“Watch out!” a man yelled.
Asher looked over his shoulder. Moving quickly, he wrapped Brooklyn in his arms and picked her up, barely escaping the bumper end of a new dump truck.
Brooklyn breathed hard. “That was close.”
The truck must have been lumbering forward as they talked and neither of them noticed. Asher’s chest rose and fell beneath her palm. She couldn’t help but notice how solid he felt, how perfectly she fit in his arms. They made eye contact, and her whole body tingled.
She stared at him, wondering if he was really the bad guy, because at that moment, she couldn’t see anything bad about him. His hazel eyes were full of warmth and curiosity—so honest it rocked her to her toes.
Realizing what train her thoughts were on, she pushed out of his arms. “This isn’t over.” She meant to sound threatening, but her voice came out breathy and weak.
He smirked. “You’re right. I think this is just beginning.” He brushed his fingers down her arm before turning back to supervise the project.
Brooklyn glared at his back before stomping to her car and slamming the door shut behind her. “He’s insufferable.”
“He’s cute,” Grandma countered as she leaned forward to get a better look at Asher.
“It’s that cleft in his chin. He’d only be half as gorgeous without it.”
Grandma shoved her arm. “It’s good to know you haven’t lost your head over him.”
Brooklyn laughed. “Hardly. In fact, I’m thinking very clearly. Do you want me to take you home? I have one more stop to make.” Norm was going to hear about this one.
Grandma laid her hands in her lap. “I think I’d like to come along for the ride.” The twinkle in her eye said that she found this amusing.
Brooklyn was all sorts of things. Upset. Indignant. Tingly. But she was not at all amused by the situation or Asher’s antics. “He’s got no right to come in here and change everything.”
“He saved your life. I was scared to death watching that truck. I kept thinking you’d notice, but you didn’t.”
“There was a lot of noise,” she argued.
Grandma didn’t argue. They pulled up to Norm’s house, and Brooklyn stormed the front picket gate. Grandma followed behind but stood a few feet back, letting her have her fight but too nosy to stay in the car.
Norm opened the door a crack. “Brooklyn,” he said in warning. “It’s not what you think.”
“I think there’s a road to the Billionaire Cove that’s being paved as I stand right here, Norm.”
“Well, that’s the truth.” He eased out through the crack as if she’d blow right past him and start throwing things at the walls. “But the guy’s not after Main Street at all.”
“He’s not?” she echoed.
“No. He wants to build vacation homes.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” offered Grandma.
Norm cast her a grateful look. He ran his hands through his Elvis hair. “The whole development is amazing, really. It will be one of a kind—well, two of a kind, but this one is different from its counterpart in Washington. I’ve spoken with several people in Seattle. They have nothing but good things to say about Adam Moreau, the mastermind behind the development.”
“I’ll bet. Did Asher give you their numbers?” She jammed her hand into her hip.
Norm’s ears turned red.
“Come on.” Grandma hooked her hand through Brooklyn’s elbow. “Thank you, Norm, for doing your civic duty.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Julie.”
The door clicked shut behind them. Norm had snuck in like he’d snuck out.
Grandma tugged Brooklyn closer. “You’re upset about more than a few homes going in.”
Brooklyn sagged as if the weight of all that she carried were too much. “He shouldn’t be here. He’s not one of us.”
“I think you’re avoiding that spark I saw between the two of you. You’re upset because he makes you feel things you don’t want to feel.”
“Am not!” Brooklyn lowered her chin. She disentangled herself and went around to get in the car.
Grandma was already in, seat belt on by the time she got behind the wheel. “Don’t think you can hide from this. These things have a way of popping back up.”
Brooklyn desperately needed to change the topic. Grandma’s words hit too close to home and had her squirming like a fish on a hook. “Like the letter from Thomas popped up?” she asked before she chickened out. She’d been dying to know more about Grandma’s first love, and A.L. wasn’t exactly dishing.
