Not His Type (27 page)

“Oh, no!”  Jazz
covered her mouth with both hands.  She pulled them away then and said, “I need
to call her!”

But Brooke
wasn’t answering her phone.  Nor did she answer the door when Jazz and Riley
pounded on it later that evening.  Twilight was falling, but there were no
lights on in Brooke’s house.  Her car was in the driveway, though, so they knew
she was home.  Finally, a muffled voice called from somewhere in the house.

“Go away!”

“Brooke, honey,
it’s me, Jazz!” Jazz called.  “Riley and I just wanted to check on you!”

“I’m fine, now
go away please!”

“Come on, babe,”
Riley said gently.  “We can’t break the door down, you know.”

Slowly, they
walked down Brooke’s front steps.  They stood in her front yard for several
moments, looking across at Travis Cooper’s house.  Before Riley knew what she
was doing, Jazz was hurrying across the yard to Travis’ front porch.

“Jazz, honey,
you heard what Rafa and Meghan said!” Riley said, following his wife.  “Brooke
said not to talk to him, and he may not talk to you anyway!”

“What’s he gonna
do?” Jazz ground out.  “Hit a pregnant woman?”

As she spoke,
Jazz was banging on the front door; it swung open suddenly as if Travis had
been waiting for her.  He glared down at Jazz.  Under other circumstances, he
might have found the image of a beautiful, extremely pregnant woman going toe
to toe with him funny, but today he was not amused.

“Travis, this
was all my idea!” Jazz blurted out.  “The new clothes, the makeup, the fake
date with my cousin, all of it was my idea!”

Travis remained
silent, his feet planted wide, arms folded across his broad chest; a muscle
ticked in his jaw.  Speaking quickly, half-afraid he was going to slam the door
in her face, Jazz told Travis about the shopping trip with Brooke; she told him
about the shock on Brooke’s face when she realized clothing two sizes smaller
fit her, and that she looked
good
in them.  She relayed to him the
laughter and tears as Brooke had tried on more clothing.

“Travis, you
have to believe me!” Jazz said beseechingly.

“And you need to
believe me, Jazz,” Travis finally spoke.  “I’m done with Brooke and whatever
game she’s been playing.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.  Don’t
hesitate to call me if there’s a problem with your security system.”

With that,
Travis firmly shut the door.  Jazz let out a little moan and Riley put his arm
around her shoulders.

“Come on, babe,”
he said quietly.  “Maybe he just needs some time.”

“Yeah, and maybe
he just needs someone to
knock some sense into his thick skull
!"

The last words
were shouted at the door, which remained steadfastly closed.  Riley led Jazz
back to his car and they left.

Chapter
36

Monday morning
dawned cold and dreary; the weather matched Brooke’s mood as she dressed.  She
pulled on a pair of her old, faded blue jeans, hitching them up, not caring that
she realized now they didn’t even remotely fit her.  She  pulled on one of her
tops from Babycakes, pulling at it and stretching the soft knit until it was
loose and slightly misshapen.  She tugged a quick comb through her still-damp
hair and left her room.  She tugged on her jacket and helmet and headed
outside.  Her heart pounded painfully as she pushed up the garage door to get
her bike; Travis and Nick Rodgers were loading some equipment into the back of
Travis’ Hummer.  Nick waved and called out cheerfully; Brooke didn’t
acknowledge him as she backed her bike out of the garage and pulled the door
back down.  Without a backward glance, she climbed on the bike and drove away.

Nick watched as
Travis followed Brooke’s movements through narrowed eyes.  Travis had still not
told Nick what had happened, but obviously it involved Brooke Valentine, and
obviously she was just as unhappy as Travis was – maybe more so, if her
appearance was any indication.

“Did Brooke look
different to you?” Nick chanced asking.

“I didn’t
notice,” Travis muttered as he swung behind the wheel of the Hummer.  “Let’s
go.  We’re burnin’ daylight.”

When Brooke
arrived at the bakery, Jazz flew out of her office, ready to envelop the
younger woman in her arms.  Brooke forestalled her, holding up a hand and
shaking her head.

“Don’t, Jazz,”
she said evenly.  “I’m fine.”

