In the yurt-suite’s living room, Nick sat on the love seat, with a pad of paper on his lap that he was tapping a pen against. Four wadded-up paper balls were on the floor around him. Yeah, this wasn’t going well. Thanks, Brandon, he thought, rolling his eyes, but he meant that thanks both sarcastically and not.
A wordsmith, Nick wasn’t. He’d managed to eke out some heartfelt congratulations and best wishes in the wedding card he’d bought, but writing that was easy—no one was staring at him and hearing his words while he filled out the card. This was something else entirely.
Brooke glanced at the floor and his crumpled papers. “Need some help? I’ve only heard five thousand wedding toasts in the past several years.”
What he would give to toss the pad and pick up Brooke instead and sweep her into one of the bedrooms. The kiss they’d shared came roaring back to him, and his nerve endings were on red alert. How good she’d felt and smelled and tasted.
Except he couldn’t do any of that and she was waiting for an answer to a simple question.
“Everything I start to write sounds so canned and clichéd, the usual stuff,” he said, ripping off the page and crumpling it and sending it to join its fellow pathetic attempts. “I’m not trying to be Shakespeare, but I want to sound like I mean what I’m saying.”
She sat down across from him, on one of the round floor cushions. “It’s a small wedding—barely forty people. Family and friends and coworkers coming in tomorrow. These are the people who truly know your dad and Cathy, so you might as well speak from the heart.”
“Give me a first line,” he said, knowing he was cheating.
She grinned, but then her expression became more wistful as she stared out the window, clearly deep in thought. She turned back to him. “Okay, I’ve got your first line. ‘My dad and I haven’t always been close.’”
His stomach clenched. “I don’t know...”
“Your reaction, Nick? It’s called honesty. And that’s what you’re going for. Authenticity. Being here, among all this nature, somehow asks that. I think that’s why you have so many crumpled pages.”
“I don’t want to say a bunch of canned lines, but I don’t know how authentic I want to get either,” Nick admitted. Opening up a can of honesty could let out who-knew-what.
“Well, humor me, then. ‘My dad and I haven’t always been close,’” she repeated. “What would your next line be?”
He didn’t even hesitate before saying, “But I think we’re on our way.” His eyes widened as the lightbulb above his head dinged on.
She smiled. “My work here is done.”
“My dad and I haven’t always been close,” he said slowly as he wrote it down. “But I think we’re on our way. Nothing would make me happier—except maybe seeing how happy my father is because Cathy is in his life. The way the two of them interact makes me feel that anything is possible.”
He glanced at Brooke to see if she liked the track he was on, and there were tears in her eyes. He stood up and walked over to her. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“You really mean that.” She sniffled. “I know you do.”
“Yeah, I do,” he said, using the back of his thumb to wipe away the dusting of tears under her eyes.
“That’s how I feel when I’m with you,” she whispered. “Like anything is possible.”
His first thought was absolutely nothing as a rush of what sounded like the roar of ocean waves filled his head. And then he heard himself say, “Me too.”
And then he did pick her up and carry her into his bedroom, using a foot to swipe his overnight bag off the bed. He laid her down and kissed her as he stretched out on top of her. “Should we do this, Brooke?”
“We should,” she whispered, putting her hands in his hair. “Damn the torpedoes, right?”
He pulled up a bit, propping himself on his elbows, and put her face in his hands. “No,” he whispered back. “Not right. I can’t let myself touch you if I think I might hurt you. I made that promise to myself—and to you.”
“So, the promise evolved?” she asked, the tears shimmering in her eyes again.
“Yes. A while ago.” As he looked at her, he could feel his heart cracking open just enough to make him realize he felt more for her than he’d even realized. She’d gotten way deep inside where he thought he’d closed himself off.
“Forget the torpedoes,” she said. “Let’s just see what happens. That’s all we can do.”
He barely felt himself nodding, then reached for his wallet and pulled out a foil-wrapped packet. “This has been in here for over a year, but I’m glad I never chucked it.” He set it down on the bedside table so that it would be at the ready.
She smiled. “So am I.”
And then somehow she’d managed to flip him over so that she was on top of him. As she left a trail of kisses along his neck and collarbone, he closed his eyes, loath not to look at her, but the sensations were so overwhelming that he couldn’t help it.
