After All (Cape Harbor #1)(47)

She pressed the button and waited for the unit to come to life; this time it did. A look of irritation spread across her face until the machine started shaking, as if it were coming alive. Bowie stepped in front of her, shielding her from whatever that contraption was doing. The unit popped, and she shrieked.

“What the hell?”

“My guess, it’s old and hasn’t been on in fifteen years.”

Brooklyn sidestepped Bowie, waving her hand in front of her face to push the smoke away. “Perfect. Definitely an item we didn’t budget for.”

“I think the newer systems are more energy efficient. I’ll make some calls and see what we can get.”

She sighed. “Thanks.”

An awkward silence fell upon them. They would look at each other and then away, only to turn back. They were playing a cat-and-mouse game, and she had no idea which part she was supposed to be. She closed her eyes, and as she did, she felt him behind her. It had taken her years to forget him, to get over the way he had always been by her side, to not yearn for the way he had always known just what she needed. And now he was standing behind her, and she was desperate for him to hold her like he used to. Yet, she wanted to keep him at arm’s length because she didn’t want to hurt him.

Her pulse quickened, and in the silent, smoke-filled room, she was sure he could hear her heart beating rapidly. His hand touched her hip, and his other one rested on her shoulder. He moved closer. She could feel his chest against her back. What she wouldn’t give to fall into his arms, to feel him hold her, kiss her, love her.

She stepped away from him and went to the door, tugging on the knob, only the door didn’t budge. She could have sworn she had told Bowie to make sure it didn’t close. She twisted the knob, only for it to spin in her hands. “Are you freaking kidding me?” she said through gritted teeth.

“What’s wrong?”

His voice made her blood boil. Was he seriously asking her what was wrong? Could he not see that he had caused this?

She turned to him. “You! Shut! The! Door!” There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that her cheeks where red. She was sweating, hot, and now angry . . . at him.

Bowie went to the door and tried to open it. She wanted to laugh when it wouldn’t open but held back. Instead she kicked a box that was in front of her, except it wouldn’t move, either, which only increased the frustration she felt.

“I’ll just take the door off the hinges.”

“Yep, whatever.”

“What is your problem?” Bowie fired back.

Brooklyn huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “You.”

“Why? I didn’t do anything,” he pointed out as he came toward her.

“Ha, you’ve done everything.”

“Name one thing, Brooklyn.”

She couldn’t. He was too close, invading her personal bubble.

“Why Florida?” he asked, thankfully changing the subject. Not that she wanted to talk about any part of her life with him. The less he knew, the easier it would be to leave.

“Excuse me?”

“What’s in Florida?”

“A PO box.”

He looked confused, and part of her was satisfied that she had made him this way. The other part of her felt stupid for being snobby. She sighed. “Self-employment laws are very favorable in Florida, so I keep a ‘residence’ there.”

“Do you have a boyfriend? Partner?” he asked, moving closer. “Is there someone there or any other place you’ve been?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Do you want to know what I’m at fault for?”

She couldn’t look at him, nod, or even find the strength to say yes because her senses were going haywire. He was in her personal bubble again, and this time she wanted to grip his T-shirt and pull him toward her. Her hands shook and her heart pounded as he lifted her chin gently and studied her. “My only fault in all of this is that I loved you and never got a chance to show you how much.” Bowie leaned forward. Their lips parted. She heard him inhale as they grew closer.

Suddenly the door opened, startling them. They stepped away from each other and looked to see who had come to save them. Simone stood there, smiling like a Cheshire cat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not,” Brooklyn said as she walked toward her. “Just the opposite, really. The handle was stuck, and Bowie and I were just talking about replacing the door.”

Simone rested the broom she held in her hand in the corner, never once taking her eyes off Brooklyn or Bowie. Brooklyn grinned, although she was certain it came out like a grimace. “Guess I better get to work,” she said, leaving Simone and Bowie in the room.

Brooklyn hurried down the hall, desperate to get away from Bowie, and thankful that Simone had caught them before anything could happen. She still hadn’t made a final decision on whether she and Brystol would stay in Cape Harbor, and kissing Bowie would only complicate matters. As it was, whenever he was around, her knees weakened, at times she felt dizzy, and her heart thumped so fast she thought she was going to faint. The last time she’d felt like this, she had just met Austin. The only difference now, aside from a lifetime of growing up, was that she was certain that if she acted on her feelings, Bowie would reciprocate.

The doors to the inn burst open, and men carrying every box size known to man came through and headed right for the stairs. The palpitations she had increased, but for a different reason. Bedroom furniture had arrived, and it was time to start putting the complete rooms together. She clapped her hands and followed. Putting beds together, decorating, and styling a room were passions of hers.