Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Skylar

My phone rang as I stepped into Swallow Cove's only coffee shop, Just The Sip. I'd found the place on my third trip into town, tucked on a quiet street farther inland, next to a little pottery shop.

I accepted the call. "Hey, Dad. I don't have much to report yet."

"That's all right. Have you met with Hudson Nash like I asked?"

"Yeah, I went by there last week. He's planning to research the options you proposed."

"Good. Good."

Thanks to my father's urging, I was slowly getting my feet under me. I'd spent nearly every evening at The Rusty Hook, watching the brooding bartender at work. Brooks baffled me. It was clear he didn't want me there poking around in pub business, but he always made time to check in and serve me dinner—whether I asked for it or not.

For the first few nights, I'd only watched the room without engaging with anyone except Brooks. But one night, his cousin Fisher approached me. It was really nice until Brooks sent us a dirty look. Apparently, he didn't want me poking around his family business, either. One of Fisher's friends dragged him away before we could exchange much more than introductions, but I'd talked to someone in a social setting!

That was a victory.

The barista, Danny Wray, finished ringing up a customer and turned an expectant smile my way.

"Listen, Dad, I gotta go. I'm at the coffee shop."

"Oh?" Dad perked up like a bloodhound with a scent. "Are you meeting someone there?"

"Nope, just getting a caffeine fix."

"Oh. Well, it's good you're getting out more."

"I am," I said, even though I'd undoubtedly go home afterward. Although, maybe I'd visit that pottery shop today. Baby steps, right?

My phone rang with another call, but I let it go to voicemail as Dad and I said goodbye. I didn't want to be rude to Danny.

I stepped up to the counter. "Hi, sorry about that."

Danny smiled. "No worries, cutie. I'd wait all day to serve you."

It was no surprise he was into men. His shirt read: Gay fishermen have the best rods. And the last time I'd seen him, it had featured a bowl of "Pico-de-gayo."

Above his head, the chalkboard listed the drinks he served, with names like, You're So Vanilla Latte, All Americano Alpha, and Mocha Me Moan, Daddy!

I blushed as he winked at me, even though I'd seen Danny flirt with every customer who walked through the door. "Um, I'll just take…"

His eyes brightened, and he leaned forward, eager to hear me say it.

"The Caramel Cockiato," I mumbled.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you. Say it loud and proud!"

I shook my head but repeated myself, louder this time. "I want the Caramel Cockiato!"

"Oh, yes you do," he said with a flutter of eyelashes. "Now say, ‘ I need it so bad, Daddy.'"

"No way." I laughed. "Just give me the drink without embarrassing me too badly."

Danny grinned. "Anything you say, gorgeous."

"Is this guy bothering you?" a familiar deep voice rumbled behind me.

I turned in surprise. "Brooks, you're not at the pub."

He smiled wryly. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not actually chained to the bar. I'm on my way to visit my grandmother. She loves the blonde roast here."

Danny tsked. "Now, Brooks, you know the rules. You have to say the menu item name or I won't know what you're talking about."

Brooks rolled his eyes. "You don't fool me. You know very well I mean the Spit-roasted Blonde."

Danny grinned. "Rules are rules."

He rang up my purchase, and I nodded to Brooks. "Just add his order to mine."

"You don't need to do that," Brooks said.

I shrugged. "Consider it an apology for being a thorn in your side at the pub."

"You're not—" I gave him a flat look, and he subsided. "Okay, maybe I wasn't thrilled to have an owner checking in. I'm used to running things my way. But you've been really helpful with the Dock Hop."

I snorted. "Please. That's busy work to keep me out of your way."

Brooks had the good grace to look guilty. "You saw through that, huh?"

"Yeah, but I don't mind. I have too much time on my hands, anyway."

Danny cleared his throat. Loudly. "As fun as it is to picture you two docking and whatnot, I need to ring this up. Brooks, you want your usual?"

"Yep."

"Mmm. One Americano Alpha coming up. You can top me any day, big boy."

"Uh, thanks, Danny, but I'm good."

"Yeah, yeah. You don't swing that way." He bit his lower lip. "But if you did…"

Brooks glanced sidelong at me. "You see why I was worried this guy might be giving you a hard time?"

"Oh, he's harmless. Besides, I'm pretty sure I'm not his type." I smirked. "You are."

Red creeped up Brooks's jawline, and it was adorable to see him flustered for a change. He always seemed so commanding in his space at the bar.

Danny ran my card and handed it back. "Can you really blame me? Those muscles are a work of art."

"Oh, stop," Brooks muttered. "These muscles are just from lugging heavy shit around the pub."

"Bartending: the next hot workout plan!" Danny teased as he turned to make our drinks.

