Tempting Brooke Read online

  We both were.

  “This isn’t going to happen,” I insist and fold the letter, place it back in its envelope, and move on to the next thing.

  “With all due respect, how in the hell do you propose to stop it? It’s not like we can afford to buy the building. In downtown Cunningham Falls, this would go for several million dollars.”

  “I’m going to talk him out of it.”

  She stares at me, then shakes her head and lets out a laugh. “Okay, I gotta hear this. How, exactly, do you intend to do that? I know that you and Brody were close when we were kids, but you haven’t seen him in more than ten years. Are you going to hypnotize him or something?”

  “No, I’m going to have a calm, adult conversation with him.”

  “This is business, big sister.” She reaches over to smack a kiss on my cheek. “For purely selfish reasons, I hope you make it happen. I’m sick of baking at my house. I don’t have enough counter space. But Brody got out of here as soon as he could, and I suspect that this building isn’t something he wants to keep.”

  “Well, he’s going to,” I reply, sounding way more confident than I feel. “Businesses, especially new businesses, don’t do well when they have to relocate. We’re doing so great, Maisey. And with you next door, well, there’s so much more we could do.”

  “I don’t disagree with you,” she says. “This is an ideal location, and we are doing great. I’d like to be a fly on the wall when you talk to Brody. He was hot back in the day.”

  I don’t respond, but my stomach does a little flop. He was so hot. And so freaking nice. And then one day, he stopped walking me to school. No explanation. Nothing. He just wasn’t my friend anymore.

  I’ve wondered for years what I did wrong. Brody was someone that I truly cared about and enjoyed spending time with. And to say that I had a crush on him is the understatement of the year.

  He was hot, kind, and smiled at me unlike anyone else ever has, before or since.

  I hope there’s a piece of that boy still in there, and that when I talk to him, I can make him see reason. Because I’m not moving Brooke’s Blooms out of this building.

  * * * *

  “Stop pacing,” Maisey says the following week. I’m walking back and forth through the flower shop, biting my thumbnail and stressing the hell out.

  “Why is she acting like this?” Micah, my teenage afternoon help, asks Maisey. Micah is seventeen, and comes in after school to process deliveries, trim stems, and clean up. He’s tall and lanky with dark hair that falls into his eyes. Sometimes a bit clumsy. And we adore him.

  “She’s seeing a guy she hasn’t seen in a long time.”

  “Like, on a date?”

  “No.” I turn, my hands on my hips, and pin them both with a glare. “It’s not a date. It’s a business meeting. Because I’m a business woman.”

  “Adults are weird,” he mumbles as he carries an armload of roses into the cooler, just when the bell on the front door dings, and there he is in the flesh.

  Brody Chabot.

  “Brooke?” A slow grin spreads over that sexy mouth, and I have to take a minute to just soak him in. He’s grown a couple more inches, making him ridiculously tall. His dark hair is cut short around his ears, and a little longer on top, stylishly messy.

  He’s in cargo shorts and a polo shirt, due to it being the hottest day of the year so far out there.

  “Hi, Brody,” I reply and swallow hard. “Thanks for meeting with me.”

  “Hi, Brody,” Maisey says with a smile. “Welcome back.”

  He blinks and nods, then tosses her a friendly smile. “Thanks. Good to see you.” He turns back to me as he tucks his sunglasses in his pocket. “I thought, since the space next door is empty, we could walk over there.”

  I nod and tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear. “That works. Maisey, do you and Micah have this?”

  “Of course. Take your time.”

  I send her a look that says thanks, but if I’m not back in an hour, come get me.

  Brody leads the way and unlocks the glass door, then holds it open for me and waits for me to go ahead of him. He locks the door back up and follows me in.

  The room is empty, aside from a glass countertop that used to display knick knacks. Brody walks behind it and leans on it casually, crosses his arms over his chest, and takes a moment to look me up and down, from my toes to my head.

