Dude, there's a beautiful woman here looking for you.
I scratch my chin as I reread it. Then I thumb back a quick response.
I'm not falling for this again, you little shit. I have plans tonight. I can't come over.
I watch as the three small dots bounce across the screen before his reply pops up.
Gramps is telling her stories and she's eating it up. Seriously you asshole, why would a woman like this want anything to do with you?
My grandfather is talking to someone he's not related to? What the hell?
I don't have a chance to respond before his next message comes through.
Her name is Brynn. She's crying, dude. What should I do?
Brynn's at the brownstone? Why the fuck is Brynn at the brownstone?
I scoop up my phone and text a message back to him as I jog to my bedroom to get dressed.
Keep her there. I'm on my way.
***
I burst through the door of the brownstone, sweating profusely through my white T-shirt and jeans from the non-air conditioned taxi ride over. I debated taking the subway or calling on Arthur to bring me here, but a taxi, at this time of day, was the best choice to get me here as soon as possible.
I rub my hand over my brow as I scan the foyer. Nothing. Dead silence.
I call out. My voice is shaky and rough. "Brynn? Where are you?"
My sister-in-law, Jaylee, rounds the corner from the main sitting room. "Smith? What took you so long?"
"My private helicopter is in the shop," I quip. "I had to come from Brooklyn, Jay. I made good time."
"She left." She reaches out to touch my hand. "We tried to keep her here, but she took off. She was torn up about someone named Caroline. Gramps told her a few stories about this Caroline person and Brynn lost it."
"Caroline?" I search her face for another clue. "Who the hell is Caroline?"
"Someone Gramps knew when he was young."
I shake my head as I scroll through the contact list on my phone until it lands on Brynn's number. I call her but it rings straight through to voicemail.
"I don't get how she ended up here." I thumb out a quick text telling her to call me. "She told me she knew where I lived. I was waiting for her at my place."
"She knew you owned this place." She taps her bare toe on the hardwood floor. "She told Gramps that you bought it three years ago. She knew that."
How? How in the ever loving fuck does Brynn know that I bought this place? I caught wind of it when my grandpa called to tell me that Sigrid had reached out to him to give him first shot at purchasing it. The only reason she did that was because he'd stop by here on a regular basis to ask if he could sit in the garden. Sigrid's grandparents and parents never minded, but Sigrid wasn't as accommodating.
"I don't get it," I say aloud. "Where's Gramps?"
"I think he's with Simon and the boys in the kitchen." She gestures down the long, narrow corridor. "You're welcome to stay for dinner, Smith. I made enough for all of us."
"I can't stay," I mutter as I march down the corridor. "I need to find Brynn."
"Here it is." My grandfather's voice startles me from above. "I found it. I knew I'd kept it all these years."
He descends the wooden staircase slowly. He refuses to use the elevator at the back of the house. "You're just in time, my boy. I was going to show Simon and Jaylee a picture."
I move to help him, taking the steps two at a time until I reach him and plant a soft kiss on his wrinkled forehead. "Show me, Gramps. Show me the picture."
"Get me to the bottom first." He pats my hand.
I do. I lead him carefully down the stairs even though he handles them by himself multiple times a day.
"Hello to you too, Smith," my brother calls from the kitchen. "Bring that damn picture in here. We haven't had this much excitement here, well, since never."
"Don't listen to him." My grandpa holds tight to my forearm. "We play poker two nights a week after the kids go to bed. Your brother always loses to me."
I don't doubt that for a second. I've played poker with them. It brings out the best and the worst in the men in my family.
I round the corner to the kitchen and spot Simon immediately. His oldest son, Cameron, is seated next to him at the table, and his youngest, Brett, is on his lap. I lead Gramps over before I bend down and swipe my hand across Brett's brow.
"She's something else." Simon grabs my hand. "This Brynn woman is amazing."
"Hey," Jaylee laughs from behind me. "I'm right here, Simon."
"You know you're it for me, babe." He puckers his lips. "Smith's girl is perfect for us though."
"For us?" I chuckle. "What the hell does that mean?"
"She got that one to stop acting like someone pissed in his cereal." He jerks his thumb at Gramps. "Ignore the word pissed, boys."
I arch a brow. "Brynn's an incredible person."
"She colored with the boys in their coloring books, and…" his voice trails as he looks at his sons before he focuses his gaze back on my face. "She didn't ask me about the chair, Smith. Not one question. There wasn't an ounce of pity in her eyes."
I swallow back the emotion I always feel when he brings up the wheelchair he'll spend the rest of his life in. He got in a car with someone who was just as high as he was. The other guy, the driver, didn't make it when they crashed in Florida. Simon made it out with his life. He's worked hard to recover. I'm still praying for a miracle for him, even though he's embraced his life just as it is now.
Jaylee, a woman he met in rehab, has been a driving force in his recovery. They've both been clean for years and now that they're parents, they've devoted their lives to taking care of their boys and our grandfather. Simon's goal now is a teaching degree. I know he'll make it happen.