And then piece by piece, the beach-fancy wear came off and Nick Garroway lost all ability to think at all.
Brooke woke up just after midnight but kept her eyes closed in case everything that had happened earlier was a dream. She opened one eye and turned her head slightly to the right. Nope, not a dream. Nick Garroway was really beside her—naked, the quilt starting around his hips or so. For a moment she let herself fully appreciate his chest, so strong and muscled, his rippled arms a sight to behold. He had a small tattoo on his left bicep—purple mountains. From the patriotic song, she figured.
She watched his chest rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall, and instead of snuggling close beside him, reliving every delicious moment of their time together in this bed, her own chest tightened. He’d said the promise had evolved, that he wouldn’t touch her if he couldn’t do so without hurting her. But how could he make that promise? How could he know how he’d feel down the road, when he suddenly wouldn’t be the manny but her man...and father figure—or even father—to her children.
Based on all he’d said, all he was going through, Nick was in flux. Adjusting to civilian life in this unlikely temporary job, killing two birds with one stone by easing into that new life and making good on the promise he’d made to the fallen soldier who’d saved his life. It was a very effective way to say goodbye to his military service in the most honorable way. She had a feeling that was why Nick had settled in so well, so easily. Because it felt right to him.
But he’d never planned on anything happening between the two of them. In fact he’d said, loud and clear, that it couldn’t happen. Enter chemistry and attraction and their lives intermingling in this crazy way, with her planning his father’s wedding, and yadda, yadda, yadda, they were in bed right now.
Granted, he was sleeping—soundly. So something must be all right for him.
Yeah, dumbbell, she chastised herself. He just had sex. Of course he was sound asleep. Of course all was well for him. Now.
Just wait till his eyes opened. And the bright light of day had its way with him.
That was what she was afraid of. That he meant everything he said last night—and that he’d mean everything he felt in the morning.
Her chest tightened again. She needed air. She needed to go stare at some trees. She grabbed his yellow pad and scrawled a note, that it was—she glanced at the analog clock on the wall—12:04 a.m. and she was taking a walk along the river and would be back in a half hour.
Then she quickly dressed in yoga pants and a long T-shirt, threw her hair into a ponytail, slipped into her sneakers, and checked on the twins in her bedroom—fast asleep.
“I made you two a promise myself,” she whispered to her boys. “That everything I’d do would be for you.” Falling for Nick in the hopes that he would join our family would be one of the best things I could do for you two, she thought, running a light hand over Morgan’s fine brown wispy curls and then Mikey’s impossibly soft cheek. But getting my heart smashed when he leaves instead will only make me an unfocused mess, and I need to be fully present for you two. I’m all you have.
Oh God. She was all they had. For real. This was no newsflash, of course, but the reality of it blinked in neon above their cribs.
There would be no smashed heart. She simply couldn’t allow it to happen. She had a business to run and children to raise, and letting herself be at the mercy of a broken heart went against every bit of the promise she’d made. She knew because she’d been there when Will had ghosted her: that state of turmoil, the checking of her email and phone for texts constantly, the anxiety. And when she wrote him that she was pregnant—with twins—and his response was to say sorry but no? She’d been a mess for months.
Then again, she’d been facing motherhood alone, with her beloved gram gone. She’d been so scared. Now she was firmly on her feet. She knew what she was capable of. She’d be fine. But not if she walked into the path of a steam engine in the form of a six-foot-two-inch former soldier who cooked and cleaned and changed diapers and hummed lullabies and told stories. And made love like every fantasy she’d ever had.
Air. Tree-staring. Pronto.
Brooke quietly left the yurt and glanced around—not a soul to be seen. It was so quiet. The sanctuary was such a distance from the nearest town that it would be unlikely that anyone would be lurking around, except a coyote. She’d watch out for those.
She headed down the path past the meditation center, past the beautiful gazebo and toward the river. Just the sound of the gentle whoosh helped steady her. Breathe in, breathe out, Brooke.
Someone was sitting on a big flat-topped rock by the riverbank, with an elbow on one knee, and tossing small rocks in the water. Who was that? She stepped a bit closer and saw the dark hair, the back of the white linen shirt and pants like his brother’s, and she knew it was Brandon Garroway.
“Hi,” she called out.
