The Lemon Sisters Page 11

  And sure enough, Mason leapt to his feet. Gaze glued to the vacuum, the whites of his eyes showing, he squeezed in between Brooke and the vacuum in a protective stance against the beast, every limb trembling as he held off the evil monster.

  Heart. Melted. “Oh, baby.” Brooke picked Mason up and hugged him. “You’re my hero.”

  Brittney pulled out a broom to sweep up the Cheerios.

  “Best nanny on the planet,” Brooke said to Mason.

  “Oh, I know,” Brittney said, not at all flustered by the chaos. “I’m pretty great.”

  “Brittney’s girlfriend loves Brittney, too,” Millie said.

  Brittney smiled in agreement at the little girl. “She does.”

  Brooke kissed Mason and set him back down. She looked for peanut butter to spread on the pancakes Brittney had made. “I hope your girlfriend knows how lucky she is to have you,” she said, struggling to get the jar open.

  The nanny blushed, but took the peanut butter and used a vinyl potholder to open it. “My mom once tried to talk me out of being gay by telling me I’d have to go through life without having someone to open jars for me. In hindsight, I kind of love that the only use for a man she could think of was opening jars.”

  Brooke nearly snorted her coffee out her nose.

  “My daddy can do more than open a pickle jar,” Millie said in defense of men. “He and Uncle Garrett make a really great Slip ’N Slide.”

  “That’s cuz he’s one of the good ones,” Brooke told her. “So about our field trip. It’s not really warm enough today for the beach—”

  Garrett appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking disturbingly yummy in faded jeans, hiking boots, a hoodie, and black mirrored sunglasses. He flashed a smile at everyone except Brooke, whom he looked at last, holding her gaze the longest. Then he pushed the glasses to the top of his head and revealed those see-all hazel eyes, filled with equal parts heat and irritation.

  Felt about right. Every time she thought about their hot-tub kiss, heat rushed through her, leaving her aching and hungry for him. That’s when she remembered he’d backed off, and the irritation kicked in.

  “We’re going on a field trip!” Millie told Garrett at high decibels.

  “Beach!” Mason yelled.

  Maddox tipped his head back and howled in what Brooke assumed was delight.

  “Not the beach,” Brooke said. “It’s too cold—”

  Her phone rang. Of course it was her mom again. “It’s Grandma,” she told the kids, and made the mistake of answering on speaker. “Hi, Mom—”

  “Honey, listen, I know you don’t want to discuss this, but after I talked to you last night, I called my dear friend Nancy Garrison, who still lives in Wildstone. Her son’s single, too, and we think you’d be perfect for each other.”

  Oh, for God’s sake. “Did Mindy put you up to this?”

  “No, of course not. She just mentioned that if we found someone for you, you might stay longer . . .”

  Brooke groaned and then remembered she had an avid audience. “Look, I was just trying to keep it to myself, but . . . I am seeing someone.”

  “So you do have a boyfriend! I had a feeling! Is he tall? What does he do for a living?”

  Her mom’s two measurements of a good man: height and employment. “Yes, he’s tall. And he’s a . . .” Her gaze caught on Garrett and her mind went completely blank. “Um . . .”

  “How can you have a boyfriend and not know what he does?” her mom asked, distressed. “Oh God. He’s unemployed, isn’t he? Honey, if he can’t hold down a job, he’s not the one.”

  “He renovates homes,” her mouth said.

  Garrett’s brows went so high they vanished beneath his hair.

  Shit! “Gotta go now, Mom.” She slid her phone in her pocket and refused to look up at Garrett ever again. “Obviously, that was just to get her off my back,” she said, to the kids’ collective confusion. “Never mind, it’s a grown-up thing.”

  “What’s it like to be a grown-up?” Mason wanted to know.

  “Well . . .” Brooke tried to think of something positive. “You get to eat ice cream whenever and wherever you want.”

  His face lit up.

  “But you have to buy it yourself.”

  He went from delighted to devastated. Aaaaannnnnd her work here was done.

  Garrett just gave her a long, amused look.

  She gave him a don’t-mess-with-me glance. He didn’t seem bothered by it in the least.