I could understand Danny's drooling, even if Brooks's muscle was less of a turn-on for me and more of a concern. A man like him could easily hurt someone. Not that I thought Brooks would, but… Well, I didn't have the best track record in judging a person's character.

Brooks shifted on his feet, looking uncomfortable. "Well, thanks for buying."

"No problem. You're always comping me dinner at the pub anyway."

He shrugged. "You're an owner. It's all your money."

"Well, my dad is the real owner. I don't have much that belongs to me."

He tilted his head. "Why not?"

"Bad choices, I guess?" I smiled weakly. "I'm still figuring out how to live for me and not someone else."

He nodded slowly. "Well, I guess the same could be said for me. Except…I don't really have a choice. My grandmother needs me."

I didn't tell him that looking out for his grandmother was worlds away from letting your boyfriend control you. Somehow, I couldn't see Brooks ever getting himself into a position like that. He was strong, and not just on the outside.

Danny set our drinks on the counter. "There you go. One Caramel Cockiato, a Spit-roasted Blonde, and an All-Americano Alpha. Whew! That'd make for a fun night!"

"You're a menace," Brooks said, his tone warm.

"I'm a brat," Danny corrected. "Just a brat, standing in front of a top, asking him to—"

"Thanks," Brooks interrupted. "We've gotta run!"

He put his hand on my lower back, nudging me toward the entrance. "Quick, before he scars us for life."

Laughing, Brooks and I ran for the door, weaving around mismatched, brightly patterned furniture that gave the shop a lively if chaotic vibe.

"You're no fun!" Danny called after us.

Once we hit the sidewalk, we stopped to catch our breath. Brooks's grin was a thing to behold, wide, just a smidge crooked, and way too charming. A dimple popped, nearly buried by thick stubble, and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

He was too handsome for anyone's good—especially mine.

"Which way are you going?" he asked.

I gestured over my shoulder. "I parked around the corner. I'm headed home."

"I'm going the other way. Guess I'll see you at the pub later?"

"Yeah, but I'll stay out of your way."

"You're never in the way, Skylar."

I smiled and nodded, even though I didn't believe him. I still remembered the way he'd warned me away from the stockroom. The way he got prickly if I asked too much about how many hours he worked.

Brooks was fine with me hanging around, so long as I didn't find out his secrets. And one thing I'd discovered firsthand about secrets? They were never good for anyone.

Brooks headed down the sidewalk, his strides long, his shoulders broad, his ass a perfect peach in those jeans. Damn, no wonder Danny was smitten.

I sipped my coffee, a heavenly blend of caramel and espresso, and sighed at the thought of what I could do with a man like that if I was a different person with a happier past.

Nothing, because he's straight.

I forced my eyes away from his retreating figure and wandered into Little Clay Pot, where an older man with graying hair gave me a short wave.

"Welcome," he said. "Let me know if I can help you with anything."

"Sure, thanks."

I browsed beautifully glazed mugs, bowls, vases, and serving platters. But it was a planter with a striking landscape of the lake—so similar to the view right outside my house—that captured me.

A small leafy plant was already potted inside it, and I couldn't help but feel it represented the new growth I wanted for myself.

I bought it, along with a cute set of coffee cups—because why not?—and headed to my car, proud that I'd taken another small step out of my comfort zone to start living again.

My car was parked around the corner, an ostentatious gold Bentley convertible that stuck out like a sore thumb in a small lake town. Blaize had chosen it for me, insisting his boyfriend needed a car that reflected his wealth and success—even though my father had been the one to pay for it. I needed to trade it in for something else, something more me, but I wasn't ready to face the hassle of hours in a car dealership.

I opened the rear door and placed my pottery purchases carefully on the rear floorboard, then slipped into the driver's seat.

My phone dug into my ass, and I pried it from my back pocket. Just as I was about to set it into the cup holder next to the one holding my coffee cup, I remembered I'd missed a call while on the phone with my dad.

There weren't many people who had my number, which meant it was probably something I shouldn't ignore. I'd done enough of that in my wallowing phase.

I navigated to the voicemail. The call came from an unknown number. Probably one of the landscapers I'd called about doing some tree work at the house, then.

I clicked the Play button, but there was no message. Only heavy breaths came through the line. It went on for a minute. Then there was a click as the caller disconnected.

I went rigid. There was something about the call that set off my internal alarms. Blaize couldn't have gotten my number, could he?

I swallowed hard. No. It was just a wrong number. I was being silly. Blaize didn't have this number, and he never would.

I took a breath and willed my racing heart to slow the fuck down.

You're fine, Sky. He can't control you anymore.

I silenced my phone and took another gulp of coffee, trying to reclaim the earlier peace I'd felt as I watched Brooks blush at Danny's teasing.

But unsurprisingly, my coffee didn't taste nearly as good as it had. Thoughts of Blaize turned everything bitter.