Brook: Lake House Treasures

Book 4: Brook: Lake House Treasures

by Kari Lee Harmon

Genres: Family Life; Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance; Small-town Romance

Synopsis

Tough, street smart, master of odd jobs, Brook Jones, has always been unwanted and alone. At the age of thirty, she doesn’t need hopeful half-sisters or a desperate father. What she does need is money. After growing up homeless with a mother who eventually left her, Brook learned to do anything in order to survive, but never quite fit in anywhere. Needing a place to stay, she rides out the summer with strangers she doesn’t trust, planning to bail the second she is free to claim her money. She doesn’t forgive or forget easily. The other two look like their mother’s, but she’s the spitting image of their father, yet she doesn’t fit into his world either. Until she meets her polar opposite, a rich playboy tennis star born into money, who teaches her what it’s like to be truly wanted and loved. But will she allow herself to accept that she doesn’t have to be alone and embrace the gifts that are hers for the taking, including the father she needs more than any of them?

Release date: March 20, 2021

Publisher: Oliver Heber Books

Print pages: 118

Sample

                                        Prologue 

            James Cavanaugh watched his father Alex, lying so still in his hospital bed, his thin frame a whisper of the larger-than-life man he used to be. The room was sterile and white and cold looking, the smell of antiseptic and urine heavy in the air. Alex was only seventy-eight. Too young to die. James was thirty-eight. Too young to be without parents of any kind. His birth parents had died when he was little. Alex had been a gift James had treasured since the tender age of eighteen. To have him taken this soon was so unfair. Life could be cruel. He’d learned that lesson several times over.

Alex was unconscious. Had been since James’s last visit.

“You know I love you, but I’ve failed as your father by turning you into me. Make time for family before it’s too late. You never know how much time you have left on this journey called life. Don’t waste it by having regrets.” Those were the last words his father had spoken to him.

If James had known that was going to be the last time he would ever speak to his father, he would have said a lot more. Done a lot more. Told him everything. By not telling Alex about the babies, James had cheated him out of the chance to be a grandfather. James didn’t know if his babies were girls or boys or even alive. All he knew for certain was that he’d loved their mothers and hadn’t been able to choose between them. So he’d taken the coward’s way out, leaving them all pregnant and alone.

And here James was being a coward once more. He didn’t know how to take care of Alex, was too afraid to try, so his father would die in a hospital bed instead of at the Skaneateles Lake house that he so loved. The last words that James had spoken to Alex had been a vow to take Cavanaugh Creations to the next level because he knew how much his father loved his boat building business.

Hospice had called James in the morning, telling him to come say his goodbyes. They didn’t think Alex would make it through the night. James picked up Alex’s frail hand and held it in his own. A lump formed in his throat, and a small sob escaped his lips.

“I’m so sorry, Dad. You didn’t fail me. I am the one who failed you in so many ways. I should have told you I already have a family. I have three children I’ve never even seen. You have three grandchildren you never had the chance to know. But I promise you I will make this right. I will work hard for the company, and I will find them. I promise on my life I won’t stop looking until I do.”

Alex’s hand moved, and James lifted his eyes to his father’s face. His father’s eyelids flickered open. He couldn’t talk, but his gaze said it all. He stared at James with faded brown eyes full of forgiveness and love and … peace. And then the last of his air slipped weakly between his lips until his body stilled and his eyes were left vacant and blank.

James broke down and sobbed, bending over and resting his head on his father’s chest. Awful sounds tore from his throat, leaving his voice hoarse and raw. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest, and for a moment he thought he was having a heart attack. Maybe he would die just like Alex. James breathed deeply and strove for calm. He stayed bent over his father for a long time, until he didn’t have any tears left.

Alex was right. James didn’t want to be alone forever. He didn’t want to die in a hospital with no one by his side. He made a second vow to build Cavanaugh Creations into something special. Something worthy to leave to his children. He was young. He had time. Then and only then would he set out to find them. To ask for their forgiveness.

To bring them home.

 

                                     Chapter 1

“Sayonara, sisters,” Brook Sanders said with a salute as she grabbed a banana and walked toward the front door of the lake house.