Grandma turned to the window. She lifted her finger and touched the glass. “Asher reminds me of him.”
“How?” She practically spat the word out.
Grandma sighed heavily. “He was tall, blond, and handsome—driven, with sharp eyes and a quick smile. He was going to make something of himself. He had big plans. Promised to name a star after me and take me there one day.”
“That’s sweet.”
“That was Thomas. He was a planner.”
“Oh?”
Grandma turned toward Brooklyn, warming to the topic now that the jewelry box of memories was open. “Picnics were his specialty. They sound so simple, but that wasn’t the way he operated.”
Brooklyn took the upper street to get to their apartment through the back. She didn’t want to stop the conversation just because she parked, so she kept the motor running.
“One time, he sprinkled flower petals over the blanket and gave me a bouquet tied with a purple ribbon because he knew it was my favorite color. We didn’t have a lot of money, but that didn’t stop him from making me feel special.” She glanced down at her hands. “He didn’t even have to do all that. Just holding his hand was enough to make me giddy.”
She continued to stare down, not focusing on this moment but on one long ago. “Another time, he cut out hearts. Oh, there had to be 200 of them—the fool must have spent days with scissors. He left them along the path for me to follow. He was always trying to make me smile, said it was the prettiest sight in the Ozarks.”
Brooklyn put her hand over her mouth. If she’d been excited about reuniting the two lovebirds before, she was going to burst with the joy of it now. Surely, Grandma would be thrilled for a second chance with this man. Heck, Brooklyn would love a first chance with a guy like that.
Asher … She shoved away the thought. He may have saved her from a backing truck, but that didn’t make him a paper-heart-scattering kind of guy.
Just as she was getting up the nerve to tell Grandma about the emails she’d sent, Grandma brightened and asked, “Did you get the T-shirts ordered?”
Brooklyn mentally stumbled to keep up with the change in direction. “Y-yes. They’ll be here in a week.”
“Wonderful!” Grandma patted her knee. “You’d better get started on that special order.”
She jumped. “I forgot.” Chocolate bombs were an all-afternoon project.
“I thought you might have.” Grandma gathered her purse and got out, cutting off any chance Brooklyn had of asking more questions about Thomas.
That was okay. She’d learned enough for one day—enough to spur her determination to play matchmaker.
Chapter Ten
Asher
The road was done. It had taken the majority of the day, but Asher could drive in and out of Mountain Cove without jarring his teeth loose. That was something.
He stood in Adam’s driveway, his arms folded, contemplating a day’s worth of work. He’d ordered the asphalt to arrive today out of pure stubbornness. Norm’s rooster show had spurred his competitive side, and he’d talked Adam into spending the money on the road to speed things along. With proper access, development would move forward quickly.
And yet, it wasn’t the next item on his to-do list that had his mind completely occupied. It was holding Brooklyn in his arms that he couldn’t stop thinking about.
She’d fit so perfectly …
Smelled so sweet …
And that had him thinking about kisses and candlelight in less than a heartbeat.
She practically hated his guts, and he couldn’t shake the attraction building inside.
“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” said Mrs. Morgan as she approached. Her sensible heels marked her even steps with a tap-tap sound.
“Hmm?” Asher asked, lifting his eyes off the road.
“What are you thinking about?”
He scrubbed his face. “You know the old saying, ‘Treat someone as if they’re having the worst day of their life, and seventy percent of the time you’ll be right’?”
“I’ve heard something along those lines before.” She stood behind him, contemplating the rough-cut rock on the hillside across the street. Streaks of red, brown, and black were stunning. If someone had taken a little time and made it even, it could hang in a museum. It was raw in its beauty, like much of Arkansas. “I’ve also heard it said that you can never see the scars people carry, but we’ve all got them.”