  “Field trip time!” Mason called out. “Hey,” he said, and tugged on Garrett’s hand. “Will you come, too?”

  Garrett looked at Brooke.

  “Yay!” Millie said. “We’re all going to the beach!”

  It was like the worst game of telephone Brooke had ever played. “No,” she said. “There’s no ‘we’ here.”

  “Momma says we’re always a ‘we’!” Millie said exuberantly.

  “How about we hike the bluffs?” Garrett said, apparently on board with the “we.”

  “No,” she said. Hell no. “That’s too high for them.” This actually wasn’t true, but she hadn’t done anything other than sit in front of a computer screen in a very long time, and just the thought of doing more made her start to sweat.

  Garrett studied her for a moment. “The trail’s wide,” he said. “They’ll be safe.” He paused meaningfully and held her gaze with steady purpose. “We’ll all be safe.”

  Okay, she got that he had no fears, but she was not in the mood for this. Not today. And maybe not any day soon, either.

  “We could bundle them up and walk the beach?” Garrett said. “That’s safe enough, right?”

  Blowing out a breath, she caved, and went about packing a picnic while trying to wrestle her growing anxiety. When she pulled out celery to go with the peanut butter, everyone moaned and groaned.

  “We don’t like green food,” Millie said.

  “It’s not green food,” Brooke said, swiftly knifing peanut butter onto the celery and then topping each piece with four raisins. “It’s ants on a log.”

  “I love ants on a log!” Mason declared.

  Maddox barked.

  “So does Mad Dog,” Mason translated.

  Even Princess Millie gave it a go, while Brooke hunted for more food to bring. She found carrots and the last of the fresh broccoli. “Trees,” she told the kids when they groaned. Tofu became “rocks.”

  “Crafty,” Garrett said.

  “That’s me,” she said. “Master of craftiness. Everyone to the car.”

  Garrett put his hand on Brooke’s lower back to get her attention. “Want me to drive?”

  “Uncle Garrett, you can’t touch a girl unless you ask first,” Millie said. “My teacher says.”

  “You’re absolutely correct,” Garrett said, and turned to Brooke, a small twitch on his lips, his tone benign enough, but she heard the sarcasm. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

  “Sure. If it’s okay that I touch you back,” she said, because the next time she touched him, it would be to sock him one.

  He smiled knowingly.

  “I’ll drive,” she said. “I’ve got the car seats.”

  They hadn’t even gotten out of the driveway before Mason had to make a pit stop. When he was finished and buckled back in, they actually made it to the end of the street before Maddox had to go.

  “You, too, Millie,” Brooke said, as she freed Mason from his seat belt.

  Nothing from Millie.

  Brooke sighed. “Princess Millie. You, too.”

  “But I don’t have to go.”

  “But by my count, you’ll have to go in about two minutes,” Brooke said, and that’s when she looked up.

  Maddox was in the middle of the grass on the front lawn, wearing absolutely nothing, peeing on a tree.

  Brooke just leaned forward and banged her head on the dashboard. And then again to make it an even number.

  Garrett laughed. “Come on, you’d do it if you could.”

&
nbsp; Probably true.

  WHEN THEY FINALLY got on the road, they drove through town and made a pit stop at POP Smoothies. It was a twofold mission. One, the kids were bouncing in their seats with excitement over the idea of each getting a kid-sized smoothie of their choice. And two, Mindy had texted Brooke to ask her to spy and make sure the shop looked like it was being managed properly.

  Brooke had no idea what “properly” was. She’d worked here with Mindy from age sixteen to eighteen, and during those years, their boss had been their dad. He’d been a tough taskmaster. They’d had to keep the place immaculately clean to suit him.

  Shortly after Brooke left Wildstone, her dad had begun opening more shops all over the state. He was no longer active in the day-to-day operations. He’d hired smart managers, like Mindy, who’d taken on the Wildstone shop, hoping to eventually buy it.

  That had never been Brooke’s dream. She needed more variety. And freedom. But as she walked into the quaint, welcoming, and admittedly adorable shop, the bright colors and delicious scents immediately bombarded Brooke with good memories.

