Page 3 of Tied Up in Riches

I don’t bother fighting her. A bed sounds like . . . not an economy seat on a cheap airline for fifteen hours. “Thanks for letting me visit this week. I really need some time to reacclimate to the US before I have to deal with my mother.” That will take enough adjustment. I also need to figure out what’s next for me. The owner of the restaurant I worked at in Thailand for the past three years was selling his business. That was enough to convince me it was time for a new adventure, but I don’t have a plan past that.

“You can stay as long as you want. I’m so happy you’re here. I can’t wait for you to meet the girls tonight.” Since the guys are out of town for a camping trip, Maci invited her best friends over for a girls' night. Pizza Rolls, Cheez-Its and the three types of Girl Scout cookies I had Maci buy and freeze–all things that were nearly impossible to get overseas.

Twenty minutes later, we’ve pulled into a gravel driveway and Maci has given me a quick tour of the house before leaving me to settle in.

Flicking on the light, I scan my temporary room. I’m comfortable having strangers in my house. It happened so many times in Thailand. Most people were just passing through or stayed over after a night out on the town. Maci is the only one who stayed long enough at my apartment that she moved into a permanent place in my life. Although, I feel like she would have anyway.

But being in a stranger's house? After three years of living alone, it’s far out of my comfort zone. This room is bigger than my entire studio. An unsettledness hollows my stomach like when I first arrived in Phuket and every street was unfamiliar. Though, I like how simple it is. There’s a deep brown rustic bed frame with dark olive green bedding against the center of the back wall. To the right is a door that opens to a bathroom. To the left is a bookshelf that matches the bed frame. My fingers bump across the spines of the books sitting at eye level. They’re all self-growth books. Success. Business. Mindset. A lot of books about mindset. I haven’t read any, but that’s not surprising considering I only read romance. I wonder if he’s a one genre kind of person too or if he ever strays into fiction. Either way, a man who reads is hot. Reading and maturity are paired together at the top of my qualities I want in a man wish list.

There’s one sleek black picture frame with a photo of a family at the lake. Picking up the frame, I take a closer look at the guy. Black swim shorts hang on his hips, showing off deeply ingrained abs and a massive tattoo of a koi fish swimming upstream from his waistline to the armpit of his lightly tanned skin. Damn, everything about his body is impressive. I wonder if that’s a recent picture. I hope so because that man is hot. Excuse me while I sleep in his bed, naked in his sheets.

I let the fantasy play out in my head. Marcus comes home late at night, forgetting he has a house guest and climbs in bed with me, not disappointed at all by the surprise.

Damn, it’s been so long since I’ve gotten laid that I’m imagining scenarios with a stranger who could be an asshole for all I know. Who am I kidding, though? I would never sleep with someone I don’t have a connection with. Not anymore. I haven’t focused much on sex in years. No reason to think about it now.

Still, my chest constricts, nerves pulling on my heartbeat until it’s erratic. Why am I so on edge today? Maybe because I didn’t sleep at all on the plane.

I unlock my phone. Oh. Probably the seventeen missed calls from my mother wanting to plan my trip back home to Connecticut. By plan, I mean her setting me up on dates with men she deems worthy–aka men with pockets deeper than their personalities.

Sighing, I fall backward onto my bed for the next week, my blonde hair splaying across the comforter. Wow. It could easily trap me like those foam pits I jumped into during gymnastics class as a kid. I might not even bother moving from this spot until it’s time to go. Maybe then I’ll feel rested enough to visit my mother. Although, I doubt it. Three years searching for peace in a different country wasn’t enough. Thank god Dad will be there too. Seeing him is almost enough to balance out the negative.

Opening my meditation app, I set the timer for five minutes. Setting my phone on the mattress next to me, the sounds of a light breeze with ocean water lapping on a shore softly crackle out of the speaker. I close my eyes, instantly transported back to Thailand and overcome by a wave of longing. Taking a deep breath, I focus on my inhale. Hold for four seconds. Exhale slowly. Hold. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

I continue until a soft chime indicates the end of the timer, desperate to cling to Thai Brooke, to the me I love to be–not the one that exists physically or mentally near my mother.

Chapter three

Brooke

“Samoas are superior. They are the perfect blend of sweet and savory,” Avery says from where she sits on the floor in her matching cheetah pajama set. She sets her morning coffee on the living room table, and the plastic container crinkles as she pulls a cookie from it.

“But Shortbreads go with everything. And feel much more appropriate for breakfast. It’s basically like having scones.” I wish I had tea to go with these, but I’m uncomfortable digging around Marcus’ house when I haven’t even met him yet.

“No way. Thin Mints are hands down the best,” Maci argues, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You can’t beat a frozen Thin Mint or ones blended into ice cream.” Her eyes light up as she shoves a whole chocolate cookie into her mouth.

“I bet that’s Troy’s favorite,” Lexy contributes, her blonde messy bun flopping as she chuckles. “I mean, that man would eat mint chip ice cream for breakfast every day if I let him.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve never had Girl Scout cookies before.” I shake my head in disbelief.

“That’s what happens when you have a loser mom.” She shrugs, unbothered as her hand hovers over the three boxes, deciding which flavor to eat next.

“Oh, hey! I have one of those too,” Avery jokes, her straight brown hair nearly identical to Maci’s.

“Also in that club.” My phone skips across the glass coffee table as it lights up with a call. “Speak of the fucking devil.” I groan.

I’ve been avoiding her long enough. I swear she’ll somehow find out where I am and show up–although she never visited Thailand once in the past three years. “Ugh. I should take this.” The three girls sitting around the table in their pajamas finish their cookies in silence as I pick up my phone. “Hello, Mother.”

“You could sound a little more excited to speak with me.”

I take a deep, calming breath, channeling Thai Brooke energy. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m not fully awake yet. How are you?”

“Awake? It’s nearly midnight there.” Her snark implies many judgments she has about what that could possibly mean.

Shit. Oh well. Might as well get it over with. “I’m in Oregon. Visiting a friend.”

“Excuse me?” She scoffs. “You haven’t seen me in three years. Home should have been the priority.”

“It hasn’t been home in a long time,” I mutter, more to myself.

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