Tempting Brooke: A Big Sky Novella Page 3

  The bell over the door, exactly the same as Mrs. Blakely’s, dings and a man walks in, approaching Brooke.

  “Hello, Mr. King,” she says, catching my attention. I poke my head out from behind the flowers and smile when I see Jeffrey King, Gray’s uncle. “I already have your usual bouquet ready.”

  “You’re a sweetheart,” he says, then sees me and his face lights up. “Well, Brody! It’s good to see you.”

  “You too, sir.”

  Jeffrey King and his two sons own and operate a large ranch outside of Cunningham Falls. His boys were a few years older than me and their cousins, but we would go out to the ranch a couple of times each summer to ride horses and run wild.

  I’d forgotten about those days.

  “How is the ranch?” I ask.

  “Oh, it’s doing just fine. Zack and Josh run it now, and their mother and I have retired.”

  “Good for you.”

  Brooke walks out of the cooler, holding a huge bouquet of yellow roses.

  “Ah, there they are,” Jeffrey says and takes them from her. “You’ll put this on my tab, right?”

  “Of course,” she says with a wide smile.

  “My pretty bride will love them.” He winks at both of us. “Good to see you, Brody. Oh, and I’m sorry about your dad.”

  “Have a great day,” I reply with a wave as he walks out of the shop. “Does he come in often?”

  “Every week, same time,” Brooke replies. “Always buys his wife yellow roses. He’s done it since the week I opened.”

  “That’s sweet,” I say and can’t resist reaching over to smooth a piece of her dark chestnut hair off her cheek. “I always liked the King family.”

  “Me too,” she says and moves away from me, but not before I see the heat rise in her face. It seems I’m not the only one attracted. “They’re growing like crazy, too. Josh and Zack both have kids now.”

  “Didn’t Zack go into the Army?”

  “He did, but he’s been home for a few years now. He married Jillian Sullivan, and they have twins, with another baby on the way. Zack also has a teenage son, from a previous marriage.”

  “That’s a lot of kids,” I reply with a laugh.

  “Hey, I just want to say, I’m sorry about your dad, too. He was always really nice to me.”

  I take a deep breath, the aroma of the flowers filling my head, and try to push out the hatred I still carry for Glen. I can’t say thank you, not to Brooke. It’s fake, and I’ve never been fake with her. That’s why I couldn’t be her friend anymore in high school.

  She would have figured out my horrible home life because I never could lie to her.

  “Don’t be,” I reply softly, watching the stems as I clip them.

  “What?” She steps closer to me and rubs her hand up and down my arm. Being in direct physical contact with Brooke isn’t a good idea.

  All I’ve been able to think about since I left her yesterday was getting in her pants.

  She absolutely shouldn’t touch me.

  “What do you mean?” she asks again.

  “Nothing.” I shove a final stem in a bucket, filling it. “I can carry this in the cooler. No need to wait for Micah.” I lift it and walk away, hoping she’ll drop the subject.

  I’m not disappointed when I walk out. Maisey’s arrived, carrying cake samples.

  “We have a wedding cake and flower appointment this evening,” Maisey says with a smile. “But I brought extras for you.”

  “Well, you’re officially my new favorite person,” I reply and pull her in for a hug. Maisey is just as beautiful as her sister. Smart. Funny.

  But my body has zero reaction when I touch her. It’s what case studies are made of, but I’ll never tell anyone.

  Especially Brooke.

  “Here, try the chocolate with strawberry frosting first.”

  Maisey passes me the plate and I bite in, then look up in absolute shock. “Holy fuck.”

  “Good, right?” Maisey asks with a smug smile.

  “How do you not weigh seven thousand pounds? I’d never stop eating this.”

  She laughs and shakes her head. “I taste it here and there, to make sure it’s perfect. Here, I have huckleberry.”

  “I haven’t had huckleberry anything since I was a kid.” I take the cake and try to hide how damn good it is, but it’s no use. I moan and lean against the counter as if I’m dying. “Jesus, Maisey. You’re absolutely doing what you’re meant to do.”

