Worth the Fall (Sugar Mountain #1)

VERY UNPROFESSIONAL

brOOKLYN

I drove down Main Street, searching for that rare parking spot. I figured I’d used up all my parking-spot goodwill the other day when I visited Lana. It was always a challenge. Near impossible during the summer and winter months when tourists took over the town. But I pretended like the lack of parking added to the charm of Sugar Mountain, although I did kind of hate having to suffer in the dirt overflow lot. My shoes always ended up coated in a layer of thick dust, and my tires seemed to absorb a million tiny rocks between the grooves that I was convinced would pop them.

A car reversed to pull out just as I was making my third loop, and I almost stuck my arm out of my window and pumped it up and down in victory. I maneuvered easily into the space, shut off the engine, grabbed my purse, and hopped out. Even though I’d gotten a paved spot, it was at the opposite end from where the diner was, so I started my little trek down Main Street.

I absolutely adored this part of town. Walking down it was like stepping back in time. There were still wood posts out front of some businesses where people used to tie up their horses back in the day. Sometimes, it felt like I was on the set of an old Western movie, but this was the real deal. Even the original jail cell, located right in the center of town, still stood. Although now, it was a tourist attraction, where people posted pictures on social media.

Each one of the establishments on Main were locally owned, and many still had the original building materials intact with a little creative updating to keep it safe from falling down. It was a source of pride to a Sugar Mountain native like myself. Even the newer stores looked as if they’d been there for over a hundred years, like the rest of them had. Not in a dilapidated way, of course. The city council had made sure of that. Any structure located or purchased on Main followed a strict town code of aesthetics that was based on preserving our local history.

As I approached the diner, I saw a group of teenagers sitting outside, eating ice cream on an old wooden bench. I knew they’d gotten their cones from The Double Dip across the street. It wasn’t the only place in Sugar Mountain to get ice cream, but it was by far the best.

Maybe I’m partial to everything on this street?

Pulling open the glass door, I was greeted by Mrs. Baker’s smiling face from behind the counter. She’d aged since I was a teenager, but her warmth remained.

“Hey, sugar.” She smiled. “Got you set up in the back.” She gave a little nod with her head toward where she’d apparently sat Thomas and Clara.

“Thank you. It’s nice to see you,” I said as I made my way toward the booth, avoiding the prying eyes as I passed them by even though I could see them watching me with piqued curiosity.

Thomas stood and moved next to sit next to Clara, who made a sound and put up her hand to stop him.

“I want Waffle Princess to sit next to me,” she said, and I smirked at the name.

“Is that okay with you,” Thomas asked, “Waffle Princess?”

“I have no issues with being called Waffle Princess,” I teased as I scooted in next to Clara, who started coloring her menu with some crayons Mrs. Baker must have given her.

Thomas sat down across from us and reached for one of the three waters on the table, taking a sip. Facing him was a little unnerving. His eyes were saying far more than his lips ever did. I wanted to know what he was thinking, but didn’t dare ask. Especially not with Clara sitting right next to me or someone in town being able to overhear.

“So, did you come here a lot, growing up?” Thomas asked, breaking the moment of silence that had been hanging between us.

“Mostly in high school. Didn’t you?”

I tried to search my mind for memories of Thomas, but he’d already graduated by the time I started my freshman year. Plus, the diner was huge and always packed on Friday and Saturday nights. You pretty much saw whoever you were hanging out with while everyone else sort of existed in the peripheral.

“I think we all did.” He smiled, but it didn’t match the rest of his expression.

Thomas looked wistful, like he was lost in memories, and I found myself wondering how much losing Jenna had affected him. I couldn’t even imagine going through what he had.

“Did you used to come here with...” I paused because I wasn’t sure what the protocol was when it came to discussing Clara’s mom.

I didn’t know what was an okay topic to broach and what wasn’t. If Thomas and I had been alone, all bets would have been off. I’d ask the man anything I wanted to know, and vice versa, I assumed. But navigating an adult conversation was a little more challenging when a tiny person was involved.

“Jenna?” He said her name out loud, and Clara’s little head popped up.

