Page 17 of The Brooklyn Way

My mother turned to face me. “I love you, too. I’m glad you’re home.” She sighed before speaking again. “I appreciate you spending time with Will, checking on him. But next time—”

“I know. There won’t be a next time. I don’t drink like that. My kidneys ain’t set up for it.”

“Good. Let’s go eat.”

“Cool.” That made me happy as hell, because I really was starving. “Where’re we going? Coastal Kitchen Cafe? The Modern Farm? Marshmallow & Biscuit?”

It was my father who answered the question. “Actually, we’re going to your house, son.”

I was lost and it showed when I ran my hand over the waves that sat atop my head. “Yo, am I still drunk?”

My father chuckled. My mother glared at me.

“I’m saying,” I said to them, “there’s no chef at my house. Who’s cooking? You, Mom?”

“Oh, that’s right.” My mother’s pace slowed a bit. “You probably haven’t had time to reacquaint yourself with Brooklyn.”

“Who is Brooklyn?”

Madeline was almost over me. I could tell by the way she glared at me, yet again. She also stopped walking as her hands found their way to her trim hips. “Brooklyn is the girl living in your guest house, Cameron. She was Carrington’s roommate for years.” She put a hard stress on the word years. “You’ve met her several times. She was here, staying at the house on the night that Bryce proposed to your sister.

“On everything I hold dear, no one would ever believe that I operate an etiquette business. If the success of my business was based on how you and your sister turned out, I wouldn’t have a business. The two of you are rude, inconsiderate, and self-centered. When we get to the guest house, please don’t act like it’s your first time meeting Brooklyn. Please greet her with at least a bit of familiarity and maybe tell her that it’s nice to see her again. For goodness’ sake, do not tell her that it’s nice to meet her!”

Originally, I thought it was overkill for my mother to remind me not to greet the woman staying in my guest house by telling her that it was nice to meet her. But when I laid eyes on her, she didn’t look familiar to me at all.

It could have been the fact that everything about her read… dayum! This girl was pressure like a motherfucker. If my sister was rooming with somebody who looked like her, there was no way that I would not have noticed her. As it was, all I could do was stare at lil baby’s curvaceous frame and pretty face.

She wore a pink and white striped number that looked like a polo shirt, except it was a dress. I liked sundresses as much as the next dude, but this dress took my appreciation of the summertime staple to the next level. The front of the dress featured a deep V that was just short of being inappropriate. From it, I could see the tops of juicy, round oversized titties popping out… but classy. The middle of the dress skirted a flat stomach, not tightly but in a way that let you know that she was holding definition in her waistline. The bottom of the dress jutted out over a fat ass and the hem kissed the center point of thick thighs. This girl had my favorite body. I fought not to stare.

She had put out a very colorful and delicious looking spread for us. The vibe was clearly brunch and she had managed to turn part of my backyard into her own little restaurant. My eyes scanned the abundance of offerings. There were chafing dishes filled with waffles, hash browns, fried chicken, biscuits, eggs, grits, and bacon. There were yogurt parfaits, fresh fruit, muffins and cinnamon rolls.

Brooklyn, I thought to myself as I discreetly searched her face. Though she was wearing shades, I could feel the heat of her gaze as she returned my stare. It wouldn’t hurt to have a neighbor who was pretty as fuck and who could throw together a nice spread. It wouldn’t hurt at all.

3

Brooklyn

Cameron Field did not recognize or remember me.

Oh, he tried to play it off, giving me a warm smile and telling me how good it was to see me again. But that was just good breeding and manners. That man didn’t recognize me any more than he would recognize the man in the moon. The fact was that I had never made an impression on Cameron.

Until today. Something was different about today. Today, he watched me. Stared at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. Took me in. I tried not to act out behind his attention. Instead, I focused all my energy on my table settings, my tablescapes, and on the food. I was excited about the opportunity to entertain. When I lived in the Midwest, I dreamt about and longed for a backyard that I could entertain in. Although the backyard technically belonged to Cameron Field, Carrington had assured me that I could entertain in it.

I forced myself to ignore the heat radiating from Cameron’s gaze as it fell on me several times during the meal and concentrated on being the best hostess I could be.

Brunch was a success. Mrs. Field gushed over almost every aspect of the event, which left my cheeks hurting from smiling so much. She was an expert on etiquette, class, and hosting. Her praise had lifted my spirits toward the clouds, so much so that I was even looking forward to cleaning up, because it would give me time to organize in my mind how I could make my next event even better.

“Ay, you’re a really good cook, Brooklyn.”

My head flew up. I thought I was alone in the backyard, having seen each member of the Field family and Bryce to the driveway. I mean, I knew that Cameron wouldn’t drive away, but I did think he would go inside his own house. I’d been engrossed in gathering the disposable chafing dishes I’d purchased from Amazon when he spoke, so I jumped. “Thank you.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

After casting a glance at him, I went back to cleaning. Though I made a lot of different dishes, I didn’t make a great deal of food. That meant that there weren’t a lot of leftovers, so the chafing dishes went right into the Hefty garbage bag I was holding.

“Let me help.” He easily removed the bag from my hand.

“Okay.” I agreed, moving on to the happy, colorful melamine dishes I’d collected from different stores to put together a festive, seasonal table.

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