Return to Me (Blue Harbor Book 5) Olivia Miles (ereader android .TXT) 📖

Kyle’s laughter stopped when he gave her a long, unreadable look. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Brooke watched him go without a word, feeling sad at how she’d ruined a moment and even sadder that she could no longer read his expressions. Once there had been a time when she knew Kyle as well as she knew her sisters. She could tell when he was happy, excited, sad, mad, all without him even opening his mouth. She could anticipate his every move, and now, he seemed unpredictable. Did he really want to spend his evening fixing her broken shelves?

And if he did, then why?

10

Brooke couldn’t afford to think about Kyle right now. As she stood, worrying over her soon-to-be ex-husband, her fabric was getting wrinkled and in danger of being stepped on, and given how much of her savings she’d already sunk into the business, she didn’t exactly have the funds to replace anything, and even if she did, she was thousands of miles from Manhattan, and she highly doubted the craft store in the neighboring town of Pine Falls carried anything she could use.

She did her best, stacking bolts of lace and satin on her desk, the coffee table in the seating area, and on the velvet benches in the dressing rooms. By the time she was finished, Kyle was back, holding a toolbox in one hand and a pizza box in the other. He shook some water from his hair.

“Storm’s rolling in,” he said.

Spring showers, she thought, remembering how much she loved the smell of rain at this time of year, how it made the grass greener, the flowers bigger, and always gave her the best night’s sleep.

She eyed the pizza box from Fiorre’s—the place she only ever went with Kyle. Her family was more of a Martino’s supporter because the Martino family lived two doors down, and Mrs. Martino and Brooke’s mother were in the same bridge club. But Fiorre’s was the best pizza in town. Maybe the best in the Midwest. It certainly gave some of the New York joints a bit of competition. The smell was enough to make her mouth water, and she didn’t have to look to know the toppings he’d selected.

“House special?” she asked, eyeing the box greedily.

“Is there any other choice?” He gave a little grin. It was their usual order.

“Hawaiian, if you ask one of my sisters,” she laughed.

“It’s still hot,” he said, giving her a look that she did recognize. It was an invitation.

Despite her reservations, she wasn’t about to pass up a steaming hot slice of pizza covered in all her favorite toppings. She looked around the storefront, at the pristine dresses in various shades of white and ivory and her fabric, which was piled neatly on every available surface other than the floor.

Her eyes darted outside, hoping they could sit on a bench, perhaps, but the rain showed no signs of slowing.

“I guess we should take this upstairs.” As soon as she caught the look on his face, she added, “I don’t allow food in the shop.”

“And here I thought you actually wanted to invite me in,” he bantered.

But she had done just that, hadn’t she? She’d opened the door to him, even when she’d been so clear she was determined to shut it.

She looked at the man before her. The years had been good to him. Filled out his frame and gave a weathered look to his already kind eyes. It was the eyes that pulled her in, brought her back to a time and place when she felt whole, and content. Kyle had always been easygoing, thoughtful, and loyal. She’d had as much fun at his side as she did with her sisters, and that was saying a lot, considering she and Gabby and Jenna rarely argued. He was good for laughs, up for a night out as much as a night in, great at telling stories, good at listening, too. She’d never stopped liking him, she realized. And that was just the problem.

“Seriously, the last thing I need is grease on my fabric.” Resigned to the fact that she had no other choice, she led him and the pizza to the back of the shop and opened the door to the stairwell.

She eyed him as she held it open for him to pass. No, she thought, grease on her fabric wasn’t the last thing she needed. The absolute last thing she needed was to be spending yet another evening with Kyle.

And enjoying it more than she should.

*

Kyle didn’t know what to make of Brooke’s apartment. He noted the small bunch of flowers sitting in a vase on the counter, the blanket tossed over the old sofa, and a glimpse of some framed photos on the bedside table through the half-open door.

It was a nice space, with big windows looking over Main Street, and tidy, sparse furnishings, with small touches that showed she had already made herself at home.

Maybe that was what didn’t sit right. Brooke’s home should be the cottage tucked at the end of a gravel road, the one with the dining table he’d carved for her, the one with the curtains she’d sewn hanging from the windows, and the two chairs he’d made sitting side by side out on the water’s edge. The place they’d chosen and shared.

The place where he still lived.

Now, the reality that she had moved on hit him harder than it did when she’d gone to New York. It was impossible to picture her life there, to a place he’d only been once, for Christmas, as a kid. He imagined heavy traffic and loud sirens and a cramped apartment. He’d dared to think that she was unhappy. That she’d come to her senses. Return to Blue Harbor.

And she had. Only not