Loving brooke, p.1
Loving Brooke, page 1
Loving Brooke
Elsa Winckler
Table of Contents
Title Page
Loving Brooke (Unexpected Love, #3)
dedication
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
Acknowledgements
DON’T MISS THE OTHER BOOKS IN THE UNEXPECTED LOVE SERIES | KISSING CHARLIE: #1
PROTECTING LINDSAY: #2
About the Author
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.
If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher. In such case the author has not received any payment for this “stripped book.”
Loving Brooke
Copyright © 2022 Elsa Winckler
All rights reserved.
ISBN: (ebook) 978-1-958136-09-6
(print) 978-1-958136-10-2
Inkspell Publishing
207 Moonglow Circle #101
Murrells Inlet, SC 29576
Edited By Rie Langdon
Cover Art By Fantasia Frog
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The copying, scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
dedication
To Mia, our beautiful daughter who has been brave enough to give love a second chance.
CHAPTER 1
A kiss? Seriously.
Baffled, Brooke put the paintbrush down, her gaze never leaving the painting she’d just finished. She was known for her “vividly realized oil landscape paintings,” as an art journal had once hailed one of her pieces. And recently, another critic had raved about her work, describing one of her paintings as “simple, bold forms expressed in strong strokes and richly saturated colors.”
Okay, lately, she’d moved away from only doing landscape painting and had begun to explore the human figure, but what she’d done on this canvas was something entirely different.
This was a kiss. No matter how or from which angle she looked at the finished work in front of her, there was no doubt about the subject matter.
The faces of the couple kissing were shadowy, their features indistinct, but they were kissing—that much was clear. Ardently kissing, to be precise. But gone were the “bold strokes and richly saturated colors.” Instead, muted hues created a dreamlike glow inside of which scratchy brushstrokes swirled around to form lips, kissing.
And why did the blurry features look so familiar?
With unsteady fingers, Brooke tried to comb back her hair. She hadn’t been sleeping well; that was probably the reason she was seeing things that weren’t there.
Irritated, she brushed another piece of hair out of her face. Why was her hair all over the place? Hadn’t she put it up in a ponytail that morning? Patting her head, she tried to find the scrunchie she’d used for the ponytail earlier. Where was it? Shaking her head, she dropped her hand. She couldn’t even remember, as she’d been so wrapped up in getting these images onto a canvas, in capturing the restlessness she’d been experiencing over the last few weeks. What she hadn’t expected, though, was that the end result would be...a kiss.
Grabbing a cloth to try to clean the worst of the paint on her hands, she checked the clock on the wall. Connor should be home soon.
She seriously didn’t have time for this. It was the second week in June, and there were still several paintings she had to finish for an exhibition in Seattle in the middle of July. The gallery in Livingston, the one that would be showcasing her work moving forward, also wanted more than the two paintings she was in the process of forwarding from a gallery in Missoula to them. On top of that, she and Connor would be moving to the ranch in two weeks’ time.
Schools were also about to close for the summer holidays, and when Connor was home, she didn’t get anything done during the day. She loved having her son around, but at nearly seven, her little boy had boundless energy and he kept her busy. Any work she was thinking of doing during summer break, she’d have to do once he went to sleep at night.
Determined, Brooke picked up the brush again. Okay, she hadn’t been kissed in a while. Quite a while, actually. That was probably the reason why her subconscious had conjured up this scene.
Fortunately, she had no qualms about changing a painting if she didn’t like the end result, and she definitely didn’t like this one. With a few strokes of her brush, she’d be able to transform it in seconds.
Purposefully, she moved toward the painting, but before she could bring the brush down, the door behind her flew open.
“I thought you must be painting; you didn’t even hear me knock! I’ve just been to my Pilates class and thought I’d better check and see whether there is still food in the house.”
It was her mother. Brooke swallowed a groan. Her mom had a knack for turning up at the least opportune moments and this was definitely one of those. The last thing she wanted to do was to try to explain what she’d just painted.
Moving so her body would, hopefully, shield the painting from her mom’s eyes, Brooke smiled. “Mom! So nice to see you. Come on, I’ll make tea—”
But her mother never missed a thing. Unceremoniously, she shoved Brooke out of the way. “I was wondering what’s keeping you so busy!” Clasping her hands together, she inhaled sharply. “Brooke...oh, my dear girl, this is so, so beautiful. Different from anything you’ve done before, but so powerful. Look at the emotion, the feeling, the heat. No wonder I’ve been struggling to get hold of you for days.”
“I don’t like it. I’m going to paint over it—”
Her mother turned on her, eyes blazing. “You’ll do no such thing! This is one of the best paintings you’ve ever done, and deep down, you know it. You simply must make this one part of your upcoming exhibition in Seattle. If you don’t want to do that, at least give it to the gallery in Missoula; they’ll be thrilled to add this to your collection. I’ll go with you—”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mom. I paint landscapes—”
“Yes, but you’ve been painting human figures, as well—”
“Those works are something entirely different.” Shaken, Brooke motioned toward the painting. “I have no idea where this one comes from, but it’s not something I’ll send to any gallery.”
