Page 58 of Beautifully Used
“Are you ready?”
“Yeah.” My hands were on his arms, holding him still from heading out the door. “Listen. If at any time during dinner you want to leave, just let me know.”
“Don’t worry.”
“Brodie, I mean it. She can be very malicious when she doesn’t get her way.”
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
“With my life.”
“Then have a little faith. I’ll be fine.”
“Oh yeah, my mother’s last name is Bradford now. Not Demeres.”
The restaurant was as I’d expected. The maître d’ led us through a room with soft lights hanging from the ceiling above each table, affording just enough illumination without being overbearing. White linen tablecloths draped over square tables in the center of the large room, with elegant looking booths also donned with the same tablecloths. My mother and stepfather sat in a room off of the main dining room. A private room. I rolled my eyes, knowing she’d gone out of her way to flaunt her prestigious and affluent lifestyle just for Brodie’s sake. He grabbed my hand, I squeezed his a little, and he shot me the sexiest guileful grin I’d ever seen. I wondered if I should be worried or proud.
My stepfather and mom stood as we entered the small, private room. My mom gave me a small hug, while my stepfather embraced me with all the love and affection any father would have for his daughter. Regardless of his wealth, my stepfather was the most generous, friendly, likeable man—other than Brodie—on the entire planet. I adored him. I often wondered what he saw in my mother, why he put up with all her snobby friends, but even with her faults, she was beautiful.
“Mom, this is Brodie.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Bradford.” Brodie extended his hand to my mother and she gave him a small, tight-lipped smile. She accepted his hand in that gracious way of hers, yet managed to hold on to an undertone that said, I’m better than you. My mother pulled off the graceful, patrician act as though she’d been born for it. Maybe she had been.
“Brodie, this is Kurt, my stepfather.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Brodie said, smiling.
“The pleasure’s mine, son. Please, call me Kurt.” Kurt beamed that ‘everybody’s-best-friend’ smile. “Let’s sit. Drinks? Honey, would you like a refresher?”
My mom glanced at her still full martini and nodded. “Since that one is probably warm by now, yes.”
Brodie picked up the drink menu and quickly perused the beers. “I’ll have a Black Butte Porter,” he said to the waiter standing by and then looked at me. “Gabrielle, would you like some wine?”
I nodded. “The house cabernet will be fine.” I didn’t know much about which wine would be better anyway. Brodie had once told me that most nice restaurants usually served a pretty decent house cab, so when in doubt, go for that. Besides, my nerves rattled and jittered too much to think about wine or any other drink for that matter. I glanced at Brodie looking very much at ease and confident, already engaged in a conversation with Kurt.
Chapter 49
Brodie
* * *
I picked up my beer and sipped, reveling in the rich body. I licked my lips, noting the hint of coffee and chocolate in the carbonated malt the menu promised. This was a beer I would be ordering for the bar when we got home.
“So, Brodie, what is it you do?” Gabrielle’s mother said.
“I manage our bar. Well, it’s my brother’s bar, but he’s hardly there. We inherited the bar, along with the farmhouse, from my uncle when he passed away. He left the bar to my brother and the house to me. My brother didn’t want to be at the bar all the time, so I run it.”
“Strange,” Kurt said, “that your uncle would leave your brother the bar and you the house.”
“I think he did it more as a lure to get my brother to move back to Turtle Lake. My uncle understood I’d be the one to run the place. But he also knew that if he hadn’t left the bar to my brother, he never would have moved back to Turtle Lake where my uncle believed he’d been happiest. He also knew that Jackson would do everything in his power to preserve the treasure of what was my uncle’s life. My uncle knew us fairly well. If he’d left the bar to me, Jackson would never have come back. I consider the house half my brother’s, and he considers the bar mostly mine,” I chuckled and managed to get a chuckle from the other three, as well, including Gabrielle’s mother.
“What are your plans for the future?” her mother asked with a surely-you-couldn’t-possibly-plan-on-managing-a-bar-for-the-rest-of-your-life look.
“I plan on marrying your daughter for starters, then I plan on buying a bar in southern California. I want to be closer to the beach.” Gabrielle glanced at me, surprise exploding from her beautiful brown eyes, but she kept her cool and didn’t say anything, simply acted like she had known all along that I was going to say that.
“Gabrielle, is that what you want for your life? To run a bar?” her mother asked, derision dripping from her tone.
“You know perfectly well what I want, and what I want has nothing to do with what Brodie wants. I can write anywhere.”