The house was a massive white modern home with tons of windows facing the lake. It sat on its own private lot, surrounded by trees with gorgeous gardens, a dock with boats, and its own private beach. The kind of house Brook had never dreamed she would live in. Then again, she’d learned not to dream at all. Dreams didn’t come true for people like her. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy every second of living in luxury while it lasted.

It was Monday morning, August 10^th, and already steamy outside. Just three more weeks until Labor Day. The official end of the summer season on Skaneateles Lake. Her official end to this farce called “family.” After that she would be free to collect her money and disappear for good.

“You’re leaving this early?” Amber Delaney asked as she frosted one of her popular cakes. She was a green-eyed, curly blond-haired, girl-next-door kind of woman from Maine. Not the type of person Brook usually hung out with, but then again, Amber wasn’t just anyone. She was the half-sister Brook had just found out about right before summer.

Amber had outlived a drug addict mom who died when she was young, then survived an abusive ex-husband who loved alcohol more than her. She’d worked as a cook, taking care of everyone, but she had always felt unloved until this summer. She found the love of her life in the widowed groundskeeper, Shane Parker, who had a cute little girl named Katy. Not a big believer in wasting time, he’d already proposed. Amber had decided to stay in Skaneateles, run James Cavanaugh’s house, and make a go of her cake baking business while she and Shane planned their wedding. Brook was happy for her, but the last thing Brook wanted to do was settle down.

She shrugged. “I’m headed to the country club. I want to get an early start before it gets too hot outside.”

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time at the country club for someone who doesn’t like people.” Meghan McCloud winked, her tawny eyes twinkling with mischief and her auburn hair curling up at the ends from her early morning run.

She was a sophisticated, driven businesswoman who ran a hotel back in Connecticut. She’d always felt unaccepted by men and even by her mother’s new family, until she came to the lake for the summer and met her match in restaurant owner, Wesley Campbell. Meghan had decided to give dating Wes a chance, and so far so good judging by the constant smile on both their faces. Meghan had also made peace with her mother, quit her job, and decided to make a go at taking over Cavanaugh Creations as CEO. Brook was happy for her, too, but she wasn’t like either of her sisters. They had issues.

She was damaged.

“It’s just a little tennis. What can I say? I’m bored.” Brook waved and took off out the door before either of them could drill her any further.

Hopping on James’s bike, she pedaled toward the country club. The other women had cars, but Brook had never gotten her license. Never saw the need with living in cities. When she wanted to leave, she just hitched her way wherever she wanted to go. Brook wasn’t above using everything that belonged to James. He owed her, but she’d be damned if she would forgive him or call him Dad. He didn’t deserve it after deserting them.

James said he wanted to leave everything he had divided equally among the three of them. All they had to do was spend the summer on the lake, getting to know him and each other. Brook was all for getting to know her sisters. It was kind of nice finally having a family of her own, but that didn’t mean she would give in like the other two had. She had to remain strong.

Brook had been through some pretty tough times in her life with growing up homeless and her mother running out on her when she was sixteen, but it had made her into the strong, tough woman she was today. Her last address had been in New Jersey, but she was a nomad. A free spirit. A Jack-of-all-trades. When she got her money, she would let the wind decide where it would take her, but one thing was certain.

It sure as hell wouldn’t be on Skaneateles Lake in central New York.

Brook lifted her face to the sky and let the breeze blow through her short dark hair as she pedaled harder. Skaneateles Lake was one of the eleven Finger Lakes. It wasn’t that the place wasn’t nice. The town was gorgeous with its rolling green hills and forests, neighboring farms, and long stretch of placid water. It just wasn’t her speed, is all. She wasn’t used to things being calm and peaceful in her life, no matter how many times she had wished for exactly that. She’d just learned not to count on anyone or anything. Then she would never be let down again. She’d make her own rules, play her own game, be in charge of her own destiny.

She picked up the pace, competitive by nature. She was an athlete. Always had been. Not that she’d ever had the chance to show anyone except for the other street urchins. She hadn’t gone to school. She’d taught herself everything through books from the library. Every chance she had, she spent it in the library reading books and searching for things on the internet through the library’s computers.

When she was finally old enough, she took the GED test and received a diploma. After that accomplishment, she’d made the mistake of finally thinking she’d be on easy street. Only the streets weren’t any kinder to her. In fact, they’d seemed to turn worse as people she’d considered her friends turned their backs on her because she’d decided to get smart. Her precious diploma meant nothing, and once more she found herself alone. She’d done unspeakable things to survive. Things she hadn’t told her sisters about.