"There's no reason to pity you," I point out with a grin and a scratch to the five o'clock shadow that's settled over my jaw. "The beard you're trying to grow is pitiful but we can't all be me."
"The picture, boys." Our grandfather shoves a square, black and white photograph in the space between us. "This is Caroline."
I gaze down at the picture, my eyes locked on the young girl with the dark hair and big smile.
"Hey, this Caroline person looks just like Brynn." Simon taps his index finger on the edge of the image. "How do you know Caroline, Gramps?"
"We played together when we were kids." He runs his hand over Cameron's back. "She'd come here with her mother and we'd go in the garden. We shared our first kiss back there, if you can call it that. It wasn't more than a quick peck."
None of this makes sense to me. I've never once heard Julian mention a woman named Caroline.
"Your mom and Caroline's mom were friends?" I question.
"No." Gramps hangs his head. "Her mother worked for mine. Caroline's mom was our housekeeper. She told me she always wanted to live in this house and I told her we were like family so she should move right in. I didn't understand that's not how it worked with the help."
I lace my fingers behind my neck and take a deep breath. I need answers and there's only one person who can give them to me since Brynn has gone silent. I type out a text to Julian and then press send.
I need you to tell me who Caroline is. I'm looking at a picture of her from when she was a kid. She looks just like Brynn.
"Soon after this picture was taken your great grandmother fired her mother and I never saw Caroline again. I tried to find her after your grandmother died, but I couldn't track her down."
I drop my gaze back to my phone when it chimes, my heart hammering in my chest as I read Julian's text.
A picture? Of Caroline? Where are you? What the hell is going on?
I don't have time to get into the long version of this twisted tale. I want a short and sweet answer so I can understand why Brynn is so torn up.
Who is Caroline?
I send it off as my grandfather starts off on a tangent about when he was a kid. His words all blend together as I stare at my phone.
"Would you look at this?" Gramps waves the picture in the air again, this time the back is visible. "Caroline drew a little something for me here. I forgot all about that."
I snatch the picture from his hand and stare at the faded pencil drawing. It's a heart with one word written inside of it. Family.
It's an exact match to the tattoo on Brynn's elbow.
Another text message pops up on my phone from Julian.
She was Brynn's whole world. I don't think she's ever gotten over her death. It broke her. She hasn't been the same since.
There's only one place Brynn runs to when she's broken. I know where and as I take off down the long corridor toward the front door of the brownstone, I yell back at my family that I love them. I do, but not as much as I love my beautiful Brynn.
Chapter 17
Brynn
I swing open the rooftop door to find him there. I knew the second I heard the soft raps at the door that it would be Smith. I'd come straight to the top of the world from the brownstone.
"You've been crying." He reaches for my face with both hands and cups it. "Jesus, Brynn. This is all fucked up."
It is. When I knocked at the door of the brownstone, I fully expected Smith to answer. I was shocked when a tall woman with a long blond braid greeted me. She knew Smith she said, but he didn't live there. He lives in Brooklyn she told me before she pulled me into the house and introduced me to his family.
I met his brother, his nephews and finally, I met, Gramps, his handsome grandfather.
Gramps sat silently in a chair and watched me as I talked to Smith's brother and nephews. Out of nowhere, his granddad blurted out that I looked like Caroline.
My heart stopped for a full two beats at that moment.
He moved to sit next to me then and told me stories about when they were both children in the house. He'd push her on the swing that used to hang from a tree out back; a tree that was chopped down at some point and replaced with a fountain and a statue of a dog.
He showed me the garden and the kitchen where my grandma used to sit on the floor and draw.
Then he pointed out the pantry and the script of her name that is still barely visible on the door.
Smith bought that home for his family so his grandpa could enjoy the memories he made there and so his brother, his wife and their sons could create a life there for themselves.
"My grandma knew your grandpa," I say through a small sob. "You bought the house for him. I wanted to buy it for her."
"You wanted to buy the house?" He ushers me across the roof to where the two chairs are. "Do you want to sit?"
"No." I shake my head. "I mean yes. I wanted to buy the house. I don't want to sit."
"We need to back up." He reaches for both of my hands and I let him. I don't pull away because I need the comfort. I've been aching for it since I left the brownstone. "Why did you go there, Brynn? What made you think I live there?"
I don't know which direction to head with this. I can tell him that I saw him outside when I was semi-stalking the place or I can tell him I made a broker break his code of ethics by telling me that Smith was the person who bought the brownstone. I decide to tell him the truth. "I did see you on the street with groceries the other day. I was on the sidewalk across from the brownstone. Also, three years ago I asked someone to check who bought the place when Sigrid put it up for sale. I know it was you."
He takes a measured step back but his hands don't leave mine. "Do you know Sigrid?"
Would it matter at this point if I did? I don't give a shit that the two of them were likely sharing an expensive bottle of champagne along with a great fuck to celebrate Smith closing on her brownstone. I do give two shits about the fact that my life feels like it just fell off the edge of the earth and I'm coasting through the universe with nothing to ground me right now. "No. I never met her. I got her name from the agent I used to help me place my offer."
"Your offer?"