  “Thanks.” She takes the rest in the cooler for later, then comes back out.

  “She’d like to rent the empty space next door,” Brooke adds, giving me a sweet smile. “We’d like to expand a bit, offer more high-end gifts, and be able to host bouquet building parties, or cake decorating parties. The possibilities are endless.”

  Except I’m selling the building.

  “I could definitely use the extra counter space,” Maisey adds with a vigorous nod. “I’m so sick of working in my kitchen at home.”

  “You don’t have an industrial space?”

  She shakes her head no. “That’s why I come here to offer cake tastings to potential brides. Plus, we can combine the appointments. I give them cake options, and Brooke can go over flowers with them, too.”

  “It works well, and I think we could expand it even more if she were right next door.”

  I take a final bite of cake, watching the two beautiful women as they tell me their plans, knowing full well that I’ve just been ambushed.

  “You did this on purpose.”

  Brooke blinks her big brown eyes. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “You brought in this delicious cake, and just pitched me your business ideas, hoping to sway me from selling the building.”

  “Well, we aren’t stupid, Brody,” Maisey says with a shrug. “You’re a captive audience. Of course we did.”

  I laugh and toss my fork and paper plate in the garbage, then reach for a napkin to wipe my mouth.

  “Pretty smart,” I agree. “Maybe whomever I sell the building to will lease it back to you.”

  They look at each other and then shake their heads in defeat.

  “I told you—”

  “I know,” Brooke says, interrupting me. “You’re selling. Doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying, Brody.”

  She offers me a sad smile, and then walks into the cooler, then back out with a huge bouquet.

  “It’s time to deliver these,” she says and reaches for her keys and purse. “Come on.”

  Chapter Three

  ~Brooke~

  “Isn’t this the Cunningham place?” Brody asks twenty minutes later as we approach one of the biggest and oldest homes in town.

  “Yep,” I reply with a smile that I really don’t feel. Despite Maisey’s delicious cake today, and our brilliant business plan, we didn’t seem to sway Brody on his decision to sell the building.

  I know it’s only day one, but I can’t help but feel some disappointment.

  “Lauren Cunningham, now Sullivan, lives here with her husband and their kids.”

  “Ty Sullivan?” he asks.

  “That’s the one,” I reply and feel the usual excitement I get when I know I’m going to see Ty. Don’t get me wrong, he’s married, and I’m no home wrecker, but I’ve had a tiny crush on the bad boy lawyer since I was a kid. I think most women in town do. He’s just… crushable. I climb out of my SUV and walk to the back where the flowers are secured. I reach for them, but Brody stops me.

  “I’ll get them.”

  “They aren’t heavy.”

  “You have me here to work,” he reminds me. “So I’m working.”

  “Touché.” I laugh and lead him up the steps to the front door and ring the bell. A few moments later, Ty appears, looking completely disheveled, his dark hair a riot, his face covered in stubble, and rather than his usual suit, he’s in jeans and a Metallica T-shirt.

  With baby puke on the front.

  “Hey, Brooke,” he says with a half smil
e. “Let’s keep our voices down, okay? I just got Layla down for a nap. She insists she’s too old, but with the new baby and all the chaos, she needed it.”

  “We won’t be long,” I reply with a hushed voice. “I have these flowers for Lo, and I admit, I’d love to see the new little one.”

  “Of course,” Ty says, his tired face transforming into the brightest smile in Montana. “They’re in the office. This way.”

  He leads us into Lo’s office, where she’s sitting in her chaise lounge, smiling softly as she watches the little baby sleep in a bassinet next to her.

  “Brooke,” she says with a smile and stands to give me a hug. “How are you?”

  “I’m great. You look fantastic for just having had a baby two days ago.”

  She glances at Ty, and then back at the baby. “I feel good. I was going to get some writing in, but I can’t stop staring at him.”

  “Lo, do you remember Brody?”

  She looks at Brody and grins. “Of course. Wow, I almost didn’t recognize you. Are you working for Brooke now?”

