Play Fling (A Stupid Cupid Book) (20 page)

Hearing Elliott’s name sent an unwelcome
thrill down her belly. Brooke shook her hands out at her sides.
“Well, I give you permission to stop. Now, if you please.”

Millie laughed. “Okay. Okay. I will. No more
static cling. Swear.”

“No more about guys either, alright?”

“Only if you swear you’ll come to me if you
need me.”

“I will, alright?” Millie’s concern was so
sincere and unexpected, Brooke almost stopped walking. To do what?
Reassure her more? Brooke would only end up lying. A bit late to be
breaking open and spilling her guts about Elliott. Particularly,
since she had no plans to see him again. “Good. Now, keep your eyes
peeled for Elvis.”

Brooke wasn’t actually looking for anything
Elvis. But it would keep Millie busy. The sale’s contents took up
part of the driveway and the garage. The homeowner had coffee and a
cooler set up and tall heat lamps. If the large home didn’t speak
value, the setup did. Brooke engrossed herself in the product,
hardly aware of Millie at her side.
Must be a move now sale.
Divorce? Could be. Sudden bills? Maybe.

Her mind blissfully lapsed into business as
usual. Until Millie spoke.

“My mom fell for a guy half her age once. He
broke her heart.”

Brooke ground her teeth and picked through a
box of albums. How had Millie picked up on her Elliott turmoil?
She’d hardly said a word about him. Millie didn’t even know the guy
had spent an evening in Brooke’s bed. “Oh? Are you and your mother
close?”

Millie snorted. “As close as possible, I
suppose. Boarding schools and cross country custody don’t make for
many intimate talks about boys and bras.”

Brooke smiled tightly. She moved to another
box of miscellaneous items. A period brooch or two would be nice.
Maybe a locket.

“She always warned me. Older men have already
sewn their oats. Young men break your heart. They can’t help it.
They’re looking for a mother, not a wife.”

Brooke almost choked. “A mother?”

“That’s what she says.” Millie threw her
hands up, all innocence. “One thing my mother knows well, that’s
men. She’s a complete cougar.”

Was Millie trying to say Brooke was old
enough to be Elliott’s mother? No. She doesn’t know about Elliott.
So, she was just being insensitive, dense. Outright stupid. Not
insulting, right? Clearly, Brooke hadn’t hidden her attraction or
reaction to Elliott as well as she’d originally thought.

Brooke moved to some framed prints. She
crossed her fingers for a Vargas pin-up girl. No luck. All
watercolors. An artist she didn’t recognize.

One stood out. A beach scene. Windy looking.
A small sailboat in the distance. She’d like to be on that boat.
Quiet and alone. She turned the frame over. Ten dollars. Pricy.
Even for this neighborhood. She glanced around for the resident
host.

Millie sidled up, hand to chin. Brooke turned
away. She could almost smell Millie’s first complaint coming. She
shouldn’t have let her come.

“Brooke Munkle, is that you?” a high voice
chirped.

Brooke twisted in the direction of the
familiar sound. Slick, straight, near black hair and matching
eyeliner, Debbie Johnson-Hines’ unmistakable trademarks. Great.

“Who’s that?” Millie asked.

Debbie sent them a high-speed wave from her
perch under a heat lamp. The dreaded ‘come over’ signal followed.
“Oh, just the biggest gossip this side of the Truckee River,”
Brooke mumbled.

Brooke could kiss troll toes over having
Millie there with her. She strolled to the heat lamp. “Debbie,
hello. What a surprise. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m just great? How are you? You look
wonderful,” Debbie cooed. “Doesn’t a new look do wonders for a
girl? Why, you’re all brand new, hun.”

“Oh, thanks.” She resisted fidgeting with her
hair, or explaining she preferred a nice heather gray turtleneck
any day, and introduced Millie instead.

Millie took over the conversation, answering
Debbie’s less than subtle questions and asking a few of her own.
Meanwhile, Brooke self-talked herself off of panic’s ledge. Debbie
couldn’t hurt her, remember? Not here, not today. Fifteen months
ago, sure. Fresh blood. But, now, Brooke had her life together. She
had even begun dating. Sort of.

As had Jason. If secretly hooking up in a
hallway could be called dating. Who had it been? One of his
cousin’s wives? Worse, a sister-in-law? Her stomach sickened a tad
thinking about it, which was all Millie’s fault. She kept bringing
it up. Or Debbie’s fault, for making her face the past.

Maybe she had heard wrong. Or maybe Mille
should let it go. Good intentions got old faster than pancakes in
the rain.

