Page 10 of Filthy Rich

“I saw you stand up to him, and I thank you for that. And no, you didn’t offend me with your ignorance of meatballs. I’m happy to have helped sort out that little problem for you. Now you are an informed connoisseur of the rare delicacy called a meatball, and you owe it all to me,” she replied with a hint of a smile.

She was so awesome, trying to joke around with me when it was apparent she was still upset about the clusterfuck that had happened to her inside that reception tonight. She looked beautiful, but very…sad. If I had to choose a word to describe how she appeared to me, it would have to besad. And that bothered me greatly.

“Thank you for the meatball tutorial. I enjoyed it very much. I’m Caleb by the way. Caleb Black?—”

I was interrupted by her phone chiming out the unusual but unmistakable ring tone of Ricky Martin’s “Shake Your Bon-Bon.” Interesting choice I thought, as she turned away to take the call.

“Fucking hell, I’m so glad you called me back.”The wordfuckin that accent—damn…

“I can still catch the eight-thirty ferry if I hurry so I’m going home after all. I won’t be staying over.” Ah.That’s not possible unless your car can float on water.Got it.

“Long, dreadful story. Suffice to say I’m looking for a new second job.”She needed a second job?

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”The offices on Hereford Street.

“I love you, too.”Boyfriend or just friend?

My stalking skills were improving by the second if I was now capable of listening in on entire conversations and deciphering them. I’d caught every word she’d spoken. A cab pulled forward for her, and she said clearly, “Blackstone Island Ferry Company,” to the driver as she got in.

I watched her cab pull into traffic and drive away until it was out of sight.

She never looked back to say good-bye.

She hadn’t told me her name, either, but I knew it was Brooke. Brooke who lived on Blackstone Island and worked in the design studio on Hereford Street next door to Starbucks. She was beautiful and witty and feisty. I was more than impressed by her no-nonsense attitude throughout the night with her boss and the patrons. Brooke was no shrinking violet, plus she had the most amazing voice I’d ever heard.

That was all the information I had been able to gather about her, but it was enough to find her again if I wanted to. There was no “if.”When.

And it was more than plenty.

Five

BROOKE

“Thank you, Will. I was racing to make it in time,” I said to the captain as I boarded the final ferry crossing to the island for the night.

“Two minutes to spare.” Will Darlington, who ran Blackstone Island Ferry Company, never failed to mention how much time I had left before departure. It was our little running joke. I think he would’ve let me on late if he saw me running for the dock, but so far I’d never missed my boat.

“Ages of time, Will. Two minutes to spare and with running in heels, I feel I’ve been a complete success.”

That earned me a shy smile and a slow shake of his head. “Glad to have you on board, Brooke.” Will was not much of a talker, but he was kind and very serious about captaining his boat. Another one of those hardworking islanders who put in long hours to make a living in a challenging economy. If you loved your work, as I supposed Will did, then all the better.

Once I found a seat inside where it was warm, I let my guard down for the first time in the past three hours. I became suddenly very sleepy, not wanting to think about the arseholewho’d grabbed me, or the fact I’d just left a shit job, or the lack of money, or any of my problems.

So I folded my arms on the table and rested my cheek on the arm of my wool coat.

I closed my eyes and allowed the sway of the boat to rock me to sleep.

A gentle hand to my shoulder and my name being called woke me oneveryfast hour later.

“Everything okay, Brooke?” Will’s green eyes looked down at me in concern. “We’re here and I have to close her down for the night. Everyone is off the boat.”

“Oh! I crashed. I’m so sorry,” I began. “I’ll get going.” I rushed to get up and gathered my bag.

“No worries at all,” he assured me in that kindly shy way he’d perfected. “You take care driving home.”

“Goodnight, Will.”

“Night, Brooke.”

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