  “Sort of,” he says as he passes the flowers to Ty, who puts them on Lo’s desk and pulls the card out of the arrangement for her before shaking Brody’s hand. “I’m helping her out this week.”

  “Fun,” Lo says and sits down again, cringing a bit as she pulls her legs up and takes the card from Ty. “Aww, you got me more flowers?”

  “I’m buying you flowers every day,” he says as he leans in to kiss her. “You earned them.”

  “You’re sweet,” Lo says with a grin and turns to me. “Do you want to hold him?”

  “I didn’t want to ask, but man, do I,” I reply with a chuckle. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  I reach in for the sleeping baby, and cradle him to me, kissing his soft head. “Oh, he has auburn hair like his mama.”

  “Seems both of my kids will be gingers,” Ty says with a happy smile. “They’ll keep me on my toes.”

  “Oh, Lo, he’s so beautiful. What did you name him?”

  “We haven’t announced it yet, but if you can keep a secret, we’ll tell you,” Lo says.

  I’m rocking the baby back and forth. I can’t take my eyes off his sweet face. His perfect lips are making little sucking motions as he dreams.

  “I’m not going to tell anyone,” I reply and kiss his soft forehead again.

  “Logan Jeffrey,” Ty replies as he rubs circles over his wife’s back. “For Jeffrey King.”

  “Oh, that’s so sweet,” I reply and kiss little Logan’s cheek one more time before giving him back to his mama. “I know that you’re close to Zack and Josh.”

  “Jeffrey practically raised me,” Ty replies. “He’s the only dad I know. He definitely saved me from the man who fathered me.”

  Brody tenses beside me, and I glace up at him, but his face hasn’t changed a bit. Did I imagine it?

  “Congratulations,” Brody says and smiles down at the baby. “He’s a sweet little guy.”

  “Thank you,” Lo says. “I’m so happy that you both stopped by. Have you moved back to town, Brody?”

  He shakes his head and shoves his hands in his pockets. “No. I’m just here for the week.”

  “Well, enjoy your time here,” Ty says as he leads us back to the front door. When Lo’s out of ear shot, he grins down at me. “And thanks for those. They’re exactly what I wanted, just like the flowers along the fenceline.”

  “And down her back,” I add with a grin. “I have tattoo envy.”

  His smile grows. “You did great. I’ll see you soon.”

  We hurry down to the car and climb inside, and pull away from the massive home, my windshield wipers moving swiftly in the sudden summer rain.

  “So, the man looks amazing in a suit and in baby puke. Who knew?”

  “What?” Brody’s head whips around, and he’s staring at me like I just said I’m an alien.

  “I’ve had a crush on Ty for years. I love me a man in a sexy suit. I had no idea that he looked good in a rocker T-shirt, too.”

  “He’s married,” he replies with a frown.

  “Oh, please. I’m no home wrecker. But a girl can look. Especially when he fills out a suit the way that Ty does. Not to mention, he loves his wife. You should see some of the flower arrangements he’s had me make for her. He’s a total romantic.”

  “I wear suits,” Brody says, rather defensively.

  “You do?”

  “Every damn day.”

  “Hmm.” I glance his way and then back to the road. “I don’t buy it. Prove it.”

  He laughs next to me, then pulls his phone out, taps it, and holds it up for me to see. There he is, on the screen, wearing a suit.

  “That could have been for one occasion.”

  But my God, he looks delicious in that photo. I wonder if there’s a way that I could get it from him, to have after he leaves.

  “That’s how I look every day.”

  “Not today.”

  He’s quiet, so I look his way and giggle at the look of absolute frustration on his handsome face.

  “I’m not wearing a suit to the flower shop.”

  “Well, how are you going to prove it, then?”

  He tucks his phone in his pocket and rubs his hand over his face, then shakes his head and laughs. “I suppose I’ll have to take you out to dinner.”

  My gaze whips to his in surprise. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Dinner.”

  “When?”

  “Tonight,” he says and reaches over to brush a knuckle down my cheek. “Are you free?”

