The Lemon Sisters Read online

  “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ve been trying to tell you that I can’t manage what I have on my plate now, much less the responsibility of owning a business.”

  There was a horribly strained silence in the kitchen. Brooke didn’t do horribly strained, so she made to leave.

  “Don’t you dare,” Mindy said. “Did you encourage this? It has your name all over it.”

  “Sorry,” Brooke said. “I’m not stupid enough to try to rearrange someone’s life without talking it out first.”

  Linc had the good grace to grimace.

  So did Mindy.

  Brooke took a peek at Linc, who still appeared to be in shock that his plan hadn’t been better received. She turned back to Mindy. “You do know that he was just trying to fix things, right?”

  “He bought me the store.”

  “I know,” she said. “And as I lived your life this week, I get it. But Linc is pretty new to this whole parenting thing—”

  Linc winced again.

  “—so you might need to give him a minute to catch up. I mean, he’s good in an ER, but he’s got a lot to learn, and you’re a good teacher. Think of it this way, Min—he deserves you.”

  “Thanks, Brooke,” Linc said.

  “Stay out of this,” Mindy said to Brooke. “You don’t have a family, and that’s your choice. But don’t tell me how to run mine.” She had started yelling, and her words echoed throughout the kitchen and inside Brooke’s head.

  You don’t have a family, and that’s your choice . . .

  She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, nodded once and headed to the door.

  “Brooke,” Mindy said with regret. “Wait.”

  Oh, hell no. She stormed to the “guesthouse,” grabbed her ID and a credit card, and walked into town. It wasn’t far, only half a mile or so, and she needed the fresh air to think. She felt like a bundle of raw nerves. She couldn’t put thoughts together past the single fact bouncing around in her head. She didn’t really belong anywhere—her own doing, of course. She’d pushed people away for so long that she didn’t know how to stop. A problem because she needed . . . to be needed.

  If only for a night.

  The Whiskey River Bar and Grill was full and rowdy, and as she made her way through the joint to the bar, she was glad for that. A full house. Anonymity. At first glance, she saw a lot of men. Good. And she didn’t recognize anyone. Better yet. She sat, ordered herself a vodka and lemonade, and took a longer look around. People were dancing, eating, laughing, talking, but what she didn’t see was anyone else there on their own.

  When had a simple, mindless hookup gotten so hard?

  “What’s wrong, dating apps not doing it for you?”

  She sighed and met Garrett’s eyes as he slid onto a barstool next to her. “I’m not on any dating apps,” she said. “Tonight I thought I’d find a Tinder date the old-fashioned way.” She finished her first drink and gestured to the bartender for a second. “At a bar.”

  “You’re going to get drunk and sleep with a stranger?” he asked, his voice not revealing a single thing.

  “Oh, I have no intention of sleeping,” she said.

  He stared at her. Then he stared down at his feet for a moment. Clearly not finding any answers in his beat-up old hiking boots, he shook his head. “This isn’t you, Brooke.”

  “Actually, you don’t know that. I’ve changed. And you’ve made it clear we’re not friends or . . . anything, so go away, you’re scaring off all my potentials.”

  But Garrett didn’t go away. He joined her in her perusal of her choices at the bar. “The guy on the end might be good,” he said conversationally. “His name’s Judd Roberts. Of course, he’s pushing eighty, and he just got a pacemaker put in. I’d take it easy on him if you don’t want him toes up by morning.” He gestured to another guy. “Now, Keith’s more age-appropriate—late twenties—but he’s a plumber, and rumor is that he’s not a big hand-washer.”

  With a shudder, she tossed back her second drink and felt the burn go all the way down her throat to her gut. Look at that—she could feel something after all. She raised her hand for the bartender, but Garrett caught it in his, bringing their now entwined fingers down between them.

  “Brooke,” he said softly. “What are you really doing?”

  That low, rough voice, she thought, closing her eyes. It got to her, every time. It said she was special in his life, that he cared. But that wasn’t true. She’d blown that. “Well, I’m not sure how many drinks equals happiness, but so far it’s not two.” She pulled her hand free. “And anyway, the real question is, what are you doing?”

  “Being your wingman.” He stood, tossed down some cash, and gestured with a chin jerk toward the door.

  “Are you kidding me? I’m not going anywhere with you. And you suck as a wingman.”

  “I know. And I lied about being your wingman. You’re not sleeping with a stranger tonight, Brooke.”

  “Well, I’m sure as hell not sleeping with you.”

  “Why not?” His usually sharp eyes were softer now as they met hers and held. “I’m a sure thing, and you know I’m good.”

  Her lady bits tingled at the remembered truth of that statement, which annoyed her to no end. Her lady bits were not in charge here. “I’m not going to be your pity fuck.”

  That got her a smile. “I’m feeling a lot of things, Brooke. But pity isn’t one of them.” And then he tugged her out into the night.

  Chapter 11

  “Grilled cheese sandwiches are life.”

  In the time since Brooke had arrived at Whiskey River, the night had gone dark and windy. As Garrett walked her out, a heavy gust knocked her right into him. “Oops, sorry,” she started, but the words backed up in her throat as he used her momentum against her, his arms closing around her.

  And damn, if he didn’t smell amazing. She sucked some of it in before she could catch herself.

  In response, he blinked lazily and smiled, practically a sex act all in itself, and she pointed at him. “Stop that.”

  “Stop what?” he asked innocently.

  Uh-huh. “We’re not like that, remember? And I have plans for the night.”

  “You still do.” Leaning in, he put his mouth to her ear. “Me.”

  She laughed. She might be halfway drunk—and at least two inches shorter just from melting for him—but she hadn’t lost her memory. “I don’t think you understand exactly what my plans are.”

  “Actually, you made them quite clear.”

  She pushed him back a step and turned to walk across the parking lot, proud of herself for two things: resisting Garrett, and her ability to walk a straight line. Halfway across the asphalt, the sky let loose and started dumping.

  She was drenched in seconds.

  At her side, Garrett did his best to shield her with his body as he nudged her into the passenger seat of his truck. When the doors were shut, she sat there, dripping water everywhere, gasping at the shock of it. Garrett jogged around and slid behind the wheel.

  “The entire night’s out to get me,” she said.

  Garrett turned to face her, just as drenched. He stared at her for a long beat. “I’ve handled this all wrong from the start. I’ve handled you wrong.”

  “Please,” she scoffed, looking away so he couldn’t see the unmistakable thrill that zipped through her at the thought of being “handled” by him. “You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.”

  He gave a rough laugh and leaned in, tipping her face up before brushing his mouth to hers. Not a kiss, exactly. A pledge, with his intense dark eyes locked on hers, his voice serious. “You wanted something tonight.”

  “Yes. Mindless sex.”

  “I’m on board with that.”

  “Have you forgotten you don’t want me, not ever again?”

  “I’ve wanted you from day one, Brooke. What I don’t want are the games.”

  She had no comeback for that. “So what do you want