The Brookfield Series Volume One (2 page)

“Your mother is out traveling the country.”

“She’s what?”

“Her and some friends bought some RV they found for sale. Decided they were taking off. I think they were heading south for the winter,” he explained.

Julie didn’t say anything. One hand moved to her mouth, and she nibbled on a nail. It was cute. Most likely a habit she’d always wanted to kick but never would. He wished he had something more to tell her but there wasn’t.

“Why are you here then?” she asked.

“Your mom didn’t want to leave the place empty. I had just moved into town and was looking for a place. The price was right and, well, here I am.”

She paced the length of the kitchen. “This makes no sense. She didn’t tell me. Why wouldn’t she?”

“I don’t have an answer for that.”

Julie shot him a look, and he knew to just be quiet. In fact, as he took in a deep breath, the smell of something burning caught his attention. Shit, it was the pancakes. Grabbing the spatula, Mark quickly flipped the pancake and wasn’t at all surprised to see it black as night.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Actually, yes, I’m starving. I rushed over this morning for breakfast with Mom.”

“I can’t promise it’ll be as good, but it’ll at least fill you up.” Taking the opportunity now, he looked her up and down. She was lean and had a few curves to her. She could probably use a few more pounds, not that he was complaining.

She excused herself, and he took the chance to check out her backside. That was a sight he could get used to. But now he had to return his attention back to the breakfast he was preparing.

* * *

Julie headed straight for her mom’s room. Once inside, she shut the door and leaned against it. That man was hot. How she’d been able to even carry on a conversation, with him standing there in only a pair of loose-fitting jeans that hung low on his hips, was questionable.

Finally composing herself, her eyes darted around the room, looking for anything off. Mark had a believable story but, coming from living in New York City, she knew people were not always what they seemed. There was always the possibility that he was robbing her mother—or worse, he had murdered her.

Digging around in her mother’s dresser, she noticed a shoebox. Picking up the box and studying it, Julie could tell it was for a pair of men’s boots. She held the box against her chest. He wasn’t staying in here, was he? There weren’t any other signs that he was. She shook the box. There was something in there. Sitting on the bed, she placed it in her lap. She lifted the lid off and saw an array of postcards. Picking up the first one, she saw it was from Salt Lake City, Utah. On the back, it was simply addressed to the house with a small note about what her mother thought of her visit.

Julie then picked up a few more cards and saw her mother had done the same thing on all of them. It seemed each city she visited she had mailed herself card. Julie couldn’t help but smile that her mother was finally doing what she had always wanted, but she also wished her mom was home. Right now was a scary time for Julie, and she feared she was going to have to get through this without her mother.

She placed all the cards back in the box to look over later. Her bladder was calling again. To the bathroom she went. After doing her business, she knew eating was next on her list. She was almost beginning to feel sick. She assumed getting some food in her belly would be just what she needed.

Returning to the kitchen, she saw Mark had set two places at the kitchen table. A plate of pancakes already sat in the center.

“Hey,” he said. “Would you mind getting the orange juice?”

She nodded and then went to the fridge and pulled out a clear canister that appeared to have fresh-squeezed juice in it. She placed it on the table then found two cups from the cupboard and brought them over.

“Coffee?” he asked.

She’d love one more than anything but remembered reading somewhere she had to limit her caffeine. “No.”

“Just have a seat then. Finishing up the eggs now. Hope scrambled is okay.”

“It is.”

Julie noticed he now had a shirt on. She was glad. Otherwise, she might have embarrassed herself by drooling on her food.

Mark took his seat after setting two plates of bacon and eggs on the table. Now that he was closer, she saw he had the most beautiful shade of blue eyes she’d seen. They reminded her of the blue forget-me-not flowers that were planted each summer in her mother’s garden. He kept his brown hair short. He was strikingly handsome and, even though his shirt was now on, there was still a slight chance she might salivate.

“What brings you home to Brookfield?” he asked.

Ha, like she was going to tell him the truth. “I was homesick I guess you could say. I wanted to see my mom.”

“She mentioned you lived in New York, and you were some hotshot editor for one of the big publishers.”

“Yes, it’s a lot of fun. I get to read some great stories.”

“That’s good. I like to read in my spare time.”

She froze. Not many men she knew read. Reading was one of her favorite things to do. “What do you read?”

“Murder mysteries usually. But, if you promise not to tell anyone, you can often catch me reading something off the best-sellers list. That’s the benefit to e-readers. No one knows what you’re reading.”

“True, e-readers and e-books are taking over. So many great authors out there, too.”

He nodded.

Julie picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite. It was crunchy, just the way she liked. The one little slice was like Heaven, hitting all the right taste buds. Once she finished the slice, she took another. Food had never tasted so good, though her stomach wasn’t feeling too much better. She figured, in just a few minutes, it would settle.

“You like bacon I take it,” he said.

“I’m just hungry. I traveled all day yesterday, and I think I missed dinner.”

She grabbed the syrup now and poured it over her pancakes. Taking a big bite, her taste buds loved the maple flavor. She didn’t know what was going on, but food just seemed to have better flavoring suddenly.

She finished her plate of food. Even though she thought she could most likely eat more, she didn’t want to look like a pig. She sat back, rubbing her belly and wishing it would settle, but that just wasn’t happening. As much as she wanted to just sit in the chair, she knew the proper thing to do was to help clean up. She stacked the plates then brought them to the sink.