He nodded, thinking of Brooklyn losing her parents and her aunt and uncle. He’d known they were gone, but he hadn’t thought much about it until she’d talked about the tree reaching up to heaven. Curious, he’d searched out an article about the accident. It was awful to contemplate but didn’t mention her father. There was more to the story than what she’d told him. However, he could understand why she clung to the way things were and fought change. He would too. “I saw Julie today. She was in the car when Brooklyn stopped to yell at me.”
Mrs. Morgan chuckled. “Brooklyn’s keeping you on your toes, that’s for sure.”
“It’s that or fall in the lake,” he joked, earning him a smile. “I’m curious about Julie, though. She lost all of her children and gained two grandchildren to raise in one fateful afternoon.” He shifted. “What she’s done … it’s pretty incredible.”
“Well, if you’re really curious … we can change up our agreement again.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“You provide the fudge, and I’ll tell you why Samantha finally broke up with her boyfriend.”
He tipped his head back in relief. “It’s about time.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“So what was the deal breaker?” he prodded.
Mrs. Morgan folded her arms, a smug look on her face. He’d be in the fudge shop soon, because he wanted this information. “He tried to sell her cat.”
“Mr. Grumpy Face?” Samantha had rescued that cat from the shelter five years ago and restored him to a healthy body and mind with loads of love and major time spent teaching him to trust her. She loved that animal more than she loved anthropology—and she’d dedicated her life to that.
“Yeah, she saw an ad for him in the local classified. He was asking $400, claiming she was pureblood Russian Blue.”
He shook his head. “Some guys are so dumb.”
“And my daughter seems to find the dumbest of the bunch. She kicked him out, though—so maybe there’s some hope for her.”
“She’ll be fine. She has a smart mother on her side.”
She patted his shoulder. “Oh, I almost forgot why I came out here. Your sister is coming for a visit.”
His heart lifted. His ex had caused some hurt feelings with Naomi and bent the normally strong bond between them. She hadn’t made a trip to visit him since before the breakup. Her trip was a sign that she’d forgiven him for being one of those dumb guys who didn’t see the disaster right in front of his face. “When?”
“She’ll be here in two weeks.”
“Perfect. Book us lunch somewhere, will you?”
“Of course.”
“Do you want to come?” he offered. Mrs. Morgan and Naomi got along famously. It was possible she was coming out to see Mrs. Morgan and not him. But he’d take it.
“I have a previous engagement. But thank you for the invitation.”
He grinned. “This wouldn’t happen to involve Mr. Taylor, would it?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She left him on the driveway to stew in his curiosity.
When he couldn’t stand hanging around not knowing things, he decided that he’d have better luck getting to know Julie than he would getting information out of his assistant. So, he drove the car over to Main Street and parked in the public lot at the bottom. Finding his way around town had quickly become second nature.
Instead of walking in the shop, he walked past, glancing through the large front window to see who was behind the counter today. He could ask Brooklyn or Crystal about Grandma, but he really wanted to talk to the woman herself—without an audience.
Thankfully, she was the only one in sight. He made a U-turn and went back to the door, pushing it open and stepping inside. The smell of sugar and cream hit him first, with chocolate laced throughout. His mood instantly lifted.
“Hello, Mr. Perfect.” Julie smiled up at him as she carefully removed a square of fudge from a pan. “What can I get for you?”
“Did you say Mr. Perfect?”
Julie kept her chin down, but he could see her large smile. “Just something my granddaughter said the other day.”
His chest expanded. Brooklyn had called him perfect. Of course, she could have been sarcastic. He rubbed at the two-day stubble on his jaw and decided to let it go. He wasn’t here for a does she like me conversation. “What’s the best flavor on the menu?” He took his time considering the options. White chocolate macadamia nut. Moose tracks. Turtle. Rocky road. The list went on.
“Well, our best seller is the mint cookie, but my personal favorite is the piña
colada.” She cut off a slice and handed it across the glass.
He sampled it. “This is good.” Surprisingly good.
“Best in the world.” She winked, reminding him of Brooklyn.