“Of course, you will. Mark my words, people are going to be talking about this work for a long time.” She glanced back at it over her shoulder. “As for the subject matter—I don’t think it’s so strange for you to be thinking about kissing someone—”
“I’m not thinking of kissing anyone! Seriously, Mother!” Brooke exclaimed, more heatedly than she’d intended.
Her mother carried on as if she hadn’t spoken at all. “You’ve been alone since Adam’s passing three years ago, my dear. He was sweet, a wonderful husband to you and a great father to Connor, but it’s high time for you to think about kissing someone again.” Her eyes twinkled. “You’re right, your subconscious is definitely trying to tell you something. Maybe kissing someone like—”
“Don’t even say it, please, Mom, really—”
“—the very sexy Gavin Wilson.” Again, she glanced back at the painting. “I have to say, the one shadowy figure does look an awful lot like Gavin, don’t you think? And the woman?” She looked at Brooke. “She could be you.”
Brooke quickly glanced at her work and nearly groaned out loud. Her mother was right. She saw what Brooke hadn’t wanted to acknowledge—she’d painted Gavin Wilson kissing...well, her.
Agitated, she turned away. “Of course, I haven’t painted him. Seriously, Mom, I don’t know how many times I must tell you—Gavin and I are friends. This is becoming so boring. You and I have been friends with his sisters since they arrived in Alisson from South Africa nearly three years ago. Since Gavin has moved in with Charlie and Lindsay, he’s become a friend; it’s not that strange. We’re friends. We talk sometimes when the family gets together, but that’s only when you or Charlie or Lindsay invite Connor and me for dinner. Otherwise, I never see him.”
“You could always invite him over, you know. I hate to see you so alone.”
“Mom, please stop. I’m not alone, I have Connor. And just for the record, I’m very happy on my own, doing my own thing. When Adam was alive, he let me paint while he took care of the rest, and I happily went along with it. Only after he was gone, I realized how little I knew about our finances. It took me a long time to figure out what was going on. With Logan’s help and your attorney’s assistance, I’m finally at a place where I feel I’m in control of my own life. I’m not about to ever let another man ‘fix’ everything for me.”
“Oh, sweetie, Adam spoiled you because he loved you. And you never questioned his decisions. He left you and Connor well provided for, remember? You can’t let the past hold you back. Keep moving forward. And, oh, you and Gavin will make such a lovely couple, and think of the beautiful babies—”
“Mom!” Brooke called out, and grabbing her mother’s arm, she steered her down the stairs toward the kitchen. “Come on, I’ll make tea and you—”
“—the two of you will make.” Her mom was on a roll. “You with your beautiful blond hair and Gavin with his gorgeous blue eyes...”
They stepped into the kitchen. Time for a different tactic. “Tell me about little Ellie. Have you managed to finish unpacking in between playing with baby?”
Fortunately, talking about her new granddaughter and her recent move to Logan’s ranch was something guaranteed to get her mom to change topics immediately. Her brother Logan’s and his wife Charlie’s baby had been born in March, and they all immediately fell in love with the tiny girl. Brooke’s mother was completely besotted.
She put the kettle on. Thank goodness her mom had stopped talking about Gavin. It was so annoying having to explain over and over that they were just friends.
“Such a fabulous idea Logan had—all of us living on the ranch—I couldn’t be happier. Yesterday, I babysat Ellie when Charlie and Logan had to go to Bozeman. When she cries, I take her for a stroll. Oh, Brooke, I love it there, and I can’t wait for you to join us in a week’s time.”
Brooke groaned. “Don’t remind me. I have the upcoming exhibition in Seattle in the middle of July. I’m moving the two paintings still in the gallery in Missoula to a lovely one in Livingston that also wants more paintings, and—”
“Why? You’ve been with that gallery for such a long time?”
“I think I told you. Lynda, the owner, is on a cruise, touring the Mediterranean, and she’s decided to appoint a manager. The last time we spoke, she said she’d still be working with the artists, but the new manager will run the day-to-day sales.”
“So what’s the problem? Don’t you and the new manager get along?” her mom asked.
“I don’t...like the vibe any longer. Besides, Livingstone is much closer.” Her mom didn’t have to know about the manager’s not-so-subtle creepy advances. Fortunately, she was in the position where galleries were asking her if they could exhibit her work, not the other way round. The gallery in Livingston was in the process of organizing a fine art firm to fetch the two paintings—on Wednesday—that were still hanging in the gallery in Missoula. When that was done, she’d have one less worry.
“Anyway, schools are closing in two weeks, and with Connor around...”
“Well, fortunately, I don’t have an immediate upcoming exhibition. There is one in November in Butte, but I have more than enough time to be ready by then. Please, let him stay with me on the ranch, even if it’s only for a few days. Everyone will spoil him rotten; you won’t have to worry about him and can finish your paintings.”