I pull my hands from his to scrub the back of my neck with my fingers. "The offer I put in for the brownstone, Smith. That's how I knew who Sigrid was. That's also why I called you twice asking you to put in a good word for me with her so she would accept my offer. I wanted to live in that house with my grandma. It was her dream. She told me she spent the happiest moments of her life in that house."
He stumbles back until his heels hit the edge of one of the chairs. He lowers himself down into the seat. "What the hell? What?"
"What the hell about what?" I parrot back. "You already know all of this."
He rests both of his elbows on his thighs, his head hanging down. "I know none of this, Brynn. None of it. I had no idea you wanted that place. I never got a call from you. You and I only spoke on the phone once, and that was when you were at Easton Pub and I came to get you."
Technically, that's true. "I left you two voicemail messages about Sigrid's place. I never heard back."
He looks down at the phone in his hand. "You called what number?"
"Your number," I say exasperated.
"Julian gave you my number?" He waves his phone in the air.
"No." I swallow past the lump in my throat. "I wanted to buy the house on my own and surprise my family, so I didn't ask for any of their help, not even Julian's. I called your office in Los Angeles. You were doing that Hollywood gossip show then."
A grin peaks the corners of his mouth. "It was an entertainment newsmagazine."
I don't want to love that smile as much as I do right now but my heart won't let me hate it anymore, or him. "You didn't get my messages, did you?"
"Not a one." He taps his phone against the arm of the chair. "My assistant screened all my calls. She had hundreds a day to run through. A lot of them were from women wanting to talk directly to me so I gave her carte blanche to delete everything she didn't think was worth my time."
That explains that.
"You said you put an offer in on the brownstone?" His jaw tightens. "Sigrid told me that mine was the only one on the table."
Since we're putting everything out there, I take it an extra step. "My offer was full ask, cash, a thirty day close and no contingencies."
My eyes wander to the view of the Brooklyn Bridge. It's no wonder he was staring in that direction the other night. It's the place he now calls home.
"All cash and no contingencies? My offer was shit compared to that."
"I know," I blurt out without thinking.
"You know?" He lifts his brows and tilts his head.
"I went all in against the advice of my broker. I assume your broker wouldn't let you do that." I try to correct with a small smile.
"Either Sigrid is an idiot or something doesn't add up." He swipes his finger over his phone's screen. "If you want me to find out why she took my offer, let me know and I can make the call."
"We both know why she took your offer." I shrug. "It doesn't matter at this point, Smith. Your family is happy there. I have a great apartment and the past is in the past."
"Slow down." He stands and stalks back toward me. "I don't know why she took my offer so explain that to me."
"You know why." My eyes drop to the concrete. "You two were in a relationship."
I feel his finger brush against my chin. "Look at me."
I do. I don't want to but I do.
"Sigrid's family bought the house from my great grandparents so she called my Gramps and told him the brownstone was his if he had the money. He didn't so I flew here, hammered out a deal with her and the rest is history."
"You hammered out a deal with her?" I cross my arms. "Is that a polite way of saying you slept with her to get the deal done?"
He throws his head back in laughter. "You're jealous. You think my cock is worth more than a full ask, all cash deal? I mean I think it is, but I'm fucking over the moon to know that you do too and you haven't even seen me naked yet."
Yet.
I bite my bottom lip. It sounds ridiculous when put like that. "You took her to the Met Gala."
"I had pants on." He pats his thigh. "I always had my pants on with her. My broker fought hard for the deal I got and it was nowhere close to what you were offering. Maybe Sigrid had a soft spot for Gramps or maybe she wanted the building to go back to my family. I have no fucking clue but I can find out if it means you'll stop hating me."
I just want this to be over. I'm tired of beating myself up over a house this is now home to a wonderful group of people. Whatever magic lived there when my grandma met his grandfather isn't there anymore. At least, it's not for me. My magic is the feeling in my chest. It's my heart opening up to this man in front of me.
"I don't hate you." I look into his intensely dark eyes. "I haven't handled my grandma's death very well. I needed someone to direct all my anger at."
"I'm your guy." He crosses his arms over his chest. "I get how much that hurts, Petal. I lost my grandma too. It split me in two."
"I want to be put back together," I whisper. "Can we go to Brooklyn?"
"Only if you let me kiss you when we get there." He brushes the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip.
"I'll let you do more."
"What the fuck are we doing up here?" His hand reaches for mine. "Let's go."
Chapter 18
Smith
You never know what's around the corner. I thought I'd be cooking Brynn my world famous spaghetti Bolognese tonight. I can claim that title because I cooked it on the show two weeks ago and the recipe was downloaded more than a million times.
Boom. Take that Tyler Monroe, big shot Manhattan chef.
We're in my apartment now, but the only thing on fire is my cock. I'm seriously rocking the world's most sensitive hard-on right now. I haven't even undressed and I'm about to blow my load.
"I feel sweaty." She runs her slender fingers over her forearm. "It's so muggy outside tonight."
Damn right it is. My shirt is a testament to that. The thing is glued to my chest and back. I could go for another shower right about now.
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