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“Are you okay?” Jasmine asked when Brooke scooted a chair up to the table. “You look really tired.”
“Rough few days.”
Erin, the café owner, stopped at the table, pencil and pad ready. “What are you having, Brooke?”
“Coffee.”
Erin jacked an eyebrow. “That’s all? No breakfast? No sweet rolls? We got fresh honey buns.”
“Coffee’s fine, thanks.” She couldn’t swallow food if her life depended on it.
“Jerome is not going to be happy,” Erin mumbled but she retrieved the carafe and filled Brooke’s cup. “How’s Gabe’s little boy doing?”
Brooke averted her gaze, embarrassed to admit she and Gabe were no longer communicating. “Fine.”
“Good. Quite a scare.” The proprietress moved on to top off other coffee cups and visit with her customers.
Jasmine squeezed her hand on the tabletop. “I’m so glad everything worked out. We were all frantic with worry. You must have been terrified. Cade and some of the other ranch hands had saddled horses, ready to search where cars couldn’t when the call came in that A.J. been found.”
“That was nice of him.”
“He really is a wonderful man, Brooke.”
“I believe you.”
“I wish Arabella would.” Jasmine fiddled with a napkin, taking an inordinate amount of time spreading the thin sheet of paper over her lap. “I have a favor to ask.”
Brooke smiled a little. “The last time you said that, you caused an explosion.”
“I want you to be my bridesmaid.”
Brooke blinked. “Me?”
All the reasons she shouldn’t agree rushed in. Being a bridesmaid was taking sides, giving in to the wedding no one in her family wanted. Arabella would be upset.
“Yes, you. You’re the only one who’s been able to say one nice thing about Cade and the way he treats me. You’ve been fair and open-minded.” Brooke wasn’t sure how much of that was true. “Besides, you know how it feels to be in love.”
The reminder was a knife through the heart. She did know how Jasmine felt. The love she had for Gabe was a beautiful thing, whether he could accept it or not. Loving him and A.J., though she ached now, was worth everything.
“All right, Jasmine. You have yourself a bridesmaid.”
Jasmine squealed and jumped up from the table to give Brooke a hug. The teen’s joy chased some of Brooke’s depression away.
“Well, look who we have here. If it isn’t my irresponsible cousin, Brookey.”
At the sound of Vincent’s snide voice, Brooke’s stomach clenched. Pretending not to hear, she hugged Jasmine again and sat down to her coffee. “Let’s talk flowers and colors and all that fun stuff.”
Vincent’s bulky form appeared at her elbow. “You can run but you can’t hide, cousin.”
“Leave her alone, Vincent,” Jasmine said.
“After what she accused me of? Not likely. Especially when she’s the guilty party.” His voice rose. Heads in the café turned. “Everybody in town wonders if Gabe Wesson is crazy for hiring you to nanny his son. What kind of man does that? Or maybe he didn’t know how you let your own baby sister drown.”
All the blood drained from Brooke’s head. Dizzy, ears roaring, the need to rush out of the café and as far from Vincent as possible was powerful. She started to rise.
Jasmine grabbed her hand, held her in place. “Don’t listen to him.”
“She’d better listen. Everyone is talking about what a catastrophe she is.” By now he was no longer speaking to Brooke but to the customers in the crowded café. “First, she lets her tiny baby sister die. Then she loses my boss’s son and tries to lay the blame on me, the one who found him. Something is seriously wrong with a woman like that.”
Humiliation burned hot inside Brooke. She pushed the chair back and stood, eager to escape.
“Go ahead, cousin, run away like you always do.”
She’d been poised to do exactly that but Vincent’s words had a strange effect. He wanted her to run. He wanted to make her afraid. With a strength she didn’t know she possessed, she faced her childhood tormentor.