“I can get it,” Mark said.

“It’s fine.”

Julie placed the dishes in the sink and turned the hot water on. Her mother’s old house didn’t have a dishwasher, so these dishes were going to have to be hand-washed. She reached for the bottle of dish detergent and put a squirt into the filling sink. A fruity smell rose from the water. As the scent hit her, a wave of sickness took over.

“Oh, God.” She placed her hand over her mouth and ran toward the nearest bathroom.

Her breakfast came out a whole lot quicker than it went in. She was embarrassed. How was she to leave this bathroom without Mark asking her questions? All she could do now was pray Mark would believe she had gotten sick from either a stomach bug or a lack of eating while traveling. He was a man, and there was no way he would think she was pregnant, she hoped.

Chapter Three

As Mark finished the dishes, he realized why Julie was home. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. She was pregnant, and there was a story behind why she was home and not with the father. Obviously, she needed her mother at a time like this, and he wasn’t sure where Margret was. The most he could do was call the number she’d left before she’d started her journey. It was a pre-paid cell phone. She’d left instructions that he could call and leave a message and, when she either had service or a pay phone, she’d get back to him. Though it wasn’t his place, he supposed, to get in touch with her. He would, however, give Julie the number.

The last dish was dried. He thought now would be a good time to clean himself up. He needed to get down to Country Furniture, the local furniture shop, to finish up an order. He looked out the window and noticed the clouds. They looked like they were ready to leave a light dusting. He just hoped it held out until he was able to make it home.

Just as he started to leave the kitchen, Julie came in. Her face was slightly pale, most likely from getting sick.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “I think it was from not eating yesterday. I ate way too much too fast.”

“I understand,” he said. It was best not to let on that he knew. “I finished up the dishes and, since this is your mom’s place, feel free to rest for a bit. You’re welcome to stay here. I’m going to wash up and head to work for a bit.”

“Thanks. This is awkward. I don’t even know you. Maybe I should just head back over to Honeycreek Bed and Breakfast.”

“No, don’t be silly. Your mother would kill me.”

“Well, I am tired, so I think I just might go lie down for a bit in her room.”

“Sounds like a plan. Your mom left a number, so I could reach her. It’s scribbled on a pad on the side of the fridge.”

“Thanks.” She stood a moment, staring at him. How he wished he knew what was going on in that pretty head of hers.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me. I’ve got a shower calling my name.”

He would have much rather stood in the kitchen the rest of the day and taken in every inch of Julie but, if he wanted to make the rent, he had to work.

* * *

Julie slept like a baby again. She hadn’t even been back in Brookfield twenty-four hours, and she already felt better rested than ever.

She pulled the covers up and snuggled in. There was a new chill to the air. It was like it had suddenly dropped ten degrees. Her suitcase was still in the trunk of her car. Too bad Mark wasn’t still here. She would’ve asked him to bring it in. But did that mean she was staying here with him? She shook her head. She had time to figure it out. Right now she needed the long johns she’d packed.

Julie tossed the covers off, regretting it the moment she did. It was cold. Someone needed to crank up the heat and get a fire going in the fireplace.

In her mom’s closet, she dug out a pair of slippers and slid them on her feet. There was an ugly orange terry-cloth robe hanging in there also. That would do for now. She was going for warmth, not fashion. Besides, there weren’t any neighbors around anyway. Her mother owned several acres, and tall, thick trees lined the property.

In the living room, she was startled to see Mark. He was just starting to build a fire. How long had she been asleep?

“I didn’t know if you were ever going to get up,” Mark said. “I was starting to get worried with you being sick.”

“How long was I asleep?”

“Several hours. Feeling better?”

“A little.” Her stomach did feel better. She was hungry again but didn’t want a repeat performance. Maybe just stick with something small for now. “Oh, do you think you could possibly get my suitcase from my car when you have a free moment?”

“I wish, but that isn’t happening.”

Wow, was he rude or what? She’d thought he was somewhat of a gentleman but, boy, was she wrong.

“I would if I could,” he said.

“What’s stopping you?” Julie snapped.

“Have you looked outside?” She shook her head. “Well, while you were napping, the clouds opened up. A blizzard has hit, and it’s still coming.”

“What?”

Julie ran to the closest window, yanking the curtains aside. He wasn’t joking. There was snow and a lot of it. It was already halfway up her car. From the looks of it, it wasn’t stopping anytime soon. They were snowed in.

Chapter Four

Mark couldn’t help but grin. The poor girl appeared panic-stricken. Where had she gotten that ugly orange thing she was wearing? He figured from her mother’s room. It then clicked—Julie’s suitcase was out there, which meant she didn’t have any of her things. No wonder she looked the way she did.

“I can’t be stuck here,” she said.

“I don’t think you’re going anywhere.” He glanced at her feet. “Especially in slippers.”

“You’re real funny, you know that?”

“I’m sorry, really I am. Can I get you something?” he asked.

“I can get it.” Julie spun on her heels and strutted toward the kitchen.

This was going to be fun. Neither of them was going anywhere, and he was going to be stuck in this house with Miss Cranky Pants. He knew pregnant women could be hormonal, but geesh.

Sounds of clanking came from the room she was in. Then came a round of cursing. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go in there, but he also didn’t want to see the kitchen destroyed.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“I want some hot tea. Mom always has it.” She rummaged through another cabinet.