Читать книгу Falling For The Right Brother - Kerri Carpenter - Страница 10

Chapter Two

“Cancer-free as of today.”

The breath she let out was full of relief. Elle had been holding her jaw so tight that her face actually ached.

“Seriously?” she asked tentatively. She knew better than anyone that her dad had a habit of downplaying. The fact that he hadn’t shared his diagnosis—even during their recent Christmas visit—until a couple weeks ago still had her seeing red.

“Cross my heart.” Her dad kissed her on the head before engulfing her in a long, hard hug. Nothing could have felt better. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to pick you up this morning.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” She waved a hand in the air as she took in her father. He looked mostly the same, a little thinner maybe, and a bit pale. But that was to be expected. “Tell me everything the doctor said, and start from the beginning.”

Even though he rolled his eyes, Elle held firm. She would get the truth of the situation even if that meant calling the doctor herself.

“Our food is going to get cold,” he said, gesturing to the spread on the table.

“It won’t if you hurry up and tell me.”

“You’ve always been the most stubborn little thing,” he said with a laugh.

She returned with a chuckle of her own. “Wonder where I get that trait from.”

“Fine, fine. The treatment seemed to work. When I went back in today, doc said the scope we did last week didn’t detect any cancerous cells.”

He was beaming and Elle wanted to share in his joy, but she’d done a fair amount of research on bladder cancer. They would need to stay on top of this to ensure it didn’t return. Her dad would have to get scopes often and probably for the rest of his life.

A small concession for keeping him in her life. With her mother already passed, Elle would do anything to protect her only remaining parent. Even though she barely remembered her mom, she wanted to think that her returning from Italy would have made her proud.

But for the moment, she’d try and enjoy the victory with him. She reached for a pair of wineglasses when an invitation on the counter caught her eye.

Her father followed her gaze. “Mrs. Dumont is having another party on Friday and the theme is Printemps.” He rolled his eyes as he took the wineglasses from her hands.

“Springtime,” Elle murmured. “Well, that’s a fitting theme.” She leaned back against the counter. “Are you going to attend?”

He let out a loud chuckle. “That’ll be the day. Don’t know why they even invite me to those damn dreaded things.”

Elle smiled and they sat down at the table and toasted with a bottle of wine she’d brought back from Italy.

“To your health,” she announced, her glass held in the air.

“To my baby girl being home.”

“Cin cin.” With that, they clinked glasses.

To celebrate her return, they were enjoying a huge bowl of spaghetti and meatballs. Her father had insisted on cooking “his specialty.” Elle had to laugh. She couldn’t even begin to count the number of times they’d feasted on this exact meal when she’d been growing up.

Not to mention that she’d lived in Italy for the last six years, plus one year of study abroad in college. She’d been spoiled by the outstanding culinary pleasures of Italy. But watching her father slurp up his spaghetti, with sauce dotting his chin, seeing the pride when he announced that he’d heated up the frozen meatballs and garlic bread, made this the best pasta she’d ever tasted.

As they ate, Elle filled her dad in on her flight and he told her some of the local Bayside gossip. A nice breeze came off the bay and filled the house with the awakening scents of early spring.

“I have a friend in Florence who would go nuts over this,” Elle said, referring to the chocolate éclair her father had bought at the local bakery.

“Speaking of people you know in Italy...”

Oh, jeez. Her dad was anything but subtle.

“What about that nice fellow I met at Christmas when I was visiting?” he asked.

“Marco,” she said.

“Yeah, him. He seemed nice.”

Marco was great. Sexy and sweet. They’d dated for the last year. “I didn’t know how long I would be here and neither of us wanted a long-distance relationship.”

“You don’t have to have one. Why did you come back to Bayside, Ellie?”

His question stung. Did he not want his only child here with him? For you. Because I was worried about you, of course. “I guess I just needed a change of scenery.”

“You guess, huh? Well, I just hope somebody wasn’t worried that their aging dad needed a chaperone...”

Biting back a smile, she shook her head. “Never.”

“Ellie...”

“Elle, Dad. I go by Elle now.”

“Right, sorry.” He patted her cheek. “You know you’ll always be my little Ellie.” The uncharacteristic sentimentality came and went before she could blink. Quickly, her dad returned to his usual pragmatic ex-cop self. “I’m worried. What are you going to do here? There aren’t any galleries or museums in the area.”

