“Is that what’s going on? It sure feels like flirting to me.”
“Teasing.” Brooke knew she sounded about as prim as an old-time schoolmarm. But she could feel herself softening toward him with every minute they spent together, and she had to be careful that she didn’t let things go further.
Hoping to change the subject, she drew in a deep breath, only to inhale the subtle fragrances emanating from the yard where the sinking sun was triggering long shadows and her aunt’s pocket of four-o’clocks and moonflowers—both nocturnal bloomers—were beginning to open. “I loved summers here while growing up. I would sit for hours on this porch reading Anne of Green Gables, Little Women, The Three Musketeers.... When my mother got sick, she made me a list of what to be sure and read, knowing she wouldn’t be around to guide me.”
“Did you get through it?”
“No,” Brooke admitted. “The following summer, my father decided it was time for me to read ‘serious books’—biographies about successful businesspeople, world history, that sort of thing. He wanted me to recognize trends and warning signs of manufactured or sociopolitical conflict.”
“Wow,” Gage drawled, “you weren’t just smart, you must have been a little Einstein.”
Feeling undeserving of such praise, Brooke replied, “It was more about wanting to please my father. He’s the brilliant one.”
“Where does he live? You said he’s out of the country? I can’t help noticing that he hasn’t come up to see your aunt yet.”
It struck Brooke that he misunderstood which of her parents Aunt Marsha was biologically related to. “She’s my mother’s older sister. By fifteen years,” she added, knowing that he would be confused, considering her own age. “Marsha never did warm to my father. And I have to admit that went both ways, so my father tends to keep his distance. But a lovely arrangement of flowers arrived from him the evening I arrived.” Or from his secretary, Brooke thought with some cynicism. She also wouldn’t tell Gage that as other gestures arrived from dear friends, Marsha had donated her father’s arrangement to the nursing home in town. All she offered was, “My father runs his own investment business, which is based out of Houston, but he travels the world over.”
Looking neither impressed nor intimidated, Gage said, “Obviously, you admire him. I hope he’s equally proud of you?”
“Sometimes,” Brooke demurred, ignoring personal hurt to reach for diplomacy. “He thinks I’m being foolish in how I’ve chosen to handle things here.”
That sent Gage’s eyebrows rising. “What would he have you do? Leave your aunt alone in the hospital and let her business flounder?”
“My aunt would never be totally alone,” Brooke replied, her loyalties torn. “As you’re aware, she knows virtually everyone in town, and then there’s that broad network of friends in church. She’ll never want for company. As for the shop... I could have asked Naomi to handle things—at least temporarily. She retired, but she’s helping me with the more involved orders or a big event. Only, Naomi doesn’t need or want to work full-time again. Despite being two years younger than Aunt Marsha, her own health isn’t that great.”
“The other younger woman there—Kiki, you called her this morning?”
“Yes. Kimberly Katherine is her real name, only her talents lie in the front of the store. She never trained to do arrangements, and my aunt isn’t close to giving her full management authority—Kiki has only just graduated from the community college. In Aunt Marsha’s viewpoint, she’s still a child, so my coming seemed the least disruptive for everyone.”
“Except for you,” Gage said quietly.
“Please,” Brooke entreated, “forget I complained about having to leave Dallas.”
“Okay... If you’ll tell me why there’s no one back home miserable that you’re here?”
It wasn’t a matter she let herself dwell on too often. “Let’s just say that I’ve been luckier in business than I have in love.” Hearing that phrasing had her immediately covering her eyes with her free hand. “Considering that I’m unemployed, that’s not saying much, is it?
“The problem is that the men who show interest in me either don’t react well if I’m more successful than they are, or—if they don’t mind, or find value in that—they still want me to be available at a moment’s notice like some trophy wife. I’m not someone who can spend half a day in a spa and the rest shopping while waiting for a guy to text me that he’s ready for my company.”
Gage just sat there watching her, but Brooke could read his mind as though he’d spoken. “You’re wondering how often that’s happened,” she said, with more than a little chagrin. “Enough times to be content to focus on my career at this stage of my life.”
“What I think,” Gage replied, slowly amending her opinion, “is that it sounds like someone hurt you pretty badly.”
Having had a few months to think over the matter, Brooke didn’t hesitate in her response. “No. He made me angry. His lack of respect disappointed me.”
“Does he have a name?” At her arched look, Gage offered amiably, “Just in case he happens to show up acting like he owns the place and you need some backup.”
“Parker. Parker Minot. But he won’t do that. When I close doors, they stay shut.”
Nodding slowly as he digested that, Gage said, “Strong woman. I’m relieved.”
Glad to have that done with, Brooke thought it only fair to see how he acted when the tables were turned. “What about you?”
“Pretty much the same story.”
“What, you couldn’t handle half a day in a spa, either?”
Grinning, Gage rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know—there are days when a good massage would be heaven. But no, I was referring to the unlucky part. On principle, I’m just a guy who likes to do the chasing, not be wearing a target on my back—or on my checkbook. If you ask my mother, though, she’ll tell you that I’m more fickle than my sisters ever were.” He struggled for and failed at a scowl of indignation. “I thought only women could be fickle.”
“Ho-ho,” Brooke replied. “Men are perfectly capable of being changeable and less than faithful.” Curiosity got the best of her. “So even after resolving the office situation by hiring Roy, you’re being chased, huh? Do the ladies bring their poodles and Pekinese into the clinic under false pretenses?”
“It’s calmed down some, but it happens. I have more work than I can handle, and it’s not fair for clients with animals in crisis to have to wait because of something clearly superficial. Then there’s the perfume they douse themselves and their pooches with. I confess there are times we can’t get them out of the building fast enough.”
“The things some women will stoop to,” Brooke lamented in mock protest of her sex.
As Gage leaned over to gently nudge her with his shoulder, Humphrey uttered a soft “woof.” Mounting the stairs far more slowly than he’d descended, he waddled to Gage. With a baleful look, he put one paw on his almost bare foot.
“What’s that all about?” Brooke asked. “Is he wanting me to get off his side of the glider?”
“Nah, this probably just reminded him of the good old days. My dog, Joey, used to come over with me to visit with him and Marsha, and even though Joey was a big chocolate Lab, he was really gentle with Humph. Joe made it to the ripe old age of sixteen, but he passed away right after Christmas.”
“How sad...but what a wonderful friendship you must have shared—and Humphrey, too.” Brooke leaned over to scratch the hound under his chin. Could it be that this was another reason for the poor dog to be having such strong