  I swallow hard as I park the car. “Yeah. I’m free.”

  “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  * * * *

  Dinner wasn’t in my plans. I’m beginning to think it’s a bad idea to have Brody come to the flower shop every day as it is because whenever I’m within ten feet of him, I want to lick him.

  I’m pretty sure that would be considered sexual harassment in the workplace, even though he’s not on my payroll.

  I stare at myself in the mirror as I brush the curls I just put in my long, dark hair and then laugh at myself.

  Brody is just being nice. I practically pushed him into a corner this afternoon, and he asked me to dinner. He’s my friend, and that’s it.

  I brush some gloss on my lips, and take stock. Flowy red summer dress: check. Natural makeup: check. Butterflies: check.

  The bell dings, and I reach for my small handbag and answer the door.

  Brody’s eyes start at my face and slowly meander down my body to my sandal-covered feet, and if I’m not mistaken, his jaw clenches.

  Just friends, Brooke.

  “Hey.”

  I can’t help but take my own perusal of the man standing before me. Jesus in a basket, he fills out a suit nicely. His shoulders are broad, and his arms muscular.

  Yes, this does things to me.

  “Can I come in?” he asks with a small smile on his lips.

  “Of course.” I step back and he walks inside my small house.

  “This is nice,” he says, but his eyes are still on me.

  “Thanks. I’ve been here for a couple of years.” I glance around, wondering if Brody and I have the same tastes, and then I glance back to him and bust out laughing.

  “What?” he asks.

  “Turn around.” He complies, and I reach up to pull the tag that’s poked out of the neck of his jacket. His hair is soft against the back of my fingers, and I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like as I fist it while he does amazing, sexy things to me.

  I take a deep breath and hand it to him with a laugh. “Wear it every day, my ass.”

  He tucks the tag in his pocket. “I didn’t bring a suit to Montana. I had to improvise.”

  He bought it just for me.

  And according to the tag, it wasn’t cheap.

  Now I feel bad. I shouldn’t have pushed the issue. He spent a bunch of money that he didn’t need to, all because
I gave him a hard time.

  “I thought we could eat at Ciao tonight,” he says as he leads me out of the house to his rented convertible. The sun broke out a couple of hours ago, and it’s the perfect temperature now. But I just did my hair.

  I think about asking him to put the top up, and then decide, fuck it.

  I reach into my handbag and pull out a hair tie, twist my hair on top of my head, and grin as I sit in the fun car.

  “I could have put the top up.”

  “And that would have been a waste on a day like today,” I reply smoothly and have to physically restrain myself from reaching over to brush my fingertips through that soft hair at the nape of his neck.

  We drive through town in silence. Rather than park in front of the restaurant, he drives past, and I frown over at him.

  “Having second thoughts?”

  “No.” He sends me a smile. “Before we go in, I’d like to know why you got so quiet.”

  I bite my lip and look out my window, then turn to him and say, “Did you buy that suit just for me?”

  “Seems I do a lot of things for you lately,” he replies with a grin. “It’s not a big deal, Brooke.”

  “I’m sorry,” I reply. “I was just goofing around this afternoon. I didn’t mean for you to have to do all of this.”

  “All of what?”

  “Buy that gorgeous suit, take me to dinner. I feel like I hijacked your day, and I feel bad.”

  He pulls over, whips his seatbelt off, and turns to me.

  “Look at me.”

  I comply. He drags his knuckle down my cheek again, and that’s all it takes to set my body on high alert.

  I don’t think my nipples will ever be anything but hard again.

  “You’ve hijacked my whole week,” he reminds me, making me giggle. I cover my mouth with my hand. “And I invited you to dinner because I wanted to. I enjoy spending time with you, Brooke. I always have.”

  “Is your girlfriend pissed that you’re in Montana?” I ask, not even trying to hide that I’m digging for information.

  “Yes,” he says and I feel my eyes go wide in mortification. He laughs, hard, like he used to when we were teens. “Jesus, the look on your face is priceless.”

  “Tell me you don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “Why?”