She chewed on her lip before rising to close the window. The truth was she had no idea what she would do for work. She’d contacted every museum within an hour’s drive of Bayside—not many—and come up empty-handed. Italy might have the most fantastic jobs for her, but Bayside had her family. A family that she had been desperately worried about.

Financially, she would be okay for a couple months, especially with her father refusing her offer of paying rent. Still, she’d need to find some kind of job.

Returning to her seat, she looked at her father. “I’m working on it. Don’t worry.”

He pinned her with one of his cop stares. “‘Don’t worry.’ When you have a kid someday you’ll realize how stupid that little statement is.”

Elle followed her dad when he rose from the table, taking their plates into the kitchen. “Daddy...”

Dropping a plate, he spun back to face her. “I will always worry about you.”

Sighing, she did the only thing she could think of. She wrapped her arms around her dad until he relented and returned the embrace. “I know you will, and that’s why I love you.”

Finally, he let out a deep sigh. “I guess that will have to be enough for now.”

They finished clearing and cleaning the dishes. Then her dad did something she’d greatly missed while she’d been away. He turned on the radio to an oldies station, the music wafted throughout the house. Happily, she sat down with him in the living room as he perused the daily paper and she pretended to do the crossword puzzle.

“So, Cam Dumont picked me up today.” She surprised herself with the comment, unsure what made Cam spring into her mind. But now that she was thinking about him, there wasn’t any harm in remembering the way his worn jeans had fit him so perfectly. Or how the masculine, dark stubble on his face had produced butterflies in her stomach. How would it feel against her cheeks?

“Cam’s a good guy.”

“Yeah, he seemed...great.” She eyed her dad who wasn’t taking her bait for more info.

“What are your plans for tomorrow?”

Elle sat back considering. She had no idea. With no job and no friends, she didn’t have many options.

As if reading her mind, her dad said, “Why don’t you go check out The Brewside? It’s a coffee shop that opened about two years ago,” he explained. “It’s right in the town square.”

“I could do that. Maybe I could bring my sketch pad, too.”

Before she’d moved over to the administrative side of the art world, she’d dreamed of becoming an artist in her own right. Then she’d become so immersed in her career, not to mention all the other amazing opportunities afforded her living in Italy, that her favorite hobby had been pushed to the back burner.

Energized by the idea of taking time for her own art, she grinned.

“You look more and more beautiful every time I see you.” The compliment, not to mention the change in conversation, took her by surprise, but the soft tone of her dad’s voice almost undid her.

“Oh, Daddy. You saw me three months ago. I haven’t changed since then.”

He picked up a silver-framed picture from the end table. Without seeing it, Elle knew it was a shot of her at fifteen, after she’d climbed a tree. She was wearing cutoff jeans and an unfortunate maroon sweatshirt, her hair in pigtails displaying her makeup-free face, which had been going through an adolescent breakout phase. She’d been so clueless.

Her dad turned the photo around. “You’ve changed a lot since this. The time goes so fast,” he said, more to himself than to her.

“I think it’s time for you to go to bed. A weepy daddy is a tired daddy.”

“You might be right about that. It’s been a long day, but a good one. Welcome home, princess.” He kissed her forehead and made his way toward his bedroom.

Feeling antsy, Elle put down the crossword puzzle, grabbed an afghan from the couch and made her way out onto the deck. The water was calm tonight, and as usual for this time of year, the temperature was dropping rapidly. She wrapped the blanket around herself as the sounds of the water lapping soothed her.

Looking up, she gazed at the sky, full of glittery stars. It was strange to think that last night she’d seen the same stars from across the ocean. Now she was back in her hometown, not quite sure how that fact made her feel.

For the second time that night, Cam entered her mind. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that either.

Why in the world was she thinking about a man she hadn’t seen in a decade and spent a whopping thirty minutes with? It didn’t make sense. And yet, she couldn’t seem to stop.

She shook her head. Most likely, she was overly tired from a long day of travel and an emotional reunion with her father. That had to be the only reason she couldn’t stop thinking about Cam’s enticing smile, his mysterious eyes, his amazing body.

Obviously, being with her dad was her number one priority. Just eating dinner with him and seeing with her own two eyes that he was okay made her feel better. But her dad and this tiny house were only a small part of Bayside. Tomorrow she had to face the rest of the town.