  “You still look sixteen,” he says quietly. Just like that, his voice does things to me. It’s deeper now, and his brown eyes aren’t the eyes of a boy anymore. He’s 100% pure sexy man, and I’m suddenly wishing I’d asked Maisey to attend this meeting with me.

  “I don’t feel sixteen,” I reply with a small laugh and rest my hands on the countertop across from him. I’m only five-feet-two, so I have to look way up to meet his gaze. His eyes are guarded, but happy. I look at his left hand, and notice that he isn’t wearing a ring.

  “You’re not wearing one either,” he says quietly.

  “No.”

  He nods once. “I’m assuming you wanted to meet about the letter.”

  “I do, yes. Brody, I need you to reconsider.”

  His eyebrows climb in surprise. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. I’d like you to reconsider selling the building. If you sell, and I have to relocate, I could very well go out of business, and this business is important, Brody.”

  “To you.”

  “To this community.”

  He sneers, and I feel a bit of resentment bubble up in my gut. “I know you don’t think very highly of Cunningham Falls, but it’s a great place, and my flower shop is important here.”

  He purses his lips, not replying for a moment. “I don’t want to sound condescending, Brooke. You’re a smart woman, and I can see that your shop is nice. But it’s flowers. It’s not a doctor’s office. Not to mention, I’m not asking you to close your business. You can relocate.”

  I want to bristle and toss back something rude, but this is Brody, and I know he doesn’t mean to hurt my feelings.

  “That’s just it, I can’t relocate. Location is everything, Brody. I’ve built a reputation in this place, and my customers already know where to find me. Also, commercial rental space is impossible to find in downtown. Businesses stay, and they don’t close down because they do well.

  “Brody, if you sell this building, someone will tear it down and build expensive condos here in its place. This can’t happen.”

  “I think you’re being melodramatic,” he replies. “I’m sure the new owner, whomever it may be, will continue to rent to you.”

  “I know you don’t understand,” I say softly. “Let’s table this discussion for just a minute. Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.” He narrows his eyes and seems to steel himself, getting ready.

  “Where did you go? When you left?”

  He sighs. “San Francisco.”

  “Oh.” I pace away and then turn to look at him. “I missed you. I’ve thought of you often over the past ten years.”

  “I know I should have said goodbye, but—”

  “Yes. You should have.” I nod and wander back to him. “I worried for a while because I didn’t see you, even around town. And then I heard someone say that you’d moved away.”

  “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

  “You did that long before you left,” I reply and watch as he frowns and looks down at the counter. “But that’s not what this is about. I was just curious as to where you went. I know that you couldn’t get out of here fast enough, and I don’t know why. But I can tell you that this community isn’t as bad as you think it is.”

  He smirks, but there’s no humor there. “We had different experiences.”

  “Let me show you.” His gaze whips up to mine in surprise. “Let me prove to you that not only is owning this building a great investment, but that mine and Maisey’s businesses are important to this community.”

  “How do you propose to do tha
t? Show me your ledgers?”

  “No, I’m going to do better than that. How long are you staying?”

  “I’m leaving as soon as possible.”

  I frown, not sure why that hurts my heart as badly as it does. Standing here, talking to him like this, feels so good. I don’t want him to leave.

  “Can you give me a week?” Why didn’t I think of this sooner? This is brilliant!

  “A week?”

  I nod, and watch as the wheels in his head start to spin. “I want one week. You can hang out in the shop as much or as little as you want, my only request is that you help build and deliver one order a day for the next week. An order that I choose.”

  “Look, Brooke, I appreciate that you have a business to run, but so do I. This is just business. It isn’t personal.”

  “Not to me it isn’t just business, and if you agree to do this, you’ll see why.”

  He shakes his head and pushes his hand through his hair, the same way he used to when he was young and frustrated with me, which wasn’t often.

  But it’s even sexier now.

  “I don’t really have time to stay for the week.”

  I cock my head to the side, watching him.