“Brooke, I’m so
sorry!” Jazz said sincerely.  “I had no idea he’d react this way!  I should’ve
listened to you!”

“It’s okay,”
Brooke said quietly, her voice a little unsteady.  “I appreciate what you tried
to do.”  She took a deep breath.  “Now I’m sure you have work for me to do back
in the kitchen.”

As Brooke
disappeared silently through the kitchen door, Riley and Jazz looked at each
other helplessly.  Riley gave his wife a little reassuring hug.

“She’ll be
okay,” he said.  “Eventually.  I think the best thing we can do for her is just
be here for her and support her.”

The days turned
into weeks, and Brooke continued to drift like a small, sad little ghost.  She
went to work in the mornings and returned home in the evenings.  She let Boo
out at appropriate times and kept the dog’s bowls filled with fresh water and
food.  She made simple meals for herself, which she barely touched.  She went
to bed and didn’t sleep well.

Travis watched
Brooke’s comings and goings.  He saw her wearing her old, oversized clothing. 
He saw her silently taking care of her day-to-day life, like Boo and hauling
trash away.  She seemed to be almost fading away before his eyes and it made
his chest hurt watching her.

One evening, two
days before Christmas, Travis came home to find a small bag hanging on his
front doorknob.  He unlocked the door and took the bag inside.  As he dropped
his keys on the table, he curiously looked inside the little bag.  He reached
in and withdrew his scarf, the scarf he’d teased Brooke about sniffing. 
Hesitantly, he lifted the scarf to his own nose, wondering if he’d smell the
sweet aroma of cupcakes.  There was no smell at all.  Frowning, Travis looked
at the scarf; he spotted a small tag pinned to the end.  Brooke had had the
scarf dry cleaned before returning it to him.

Travis sank down
to sit on his sofa, the scarf clenched in his fist.  He felt like someone had
kicked him in the gut.  An overwhelming sense of loss washed over him and the
pain was back in his chest, making it physically difficult to breathe for
several minutes.  When his breathing returned to some semblance of normalcy, he
reached for his cell phone and dialed Information.  He was given the number he
requested and dialed it.

“Hello?” a voice
queried on the other end.

“Hello, Jazz?”
Travis said hesitantly.  “It’s Travis.  Travis Cooper.”

“Oh.  Hello,
Travis.  What can I do for you?”

“I – you tried
to tell me some things before.  I wasn’t ready to listen then.  I am now.”

“Why don’t you
ask Brooke what you want to know?” Jazz asked bluntly.

“Because I don’t
think she’ll tell me everything you will,” Travis said honestly.

Jazz gave Travis
her and Riley’s home address.  She told him to be there in half an hour, then
hung up.  Travis left the scarf where it lay on his sofa and headed to Jazz and
Riley’s.

When he arrived
at Jazz and Riley’s home, he found it ablaze with Christmas lights and
decorations, an eclectic blend of traditional and modern, Mexican and
American.  Riley opened the door to Travis’ knock and led him to a comfortable
living room.  Travis found he was nervous, his stomach rolling uncomfortably,
as he waited for Jazz Valenzuela to speak.  She looked at him sternly and
Travis was transported back in time; he felt as if he were seven again, sitting
across from his elementary school principal after pushing Macy Danziger off a
swing at recess.  What he’d done now, he knew, was much worse than pushing a
little girl off a swing.

“Are you sure
you’re ready to hear this now, Travis?” Jazz asked soberly.  “
All
of
it?  Because you really messed up.”

“I know,” Travis
answered, dismayed to hear his voice sound so breathless.  He took a deep
breath.  “But with your help, I hope I can fix it.”

“Why should we
help you?  You hurt Brooke very badly.”

“You didn’t just
hurt her,” Riley corrected, his usually cheery demeanor dark and forbidding. 
“You
crushed
her, Travis.”

Travis sat
silently, staring at his large hands for a moment.  Finally, he said quietly,
“I’m hoping you’ll help me because I know now, I love her.”

