Not His Type (22 page)

Several miles
passed in silence.  Brooke heard the little
ding
of a text message and
she looked at her phone.  The message from Jazz consisted of one word: 
Well?
 
Brooke looked at it for a moment, then replied with a single word, as well: 
Nothing.
 
A moment later, Jazz texted again, asking,
What do you mean nothing?  You’re
wearing the dress, right?

Brooke stared at
the phone for a moment, then finally texted back,
Yes.  He didn’t say a word
and now I feel stupid again.  Stupid and overdressed.

Aw, honey,
hang in there
, Jazz replied. 
Call me later if you need to talk.

“Everything
okay?” Travis asked suddenly.

“What?” Brooke
asked.  “Oh, you mean the texting.  Yes, just Jazz wishing me a happy
Thanksgiving.  You, too.”

“Oh.  That was
nice of her.”

They fell silent
again.  Brooke stared out the window at the passing landscape.  Travis kept
shifting quick little glances at Brooke.  He knew he needed to say something
about that dress…her hair, all of it.  He was afraid he’d left it too long,
though; would Brooke think his words were an afterthought?  Would she think he
wasn’t sincere?  Or would she understand that he’d been so shocked – pleasantly
so – that he’d been rendered speechless?  Finally, he spoke, but still said
nothing about Brooke’s appearance at first.

“Here’s Mom and
Dad’s place,” he said awkwardly.  He turned in at the gate and drove up the
drive to a large three-story house.  He killed the engine and looked over at
Brooke.  “Brooke, I should’ve said something earlier.”

“What’s that,
Travis?” she asked quietly.

“You look
amazing, Brooke,” he said, his voice a little hoarse.  “Really.  You look
completely amazing.”

“Really?” Brooke
asked, relief flooding through her.  “Are you sure?  I – I thought maybe you
didn’t…I was afraid I was overdressed.”

“No.  You look
perfect.  I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.  I was…surprised, that’s
all.”

Brooke smiled
and Travis felt as if the sun had emerged from behind a cloud.  His breath
caught in his chest and he found he was speechless again.  Instead of trying to
think of something to say, he just grinned back at her and slid from behind the
wheel.  Brooke waited for him to come around and open her door, then slipped
her hand into the crook of the arm he offered.

Butterflies
resumed fluttering in Brooke’s midsection.  She had no idea what to expect when
she walked into the Coopers’ house with their only son.  She could hear the
sound of a football game, children playing in the distance, teenagers laughing
in another room and women’s voices from yet another direction.

“Travis!” a
man’s voice called out.

“Hey, Dad!”
Travis replied, hugging the older gentleman.  He pulled Brooke forward.  “Dad, this
is Brooke Valentine.  Brooke, this is my father, Wilson Cooper.”

“Mr. Cooper,
it’s so nice to meet you,” Brooke said, extending her hand.

There was a
slight hesitation before Mr. Cooper accepted her hand and shook it politely. 
He smiled at her, but it seemed forced to Brooke, and the butterflies turned
into huge vultures.

“Is Mom in the
kitchen?” Travis asked, giving his father a curious look.  He smiled down at
Brooke.  “Come on, I’ll introduce you.  I’m sure the girls are all in there
together.”

“Travis, honey!”
a female voice cried as he stepped through the kitchen door.

Travis was
enveloped in the arms of a woman.  Brooke, behind him, couldn’t see anything or
anyone past Travis’ broad shoulders.  Once again, he reached behind him and
pulled Brooke forward.

“Mom, this is
Brooke Valentine,” he repeated his earlier introduction.  He smiled down at
her, missing the tiny look of panic across his mother’s face.  “Brooke, this is
my mother, Allison Cooper.”

“Mrs. Cooper, it
was very kind of you to allow Travis to bring me,” Brooke said graciously.  She
extended the bakery box.  “I brought a dessert.”

“Oh, that was
thoughtful,” Allison said, taking the box from Brooke’s hands.  She turned and
looked at her son again.  Her panicked expression had turned to one of
chagrin.  “Travis, honey, I didn’t realize you were bringing a young lady.”

