18. Brooke

EIGHTEEN

brOOKE

T he forecast called for rain. Shoppers didn't hang around the stalls as usual this morning. They wanted to get in and get out before the storm, which didn't feel too far off between the dark sky and warm winds whipping the flaps of the tents back and forth.

Nicole, the college student who helped me out on weekends, played on her phone. We hadn't had a customer in about twenty minutes, and with the dwindling crowd, I doubted we'd be getting any more.

"Can you start packing up the extra crates? If the rain starts, I don't want us to be stuck breaking everything down."

She nodded and got to work, stacking the empty crates and folding up all the cardboard boxes to reuse next week. I packed up most of the unsold produce, save for a few of each in case anyone stopped by in the next half hour. I occasionally brought some to Jude since the guy needed more vitamins in his diet, and I popped a few zucchini and an eggplant into a basket for him.

"Nic, I'm going over to Jude's stall for a bit."

"Got it covered here." She smiled. "Tell your boyfriend I said hi. "

"He's not my boyfriend."

"He's not?" She appeared genuinely shocked. "I thought… He's always… He brought you coffee this morning and…"

I laughed, waving her off. "We've been friends for a long time."

And having sex for the last few weeks, but to-may-to, to-mah-to.

I scooted down the street to find most of the vendors had the same idea as me. I waved to Bill, the cheese guy, as he packed up, and high-fived Alicia, Sara Ann and Tori's toddler. They sold homemade soaps and other personal hygiene products, totally organic and vegan.

"Your sign," I called, speeding up to catch Jude's self-standing sign that lost its fight with the wind.

He spun around, and we bumped right into each other when we reached for it at the same time.

"Hey, whoa." He set the sign up with one hand, wrapping the other around my bicep.

"Sorry. I didn't want it to get wrecked."

"It's fine, but are you okay? I stepped on your foot." He motioned to the folding chair behind his table. "Sit."

"I'm fine."

"Sit down," he ordered, and I bit back a smile, doing as I was told.

"I came over to give you some veggies."

He accepted my basket, deadpanning, "Great."

"Oh, come on. If you don't want to make the zucchini for dinner, you can make some bread with it."

"Why would I want to spoil perfectly delicious bread by mixing something green into it?"

"You've made banana and chocolate chip bread before," I pointed out, and he tossed his hand in the air.

"Yeah, because that's delicious."

"So is zucchini bread. "

"You know what zucchini tastes like?" he asked, placing the basket down on his table so he could return to packing up. "Slimy."

"I'm sorry. What?"

"Zucchini tastes slimy."

"That's…" I snickered. "That's not a thing."

"Yes, it is." He smacked his lips. "How could you eat something with a texture that's so wet?"

I tipped my head to the side. "I don't know. You tell me."

He froze and slowly turned to me. "Brooke Abigail Fraser, did you just make a vagina joke?"

I bit my teeth into my lower lip to keep from grinning.

"Your vagina doesn't even work," he teased, and I shot out my foot to kick him.

"Hey! My vagina works great, thank you very much."

"You're right." He bent, his hands on the back of the chair behind me, lowering his face to mine. "I would know."

I swallowed, no longer finding this funny.

"And I think about it a lot," he confessed in his distractedly roughhewn voice. "About smoothing lube over my fingers before pushing them inside you and feeling that first clench."

I closed my eyes, unable to hold his gaze as he spoke my fantasy out loud, what I thought about when I pulled my vibrator out of my nightstand drawer.

"That first inch, that's when your breath hitches and your fingers curl."

"Jude," I whispered, my nipples hard beneath my bra. "Please don't."

"Don't what?" He tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear. "Tell you that I dreamed of your legs around my waist last night and woke up hard as a rock? Okay, I won't."

My responding laugh was more of a whimper, and I opened my eyes to push him away from me. "You can't say things like that to me. "

He stood up straight. "Why not?"

"Because…" I coasted my gaze around the farmers market, searching for the right answer.

Because what we'd been doing wasn't only fun and games for me.

Because we were more than friends, but I didn't know what else to call us.

Because if he couldn't follow through, then he had to stop.

I licked my lips and tried on honesty. "Because I think?—"

"Hey, Jude."

We both whirled around at the voice, and he immediately backed away from me. "Hey, Emma."

Emma? I didn't know an Emma.

Jude dragged his hand over his hair a few times, splitting his attention between this woman and me.

"Emma, this is my friend, Brooke. Brooke, this is Emma." When I stared indifferently at him, he filled in the blank. "We went out last weekend."

Oh. This was her . His date.

With short blond hair and a fuller figure, she seemed…fine. Pretty, unfortunately.

"Hi." She waved at me then smiled at Jude. "I had to come check everything out since you told me about it. Although, I don't think I beat the rain."

She held her hand palm up, and I squinted out of the tent to see a few drops hit the ground.

"Where are your kids today?" Emma asked, and Jude returned to packing.

"They're with my parents. I didn't want to bring them with the weather."

She lit up. "My son's with my ex this weekend too. Since we don't have them, you wouldn't want to grab lunch, would you?"

He paused, glancing at me, something settling over his dark eyes that I couldn't read before facing Emma once again. " Yeah, sure. I've still got to pack up here, so do you want to meet somewhere?"

"You like Two Birds?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I could meet you there in about twenty minutes."

"Perfect." She waved at me, like she hadn't ruined everything. "It's nice meeting you."

"You too," I mumbled, thinking of the cute little café that served brunch, and how Jude and I had been there once, sharing stuffed French toast and an omelet. Because we liked to try each other's food.

I swallowed hard as Emma jogged away, a knot forming in my stomach. When I stood, Jude narrowed his eyes on me, and I hoped he couldn't see everything written on my face.

All of my hurt and anger. The clawing jealousy and devastating disappointment.

Jude and I were friends, only fooling around. What happened between us, it clearly meant nothing to him.

It was practice. That was all.

That was the friendly agreement we'd made. Get him back on the horse, and find me a husband. Well, he'd certainly found his stride. Only, I never expected it to feel like this. Like being torn in two.

Half of myself happy for him because he was getting what he wanted. The other half completely heartbroken.

I lowered my head, playing with my hair, giving myself time to clear my throat and eyes.

I had no claim over Jude. He should and would go out with whomever he liked. And I had to do the same, find someone who wanted the same things I did.

But I couldn't do that around Jude. I couldn't stand here while he made dates with other women. Waterboarding might've been better than this.

"I'll get going. Let you finish up," I said, unable to meet his eyes .

"Brooke, wait."

I didn't. I walked out of the tent, right into a downpour.

Good. He wouldn't chase after me. Not with the rain, and all of his candy and cardboard boxes getting soaked.

I hightailed it to my tent, where Nicole—angel baby—had nearly everything cleaned up. We had it all loaded in my truck in one trip, and in the safety of the cab, with the pounding rain on the roof, I pulled out my phone, opening the app. It didn't take me long to find the conversation thread I'd let fade.

So, I picked it right back up. And made a date with a man named Holland.

Hopefully he was a seven-foot-tall Dutch guy with a good personality and impressive oral skills.

Time to find my future husband.