Millie handled Debbie like a pro, all fashion
and weather and celebrity gossip. So well, in fact, that Brooke
didn’t have to talk at all. Until Millie left to refill their
coffee cups. Brooke forced a smile and stood her ground. One more
minute of Debbie’s chit chat and she’d excuse herself to shop for
her new—and did she mention wildly successful?—business, Memory
Lane.

“Brooke, sweetie,” Debbie said, her tone
conspiratorial. “Let me be the first to say, congratulations.”

Brooke shook her head. “Congratulations? For
what?”

“Well, hun, you know how quickly news travels
around this city. Biggest Little City? More like smallest little
city, if you ask me,” Debbie said, then twittered. “Sue Hildenbrand
told me that a little birdie told her--and she didn’t have any
specifics so I chalked it up to vicious rumor--all about your…new
life.”

Brooke felt like there was a question in
there somewhere but she had no idea how to answer it. So, she
didn’t.

“You know how divorce is,” Debbie said,
leaning in. “I don’t need to tell you how catty those women can be.
People talk even when they don’t know a thing. I have to say, good
for you.”

What in the smallest little world was Debbie
talking about?

“Um, yeah, it is a pretty small town,” Brooke
said. “People assume a lot. I can’t seem to go anywhere without
bumping into some old friend with some false judgement.” She prayed
her stabs at subtle insult would penetrate Debbie’s silicone armor.
Alas, no luck. “I’ve certainly seen new levels of catty. Helps weed
out the fakes, though.”

She kicked herself. Too obvious?

“Well, you don’t have to tell me. I’ve heard
it all. This, though, I have got to tell you, I called Sue a liar.”
Debbie sipped from her steaming styrofoam. “A liar. Right to her
face.”

Millie sent Brooke a thumb’s up from the
coffee spigot at the bottom of the long drive. Why oh why had she
picked now for a refill? “Well, like you said, Debbie. People can
be ugly about divorce. Even when it isn’t their own.”

Debbie’s best friend since high school had
missed her calling as a tabloid journalist. What could Sue
Hildenbrand have told Debbie? About Memory Lane? Something about
who Jason was having a secret affair with? (God, not his
sister-in-law. Let it be Connie instead. She and Bruce had been on
again off again for years. How could Jason be so careless?)

“Well, divorce is ugly, but I will say,
she
is not,” Debbie nodded her head toward Millie. “I’d pay
good money for curves like that.”

Brooke bit her lip, unsure how to respond,
but still wanting to jab. “Millie? Um, yes, she’s been a real
lifesaver. Funny thing is I’ve only known her a few months and I’m
closer to her than any of my other girlfriends, ever. Not even
girlfriends from college.”

“College? Really?” Debbie’s eyes widened.
“She’s really special to you. Wow, Brooke. That is just wonderful.
Really, really wonderful.” Debbie patted Brooke’s arm, but also
seemed ready to laugh.

She got the feeling they weren’t talking
about quite the same thing, exactly.

“I guess I owe Sue an apology,” Debbie added,
rocking back on her heels.

Millie returned, handed a cup to Brooke.
“This stuff has to be imported. I haven’t had coffee this good
since Havana.”

“Havana?” Debbie said, her eyes twinkling at
Millie. “As in Cuba?”

“Mmmm. Hmmm. In another life, Debbie, I
sampled the world’s best coffee, wine, food, everything.” She took
a lingering sip. “This, though, this is Heaven in a fur coat.”

Debbie slowly nodded. Thoughtfully. “Isn’t
that interesting? Travel the whole world and where do you end up
finding love, but in Reno, NV, of all places.”

Millie’s head did a Scooby Doo, rhat rid rhe
ray?

Brooke swallowed. “Um, Debbie, if you don’t
mind me asking, what precisely did Sue say to you…exactly?”

So help her, if Sue Hildenbrand was spreading
ugly lies that she—.

“That you’re a lesbian, of course.” Debbie
turned to Millie. “Is lesbian the right word? I’m sorry. I just had
no idea, hun. I mean I never would have guessed and don’t get me
wrong, I’m thrilled for you. First chance I get, I’m straightening
Sue out. She made you sound like some awful, bull dikish—.”

“What?!” Brooke’s ears buzzed. She hadn’t
heard right. She couldn’t have. “Bull d-d-d?”

“Bad word choice? Bull dike isn’t very nice,
I know. I’m so, so sorry. I mean, about my word choice, I’m sorry.
Not about your, um…gayness?”

