Blame It on the Mistletoe (5 page)

Aiden contemplated her for a minute, then looked behind him before pulling out a pink pastry box that Brooke recognized from Callie’s Confections, the bakery down the street. “Here’s the deal, I’ll give you one more if you eat a piece of this pie to soak some of it up.”

Brooke eagerly pulled the pink box in front of her and lifted the lid. She groaned as the scent of sugary pecans and buttery crust met her nose. She never had gotten to that Kit Kat and she was starving. Half of the thick gooey pie was left. She rose up and leaned over the bar to grab a fork from a metal crock. “Okay, another beer please.”

Aiden laughed and shook his head as she dug into the pie. “Yes, ma’am.

Forty-five minutes later and Brooke had downed the third beer, two shots of Jӓgermeister courtesy of the bar fixture next to her who was apparently avoiding his in-laws, and nearly all the pie. She stood up to use the restroom and almost tripped as she stepped away from the bar.

Standing up and walking was a sure way to quickly realize how intoxicated you were. The room tilted as she made her way to the back of the bar and down the dark, wood-paneled hallway to the restroom. To be honest, Brooke was surprised she’d managed to complete her mission without falling down. Grabbing the lip of the sink, she glanced into the mirror and sighed. “Shit.”

Her knitted scarf was hanging haphazardly around her neck, her cheeks were flushed from the warm bar and the alcohol, and her hair. Brooke sighed again. Her hair looked like she’d lost the battle with a comb, or a wind machine. She was officially a hot mess, and she hated that phrase. After washing her hands, fluffing her hair, and picking a glob of pecan pie off her sweater, she took a deep breath as she tried to pull her foggy mind into focus and steady herself. She walked out of the restroom and into the bar, which she realized had gotten a lot more crowded in the past couple of hours.

Smokey’s was the epitome of a small-town American bar—scuffed floors, neon beer signs, and local memorabilia decorating the walls—and the cliental preferred it that way. She made her way through the tables and bodies only to find Ryan, looking all broody and coppish, standing by her empty bar stool talking to Aiden.

“Aiden, I hadn’t taken you for a traitor,” she said in a whiny voice that even
her
drunken brain was offended by.

He had the decency to look guilty. “Sorry, Sweet Thing. I have no problem lettin’ you drown in your sorrows for a spell, but I can’t let you walk into the night like that. I’m too good a guy.”

He was, damn it. With a huff, she dug into her purse to pull out her wallet.

“I already took care of it,” Ryan said, his voice stern. “Let’s go.”

Brooke looked up and spotted a twenty on the bar. She grabbed it and shoved it into his chest.

“No you don’t. I’m not some drunk college kid, and I’m not your responsibility, Ryan.” She felt embarrassed by her childish behavior, but while she could barely think straight, she was coherent enough to know that she didn’t want him paying for her drinks, as tempting as it was. She got enough crap from her parents about her financial situation; she didn’t need any more pity from Ryan, too. It was bad enough that Aiden called him to take her drunk ass home. The humiliation of this evening was nearing epic proportions.

She slammed her debit card down on the counter and waited while Aiden reluctantly ran it through the machine. “You didn’t need to come here, Ryan. I know you think I need your constant hovering, but I can take care of myself.” She clumsily threw on her big winter coat and fumbled with the buttons. “I don’t need anyone paying my way or protecting me or standing me up right now!” She gave up trying to make the buttons fit through the holes and turned to glare at Ryan.

“Brooke, stop.” Ryan had the decency to look pained at her comments. “Who stood you up? Did you make plans to meet Coleman here? I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone with him.”

“Oh my god, and yes I did have plans, which I’m allowed to do considering I’m a grown woman. But lucky for you he’s a dickhead, and I’m not ever going to see him again I’m sure. So that’s one more thing you don’t need to protect me from.”

“I’m going to kill him.”

“You know what, I’m sick of this crap. You, and Mom and Dad, and everybody thinking I can’t take care of myself. I’m not stupid. I’m smart. I can be successful and happy. Just because I was stupid once, that doesn’t mean I’ll be stupid again.” She swayed on her feet, and he grasped her elbow.