  The walls were a cheery yellow. The oak tables with sunshine-yellow stools were clean, and pretty strings of lights and fun music invited one to stay awhile. At the counter were displays of the fresh fruits and veggies available for smoothies, as well as an entire area dedicated to Baked Goods by Mindy. At the moment, that area was empty, but everything else was full and bustling and looking pretty amazing.

  Behind the counter sat a thirtysomething woman: tall, dark, and beautiful, her midnight-black hair piled on top of her head, her equally dark eyes smiling. “Brooke Lemon,” she said. “You look just like your sister.”

  And she looked like a real-life Warrior Princess. “You must be Xena.”

  “I am.” She came around from behind the counter and hugged the kids, each of whom seemed to adore her. They shouted out their smoothie orders.

  Xena wasn’t at all flustered; she simply got to work. When she’d finished with the kids’ smoothies, she winked at Garrett. “The usual, I presume, handsome?”

  “You know it,” Garrett said with a warm smile, like they knew each other pretty well. “Thanks.”

  “A Pumpkin Smash, coming right up.”

  Brooke looked at Garrett.

  “Pumpkin and cinnamon,” he explained. “It’s like a pumpkin pie.”

  “It’s seasonal, but we make it special for Garrett,” Xena said.

  Of course they did. Brooke ordered the mystery special of the day and watched Xena create the smoothies and then effortlessly clean up afterward. She had to admit, the woman was a better employee than she’d ever been. And when she took a sip of her mystery special, she nearly moaned. “Delicious.”

  “Strawberry, banana, and oats.” Xena waved off Garrett’s money. “I don’t charge the boss or her kids,” she said. “Give Mindy my love.”

  Brooke glanced up, surprised.

  “She sent you, right?” Xena asked. “I love and adore her, but we both know she’s a control nut.”

  “If it helps, I plan to tell her you’re amazing,” Brooke said.

  Xena smiled. “Oh, honey, she already knows that.”

  Garrett tucked some bills into the tip jar, and they left. Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into the beach parking lot. A food truck was just setting up at the base of the bluffs, sitting back about a hundred yards from the shoreline. Other than that, their only company was a handful of surfers. The tide was coming in, shrinking the beach.

  “Bad timing for a walk on the sand,” Garrett said. Then he turned and eyed the stairs to the top of the bluffs, where the hiking trails Brooke had once upon a time known better than her own hand seemed to mock her.

  “Yeah!” Millie shouted. “Let’s go up there.”

  “Up there” was a problem. “Up” anything was a problem, and had been since the crash. Brooke got vertigo like no other now. She wouldn’t call it a phobia. It wasn’t a phobia. She refused to have it be a phobia. After all, she was going to leave here soon and go back to having wild adventures, where there would be lots of “up.”

  Garrett leaned in close. “I can put Maddox in his backpack on my shoulders and hold on to Mason’s and Millie’s hands. We could head east so the sun isn’t slanting into our faces.”

  She was still staring at the stairs, her heart pounding in her ears. “I hate it when someone says something like ‘head east.’ Who am I, Lewis and Clark? Do we turn right or left from the food truck in the parking lot?”

  Garrett smiled. “I forgot that you could locate any food source without direction, but other than that, you get lost finding your way out of a paper bag.”

  Annoyingly true.

  “I don’t need my hand held,” Millie announced. “I don’t like to hold hands. You hold Auntie Brooke’s hand, Garrett, okay?”

  “I’ll have to ask first,” Garrett said very seriously, and when Millie nodded in approval with all her eight-year-old feminist heart, Garrett turned to Brooke. “May I hold your hand?”

  Brooke couldn’t seem to take her gaze off the stairs. From the corner of her eye, she could see Garrett’s proffered hand. Truth be told, normally she wasn’t a fan of hand-holding any more than Millie was, but at that moment, his hand felt like a life-saving flotation device, and she grasped it like she was going down for the count.

  “Are you two going to get married?” Millie asked. “Because Grandpa holds Grandma’s hand and they might get married again. And Daddy holds Momma’s hand and they’re married.”

  Brooke volleyed that one to Garrett by looking at him. Let’s see you handle this one, Ace . . .