“What made you want to open a fudge shop?” Images of a grandmother trying to support her granddaughters and doing the only thing she knew she was good at came to mind.
“I didn’t.”
He tipped his head, curious.
She continued talking as she worked. “My grandmother started the shop. I was just lucky enough to be born into the right family.”
He chuckled more at himself for creating a sob story than at her joke. “Was it hard, running a business and raising two girls?”
“The second two were a lot easier than the first two.” She sliced off a sliver of tiger stripes, and the scent of peanut butter hit him. He reached for it, ready to try something new. “We Drury women tend to fall for men with plane tickets in their eyes, which makes for a lot of heartbreak.”
He wondered if that applied to Brooklyn. She was such a hometown kind of girl; he could imagine that she’d choose Eureka Springs over a man. For a moment, he wondered if she’d choose him. The thought was silly. It wasn’t like they’d so much as exchanged phone numbers. Although … he did have her email address. But she didn’t know that.
“I’ll take a pound of every flavor.” That should keep Mrs. Morgan happy for a few days. The woman had a serious sweet tooth. And his half of the ever-changing bargain would be settled.
“You are Mr. Perfect,” Julie teased.
They chatted more as she boxed up his order. As he watched, he wondered if his grandfather had been one of those guys who’d flown away and hadn’t come back. Had he left Julie here to make his way in the world, choosing adventure instead of family life? Asher hoped not. But there was no way to ask such a delicate question without revealing his identity, and he wasn’t ready for that, either.
Julie didn’t seem like the gold-digger type. Neither did Brooklyn. So what held him back from revealing his identity? He wasn’t quite sure.
Although he was enjoying the rivalry with Brooklyn. Perhaps a little too much.
Chapter Eleven
Brooklyn
“I needed this!” Brooklyn hugged her friend Mollie hello in the lobby of the Crescent Hotel.
With the French doors thrown open in the back an
d front, the interior of the hotel was bright despite the dark wood paneling and furniture that beckoned the trolley tourists to wander through and gawk.
The view off the back porch was stunning, as the Ozarks rolled in greens and blues and browns today. Equally as beautiful was fall when the colors changed. As busy as they both were, it might take that long before they could meet up again, so she was taking full advantage of this opportunity and splurging.
Mollie had on a black shirt and black pants, which meant she was working that night. She ran the ghost tours after hours when most of Main Street was asleep and the town’s past … awakened.
“How’s business?” Brooklyn asked. They turned and made their way up four flights of red-carpeted steps.
Mollie made a face. “Same as always.” Her voice came out gravelly and sarcastic like it always did. Her friend hid her heart of gold under a quick wit.
“Any sightings of Nick?” Brooklyn let her hand trail up the dark-stained handrail. She loved the ornate woodwork of yesteryear. IKEA might be easy to assemble, but their furniture lacked character as far as she was concerned.
“Last week, he knocked a guy’s cell phone out of his hands. The screen cracked, and he threatened to sue us. I told him to go ahead and try to find a lawyer that would take the case.” She rolled her crystal-blue eyes.
Brooklyn giggled. Nick had been a construction worker on this very hotel. He’d fallen from scaffolding while flirting with a couple female guests and died. In her tours, Mollie related the story, or faced the consequences. She claimed Nick didn’t like to be ignored.
Brooklyn had another theory. “He’s trying to get your attention.”
“He’s a ghost diva.”
She glanced quickly around. “Shh, he could hear you.”
They both dissolved into giggles. If you lived in Eureka Springs long enough, you believed that the living weren’t the only inhabitants, but the spirits who hung around weren’t scary. Sometimes they were legends, and often they were family.
They entered the restaurant and were shown to a table on the patio. When the weather was nice, like today, the screens were up and they could dine al fresco. If a storm came in, the staff lowered the plastic liners and cranked the heaters, allowing for an outdoor eating experience without being subjected to Mother Nature.
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