“Thanks, Mom, but—”
“He’ll so enjoy the wide-open spaces on the ranch, and you know how much he loves the animals.” As usual, her mom wasn’t listening. “He gets on so well with Gavin, doesn’t he?”
Brooke laughed. “Mom, you’re relentless. Give it a rest, will you? Your son is married to the love of his life, thanks to your meddling.”
“I didn’t meddle. I simply made sure they got together in one room. The rest happened without any help from me.”
“That’s meddling, Mom. You deliberately let him believe Charlie was a man!”
“I never said that. Anyway, they were meant to be together—anyone can see that. When Charlie and Lindsay moved to Alisson about two... no, it’s nearly three years now, I just knew she and Logan were meant to be together. The same with Lindsay and Blake. I vividly remember the night Blake joined us at the bar. His gaze zeroed in on Lindsay, and he couldn’t look away. It was so obvious then they belonged together. That’s why I know you and—”
“Mom, stop it!” Brooke groaned. “Can we please talk about something else? How is Lindsay?”
Her mother smiled. “She’s absolutely glowing. Being pregnant seems to agree with the Wilson sisters. She’s been very busy; their website for her lovely products seems to be a hit, and they can’t keep up with the orders. Apparently, Lilly will take over the running of the place when Baby comes, and Lindsay will probably have to get another person in to help during those first few weeks.”
Brooke smiled. “How wonderful she’s also expecting a little girl.”
Her mother’s eyes twinkled. “But now we need to find a little brother for Connor.”
“Mom! I’m thirty-three and I have a child—not an attractive package deal for any man, even if I was looking for one. Which I’m not.”
“Oh, sweetie, that’s ridiculous, you’re gorgeous, and the right man—”
“Not interested, Mom. I have Connor. I’m very happy.”
Her mom glanced at her watch. “Where is he, by the way? Shouldn’t he be back from school?”
Brooke looked at the clock against the wall and frowned. Her mom was right. Connor should’ve been home by now. Her house was close to the school and he was usually here about ten minutes after the school day ended.
Before she could react, there was a knock on the door.
“You expecting anyone?” her mom asked.
Brooke shook her head while she walked toward the front door and opened it. She blinked, but she wasn’t hallucinating. On her porch, with Connor next to him, was Gavin Wilson holding two bags of what looked like groceries in his hands, if she wasn’t mistaken.
Speechless, she could only stare. Fortunately, Connor started babbling the minute she opened the door. “I told him we can just open the door, but he wanted to knock.” Connor hugged her legs. “Hi, Mom, I’m hungry. I’ve fetched Uncle Gavin to cook for us. Where is Grandma? I saw her car. Grandma!” he yelled and rushed inside.
Stunned, Brooke stared after Connor.
Gavin cleared his throat. “I found him at my front door.”
“What do you mean?”
“Connor. He came to the house.”
“I don’t believe it. But...why?”
Gavin grinned. “He’s told you.” He lifted the two bags of groceries he was carrying. “I’m happy to oblige.”
Brooke frowned. Had she heard correctly? Her son had gone to Gavin’s house to ask him to come and cook for them?
“But...it’s totally ridiculous; you can’t come and cook for us. Gavin, really...”
“It’s no secret in town you and your mother...how shall I put it? You don’t like cooking?”
“I cook,” Brooke began heatedly, but before she could finish her sentence, her mother appeared, all smiles.
“Yes, my dear girl, we cook, but nobody wants to eat what we cook! Come on in, Gavin, I’m on my way. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Gavin smiled. “Hi, Eleanor, lovely to see you.”
Beaming, her mom gave Brooke a quick hug. “I still have some things to do before I drive back to the ranch. Enjoy your dinner!” She stopped halfway down the stairs to look back at them. “Gavin, ask Brooke to show you her new painting.”
Brooke gnashed her teeth. “Goodbye, Mother.” She quickly closed the door before her mom could utter something even more embarrassing.
“I’m so sorry Connor bothered you. I’ll talk to him. You really don’t have to cook for us.”
“What about bourbon-grilled pork chops?”
Her tummy growled.
Gavin grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
For some reason, he was never quite prepared for her. Gavin busied himself getting the groceries he’d bought out of the bag. Ever since he’d arrived to visit his sisters in Alisson during the middle of last year, Brooke Johnson had caught his eye.
Initially, he’d thought it was because of the sadness he’d noticed in her startling blue eyes, but the longer time he’d spent in the presence of the honey-blond widow, the more she kinda...what? Bothered him? Maybe. There was something in the air when he was around her. She was gorgeous, sexy and...off limits. He was very much aware of that fact.
Which, of course, begged the question: why was he here, in her kitchen, about to cook for her and her son?
Brooke was crouching in front of Connor. “What are you supposed to do after school?”