  “What do you do in San Francisco?”

  “I’m an engineer. I build bridges.”

  I feel my eyes widen, and I hold my hand up for a high-five. He laughs and obliges, and I can’t help but notice how warm his palm is against mine.

  “Good for you, Brody. That’s awesome. I’d like to hear more about it. Over the next week.”

  He laughs now and paces away from me, then back.

  “You’re as stubborn now as you were at fifteen.”

  “No, I’m much more stubborn now.”

  He shakes his head, watching me with hot eyes. This isn’t the way a teenager would look at me.

  This is a man.

  And holy crap, he’s potent, and hotter than ever.

  But he’s also a stranger now, and the owner of my building. I need to keep it that way.

  “Do it for me,” I say, batting my eyelashes. I smile as he breaks out into a laugh.

  “I never could tell you no. But, Brooke, just because I’m going to do this with you doesn’t mean that I’m not selling this building.”

  “I know.” You’re not selling. I’ll talk you out of it. “Can you start tomorrow?”

  “The sooner the better. I have some calls to make.”

  He walks me out and we stop in front of the shop. “You won’t regret this,” I say and pat his bicep, then blink rapidly at the rock-hard muscles I come in contact with. Jesus, he’s just… hard.

  “Oh, I think that’s probably the biggest lie you’ve ever told.” He winks and walks down the street. I can’t take my eyes off his backside. His broad shoulders.

  We both might live to regret it.

  Chapter Two

  ~Brody~

  Well, that didn’t go as planned.

  I was supposed to be in Cunningham Falls for a grand total of fourteen hours before I got back on a plane to San Francisco, leaving Montana in the rear-view for good.

  Instead, I just agreed to spend a week delivering flowers.

  Am I out of my fucking mind?

  I shake my head as I walk down the sidewalk, past restaurants and shops, toward my car. It took me forever to find a place to park today. I guess Cunningham Falls isn’t quite as sleepy as it was when I was young.

  Yes, it would seem I am out of my mind. At least, when I’m around Brooke. I never could tell her no, and it looks like that hasn’t changed at all.

  Brooke is a different story. I wasn’t lying when I said she hasn’t aged a bit. Her face is still fresh and sweet, that mole above her lip making my heart thump in my chest and my dick twitch in ways it never did when I was fifteen.

  But the rest of her? Jesus H. Christ, she’s become a sexy woman. She’s curvier, and carries those curves well on her small frame. I wanted to boost her up on that counter top, wrap her stiletto-tipped legs around my hips, and get acquainted with her in a whole new way.

  And I’m pretty sure that makes me an asshole.

  “Brody? Brody Chabot?”

  I stop, scowl, and turn, shocked as fuck that someone would recognize me. But the scowl falls away when I see Mrs. Blakely sweeping the sidewalk in front of Little Deli, the restaurant she’s owned on Main Street since before I can remember.

  “Mrs. Blakely.” I lean in to kiss her cheek and she pats my arm, similar to the way Brooke did, but my body’s response is completely different this time. “How are you?”

  “Well, I’m fantastic now. Don’t tell me you’re going to walk past my place and not come in for a pastrami sandwich.”

  “I wouldn’t dare,” I reply, even though I’m not hungry, and I need to find a hotel and a place to get to work, clearing my schedule for the week.

  “Good.” She leans her broom outside the door and leads me inside. It’s past lunch time, so it’s quiet in her deli right now, and she points to the stool I used to occupy every afternoon after school. “Your seat’s open.”

  “I see that.” I straddle the stool and lean my elbows on the counter, watching Mrs. Blakely bustle around, making me my favorite sandwich. “How are you, ma’am?”

  “Never better,” she says with a grin. “Happy to see you, and that’s the truth of it. I should twist your ear off for being gone so long without coming to visit me.”

