It was harder for him to just let her do her thing, to trust her to make the best calls based on her own judgment.
He didn’t want to scare her off like her mother had done. It was probably a good thing she planned on leaving as soon as she had enough money saved. The last thing he wanted was to become too attached, to get accustomed to her being a part of his life again. He already knew it would be difficult enough once shedecided to leave, especially after seeing her and working with her every day. For now, he would take what he could get. He would enjoy a few wholesome weeks with a girl he used to love.
Passing years were a fickle thing, and he found it interesting to see how much she’d changed from a girl of seventeen to the woman she was now. There were some similarities. Her eyes were still the same shade of wintry blue and framed with thick, dark lashes. She still had that heart-staggering smile. Her hair was longer now and, more often than not, piled up high on top of her head in a lopsided bun. But the differences were far more noticeable. She was all soft curves and full lips. Shapely legs with hips that were perfect for holding. And those kinds of thoughts were definitely off-limits.
Especially in his grandmother’s house.
Yaya handed him a cup of hot coffee and set a plate of warm cookies in front of him. He’d come to talk to her about the beach house, to convince her not to sell, but jumping into a discussion about it wasn’t as easy as he expected. She settled in beside him and took a sip of her coffee.
He laid out the plans before her, the drawn-up outline that he, Anders, and Juliette created. “This is what we’re going to do with the beach house.”
Her heavily lined brow furrowed, the wrinkles growing deeper with every skim of her shrewd eyes. She squinted, read through the proposal once more with her glasses perched on the tip of her nose, then gave her head the lightest shake.
“Kelly,” she sighed, but it was tired, “I’m too old to run a wedding venue.”
“Yaya, you wouldn’t have to run it.” He reached out and clasped her frail hand with his own. “Juliette is already working on finding someone to alleviate the pressure from you.”
“But there’s the cost of repairs,” she countered. “And then the upkeep.”
“We’re taking care of all that.” Brock grabbed a warm chocolate chip cookie and took a bite. “I’m handling the repairs. Anders will keep an eye on maintenance. And Juliette is in charge of the interior updates and making sure it’s a profitable venture. She’s got a decent plan, Yaya. A good one.”
Her lips pursed, and the tiny wrinkles there caused her bright pink lipstick to crinkle and crack. “Juliette, huh?”
Brock tensed and instantly went on the defensive. He shuffled their proposal back into the slim black binder. “It’s not like that.”
“It used to be.” She hummed to herself again and grabbed a cookie.
“Those were pipe dreams.” He sat back and stared into the abysmal swirling darkness of his coffee, not wanting to hear how perfect they were together, trying to forget it was all his fault. “She chose her own path, Yaya. And I chose mine.”
“And yet now your paths have crossed once again.” Yaya stood and grabbed the carafe from the counter to refill his cup. “You don’t think it’s by any strand of fate she’s back here? In Mystic Cove? Working with you?”
“No.” His voice had an edge, a bit too firm, and Yaya’s gaze sharpened. “I don’t.”
Juliette had suffered a bout of bad luck, a setback of misfortune. Her choices led her to where she was today, just as his own had done the same. Truth be told, he refused to let himself get wrapped up in those kinds of thoughts anymore. It was easier to adhere to a strict set of rules. Don’t form attachments. Keep people at arm’s length. Then the pain wasn’t too severe when they were taken away from you, which they would eventually be, either by death or by choice. The military and his father had taught him that much.
Fate hadn’t brought Juliette back to Mystic Cove. She’d returned out of desperation.
For an elderly woman with thin, papery skin, Yaya was certainly an expert at holding an air of disdain. Age lines crinkled her face with skepticism.
“Anyway, a wedding venue will make keeping the beach house worth it,” he continued, determined to change the subject. “If we keep it exclusive?—”
“Kelly.”
“I know you’re tempted to sell.” If he could just get the words out, just convince her not to make the biggest mistake of her life. Of his life. “But Aidan doesn’t love the beach house as much as I do. If you left me the property, I could?—”
“Kelly. Listen to me.” Something about the tone of her voice caused his mouth to snap shut.
“I can leave you the beach house if it means that much to you.” She lowered herself into the chair next to him and slowly folded her arms. Her flowery cardigan cradled her tired, weakened body. “But you have to get along with your father. Otherwise I’m going to will it to Mystic Cove upon my death. It’s what Garrett would’ve wanted.”
“No, Yaya.” Confusion muddled Brock’s thoughts. Donating the property to the town wasn’t at all what his grandfather wanted. They’d talked about it. They had plans. “Pop wanted to fix it up, to make it someplace special. And my father wants to ruin it.”
“He doesn’t want to ruin it.” Yaya squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them again, they shimmered with unshed tears. “He’s just doing the only thing he’s good at.”
Anger simmered beneath the surface of his skin. Why was she suddenly trying to protect him? To defend him? He left every chance he got. He missed Brock’s entire life, and worse, he didn’t even care.
“And what’s that?” Brock snapped and pushed back from the table, his frustration mounting. He hated that he wasraising his voice, but he couldn’t stand his father even more. “Destroying the livelihoods of hardworking people and wrecking relationships? Because he seems pretty good at both of those if you ask me.”
“That’s enough, Kelly. I’m tired of you blaming your father.” Yaya pulled herself up to her full height, which in all fairness, wasn’t much compared to Brock’s towering stature. But she didn’t back down. She wrapped her cardigan around her like she was warding off a sudden chill. “He did the best he could with what he had.”
