Blame It on the Mistletoe (4 page)

“Did I already break the law in the last forty-five minutes?” He joked, but he had a sinking feeling he knew what Ryan was about to say.

“No,” Ryan laughed. “How’s your mom tonight? From what I can tell she’s doing a lot better these days.”

“Yeah, I was surprised. She said it’s been almost two years.”

“That sounds about right. I don’t know what prompted it, but I just saw her one day at the Stop & Go and she looked five years younger. Good for her.”

Alex nodded his head, still shocked at this unexpected turn of events. If he’d have known, would he have come home sooner? The truth was, probably not. He was happy for her, proud even, but her becoming sober when he was thirty didn’t erase his childhood or his memories.

“Listen, I’ll let you get going, but I just had to get something off my chest after tonight.”

Here it comes. Once upon a time he and Ryan had been thick as thieves, best friends, and partners in crime. After high school they’d grown apart, Alex going straight into the army and Ryan … shit, he really didn’t even know what Ryan had done. Alex was pretty sure Ryan went to college, but for the life of him he couldn’t recall where. Alex had been a shitty friend. Maybe they both were, or maybe they were only meant to be friends during that one time of their lives.

“And that is?”

Ryan chuckled and looked over his steering wheel for a second before meeting Alex’s eyes. “I’m gonna need you to stay away from Brooke.”

Well, shit, he’d known it was coming but it still pissed him off. “Thanks for your subtlety. I’m sure it’s nothing personal.”

Alex didn’t miss the way Ryan’s jaw noticeably hardened. How many times had he shared score stories with this guy? Ryan Abbott sure as hell was no saint. If anything, Ryan blew apart any theory that a kid from a nice family was a good boy. They’d been equals in the troublemaker department, and damn, they’d had fun doing it. Alex let out a sigh—on that note maybe he had to admit the guy’s concern was valid.

“Listen, Alex, it
is
personal but not how you think.” Ryan continued. “Brooke’s had a rough couple of years. She’s … trying to start over.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means I don’t want a man upsetting her. She’s in a good place right now, but she’s fragile.”

“Fragile? Did somebody hurt her?”

Something flashed over Ryan’s eyes, and Alex knew that his question had hit the mark. And instantly fury set in. He had never really been close to Brooke; she was always quiet and shy around him. But cute, in the nerdy little-sister kind of way. Toward the end, yeah sure he’d noticed that she was growing up, and he certainly remembered that awkward night when he sneaked in her bedroom window, but she had always been Ryan’s little sister, which made her absolutely off limits.

He thought back to the Brooke he’d encountered tonight, her shoulder-length brunette hair that framed her beautifully expressive face. Her eyes—how had he never noticed her eyes years ago? Probably because they weren’t sending him I-want-to-fuck-you signals like the other girls he spent time with. But thinking of them now, and knowing that someone had hurt her, pissed him off. Royally.

“Who did it?” Alex pushed for more. It certainly wasn’t any of his damn business, but he needed to know. Ryan sighed, but Alex continued. “A stranger … a boyfriend?”

“A boyfriend, her ex.”

Alex’s rage intensified. The idea that someone Brooke had trusted had betrayed her made him ache. No wonder she’d thrown a damn owl at him tonight. She must have been terrified.

Ryan ran a hand through his hair and went on without any more prompting. “The slimeball motherfucker that she’d been living with in Phoenix. None of us knew him that well which I guess should have been a sign. They met in college, moved in together. They were together a few years. Brooke thought he was her future. I swear to god, when I found out it took all of my control to not just get on the damn highway, drive out there, and kill him.”

“Why the hell haven’t you? And you’re a cop. Arrest his ass.”

“Yeah, it’s so damn easy, right?” Ryan was now angry, his words hard. “I’m a small-town cop in the middle of nowhere. Plus, she doesn’t want it, says there is no need to press charges, and is unwilling to even tell me all the details. But I know it had gotten worse there toward the end. She’s in a much better place than she was a year and a half ago. Which is why I want you to keep your distance.”

Alex worked his jaw back and forth. The car was getting cold inside with the window open. He should crank up the heat, but he suddenly welcomed the discomfort.

“Do your parents know?”

“No. Not my choice, though.”

“What the hell, Ryan?”