He bolted up and turned around, his expression going from hopeful excitement to disappointment. “Oh, hi, Brooke.”
Interesting. Who did he think she was at first?
“Oh, hi sounds like you were hoping I’d be someone else.” She recalled the way he’d looked at Heather, the sanctuary’s events manager, earlier, and wondered if they’d made a midnight rendezvous that she hadn’t shown up for. Brooke must be more of a romantic than she thought, because what was the likelihood of that?
“That obvious, huh?” he asked, his voice a bit mopey.
“Were you meeting someone?” she asked.
He sighed and returned to his spot on the rock. “In one of those crazy things that could only happen at a yoga wellness sanctuary in the middle of the Wyoming wilderness, I met someone.”
Aha! She knew it. And yup, she was definitely a romantic. Could a wedding planner be otherwise?
“Heather?” she asked, joining him on the rock, her feet dangling.
He gaped at her. “How’d you know?”
“I couldn’t help but notice the way you looked at her when she brought over the minister earlier.”
He stared at the river, then glanced at Brooke. “I’m not surprised it showed on my face. I’ve never experienced anything like that before. I mean, I’ve looked at women and thought, ‘Wow, she’s very pretty,’ but I’ve never looked at someone and thought, ‘I’m going to marry this woman.’”
Now she gaped at him. “Seriously?”
“I guess this love-at-first-sight thing is real. I always thought it was nonsense. And I can’t make heads or tails of it. I felt this instant connection, instant attraction, instant chemistry—before she even said a word. How is that possible? Is it just because I think she’s beautiful?”
She smiled—gently. “I’m sure it’s everything you just said—the instant connection. It’s powerful but it’s real. And it hit you.”
“Hard,” he said, nodding.
“So, you were supposed to meet here but she didn’t turn up?”
“More like we did meet here, at eleven, when she was completely off duty from leading a bedtime meditation session, but the conversation took an unexpected turn and she ran off. She told me not to follow her. So I just stayed here, hoping she’d come back.”
Oh boy. “What happened? If you don’t mind my asking?”
He bit his lip. “No, I’m glad you’re here. I could really use someone to talk to.”
She hugged her knees to her chest, glad her own issues were far, far away at the moment.
Brandon ran a hand through his hair, hanging his head back for a moment. “I told her how I felt, that it was insane and made no sense, that I was a by-the-book, numbers-and-facts-oriented person and ran a company, but I saw her and knew I was going to marry her.”
Brooke smiled. “You told her that?”
He nodded. “Sure did. She looked at me like I was nuts, so I said, ‘I’m hoping that we can at least go on a date, so that no matter what happens, if you’re not interested, not attracted, if you hate me within ten minutes, I’ll know I tried.’”
Huh. Even Brooke would have gone for that. Not bad, Brandon. “I’ll bet she said yes to that.”
“She gave me the most dazzling smile, said she’d meet me at eleven at the flat-topped rock behind the meditation center, but that I ‘should know this—things aren’t always what they seem.’”
Brooke tilted her head. “What did that mean?”
“Oh, trust me, I paced around my yub-cabin—or whatever it’s called—for two hours, wondering that very thing. Finally, at ten thirty, I had to get out of that weird circular hotel-room thing, and I waited here for her. She came, looking even more beautiful than before.”
Brooke thought of Heather with her Princess Leia braids and flowy layers. She smiled, appreciating this side of Brandon. Who knew? People were complicated, never all this or all that. “So, what wasn’t what it seemed?” Brooke asked.
He let out a deep breath and looked skyward before turning his gaze on the river. “Turns out she’s three months pregnant. She told the father, and he accused her of trying to pin it on him because he had a motorboat. That was a month ago and he disappeared on her. She thinks he left the state.”
Brooke sighed. “There’s a little too much of that going around.”
“What do you mean?”
“Same thing happened to me,” Brooke explained. “With a soldier, home on leave. I thought we had something special, but turns out I was just temporarily special.”
“A soldier? Wait—my brother? Nick’s the father of the twins? No wonder he’s the manny. Now it all makes sense. Sort of.”
Brooke shook her head. “No, no, no. He’s not their father.” She told him the whole story, starting with almost losing the Satler triplets to Nick bursting in and explaining why he’d come, to having the best nanny that ever existed. She left out the more personal details.