“You used to come here with my mom?” she asked as she tilted her head and studied her dad.

“Yep,” he said, popping the P before he leaned in closer to her. “She used to love their hot chocolate. Even when it was a hundred degrees outside, she’d still order it.”

“Mom was silly,” Clara said with a laugh, but it was detached. Like she was talking about someone in a TV show that she’d seen one time. “Did you know my mom?”

“No, not really.” I shook my head because I’d only met Jenna a few times when she used to work at the boutique in town. “I mean, I knew who she was, but we weren’t friends, if that makes sense.”

“Why weren’t you friends?”

“Because she was older than I was. Like your dad. I went to high school with your uncle Patrick. I knew his girlfriend better.”

“Oh, Miss Addison,” she said, sounding far sadder about Addison being gone than her own mom.

It made sense when I thought about it though because Clara had never even known Jenna. Which was a heartbreaking fact all on its own.

“But I do remember your mom always being very nice to everyone,” I said, and Thomas’s knee bumped against mine gently from under the table. “She was super friendly whenever I saw her.”

When my eyes met his, he silently mouthed, Thank you , and I offered a soft smile in return.

It wasn’t a lie. Jenna had been kind.

Things between Thomas and me were shifting so quickly. Being at the diner together shouldn’t have been this comfortable or easy, but it was. And I swore that anyone looking in from the outside would think that we’d done this a thousand times before.

“You know, your uncle Patrick and Addi used to love it here. We could barely get them to leave,” Thomas said, and I took the hint.

Subject change accepted.

“Really?” Clara asked at the same time I responded, “I remember that. Addison wanted to do something with food, right?”

A slew of memories about Patrick and Addison filled my mind, all good ones. And even though Addison was younger than Patrick and I were, the two of them had still been envied by everyone at school. They’d been dubbed the perfect couple. It hadn’t seemed like anything could ever tear them apart. I remembered feeling genuine shock when she moved away and left Patrick behind.

Thomas nodded. “Yeah. She’s an amazing chef. Always has been.”

“Miss Addi always made the best starfish mac and cheese. I haven’t had that in a long time.”

I shot Thomas a confused look. “Starfish mac and cheese?”

“She made it from scratch. Cut the damn shapes out herself and everything,” he said as if he still couldn’t believe she had done that.

“Bad word,” Clara said, and Thomas apologized.

“ Darn shapes. She cut the darn shapes out herself,” he corrected, emphasizing the new word, and I bit back a laugh.

It was adorable, the way this little girl owned this man.

“My uncle Patrick misses Miss Addi a lot,” Clara announced.

“Do you miss her too?” I wondered, trying not to pry too much, but still wanting to know.

“I do. But she’s been gone forever.”

Thomas let out a little huff. “She has not been gone forever, but I’m sure it feels that way to you, kiddo.”

“Uncle Patrick doesn’t think she’s coming back,” Clara said, her voice barely a whisper, and I saw the look of surprise on Thomas’s face.

“Does that make you sad?” I asked, but she only nodded.

Seeing this sweet girl look so distraught damn near broke my heart. I wanted to fix it. Tell her that it would all be okay and make her a plethora of promises that I had no business making and certainly couldn’t keep.

“Can I ask you something else?” I nudged her shoulder with my arm.

She put down her crayon and laid her hands in her lap. “Of course, Waffle Princess.”

“Do you have a favorite uncle?”

She immediately threw her hands over her mouth as she started laughing.

“I think that means you do.” I shot Thomas a look, but he only shrugged, like it had never even occurred to him to ask this question.

“I can’t answer that,” she said through her covered mouth.

“Is it Matthew?” I pressed. “He seems really fun and silly,” I said before noticing Thomas shifting in his seat at the mention of his brother. “You know, I just moved in next door to him, so I get to see him all the time.”

Thomas did not like that one bit, which I found more than a little interesting. His shoulders tensed, and his jaw set tight as he avoided my eyes. The more I stared in his direction, the more he stared at his daughter.

Her little hands dropped away from her face. “You do? You live next door to Uncle Matthew?”

“Uh-huh. So, is he your favorite?” I asked again.