“She begged me not to. You didn’t see her when she came back. I would have done whatever she asked me to just to make her not look so lost. I’m not a complete idiot. Yes, I agreed not to tell them, but in exchange she went to counseling with a lady I know from the department, took six months of self-defense class, and agreed not to move out of Preston for a few years.”

Alex scoffed at the last one. “For what, so you could babysit her?”

Ryan gave him an irritated glance. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

“Alright, man. Just so you know, I had no intention of seducing Brooke. I don’t know what you
think
you saw, but I’ll stay away from her.”

“What I
know
I saw was you looking at her like a piece of candy, don’t try to fucking deny it.” Ryan said in clipped tones. Alex couldn’t deny it. It was the absolute truth. Ryan went on. “But thank you. I appreciate it. I know you’d never hurt a woman…but, I don’t want her heart broken either.”

“I can respect that. But just so you know, I’m not the same guy I was when I left this town.” Alex looked across the expanse into the police cruiser. Ryan stared at him for a minute, then nodded.

“Good thing, because you cause trouble in this town these days, and it would be me arresting your sorry ass.”

They laughed, although both sounded a little strained. “What’s it like being on the right side of the tiny Preston jail cell?”

“It was weird as hell at first, especially the first time I booked a teenager for some stupid shit, but I got over it. We were such punks back then, we deserved whatever shit we got.”

“Yeah.” “Punks” didn’t even begin to cover it. “It sure was fun though.”

“Fun as hell.”

They were quiet for a moment, neither looking at the other, only the sound of the idling vehicles interrupted occasionally by Ryan’s radio sounding off.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to work. It’s good to see you. I’d still like to catch up but I’m not here for long.”

“Maybe next time,” Ryan said.

“For sure.” Alex gave a wave and pulled out onto the street. His thoughts were overwhelming him. In a matter of two hours several things in his life had been flipped upside down and twisted. Just being back in town was something, his mother’s sobriety after thirty years, and now this news about sweet Brooke Abbott. He wasn’t sure why the last one was eating at him the way it was. But he knew Ryan was right, he shouldn’t get involved with her.

If for no other reason than the next guy she spent time with shouldn’t be a quick fling in town for a few days. She needed a good guy who was going to teach her to trust again. That guy should be her forever, and Alex wasn’t that guy by a long shot.

**

One step into the dimly lit dive bar Smokey’s, and Brooke had a bad feeling. An old U2 song played in the background, punctuated with the laughter of tipsy patrons and low cheers from a televised football game. It was unusually busy for a holiday that was supposed to be spent with family. Then again, maybe the owner Aiden was onto something—there had to be lots of people like her who could take only so much family togetherness.

She glanced around, but didn’t see Alex at a table or the bar. Shit. She’d even purposely shown up ten minutes late so she wouldn’t appear too eager. The sad truth was her heart hadn’t stopped pounding since he’d left her shop.

“Hey, Sweet Thing,” a rough voice called from behind the bar. Well, she couldn’t turn around and leave now, she’d been spotted. She smiled and made her way to a stool beside an older man who appeared to be a permanent fixture, his eyes glued to the TV above the wall of shiny glass bottles, a hand gripping a pint of beer for dear life.

Brooke smiled at Aiden, the bartender. He was several years older than she was and had worked at Smokey’s for years before finally taking it over. She’d never really known him, not until she’d moved back a year ago, but they’d instantly become friends. In Brooke’s experience, most bartenders were friendly since their income depended on it, but Aiden was also about as genuine as a person could be. He looked a little rough, his long blond hair always pulled into a ponytail low on his neck, his jaw usually on the wrong side of a shave, and his oversized biceps covered in tattoos. But he was a gentle giant. And his smile was pretty adorable. He reminded Brooke of a wrestler, and she’d seen him use that to his advantage a couple of times when things got a little rowdy in the bar.

“Shop ready for the weekend?” he asked as he set a raspberry wheat draft, her favorite, in front of her.

“I think so, about as ready as it’s gonna be.” She took a long gulp from the frosty pint glass and felt some tension drain from her limbs. “I just wish I could toss those roadwork signs into the dumpster. Would that be a felony?”

Aiden chuckled. “Not sure, but with a brother behind the law I’m sure you could get away with it.”