“Wow,” Brandon said. “I’m surprised he even bothered making good on that promise. He certainly didn’t think he owed his family anything.”
Oh Lord. “A soldier died saving Nick’s life and asked for a favor. Of course he was going to make it happen.”
“I guess...when you put it like that,” Brandon agreed.
Brooke glanced away so she could roll her eyes as hard as she needed to.
“Think you two will get married?” Brandon asked.
She coughed on air. “Why would you say that?”
“Oh, come on. You think it’s not obvious there’s something between you two?”
She’d seen big-time emotion, clear as day, on Brandon’s face earlier; it made sense that others would see feeling in her expression too. And maybe Nick’s. He was more unreadable. “Well, whatever’s between us is complicated. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Complicated. That’s the word of the day. I definitely wasn’t expecting Heather to tell me she was pregnant. And do you want to know the craziest part of all?”
Brooke looked at him.
“That she’s pregnant doesn’t change how I feel about her. She’s the woman I’m going to marry. I just know it. Turns out the baby I saw far off in my future will come sooner than I figured—I was thinking a few years down the road, but hey, life happens.”
“It sure does,” Brooke agreed—in absolute wonder that she was having this conversation with Brandon Garroway. “So, why did she run off?”
He let out another breath. “I explained that her being pregnant didn’t change a thing for me. And she said it might not today or in a few weeks, but when the reality hit, I’d be gone. I insisted that would never happen, to give me a chance to show her, and she shook her head and ran off and told me not to follow.”
Brooke bit her lip. Hadn’t she had this very conversation with herself, in bed, with Nick sleeping beside her? “She was probably overwhelmed. You must have seemed like Prince Charming falling from the sky, and her life likely doesn’t feel like a fairy tale, you know?”
Which could apply to her and Nick. He was like her own Prince Charming and Mary Poppins rolled into one. Temporarily anyway.
“I think I do,” he said. “So, do I storm the castle?”
Brooke laughed. “Nah. Not tonight. Talk to her tomorrow morning and let her know that you’d like to get to know her, for her to get to know you, and all you’re asking for is a chance. That’s pure honesty and that’s all anyone wants.”
His blue eyes lit up. “You’re absolutely right. Thanks, Brooke. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you talking to me.”
“Any time.” She hopped down from the rock. “I’d better get back. Big day tomorrow.”
He stood too and nodded. “Oh, you know what? You just gave me a good in with Nick about coming to work for Garroway Paper.”
Oh God. How could she have possibly done that?
“Well, I keep thinking how everything I have to offer Heather will work in my favor—stability, a great job, all that. And the same goes for you and Nick. There’s clearly something between you two. And if he’s going to take on twins, he’ll need a real job, steady hours. Not some cowboy’s life. He’ll surely come work for us now. I just need to put it to him that way.”
“Brandon,” she said, putting a hand on his arm. “Trust me when I tell you that you will send him running for the hills with that approach. Besides, we’re not even a couple.”
The moment the words came out of her mouth the truth of it all stung like hell. Her heart clenched and her stomach flopped over.
“Well, any man who comes home to fulfill a promise to the jerk who saved his life and ends up as a nanny to twins is someone who will always do the right thing. That’s what I need to appeal to. I’ll get him.”
If there were a contest for Most Frustrating Wyomingite, Brandon Garroway would take first place hands down. “But you shouldn’t,” she said—way more emotionally than she meant. “Nick has made his feelings clear. He wants to be a rancher. He doesn’t want to work for Garroway Paper. Why can’t you let him be who he is?”
“You just don’t understand, Brooke. I thought that, as someone who took over her own family business, you would. But you just don’t.” He shook his head.
Oh, Brandon, it’s you who doesn’t understand. And boy, was he going to be in for a rude awakening. Someone had managed to capture his heart, and that someone was going to turn him upside down. She smiled at the thought. Brandon Garroway needed to be turned upside and shaken like a snow globe. Of course, there was no guarantee he’d change his tune.
There were no guarantees in life at all.
“I’m going to save my brother from throwing away his legacy. And I’m going to save Heather too.”
Brooke gaped at him. “Save her? She may not be looking to be rescued in the slightest. A partner is one thing. But a real partner. Not someone who’s looking to run her life. Brandon, you really need to think about these things.”
