolate milkshake, she couldn’t help feeling a little dreamy.
If this was a date, it was going well. They were getting along, they were making each other laugh, and even the eccentricities she’d discovered about him had been intriguing rather than off-putting. If it had been a real date, Brooke would have wanted a second one. By the time they left the diner and started the short walk back to the apartments, she had decided that she would let him kiss her if he made a move.
It wasn’t until they reached the front door of the building that she remembered it hadn’t been a date at all. That whole aspect of the meal had been in her imagination. Of course he wouldn’t try to kiss her. That would be crazy.
Then he walked straight passed his own door and stopped outside hers. “Can I come inside?”
* * *
Of course, he’d been asking about their sculpting project. Once Brooke gathered her wits, that was clear.
They set up shop in her studio. It had originally been intended as a guest bedroom in the apartment, but Brooke so infrequently had guests that she’d deemed it unnecessary. It was the perfect place, though, for her pottery wheel, her easel, and all the other art supplies she needed on a daily basis.
“Do you want to sit or stand?” she asked Blaine.
“I don’t know,” he said, looking around. “I want to be standing in the sculpture. Does that matter?”
The Sheikh’s Second Chance Lover Page 3