  “It’s been a long time,” I agree as she puts the finishing touches on my sandwich and passes it over to me. I take a big bite, and I’m immediately seventeen again, talking with Mrs. Blakely, eating my afternoon sandwich that she never charged me for, and it doesn’t feel as bad as I thought it would.

  “Good?”

  “Oh my God,” I groan and take another bite. “I didn’t think I was hungry.”

  Her face lights up in happiness as she puts everything away and wipes down her workspace.

  “Now, what have you been up to, Brody?”

  “Living in San Francisco, working mostly.”

  “Wife? Kids?”

  I shake my head no. I almost got married once, but we both came to our senses about six months before the wedding and realized that we weren’t meant to be together forever.

  “Neither. How are all of your children?”

  She smiles again and gives me the rundown on where all four of her kids are, who’s married, and who’s not.

  “My Stephanie isn’t married,” she says. “And she lives in L.A.”

  “No, thanks.” I hold my hands up and laugh around my last bite of sandwich. “I’m not on the market.”

  “Let me know if you change your mind,” she says with a wink. “What are you in town for?”

  “Glen passed away,” I reply.

  “Yes, I was at your father’s funeral,” she says. What she doesn’t say is you weren’t.

  “I inherited some property and personal things, and I just came to town to take care of that.”

  Her eyes are shrewd, and I expect questions. She asked a lot of questions when I was a kid and spent too many hours perched on this stool.

  But she doesn’t ask. She just nods and then takes my empty plate away.

  “Well, I’m glad I got to see you while you were here,” she says. “And I sure was sorry about your dad. He was such a good man.”

  Bull. Fucking. Shit. No one knew what kind of man my father really was because neither I or my mom ever told them.

  Glen Chabot played the part well for the rest of the community. Devoted husband and father. Shrewd businessman. Member of the city council.

  Cunningham Falls fucking loved him. I bet there was a parade in his honor after the bastard died.

  But no one ever knew who he really was. No one but me and my mom, who passed away from breast cancer several years ago. I offered to come back for her, but she refused. She was determined that I remember her as being healthy, but she was wrong. I’ll always remember her as beaten, and not from the
cancer.

  Rather than say all of that to Mrs. Blakely, I just offer her a smile and say, “Thank you.”

  The bell above the door dings as a customer walks in, and my smile dies on my lips when I see who it is.

  Grayson King was the only other friend that I had in town, and I didn’t say goodbye to him, either.

  But rather than cuss me out, he smiles widely and holds his hand out to shake mine, pulling me in for a hug.

  “Brody, shit, I didn’t know you were in town.”

  “I was supposed to be in and out, but it looks like I’ll be here for a week or so.”

  He sits on the stool next to mine and says hello to Mrs. Blakely, then orders a turkey sandwich. “Give me your number, and Noah and I’ll take you out for a beer.”

  Noah is his older brother, and we used to play together as kids. I’ve wondered about both of them over the years.

  “I’ll take you up on that,” I reply and pull my phone out. I’ve missed a text from Brooke.

  Meet me at the shop at 10:00, please.

  I quickly reply before taking Gray’s number and shooting him a text.

  I’ve been in town for three hours, and I’m already deeply entrenched in the past, something I was trying to avoid.

  But it doesn’t feel nearly as horrible as I thought it would.

  * * * *

  “We cut the stems like this,” Brooke says the next morning. We’re standing at her work table, gloves on, and there is a mountain of fresh flowers before us, waiting to be clipped, sorted, and put away. She snips the end, peels off a bunch of the leaves, tossing them in the compost basket, and then puts the flower in a bucket of fresh water. “Then, Micah will carry the flowers into the cooler when he arrives in a couple of hours. We should have all of this done by the time he gets here.”

  “This is a shit ton of flowers,” I say, surveying it all.

  “This will get me through a couple of days,” she says proudly and reaches for a rose. “Don’t cut them down too much because we’ll clip them once more when they go in their arrangements.”

  I follow her direction, and when she’s satisfied that I’m doing it correctly, she moves on to other things.