Elle knew she’d come a long way since that picture her father had looked at earlier. Undoubtedly, she’d changed. Now she just had to figure out to how convince everyone else.

* * *

After seeing her dad off to work the next morning, Elle set off to check out The Brewside, sketch pad in tow.

As she walked along the path next to the bay, the cool morning air hit her face. It felt great after a restless night’s sleep. She’d finally fallen to sleep in the wee hours only to wake up around four thirty. Stupid jet lag.

And perhaps Cam Dumont kept her tossing and turning, too.

But she was not going to dwell on that little detail. Even if she was wondering where he lived. And where he’d set up his business. And what he did for fun.

She stopped in her tracks. “Stop thinking about Cameron Dumont,” she whispered. With a nod, she continued on her way.

She found The Brewside Café easily enough. Nestled between a shoe store that had been in the square forever and a newer, expensive-looking clothing shop, it was painted the same crisp white, accented with blue shutters, as the other establishments. Pots of flowers flanked the entrance. She pushed open the door to the sound of bells chiming and was hit with the welcoming aroma of rich coffee beans.

Inhaling, Elle stood there for a moment, soaking in the caffeine goodness. Once she had her fill, she stepped inside and took in the quaint decor. The raised ceiling was supported by exposed beams, and the dark wood floors gave the place a rustic feel. The tables were made up of wooden barrels with either glass plates or old doors on top. Copper pots and old kitchen utensils adorned the walls, as did a variety of vinyl records and framed black-and-white photographs. A display case with pastries dominated one wall and a large bar with coffee machines and an antique brass cash register stretched along the back.

After studying the menu, Elle stepped forward and ordered an espresso and a wheat bagel. As one of the workers began filling her order, a tall man with a beard and friendly blue eyes stopped wiping the counter and studied her.

“Hi, I’m Tony. I own this place,” he finally said.

Elle shook his hand. “Oh, nice to meet you. I’m—”

“Ellie Owens. I know.”

“How do you know?” She couldn’t place him and was pretty sure they hadn’t gone to high school together.

“Offering a legal, addictive stimulant every morning makes me the best friend of pretty much everyone in town. I have a knack for remembering faces and I’ve never seen yours before.” He picked up a copy of the local paper and handed it to her. “Plus, you’ve been outed.”

“Excuse me?”

“By the Bayside Blogger. You made both the online and print versions of the paper.”

She stared at the front page of the newspaper. “Who’s the Bayside Blogger?”

“Only the most popular columnist in the whole Bayside Bugle.” A woman wearing a flurry of bright colors planted herself by Elle’s side. “Riley Hudson,” she announced. “We graduated in the same class.”

Right. Riley Hudson of the Hudson family that had lived in Bayside for so many generations many people thought they’d probably discovered it. If Elle remembered correctly, Riley had been the most outgoing person in their class, popular, pretty and always dressed like she’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine. Basically, she’d been Elle’s polar opposite in high school. Given how she looked now, her fashion sense hadn’t changed. She was wearing a chartreuse A-line dress, a cute little fuchsia scarf and matching sunglasses perched atop a head of thick, wavy red hair.

“Hi, Riley. Nice to see you again.”

“You, too. Welcome back.”

While Riley said hello to Tony and put in an order for a nonfat latte, Elle quickly scanned the paper. The headline Lovesick Ellie Owens Returns to Bayside, splashed across the front page of section C, almost made her choke on her drink. The article following went on to sum up her brief, yet crazy history with Jasper, with an even quicker mention of her time in Italy.

Did people really read this? Did her dad? Biting her lip, Elle pushed down an uneasy feeling. She’d embarrassed her father beyond belief back in high school, and the last thing she wanted to do was repeat the past.

Elle turned her attention back to Riley as the other woman said, “If you want to know anything about the Bayside Blogger, just ask me. I read her column religiously. It’s like the New York Post’s Page Six, only here in Bayside. Want to sit together?”

Elle found her energy infectious. She nodded and followed Riley to a table. “So it’s like a gossip column?”

“It’s annoying.” This came from the guy behind the counter who had filled Elle’s order. “Damn Blogger got me in trouble with my girlfriend when she reported that I had been out with my buddies at the Beer Bash.”