His mouth was a straight line as he nodded at the bar where Aiden had left her slip to sign. She added Aiden’s tip, hoping her math was right in her inebriated state, scratched out her signature, and grabbed her purse.

They walked silently to his patrol car, which was idling out front. The night air was frigid and the wind whipped through her hair. She shivered as her mush brain sharpened a tad, at least enough to realize what a shitty night this had turned out to be. She went to open the back door when he grabbed her arm and opened the passenger door for her. “You’re not a criminal, Brooke. Get in the front.”

“Maybe I don’t want to sit by you. I’ve never been in the back of a cop car. Maybe I’d rather feel like a bad girl. You ever think of that? Huh?”

She was pretty sure Ryan growled at her. “Get in the goddamn car, Brooke.”

She eyed him warily and then sat down, buckling her seat belt as she watched him walk around the front of the car. When he was settled, she realized they were separated by a wide console that housed all kinds of gadgets including a laptop. Two black shotguns were anchored between their heads, leaning against the metal grates that sealed off the back seat.

“Holy shit. People let you handle massive weapons, and I can’t even make jewelry and not hear the end of it.”

He ignored her comment and motioned toward her feet. “There’s a cooler down there. Get yourself a bottle of water.” His voice lacked the warmth and humor she was used to with Ryan. She took a drink as he typed something into the laptop. The cool water washed away most of her irritation. She really was being a bitch, and while Ryan could be super overprotective, she understood why. He wasn’t the man who deserved her anger tonight.

“Is this going on my permanent record?” she tried to joke. Luckily he let out a little smile, so she continued. “Coming to my rescue twice in one night, and both times it’s because of the same asshole. I’m sorry, Ry.”

He turned and leveled his gaze on her. “Brooke, listen, I don’t think you’re stupid or need protecting all the time. But I do know for a fact that the past few years have been hard for you. The thought of you hurt again, physically or otherwise, is too much. Alex Coleman was my best friend. I know him well, and I know you’re too damn good for him. I also don’t think you’re incapable of making your business a success. I think you’re brilliant and creative.… And your store is amazing—that’s what you need to be focusing on. And stop trying to lump me and Dad together, I’m on your side.”

Brooke swallowed as tears pushed against the back of her eyelids. “Thank you, Ry.”

The following morning, in an overpriced hotel room, Alex rolled over and picked up his phone off the nightstand. 7:40. He lay back on the feather pillow and took in the Presidential Suite in the morning light. The walls were covered in some sort of velvety wallpaper, and the sheets were probably the softest he’d ever felt. There was also a living room, a dining room, and a bathroom bigger than his entire bedroom back home.

Like Brooke had predicted, the hotel in town was filled to capacity and finding a regular hotel room at ten o’clock on Thanksgiving night had proven nearly impossible. Heading back into Kansas City, which was only about ten minutes on the highway, he had started checking in with the hotels around the airport. He’d been too annoyed after his third stop to try any longer, and when they’d offered the suite at a discounted rate he’d taken it. But shit, even then the stay was costing him three hundred dollars. At that price, he couldn’t afford to stay any longer.

He’d come back home for one reason—his grandmother had asked him to, something she’d never done before. She said it had to do with his grandfather’s will, and as much as Alex had hated the old man, he had to admit that he was curious. Her offering to stay in the apartment over 100 Main had made the whole thing easy and inexpensive, but that hadn’t worked out.

Whatever the big news was, it was to be announced at an appointment this morning with his grandmother and the attorney. Once he’d made the decision to come, he figured he might as well stay a couple of days, but after last night he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. After sleeping on it, he couldn’t believe he’d agreed to see his mother again before he left. They never had anything to say to each other, he couldn’t imagine that her sobriety would change that. In fact, he was shocked and ashamed at how much her sobriety pissed him off. How dare she give him—her only child—the worst years of her life?

The more he thought about it, going home seemed like the most appealing option. He could have the meeting, figure out what the hell was up with his grandfather’s will, swing by the Stop & Go to tell his mother something came up, then catch the next flight out. Maybe even be back in time to sleep in his own bed tonight, pretend the past twenty-four hours hadn’t happened.