She shook her head back and forth. “Nope. But you can’t tell him. Promise?”

“I promise,” I said, and before I knew it, she was extending her pinkie in my direction. I took it with my own and gave it a little shake.

“Pinkie promise,” she said before leaning toward me and whispering, “I like Uncle Patrick the best. He’s my favorite. He has a dog, and he built me my very own room at his new house.”

My jaw dropped open before I snapped it shut. “He built you a room at his house?”

“It has a place for him to French braid my hair and everything. And my own bed. I love him the most,” she said with a soft smile, and Thomas finally met my gaze, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Patrick knows how to French braid?”

She nodded. “I think Miss Addi taught him. My daddy can only regular braid.”

I tucked that little bit of knowledge away for a rainy day as I reached for her long hair and ran my fingers through it. “Have you ever had fishtails in your hair?” I asked, and her little face scrunched up like she’d bitten into something sour.

“Ew, fish? Why would I want fishtails in my hair?”

“It’s just what they’re called.” I giggled. “They aren’t real fish. It’s another kind of braid. I’ll do it for you sometime if you want,” I offered.

Before she could respond, Mrs. Baker appeared, carrying her notepad and a pencil.

“Sorry I took so long. Can I get you three something else to drink? Do you know what you want to eat, or do you still need some time?” She tapped the pencil on top of the pad before eyeballing me. “You want a waffle, don’t you?”

I started laughing. “Am I that transparent?”

“You always order the specialty waffle, sugar.”

She was right.

I did.

Clara’s head shot up. “I want the waffle too.”

“Oh, you do, do you? Do you want buttermilk or pumpkin?” she asked.

Clara shot me a look instead of her dad, which I sort of loved.

She cupped her hand over her mouth and tried to ask quietly, “Which one do you get?”

I leaned down and did the same back to her. “I get the pumpkin one, but maybe you should try buttermilk, and we can share.”

Clara nodded. “I’d like buttermilk, please, Mrs. Baker the Great,” Clara answered, and I smiled.

“You got it. I can’t believe how grown up you’ve gotten. How old are you now?” Mrs. Baker asked with a grin.

“I’m eight,” Clara announced.

“Wow.” Mrs. Baker looked at Thomas. “Eight already? Time sure does fly.” She sounded somewhat nostalgic, and I wondered how well she had known Thomas and Jenna when they were together.

“Do you know what you’d like, Thomas?”

“I’m going to get your Diner Double with fries,” he said before folding the menu closed with a snap.

“Medium rare?” she asked, and he gave her a curt nod. “I’ll go get this to the mister. Let me know if you decide on other drinks.”

“I’m good with water,” I said, and Thomas agreed before ordering a glass of milk for Clara.

“Waffle Princess,” Clara said once Mrs. Baker walked away.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

“Do I not seem okay?” I was a little confused.

“I just meant because that man you used to love was mean to you earlier. Did it hurt your feelings?” She pouted a little as her brown eyes stared up at me, and to be honest, Eli’s outburst was the last thing on my mind.

“He didn’t hurt my feelings actually. The things he said weren’t true, so they didn’t hurt me. But I still didn’t like that he said them.”

“So, he lied? Daddy says we don’t tell lies. But that’s why I got in trouble at school. Because Mrs. Shooster wanted me to tell Scott I was sorry, but I wasn’t sorry. Do you think I should say sorry if I’m not?” She looked so invested in my answer, and when I glanced at Thomas, he was leaning in, elbows on the table, like he couldn’t wait to hear my response as well.

“I don’t think you should say things you don’t mean. And if you tell someone you’re sorry when you’re really not, then what’s the point?”

“That’s why I didn’t want to do it. ’Cause then I’d be lying. And we don’t lie, right, Daddy?”

“Mrs. Shooster wanted her to apologize to Scott so that he’d feel better,” Thomas explained a little more.

“But that would make Clara feel worse.”

I felt defensive over the little girl I’d only just met and barely even knew. How was that even possible? I felt like I’d known her forever.

“That’s what I said.” He pointed a finger at me. “Exactly what I said.”