“You were at the Beer Bash, Brody. I saw you,” Riley stated.

“But maybe I told Elizabeth that I would be watching a game over at Alan’s that night.”

Riley rolled her big emerald green eyes. “That’s your fault then. The Blogger was simply reporting the truth.”

He moved away, mumbling something under his breath that sounded a lot like “damn busybody.” Riley smiled and turned her attention back to Elle. “Are you excited to be back?”

“I guess.” She couldn’t hold in a long yawn. “Sorry. I’m jet-lagged.”

“Living in Europe for six years. That’s so glamorous. What did you do there?” Riley added a couple packets of sweetener to her latte and then sat back with a moony look on her face. “I imagine you lounging at cafés for hours with hot Italian men hanging on to your every word. I see plates of sinful pasta and caprese salads and you drinking amazing wine while tourists rush into the Duomo behind you.”

Elle laughed at the imagery. “The wine part’s true enough.” She leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “But you forgot about the shoes. Oh, the amazing designer shoes.”

An appreciative sigh escaped Riley’s lips. “You’re killing me. Hashtag, jealous.”

After sampling her bagel, Elle took another sip of coffee. “I wish I could tell you it was all play and no work, but truthfully, I did have to make a living. Even in a country as laid-back as Italy, they tend to expect payment for things like housing and food.”

“Sticklers.” Riley shook her head. “What did you do?”

“My last job was at an up-and-coming gallery right around the corner from the Duomo. But I’ve worked in a ton of museums there.”

Riley looked down. Noticing Elle’s sketch pad, she pointed at it. “Are you an artist, Ellie Owens?”

There was a certain awe in the question that filled her with pride. “It’s a hobby, and actually, I go by Elle now.”

“No more Ellie?” Riley cocked her head.

“Let’s just say I retired her a long time ago. So, what do you do now?”

Riley ran a hand along her plaid computer bag. “I’m a writer.”

Elle smiled. “That would explain the colorful descriptions. What do you write?”

“I’d like to write the next great American novel. Or at least a really juicy romance novel devoured by women at every beach in the country. But for the moment I’m a reporter with the Bayside Bugle. I write for the Style & Entertainment section.”

Something from earlier niggled at her brain. “Wait a minute.” Elle put her bagel down. “If you write for the Bugle, you must know who this Bayside Blogger is.”

“I wish. I have friends that have offered me big money to reveal her identity. Sadly, the only person who knows is our editor in chief, Sawyer. He’s also received offers of money, concert tickets, home-cooked meals, you name it. But he won’t budge.”

“Sawyer Wallace? Wasn’t he a couple years older than us in school?”

“Two,” Riley confirmed.

“Didn’t he drill a hole between the boys’ and girls’ locker rooms once so he could get an eyeful?”

Tony chuckled from behind the bar.

“Annoying then and annoying now. He hasn’t changed.”

But Riley’s face did. Elle couldn’t help but notice her cheeks redden. Interesting. As interesting as the fact that she’d just spoken more to Riley Hudson in the last ten minutes than all of high school. Not that Riley had ever been mean to her. But they’d run in very different circles.

The bells above the door jingled and in walked none other than Cam Dumont. Elle looked up as Riley waved a hot-pink nail-polished hand and called, “Hey, good-looking.”

“If it isn’t the girl trying to turn Bayside into her own version of sophisticated Manhattan,” he replied.

“One small step at a time. Speaking of elegance and style, I got the invite to your mother’s Printemps soiree. You know I’ll be there.”

“You and the rest of the planet.” Cam rolled his eyes and turned toward Elle. “Morning, Elle.”

“Hi, Cam. Nice to see you again.”

He moved to the counter and placed an order for an extra-large coffee to go. While he talked with Tony, Elle couldn’t help but notice once again the way Cam’s worn jeans clung to certain places in a really awesome way. In fact, now that she was observing, she had to admit that with his tall, muscular body, slight stubble on his chiseled face and too-long dark hair, Cam Dumont was a nice healthy dose of man candy. No wonder she kept thinking about him last night. And this morning.

She could only imagine that when he got to work and slung a tool belt around his waist he would become even more appealing. And maybe if it was a hot day and he needed to take off his shirt...

“So, Elle, have you seen Jasper yet?”