Alex got out of the massive king-size bed and called up some room service.
In for a penny
, he thought. After ordering, he utilized the huge marble shower, turning up the pressure and letting the hot water pound his back. Good lord, what he wouldn’t give to have access to one of these after a few months on the “Lady Kate,” his summertime home.

A fishing boat might not be luxury, but it was a good way to forget a lot of shit. The work was hard and the days were long. It wasn’t unusual to go a several weeks without a shower while they were at sea. Ironically, on the boat you were always in either a state of damp, very damp, wet, or full-on soaked. But never clean. It didn’t matter, no one else was either. Everything smelled like salt water and fish.

Alex searched the shower and realized he’d forgotten to grab the free shampoo, conditioner, and soap. Cursing under his breath, he stepped out into the cold air of the bathroom and swiped it all from the counter. He lathered up the soap and ran it over his skin, scars and all.

Alex’s body had put up with a lot of abuse over the years, and he didn’t mind a few gnarly scars, as they all told his story, whether good or bad. Some he’d earned honestly—you couldn’t really be a Ranger for long before earning some sort of wound. Some were a result of plain stupidity, like when he got caught up on a barbwire fence as he and Ryan ran through a field from the cops.

He’d spent years looking for an adrenaline rush, and he always managed to find it. As soon as he was old enough to walk out the front door of the double-wide, he’d been on a mission to prove himself to the world, whether by finding trouble or through hard work. He had always taken both very seriously.

He had personal reasons for joining the military, but the physical demand had also called to him. However it didn’t take him long to realize that being a grunt solider was not his ambition, and after a while the routine had gotten old. He needed a challenge, mentally and physically, and becoming a Ranger had offered that. The Rangers were the best of the best, and he had to go through things the human body wasn’t made to endure—and that was only the training. The actual missions were just as excruciating, things the average man couldn’t wrap his head around. Alex had loved every second of it. But the military with its rules and chains of command grated on him after a while. His whole life people had tried to tell him who he was and what he could do, so when his tour was up, he’d had enough and moved on.

Alex leaned his head back to rinse the shampoo from his hair, careful not to tug at his head wound which was a little tender. He closed his eyes and immediately envisioned his sweet little Nurse Abbott. Holy shit, just thinking about her made him hard. She’d begun to loosen up with him, flirt back. It had been really hot, and she was so damn beautiful. It hadn’t been a shock to find that out, but a treat nonetheless.

Alex finally turned off the water, still thinking about Brooke. When Ryan had told him about her past, rage had clouded his mind, and with that he’d known that he had no business getting anywhere near her. He’d felt like a complete ass calling and canceling on her, and it was disappointing too, because he was pretty dang sure they could have had a good time together. But that was the problem. A good time was all it would have been, and Brooke deserved better, especially after being hurt by some prick.

Grabbing his pants, he yanked one leg on at a time, telling himself to forget about Brooke. As soon as he walked out of the bathroom, room service knocked on the door. He let them in and watched in amusement as they set the table, poured his coffee, laid out a napkin, and finally uncovered his dish to reveal eggs, bacon, and pancakes. He nearly felt the need to explain that he wasn’t, in fact, the president and that he could pour his own damn coffee. But why bother? He only lived once, and he’d barely eaten since he got into town the day before.

After tipping the server he picked up the plate and sat on the bed to watch TV when his phone announced a message from Ted, his grandparents’ attorney:
Looks like we had more family coming than I expected. Hope you don’t mind if we move the meeting to Tuesday at 9:00. Enjoy your holiday weekend. Ted.

“Shit.” Alex threw down the phone and let his head drop to the headboard, cursing again when the cut throbbed.
Yeah, I fucking mind.
He was ready to get this over with, and now he had to be here five more days. What the hell would he do in that time?

He picked the phone up and sent a reply.
Actually I’d hoped to leave today. Is this something we can do via phone?

Surprisingly Ted responded immediately. Alex had figured the man would blow him off.
No can do. Strict instruction. You must be here and I think it will be worth your while to wait. Go spend some time with your grandmother. See you Tuesday.