Brooke rolled her eyes and took another drink.

“Well, the shop looks good from what I can see. You got those big gumdrops, lights, and whatnot outside. I got a good feeling.”

Brooke smiled. “Thank you, Aiden. I hope you’re right.” She may have had one too many drinks in the past and vented some of her frustrations and fears to the burly bartender. That was what they were here for, right? He was the only person besides Ryan—and now her nonexistent date—that knew she was shacking up at 100 Main. Aiden kept her secrets, bless him.

He stepped away to make some drinks for a server in skin-tight jeans, and Brooke took the opportunity to casually glance around the room, trying not to appear to be doing exactly that. She peeked at the time on her phone. 8:30. Asshole.

“You meetin’ someone?” Aiden asked, leaning against the large wooden bar.

“Oh—uh, not really.”

He raised an eyebrow. “If you say so, Sweet Thing.” He’d called her that since they’d first officially met over the summer when she’d told him her jewelry line—and now store—was called Sweet Opal, after her grandmother. Coming from anyone else it might have been creepy, but there was nothing creepy about Aiden. He gave her a wink and went back to making drinks.

Trying not to fidget, Brooke stared down at the amber beer in front of her. This was just great. Alex was standing her up. It was Thanksgiving in a small town, there was nowhere else to go, nothing else to do, and so his rejection stung all the more. Brooke absently took another drink. Maybe he’d gone to the hospital after all. Maybe he was getting stitches as she sat here, and he was just running behind. Maybe he’d met a
real
hot nurse and let her fix him right up.

With that depressing thought, she finished her beer and indicated to Aiden she wanted another, which was probably a mistake both physically and financially, but she didn’t care. The truth was she was feeling very alone and very stressed. She took pride in her store, as failing as it may be, but this Christmas season would be make or break for her. And on top of that, she had no one to join her in her sorrows or her successes. Even her family didn’t really get it. Ryan tried, but he was a guy’s guy through and through and his job kept him busy. But more than that, he’d already done so much for her she hated to lean on him too much anymore. She knew hearing about her struggles only upset him and stressed him out.

She glanced at her phone again. 9:00.
Damn.

Brooke sighed and took another sip. Aiden was making his way back to her when an old rotary phone on the wall rang. He answered it with a deep “Smokey’s.” He was silent for a second, but then he turned and looked at Brooke for just a moment and her heart sank. It had to be Alex. Or even worse, her brother.

She went back to her beer, taking large gulps, until she felt Aiden hovering over her. She glanced up and met his eyes, trying to ignore the slight look of pity in them.

“He’s not coming, right?” she asked.

“’Fraid not, Sweet Thing. But don’t you worry, if memory serves me right, and it usually does, then that voice belonged to someone I’m pretty sure you’re better off not canoodling with.”

Brooke dropped her head into her hands, not wanting to admit to anything, and also embarrassed. Everyone in Preston knew about the legendary Alex Coleman, and the jerk had just proven himself once again by standing her up. Why was she surprised? It was probably because back at her shop he’d seemed … different. She’d thought surely he’d grown up since high school. Of course he’d had a glint of the bad boy in his eyes—she’d seen it—but she hadn’t gotten the feeling he would blow her off.

She took a final gulp and sighed. Two beers down and she had the warm tingling of a healthy buzz. Her mind wandered to the feel of his thick dark hair in her fingers. He had smelled so good, and although she’d wanted to be a little put off by the knowledge of his wild past, it was also kind of hot. Annoyed with herself and a little lightheaded, Brooke laid her forehead in her palm.

“You want to talk about it?”

Brooke lifted her head and met eyes with Aiden. His expression was no longer pitying, but genuinely concerned, which was nearly as bad.

“Would you stand me up in a bar, Aiden?” she asked, sounding like a wounded little girl. She was too languid to even care.

Aiden gave her a flirty smile. “I wouldn’t stand you up in a tornado.”

The sweetness in his voice almost made her want to cry. “Thank you.” She picked up her empty glass and nodded at it. “One more?”

He stood up straight and narrowed his eyes. “You walk here?”

She nodded. “Please, Aiden.” She should leave, but she was embarrassed and pissed. Those emotions wouldn’t be very fun to deal with sober. Or alone. Not yet.