He stood there, biting his lip, looking so unsure suddenly that she wanted to invite him back to the yurt for a glass of wine and a piece of pie. But the sanctuary was alcohol-free, and white flour was strictly forbidden. Somehow she didn’t think the welcome bag of roasted chickpeas and green-tea soda water would do the trick.
And besides, Nick was in their yurt, and the last thing he needed right now was for his brother to be making more demands. At some point Nick was going to implode from the guilt it brought up. And things would be said, things she wasn’t sure she’d want to hear, no matter who it had to do with.
Brandon was still shaking his head. “Brooke, you do you, and I’ll do me.” He put his hands in prayer formation and added, “Namaste,” with a bow. Then he hurried off toward his yurt, which was two yurts down from hers and Nick’s.
She would have rolled her eyes, but she felt for the guy. She really did. Love, in all its glory, was about to teach him some very important life lessons.
A croaking frog woke Nick up; the green-brown amphibian that was sitting on the other side of the window screen was making a racket. He might have laughed; he wasn’t used to being woken up by frogs, but the realization that Brooke wasn’t beside him took the smile off his face.
He found her note and glanced at the time on his phone on the bedside table. She’d been gone for almost an hour. The front door opened and he heard light footsteps, then the door close and lock. She was back.
And returning to his bed?
He waited, listening, but she never came in. He heard the gentle click of her door instead.
Disappointment flooded him. Did she need space? Time to think? Was she unsure what was going through his mind? He’d made it clear he was leaving town when her nanny returned in August, so perhaps she was focused on that.
Just go talk to her. Stop speculating. Stop her from speculating. Talk openly and honestly.
But he felt rooted to the bed. Mostly because he wasn’t sure what he felt, what he’d say if he walked in her room.
He’d promised not to hurt her. He wasn’t even sure if he could hurt her, or if he’d be the one getting his heart handed back to him. She’d told him she was done with love, that she couldn’t trust right now. But then she’d realized she wanted the whole shebang. Love and marriage. A good father for her children. A life partner.
But still, maybe this was all too much, too soon.
Let’s just see what happens. It’s all we can do.
That was what they’d agreed to. So what was happening? With him and with her?
The frog croaked a bunch of times, and Nick looked out the window. Was he really going to lie here and not make sure Brooke was okay? That was the basis of his promise, wasn’t it? So get the hell up and go see.
He slipped out of bed and left his room, giving her door a gentle knock so he wouldn’t wake up the twins.
No response.
Knock again. And again, if you have to. If the twins wake up, they’re your responsibility overnight anyway.
He knocked again.
He heard her footsteps coming to the door, and then there she was, beautiful Brooke.
“Are you trying to wake up the li’l screechers?” she asked with a smile, but he could see she was conflicted about something. Him, most likely.
“I was hoping you’d come back to my room,” he said. “You were gone a while. What were you doing out there?”
“Sitting by the river, on the most beautiful flat-topped rock.”
So, the frog had woken her up and she hadn’t been able to go back to sleep, and so she’d gone for a walk and did some of that tree-staring or river-watching she’d mentioned was good for the soul and the mind.
“You okay?” he asked, reaching out a hand to her chin.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on here. You’re pulled in different directions. I’ve got a busy life. And we...slept together.”
“You want to know what’s going to happen,” he said. A statement, not a question. Because he sure as hell couldn’t answer it.
“Yeah. I want to know. And I know I can’t possibly.”
“So come back to my room. I’d come in here, but I don’t want to be inappropriate in front of the youngins. Just come lie with me, Brooke. A warm body beside you is a hundred times more potent than looking at a tree or skipping stones in a river.”
She grinned. “Is that a fact?”
“Yes. So come on.” He peered past her at the twins, who were fast asleep. He held out his hand and held his breath for a second—but she took it.
They settled back in bed, him spooning her, his chin atop her head, one outstretched arm holding her hand. She curved into him perfectly.
He wanted to look at her, but he had a feeling she needed the space amidst the closeness. He sure did.
“I’m glad you came and got me,” she said, holding his hand tighter.
“Me too,” he whispered, and kissed the side of her face—half hair, half cheek.
For a while he lay there and listened to her breathe, their chests rising and falling in sync, and then he must have drifted off to sleep, because the next time he heard the frog croak, the sun was shining.