  “Holding hands can also be a just-friends thing,” he said, very calmly.

  Show-off.

  “And usually people fall in love before they get married,” Garrett added.

  Unimpressed, Millie wrinkled her nose. “Love seems kinda dumb.”

  “You don’t plan to fall in love someday?” Garrett asked her.

  Millie shrugged. “Maybe. If the person can make pancakes as good as Brittney’s.”

  Garrett nodded. “Wise. Always hold out for what you want.” He met Brooke’s eyes, his own filled with something, but hell if she knew what.

  A couple of seagulls landed near them with a squawk and began to stalk them.

  Maddox pointed at them. “Bad dog!” he yelled.

  Everyone stared at him.

  “You can talk?” Brooke finally asked.

  “Well, sure he can,” Millie said. “He’s almost three, you know.”

  “But I’ve only ever heard him bark.”

  Millie shrugged. “He likes to bark.”

  Okay, then.

  Two women and a gaggle of kids got out of their cars. One of the women stopped and smiled at Mason’s pink dinosaur pj’s. “Cute. Is that a boy or girl?”

  “It’s a T-rex,” Brooke said.

  The group moved on, and Garrett looped an arm around her neck and tugged her into him. He smelled heart-stoppingly amazing, damn him, as he brushed a warm kiss to her temple. “Like the way you operate,” he murmured.

  Millie pointed at them. “You just kissed. See? You do like each other.”

  Brooke decided to play deaf on that one. She was too busy facing the trail with all the enthusiasm of someone walking to the guillotine.

  “You okay?” Garrett asked softly.

  “Of course. This is nothing.” She looked at him, daring him to say otherwise.

  He merely gestured for her to go first.

  So she did. Three steps in, she made the mistake of looking back, because in doing so she could see what felt like miles and miles of blue Pacific, outlined by an unending line of bluffs. She gulped and began to count to herself. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four—

  “Brooke?”

  She waved off Garrett’s low tone of concern. Hell no, would she give in now, not in front of an audience. One, two, three, four. “I’m good.” And then she proved it to herself by walking the damn
trail.

  An hour later, she was shocked to admit to herself that it had gone well. Unlike any other mountain adventure in her life, this one had been extremely tame and very easy and . . . a lot of fun.

  After, they sat on the low stone wall between the parking lot and beach, eating Brooke’s snacks, de-dusting, and drinking water. A couple came down the trail behind them, carrying hiking sticks and wearing hydration packs and vests with a lot of pockets, all bulging with supplies.

  “Glad to see you hydrating the kids,” the woman said with a little bit of judgment in her voice, prompting Brooke to look over her motley crew.

  Millie had walked the trail in Crocs. Mason was carrying his stuffed unicorn. Maddox was filthy from happily rolling in the dirt as often as possible. Not a single one of them had suffered in any way. In fact, they’d all enjoyed themselves and were still grinning, which meant the fun police needed a chill pill, though Brooke refrained from telling her so.

  Garrett waited until the couple moved on before saying, “Admit it, you wanted to kill her.”

  “Only a little.”

  “Proud of you,” he murmured.

  She had no idea why, but the words warmed her to her toes.

  A little bit later, they pulled back into Mindy’s driveway. While the kids were running around on the lawn like wild things, Brooke turned to Garrett. In spite of the day they’d had and the “proud of you,” he was now looking at her like maybe she was a puzzle he couldn’t solve. Or didn’t want to. “What?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “It’s irrelevant.”

  “I doubt that.”

  He stared at her for another beat. “It’s irrelevant because I no longer give in to impulses that are going to mess me up.”

  She felt herself run the pads of her thumbs over her fingertips, back and forth. “And you think I’m going to mess you up.”

  “I know it,” he said.

  “Wow.” She absorbed the blow of that. “Nice.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Brooke. I’m trying to avoid getting hurt. Like I said, we’re in a different place now, and I promised myself I wasn’t going to go there with you again. Not ever.”

  “Says the man who had his tongue down my throat last night.” Nodding like it all made perfect sense, and also to show that she was fine with it, she began to move toward the house. Because she was totally 100 percent fine, dammit.