Jazz threw up
her hands, dark eyes rolling in disgust.  She rattled off several things in
Spanish.  The only words Travis recognized were “
idiota
” and “
estupido
”. 
He felt the heat rise in his cheeks, but said nothing, simply waited for her to
finish.  When she did, he spoke again.  What he said finally convinced Jazz to
talk to him.

“I don’t think I
can stand it if I can’t get her back.  I see her and my heart hurts.  I hear
her car outside, or hear Boo barking, and my heart hurts.  I remember her
kisses and my heart hurts.  I love her.”

“Travis, you
need to understand exactly what you did,” Jazz began.  “You know about Brooke’s
mother, right?”  He nodded.  “Well, did you also know that she was teased
mercilessly about her mother?  That boys either wanted nothing to do with her
because of her mother, or they thought she was just
like
her mother.”

“What do you
mean, Jazz?”

“Think about it,
Travis,” she said wryly.  “You were a teenage boy once.  You know the kinds of
things boys say about girls in locker rooms.  And you know that very little, if
any, of it is true.  For the same reason, Brooke had no real girl friends.  She
had no mother to teach her about boys.  She may be twenty-four years old, but
Brooke Valentine is just about the most innocent young woman I’ve ever known. 
She had no idea how to deal with a man like you!”

“The attraction
between you two was obvious to everyone else from the start,” Riley said.  “But
Brooke is so convinced you’re out of her league – her exact words, by the way –
and you’re so blinded by the kind of women you
think
you want, neither
of you can see what’s clear to the rest of us.”

Travis
remembered Nick suggesting that his “type” of girlfriend wasn’t really his type
at all.  Riley seemed to be saying the same thing.  Now he continued.

“Jazz and I
would never have encouraged Brooke if we had known any of this was going to
happen,” Riley said.  “But we really thought you’d see what was right in front
of you if…well, if she had a little help.”

“That’s when I
took her shopping,” Jazz said, taking up the story again.  Once again, she told
Travis about the strange and enlightening shopping trip with Brooke.  “She
obviously believes she’s too short and too curvy and –“

“And plain,”
Travis bit out.  He sighed in disgust with himself and waved a hand at Jazz. 
“Go on.  Please.”

“Travis, when
the saleswoman forced Brooke to stand in front of the mirror and look –
really
look
– at herself, it was almost comical!” Jazz said.  “She literally
looked behind her to see if someone else was standing there!  She didn’t even
realize that she was hiding that sexy little body under those horrible clothes!” 
She pointed an accusing finger at Travis.  “The horrible clothes she’s wearing
again, thanks to you!  She went right back to thinking she’s fat and dumpy,
Travis!”

“She’s not
eating, she doesn’t sleep, she barely speaks at work,” Riley added.

The pain was
back and Travis rubbed at the center of his chest.  He could hardly bear to
hear any more, but knew he had to.

“Do you want to
know why I suggested Brooke pretend to date someone, Travis?” Jazz asked.  He
nodded.  “Do you remember the Sunday before Thanksgiving?”  At his curious
frown, Jazz clarified.  “I believe Brooke was bathing that humongous dog of
hers.”  Again Travis felt heat suffuse his cheeks.  “She called me crying. 
That was when she told me she had no experience with men.  She said she was
such a bad kisser that you pushed her away and sent her inside.”

Travis couldn’t
stand it.  Groaning, he rose and paced behind the sofa where he’d been seated. 
He stopped and stared at Jazz and Riley.

“I sent her
inside because I was in danger of losing control with her!” he blurted out. 
“She was standing there so sweet and innocent, with that see-through wet tee
shirt clinging to all her curves – and I
know
what’s in her underwear
drawer!”

Jazz and Riley
stared at Travis, then exchanged a look.  Riley arched one brow and Jazz
smirked.  Finally, she turned back to Travis.

“I don’t
even
know what you mean by that, Travis,” Jazz said.  She waved dismissively. 
“Anyway, that’s when I decided you needed something to wake you up.  I figured
after you spent all day with Brooke in that blue dress, you’d be all too aware
if another man paid attention to her.”  She glared at him.  “And then you
barely acknowledged the dress!”  Another spate of what Travis was sure was
insulting Spanish ensued for a moment.  “What were you thinking, Travis?”