“Mom, I told you
I was bringing Brooke,” Travis said, giving a nervous little chuckle. 
“Remember?”

“You told me you
were bringing your neighbor, dear,” she said quietly.  She glanced over her
shoulder.

Brooke wanted to
sink through the floor and disappear.  Mr. and Mrs. Cooper obviously hadn’t
expected her, and it appeared they didn’t really want her here.  Brooke
wondered silently if the day could possibly get any worse.  The thought was
barely formed in her mind when she heard a sultry voice drawl Travis’ name.

“Travis, look
who I ran into yesterday!” another woman said.  Her smile slipped a bit when
she spotted Brooke standing beside Travis.

“Lorna,” Travis
said, his tone even.

Travis’ middle
sister, Leah, had introduced him to Lorna.  She still couldn’t believe her
attempt at matchmaking had failed; when she’d run into Lorna Morgan in a little
shop two days ago, the redhead had mentioned her date with Travis the previous
Friday.  Leah had immediately seized the opportunity to further her matchmaking
efforts, and invited Lorna to join her family for Thanksgiving dinner.  Now her
gaze shifted from her younger brother, to her friend Lorna, to the petite
brunette who looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“Leah, this is
my friend, Brooke,” Travis said, his eyes slightly narrowed at his sister. 
“Brooke, my sister Leah and her friend, Lorna.”

“Did I hear
Travis?” another voice called.  The owner of the voice entered the kitchen from
a second door.  “Travis, did you see who’s here?  Leah brought – oh!  Hello!”

More
introductions followed.  Brooke continued to smile awkwardly as she met Travis’
other two sisters, Nina and Tracey.  The women all continued to gape at Brooke
until his mother suddenly seemed to recover.  She smiled warmly at Brooke.

“We’re so glad
you could join us, dear,” she said sincerely.  “Travis, why don’t you get
Brooke something to drink and take her to watch the game with you and the men.”

“Oh, isn’t there
anything I can do to help in here?” Brooke asked.  The last thing she wanted to
do was spend another minute in this kitchen with all these women; however, she
didn’t want Travis’ mother to think she was the sort of woman who’d just show
up and not offer to help.

“Are you sure?”
Travis asked, his voice low.  Brooke nodded and gave him a little smile. 
Travis pointed back in the direction where they’d come.  “I’ll be right through
there.  Just follow the sounds of the football game.”

Chapter
30

A few minutes
later, Brooke was busily cutting up sweet potatoes.  Travis’ oldest sister,
Nina, made a face.

“I don’t know
why you bother with those every year, Mom,” she said.  “Nobody likes them.”

“Well, you’re
supposed to have them at Thanksgiving,” Allison replied.  “I just don’t know
what to do with them, other than baking them or…something.”  She looked at
Brooke.  “What would you do with them, Brooke?”

Brooke smiled;
this was her comfort zone.  She might have worked at a greasy spoon and a fast
food restaurant, but she’d taught herself to cook at a young age.  It was
either learn to cook or continue eating her grandfather’s charred offerings
every night.

“I’ll need
butter, cinnamon, brown sugar and an orange, if you have one,” Brooke said.

“I have all of
those things,” Allison said, turning to get them.

“No
marshmallows?” Lorna drawled.  She gave Leah a little smirk.  “Funny, you look
like a marshmallow sort of girl to me.”

Brooke ignored
the comment.  She continued working, melting butter and brown sugar together in
a cast iron skillet.  She put the sweet potatoes in and added cinnamon and the
zest from the orange.  Satisfied the dish was coming along nicely, she turned
and smiled at Mrs. Cooper.

“I’ll just need
to stir those occasionally,” Brooke said.  “Is there anything else I can do?”

“How are you at
gravy?” Allison asked, her blue eyes, very like those of her son, narrowed
slightly.

“I’m fairly
handy with a gravy boat,” Brooke answered, smiling slightly.

“Well, that
explains a lot, doesn’t it?” Lorna asked, not quite under her breath so
everyone in the kitchen heard it.

Brooke’s cheeks
burned, but once again, she refused to respond to the redhead’s hateful
comments.  Instead, she asked Allison for the things she’d need to make gravy.