Brooke’s tongue stuck to the back of her
mouth. She couldn’t speak. Millie looked ready to laugh her ass
off. No help at all. “You—I—Sue thinks I’m gay?” Brooke sputtered.
“You think Millie and I are—are lovers?”

Debbie leaned forward. “Well, aren’t
you?”

Millie burst. A high-pitched donkey-esque
guffaw shot out of her. If everyone within a block hadn’t been
listening in before, they were now. Brooke could have smacked
Millie if not for how absurdly contagious her laughter was. Tears
rolled down Millie’s cheeks. Brooke struggled to keep her
composure. A lesbian!

“No,” Brooke said, feeling a giggle bubble
up. Resentment burned the back of her tongue and, insane as it was,
laughter threatened right behind it. “We are not lovers. Tell Sue
Hildenbrand, she is wrong.”

“Wait a minute,” Millie said and covered her
mouth, but another chortle hee-hawed out anyway. “You and me?
That’s a riot!” Her laughter died down. “Debbie, Brooke doesn’t
have time to be a lesbian. No with all the delicious men trying to
get in her bed.”

It was Debbie’s turn for a loss for words.
They were definitely drawing attention now. Brooke, for once,
couldn’t care less, though.

“I’m not hot enough to bag a chick like
Brooke, anyways.” Millie’s voice was near menacing. “Debbie, women
like you need a hobby. Outside of making up lies and spreading
rumors about each other. At your age, I’d bet something like
knitting or scrapbooking would really help with all that emptiness
inside.”

Brooke prepared for a hot coffee in the face.
She couldn’t stop Millie, though.

“If we had time right now, which we don’t,
Brooke here might share some of the very interesting tidbits Sue
has told about you, Debbie. Even I’ve heard it all. But then, you
two are so close, you can ask her yourself about what your husband
has been up to.”

Brooke yanked Millie’s sleeve and forced her
to walk away before fists flew and the police were called. Worse,
before she turned Brooke into the city slut with another colorful
lie.

She’d known Debbie more than seven years and
not once had she seen her flushed purple and speechless. She didn’t
know whether to be irritated or delighted enough to kiss Millie
right on the mouth, lezbo rumors or not.

If she were a cat, Brooke would be licking
clean whiskers. Debbie, dipped in revenge. Tasty.

Chapter Sixteen

“Can you believe that crap?” Millie
chuckled.

“I know. Where in the world did Sue come up
with such an outright lie?” Brooke said. “You handled her so well,
though.”

“So did you.”

“Hardly! I stammered like an idiot.”

“Are you kidding me? She was seething with
jealousy even when she thought you were my bitch.”

Brooke checked the clock on her phone and saw
a missed call. It was from Elliott. Her stomach flipped over.

Hot men in her bed, Millie had bragged.

Debbie was jealous of Brooke? Incredible. And
why? Because Brooke was free to bring men into her bed?

More than that. Brooke was completely free.
That single moment with Debbie burst through her. Brooke was free.
She could do anything she damn well wanted with her life. Debbie
couldn’t.

Just like that, Brooke’s big Elliott decision
rolled over on its ass. She had to see him. Buzzing with the high
of vengeance, Brooke’s brain began a task list. Drop off Millie, go
home, shower, call Elliott. In that order. No exceptions. No matter
how much she wanted to change the list to put Elliott in the shower
with her.

“I can’t wait to tell AJ. He’s going to love
this.”

To think, Brooke had been feeling rather
proud of herself for resisting him. To resist as much naughty fun
as he promised was surely a mark of strength, wasn’t it? It showed
maturity, responsibility. She would not give in to primal needs.
She would recognize consequences like heartbreak and gossip and
protect herself. She would walk away.

Debbie had probably adored thinking Brooke
was gay, struggling to come out of the closet and be accepted. Not
divorced, young, fresh and capable. Not free. Even if she was a
lesbian, Brooke realized, leaving Jason freed her.

Millie didn’t know how close to the truth
she’d struck, either. Elliott was one hot piece of ass and he had
been in her bed. But only the once and that was no longer enough.
How could she have been ready to never see him again? Over his age,
of all things? Why should age matter? He probably wasn’t even
interested in her for more than a scorching hot fling.

She’d be a fool to pass him up.

She’d left Jason to start over. To start
living her life instead of decorating it. But she wasn’t living
now, she was almost living. Pretending to live. If she were really
and truly living life for herself, on her terms, she would have
begged for a new hairstyle. She’d be shaving her legs more than
twice a year. Because someone might end up seeing them naked.