I remembered the day he had come back to the resort after meeting with Clara’s teacher. He’d been pissed off and grouchy, said the teacher was a nightmare, if I recalled correctly. I understood now. I would have been angry too.

“I think you did the right thing.” I threw my arm around Clara’s shoulders and gave her a little squeeze.

“Thanks.” She looked appeased and went back to her crayons. “Miss Brooklyn, do you have kids?”

The question caught me off guard even though it was simple enough.

“Not yet.”

“Do you want them?”

“Only if they’re just like you,” I said with a pat on her head, and she giggled.

“Well, they probably won’t be,” she said matter-of-factly, and Thomas let out a gruff laugh.

“You’re right. Probably not. But maybe they will. You never know.” I sounded more than a little hopeful, which was something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

I’d been so unhappy for so long that there hadn’t been room for anything else. Resentment had stolen my joy. It took the very thought of it and lit it on fire until there was nothing left. I’d become a shell of myself, settling for crumbs and finding comfort in the familiar. It was in simple moments like this that I was reminded of who I used to be. Who I still was.

And who I was absolutely wanted kids in the future. But somewhere deep in my guts, I thought I’d always known that I didn’t want them with Eli, which was why I never stopped taking birth control while we were together. It wasn’t worth the risk. I remembered thinking that if I got pregnant, I’d be filled with worry and anxiety instead of elation and happiness. There were so many things wrong when I looked back at my marriage that I felt like an even bigger fool for staying as long as I had.

“I think you’ll be a great mom someday.” Thomas tossed the compliment at me like it didn’t hit me right in the ovaries.

“Thanks. You’re already a really great dad.”

I didn’t have a lot of interaction with single dads or dads in general, aside from my own, but Thomas set the bar without even trying. And that sucker was high. If my future husband wasn’t like this man, I didn’t want him.

“I told you he was the best, didn’t I, Miss Brooklyn?” Clara interjected with a grin.

“You did,” I answered as my phone started buzzing from inside my purse. I tried to ignore it, but then it buzzed again. And again. And wouldn’t seem to stop.

When I reached for it, I saw multiple text messages from Lana.

Where are you right now?

Hello?

Answer me!

Are you at the diner with Thomas and his daughter?!

The whole damn spa is talking about it.

brOOKY!

My face must have paled or something because Thomas reached across the table, his hand touching mine for only a split second before he pulled it away.

“Is everything okay?”

I turned my phone around for him to read instead of repeating it all out loud for Clara to hear. He simply nodded as if he couldn’t care less and like what Lana had said didn’t bother him in the least.

“You should respond to her, or she might not stop.”

He actually smiled.

Is he enjoying this?

I thought he was.

“You’re right,” I said before firing off a text back.

Yes, I’m with them. I’ll fill you in later. Tons of drama today at work.

You’re going to flip out when you hear about it.

I can’t wait to hear everything!

And I do mean everything, Brooklyn McKay.

“Brooklyn.” Thomas said my name, his tone all deep and gravelly, demanding my attention. “We knew they’d talk, remember? It’s okay. The good thing about small-town gossip is that it goes away. People have the attention span of a gnat these days.”

“What’s a gnat?” Clara asked without looking up from her paper that was now almost completely colored over.

“An annoying little bug,” I answered before Thomas could beat me to it, and Clara let out an ew sound.

Before I could overanalyze the texts any more, our food arrived, and I swore I’d never seen a happier girl than Clarabel O’Grady. Her eyes were two times their normal size as she gaped at the massive waffle on her plate. I helped her put the butter and syrup on. Not too much. Just enough. And when she cut into the fluffy monstrosity, she moaned with every bite she took. This was a girl after my own heart.

“This is the yummiest thing I’ve ever eaten,” she said with her mouth full, and Thomas tsked her. “Sorry,” she said before swallowing and taking a giant gulp of her milk, and everyone else in the diner seemed to disappear.

I would now think of Clara whenever I came here. It was funny how quickly memories were made and replaced by new ones. I’d never really associated anyone with my favorite diner waffles before, but now, they’d forever be attached to the memory of this little girl’s first one. I liked the idea of it all a little too much.