“But how soon
will dinner be ready?” Brooke asked.  “If we make it too early, the gravy will
get thick.”

“Oh, well in
that case, we have time to go sit with the men for a bit,” Tracey said.  “Let’s
go play a game or something.”

The six women
all trekked into the den where the men were watching a football game.  Brooke
was introduced again, this time to Travis’ brothers-in-law, one of whom smirked
at Travis, his eyes going from Lorna to Brooke.  Ignoring the look, Travis sat
down and was about to pull Brooke down beside him when Lorna wedged herself
into the space next to him.  Brooke was left standing awkwardly as everyone
else sat.

Giving Lorna a
little frown, Travis rose.  He turned and faced his sister, Leah, giving her a
very pointed look.

“Leah, why don’t
you sit over here beside Lorna,” he suggested, “since she’s your guest, after
all?”  He smiled.  “That way, I can sit with
my
guest.”

A few minutes
later, Brooke found herself seated in a comfortable wingback chair.  Heedless
of his dark gray slacks, Travis sat on the floor at her feet, one muscular arm
resting casually on one of Brooke’s knees.  Lorna sat across the den and glared
at Brooke, who was so distracted by the warmth of the large man next to her she
didn’t care if Lorna danced naked on the coffee table.

Tracey returned
to the den with an armful of games.  After much discussion, they finally
settled on Pictionary.  They divided the room into two teams and then set about
trying to decide which team would go first.

“How about by
birthdays?” a nephew asked as he walked through the room.  “That’s how we do it
in Scouts.  The next birthday goes first.”

“Well, then,
that’d be
my
team,” Travis said.  “January wins!”

“My birthday is
in January,” Brooke said, surprised.

“Really?  What
day?”

“The twentieth,”
she answered.

“That’s
my
birthday!” Travis said.  He grinned up at her.  “Maybe we can celebrate
together.”

“Well, since
you’re on the same team, it doesn’t really matter, does it?” Lorna snapped. 
Her green eyes flashed at Brooke.

Brooke smiled inwardly,
thinking she should probably tell the pretty redhead that Travis had less than
no interest in Brooke, if that were possible.  Maybe she should trade seats
with Lorna.  That would probably thrill the other woman, especially since
Travis was now leaning fully against Brooke’s leg, one arm draped casually over
both her knees so his hand dangled down along her calf; occasionally, his warm
fingers would stroke her leg, sending a little shiver racing along her skin. 
Brooke wondered if he was even aware of what he was doing; more importantly,
she wondered if he knew what it was doing to
her
?

The game began
and before long, Brooke was laughing helplessly at the antics of Travis and his
family.  They were extremely competitive with each other, booing, hissing and
making other rude noises at the opposite team.  Then suddenly it was Brooke’s
turn to draw.

She rose,
smoothing her dress down and drew a card from the box; she looked at the word
on the card and gave a small smile.  She nodded at Wilson, who started the
timer.  Quickly, Brooke drew two wavy lines, side by side.  Next she sketched a
small animal with long ears, followed by another small item.  Everyone murmured
various guesses, frowning curiously.  Brooke stared directly, pointedly, at
Travis; suddenly, he snapped his fingers.

“Brook!” he
shouted, laughing.

“Yes!” she
giggled.

“What?” Nina’s
husband, Rick asked.  “What did we miss?”

“Brook,” Travis
repeated.  “That’s the answer.  Brook, like a stream.”

“How did you get
that out of those pictures?” Tracey’s husband, Jonathan demanded, laughing. 
“Not that I mind, since we’re on the same team!”

“What
are
those things?” Lorna asked in a condescending tone.

Pointing at the
big pad of paper, Travis said, “That one is a brook.  That one is a bunny.  And
that one is a cupcake.”  He gave Brooke a little wink and a grin.  “It’s kind
of an inside joke.”

“Oh, that’s
right,” Lorna said.  “She’s the little baker’s helper, isn’t she?”

“Sure,” Travis
said, giving Lorna a little smirk she didn’t understand.  “Yeah, that’s exactly
why I call Brooke Cupcake.”