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“Sure.” Like Brooke, he rolled forward slightly, handing her the blue nylon collar. Still stroking the dog, she slipped it over her head, and curled the leash in her hand. “Good girl,” she whispered again, pulling out another treat and feeding it to the dog. “Okay, sweetie, let’s see if we can get you out of here.”
* * *
Aiden lifted the trunk of Brooke’s car open and unhooked the cage door inside, standing back as she loaded the dog into it. The animal was calm as Brooke leaned forward and fed her another treat, stroking her head as she whispered to her softly. “We’re gonna take you to the vet,” she told the dog. “Get you checked out. And after you’ll get a nice big dinner.”
It was weird seeing her again – this wasn’t how he’d pictured it at all. He’d assumed she’d be married by now, wearing designer clothes and holding court at the Junior League the way her mom did. Not dressed in scrubs and covered in dust.
He felt his body react to her and he hated it. He’d wanted to hate her, too, but it was almost impossible. Who could hate a woman who saved a dog the way she had?
Brooke closed the cage, and the trunk, turning to look at him. Her face was smudged with dirt, as was her hair, strands falling out of the pony tail she’d fixed behind her head. “I should head off,” she said, her sparkling eyes meeting his. “I want the vet to look her over. After that, I’m pretty sure she needs a bath.”
“You look like you need one too.”
She laughed. “It’s an occupational hazard.” She looked down at her grubby clothes. “This is good compared to how I usually look.” She bit her lip, her teeth digging into the plump flesh. “It was nice to see you again. And I’m really sorry about your mom. She was really special to me.”
It was like she’d slapped him. All those soft feelings evaporated, replaced by the hard shell he’d been wearing for years. “I should go back to work,” he said, his voice sharp.
Brooke frowned, confused by his sudden change. “Um. Okay.” She reached down and laced her fingers together. “Thanks for your help back there.”
“No problem.” He willed her to get in the car and get the hell out of there. Since the moment she’d stepped on site she’d put him at a disadvantage. And wasn’t that exactly like a Newton? So she was good with animals, but she always had been. That didn’t change anything.
Nothing at all.
She reached up to wipe the dirt away from her cheek, but only succeeded in smudging more on. He had to curl his hands into fists to prevent him from reaching out to wipe it away. “Thanks for taking the dog. Goodbye, Brooke.” His voice was firm, though he wasn’t sure who it was for – himself or her. Either way, as she climbed inside the driver’s seat of her car and pulled the door closed, he had to grit his teeth to ignore the emotions swirling inside of him.
She was staring at him through the windshield, hurt painted all over her expression. He took a deep breath in, telling himself it was okay. He wanted her to hate him, the way he hated every single Newton in Angel Sands.
Including the girl he’d once loved.
And if it felt as though his body was alive in a way he hadn’t for a long time? Well, that was hormones and memories. Nothing more. She pulled her gaze from his and started up the engine, backing her car out of the lot and turning it around, before pulling away, dust dancing in her wake.
He continued to stare long after the dust had settled back down, and her car became a spot in the distance, his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth tightly. Finally, he turned around and headed back inside the site, pulling the gate firmly shut behind him.
It was time to get back to work and forget about Brooke Newton.
Hah. As if it was that easy.
4
Aiden turned his car left at the intersection, making his way to the east side of town, passing the boarded up shops and overgrown front yards that signaled he wasn’t in the good part of Angel Sands any more. He was in the streets he’d grown up in – the ones he’d fought to escape from. Yet, looking at the peeling townhouses, all huddled together as if to shelter from the wind, he felt a pang of nostalgia.
Glancing at the clock on his dash, he saw it was a few minutes after three. He’d spent all of Saturday morning in the office, replying to emails and writing reports he hadn’t had time to do all week. He’d taken an hour to stare at the plans he’d already agreed with Miller Construction on, trying to work out if there was anywhere they could save some money.
In the end, he’d pushed the blueprints away and walked outside, feeling the hot sun beating down on his neck. He climbed into his car, determined to find some peace with his hands on the wheel, as the California air breezed past him, the soft top down.
And now he was pulling up outside a two bedroom house that had seen better days. Even when they’d lived here, it had been well past its prime. He could remember the hour
s spent repairing the creaking pipes, banging new planks into holes on the decaying deck. There was always something going wrong at 1733 Parkman Place.
Climbing out of his sedan, he slammed the door shut, leaning on it as he scrutinized the house. There was a child’s bicycle chained to one of the fence posts, and a small kid’s pool filled with an inch of dirty water. The grass was high – where it grew at all – and for some reason the sight made Aiden wince. His mother may have been dirt poor, but when she lived there she had rules and pride. The grass was cut every Saturday, the pathway swept on a Monday morning, and she would never have hung her wet underwear out on a line strung up along the front of the house.
“When you have nothing, you can’t get away with anything,” she would tell him. “You have to try three times as hard and you still won’t match up.” Maybe that’s why he’d pushed himself until he scored a 4.0 in his GPA, and ran track until he managed to get a partial scholarship to the University of California. He’d pushed himself some more, determined to get himself and his family out of this place. To find something better than the life they’d had here.
Yes, they’d left this house. But their reasons for leaving had all been wrong. And as such, it took its toll on his mother. He’d seen her wither and waste until she was only a shadow of the woman who’d brought him up.
Christ, he missed her.
A loud bang to his left brought him out of his thoughts. For the first time he realized how out of place he must look here. With his expensive car and tailored shirt – no suit today, it was a Saturday after all – and the sunglasses that would have cost him half a summer’s wages back when he toiled over at Paxton’s Pier.