The talking came to an abrupt halt while we were eating, and when the bill came, Thomas insisted on paying for it. It felt like a date even though I knew better.

Do I want it to be a date?

I honestly wasn’t sure.

For as hot and cold as Thomas could run, I felt like I was sort of the same way. I was fiercely attracted to him, but I wasn’t sure that it was anything deeper than that. And I still didn’t trust myself to make good decisions when it came to men and relationships. I clearly had no idea what I was doing; otherwise, I wouldn’t be divorced already.

Not that it mattered because this clearly wasn’t a date .

Even though it felt an awful lot like one. Or maybe that was just from my perspective. Thomas probably considered me some kind of charity case. Someone he’d felt bad for and just wanted to give a nice meal to after she’d been embarrassed by her ex-husband in front of her staff.

Clara and I headed outside side by side and waited on the empty bench for her dad to finish paying. When he finally walked out, we both stood up at the same time, and Thomas positioned himself between us, like he belonged to the both of us.

“So, we should do this again sometime.” He leaned in close, and the heat from his body made me want to hop into his arms, wrap my legs around his waist, and kiss him like my life depended on it. “But maybe without the extra company,” he added, and I wasn’t sure if he was referring to his daughter or the rest of the town.

“Wouldn’t that be”—I paused for dramatic effect—“unprofessional?” I asked in a joking tone that I immediately regretted.

His face turned dead serious as he ran a finger down my cheek, where anyone who was watching could see us. “Extremely. But I’m starting to think that I don’t give a shit when it comes to you, Brooklyn.”

“Bad word, Daddy!” Clara stomped around, but I was too caught up in what he’d just said to care.

My phone buzzed in my purse, and I pulled it out, noticing another text from Lana. Instead of reading it, I decided to drive over to her place. I was dying to fill her in on what Eli had done earlier at the resort. Although I’d bet a hundred bucks that she already knew.

“Are you parked far?” Thomas asked as Clara stared up at me as she twirled and danced around, her little feet kicking in the air.

“I’m at the end of the street.” I pointed in the direction of my car.

“We should walk with her, right, Daddy? And then open her door for her too?” Clara asked, and I wondered if she’d learned that from the men in her life or from something she’d seen on television.

“I can walk by myself. It’s not that far,” I said, but Thomas looked mildly uncomfortable, like he was suddenly having some kind of internal battle. I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Really, it’s fine. You two go.”

Clara shook her head, disagreeing. “Daddy won’t like that. He says that boys open doors for girls they like. And if a boy doesn’t open my car door for me, then I can’t get in with him. It’s what gentlemen do.”

I leaned down to face her straight on. “Your dad’s right. But I need to go see my best friend, and you need to get home. You guys can open my door next time, okay?”

I had no business bringing up a next time , but she instantly calmed as she pondered my suggestion.

“I think that would be okay. I’m kind of tired anyway.” She said the last part through a yawn, and I was seriously dumbfounded. A minute before, she’d been bouncing off the walls, unable to sit still, and now, it was like some sort of sedative had kicked in.

“Next time then,” Thomas said against my ear as he gave me an awkward hug.

But it wasn’t his well-sculpted arms and hard-as-a-rock chest that had me all worked up. Or the fact that I knew everyone inside the diner was probably watching our interaction. It was the other hard-as-a-rock thing currently poking me in the upper thigh. I wanted to rub up against it and see if a genie popped out and started granting me wishes.

Knowing that I’d made Thomas hard was a total turn-on. I liked it way too much. And I definitely wanted to do something about it. Rose had been right. I needed a good old-fashioned boink fest.

Maybe he and I both did. No. Thomas probably had sex whenever he wanted, not that I’d ever heard any rumors like that. But I couldn’t imagine a single woman in Sugar Mountain who would turn down a sexual offer from an O’Grady brother. I was exaggerating, of course, but sometimes, it felt like this whole town vied for their attention.

I understood.

If there was a line to have sex with Thomas, I wanted to skip to the front of it and never let anyone else have a turn.

What the hell was I even thinking?