Elle sloshed the remainder of her espresso onto the newspaper. She accepted the napkins Riley offered, even as she became aware that Cam, Tony, Brody and the table of older men sitting on the other side of the room all turned in her direction at the question. She felt she should have some grand, detailed story to tell Riley in answer, when really the truth was simple. “Nope,” she said softly.

“Well, you’ll definitely see him at the Printemps party tomorrow night.”

“Actually, I’m not going to the party,” Elle said.

Riley appeared taken aback, as if Elle had just reached across the table and slapped her. “Excuse me? Hold the presses. Why in the world are you not coming tomorrow?” Her hands gestured wildly and her mouth went into a pout.

Elle laughed. “For one thing, I wasn’t invited.”

“But your dad probably was. Oh, by the way, I’m so sorry to hear about his cancer. How’s he doing? You have to come tomorrow,” she continued, without taking a breath. “I’ll introduce you to the new faces of Bayside. Not that there’s many.”

Blame it on the jet lag, but Elle didn’t know if she could keep up with Riley.

“Oh, my God, there’s this guy I should totally set you up with. I mean, unless you’re still stuck on Jasper.”

Cam cleared his throat, calling both women’s attention to him. “Uh, yeah. I’m supposed to invite you to the party tomorrow.” He didn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he looked into his cup of coffee as if it held all the answers of the universe.

Jeez, Elle thought. Could he be less excited? He made it sound like he was inviting her to a mass murder.

“Aww, Cam, are you inviting Elle? That’s sweet.”

“I’m not. My mom wanted me to.”

Even better. And why did it bother her that he wasn’t the one inviting her to the party? “I probably shouldn’t go,” she began.

Eyes shining, Cam let out a huge breath. Then he took a long swig of coffee. “Yeah, probably better.”

Hold on, did Cam not want her to go? Why the hell not? Because of the video?

Buoyed by a sudden stubbornness, she said, “You know, on second thought, maybe I should stop by. I mean, since your mom extended the invitation to me and all.”

Riley clapped her hands together in quick succession. “Yeah.”

Cam’s face fell. “Are you sure? It’s, ah, a formal, black-tie kind of party.”

“Not a problem. I recently bought a gown when I was visiting Milan. It’ll be just perfect for the occasion.”

Did he think she couldn’t afford a gown or something? That she’d never been to a formal party? She may not have a bank account like his but, hell, who did? Besides, Elle couldn’t figure out why he wouldn’t want her there. But she’d show him. Not only would she go to that party, but she’d look better than she ever had in her entire life.

“A gown from Milan? Oh, my God, you are like the coolest person I know. I must raid your closet immediately.”

Elle smiled at Riley even as she watched Cam seething.

“My mother’s parties are overrated. Trust me,” he said through clenched teeth.

Enough was enough. She was tired, a little overwhelmed and greatly annoyed. She stood and turned to Cam. Trying to get up in his face proved difficult, considering her five feet six inches didn’t come close to his height. Still, she tilted her chin up and pegged him with her most intimidating stare.

“Maybe I should come to that conclusion myself.”

Riley stayed silent as she watched the two of them from the table with an interested look on her face.

“It’s not going to go the way you want,” Cam said quietly, so only she could hear.

“What way is that, exactly?”

He looked as if he wanted to say something. His mouth even opened slightly, but no words came out. Elle could practically see the wheels churning in his brain.

“Jasper,” he whispered, his eyes glued to hers.

Just as she’d suspected. Even Cam thought she would still make a fool out of herself over his brother.

It hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours since she’d returned and she already felt like a total outcast. Stupidly, she’d thought a full decade away would have given everyone ample time to forget about that one little moment when she’d lost her mind.

Her cheeks felt warm as she tried to hold the embarrassment at bay. She wanted to yell at Cam, tell him she wasn’t some girl obsessed with her high school crush. Truthfully, she didn’t know how she’d feel seeing Jasper again. Her stomach tightened at the thought of it. But she was back in Bayside, so she knew it would happen eventually. What did Cam think? She would see his brother and throw herself at his feet?

How many other people would assume the same?

Beyond frustrated with Cam and his presumptions, she gathered her things and nodded to Riley. Then she narrowed her eyes at Cam. “I wouldn’t miss this party for anything in the world, Cameron Dumont.”

With that, she pushed open the door with all the dignity she could muster.