Things she hadn’t told anyone about.

The most recent being Tyler Reynolds, a rich playboy tennis star without a care in the world. He was hot, she’d give him that. So hot that she’d had a brief lapse in judgment and slept with him. Quickly coming to her senses, she’d made it clear to him that it was only about the sex. They couldn’t have grown up more opposite, and at thirty she was too old to deal with immature antics like his.

That’s why it was a joke to think she would ever be interested in a man like Tyler Reynolds. She hadn’t told a single person, especially not her sisters. Yet they were convinced she had the hots for him. Everyone was, and it was starting to piss Brook off.

With his wavy blond hair, smoky gray eyes, and athletic body, Tyler had movie star good looks and he knew it. He was always flirting and cocky beyond belief. He was constantly at the club, lending a helping hand to everyone. More like trying to tell everyone what to do, in Brook’s mind. Prancing around and showing off. It was downright sickening. Someone had to knock him down a peg or two. That was why Brook spent so much time at the club. Nothing more. Her mission: make the man miserable while fighting off boredom until the summer’s end.

Win win.

The fact that she hadn’t been able to stop dreaming about that night was a result of post-traumatic stress or temporary insanity. Because the idea of falling for him and putting down roots was just too terrifying to think about. Roots were like anchors. They weighed you down. And when they cracked and broke, the thing attached to the roots withered away and died. Brook didn’t want to be that “thing” ever again.

It hurt too damn much.

                             ***

Tyler Reynolds twirled his racket and bounced a tennis ball on the clay court as he spoke to Victoria Masterson. “Tennis isn’t hard, Vicky. You just have to practice.” He winked, letting his smile slowly spread across his face until his dimples sank deep.

She blushed as she stared up at him through her lashes. She was a beautiful woman, but way too young for him. It didn’t matter. Too young, his age, or too old: his job was to walk around like a tennis star god, make the socialites feel special, make his parents proud … it didn’t really matter if his clients learned the game or not. No one bothered to ask if he was happy or if he even wanted to be there because no one really cared. He’d found that out years ago. People only cared that he came from money and had been on the fast track to Wimbledon.

They didn’t want to know what had really happened.

So every summer he played the game. Put on a show as the resident tennis pro, with parents as upstanding members of the club, making everyone happy except himself. He really was getting too old for this shit, but the truth was he had no clue what to do with his life. Thirty-two years old and not a goddamned clue what the hell to do when he finally grew up.

“Are we playing singles or doubles today?” Vicky asked.

“Actually, mixed doubles. I’ll be your partner, and they will pair us up with another man and woman.”

“What if they’re really good?” A pretty pout crossed her face and she blinked up at him, looking worried and helpless. He had to fight hard not to roll his eyes.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be right here with you the whole time. Besides, you know all the members of this club. I’m sure whoever we get will go easy on you because you’re such a sweetheart.”

She stood a little straighter. “You’re right. Everyone likes me. It’ll be fine.” A crease formed between her eyebrows. “I just hope they don’t put us with the new girl. She scares me.”

“She’s not so bad,” he said, thinking of Brooklynn Sanders.

Then again when wasn’t he thinking about her? Especially after that mind-blowing night not long ago. He’d caught her at a weak moment when she was upset one evening on his way home from the club. Pulling off to the side of the road, he’d offered her a ride because he was concerned. She’d surprised him by saying yes, and then shocked him further when she popped open a beer from the six pack he had on the front seat, saying she didn’t want to go home. So he’d taking her to a deserted spot that overlooked the lake. Pulling a blanket out of his truck, they sat down and finished off a couple beers in silence.

He was a good listener. Always had been. His problem was he’d never found someone who wanted to listen to him. When she dried her tears, he asked if she wanted to talk. Something told him there was more troubling her than a broken bike chain.

Squirming as though uncomfortable with the emotion and vulnerability she’d revealed, she shook her head no and then kissed him. It wasn’t a soft inquisitive kiss between strangers. It was hot and frantic and all-consuming. He tried to stop, but she wouldn’t let him. All thoughts and reason left his brain as he gave in to his building desire and kissed her back with demands of his own. He’d wanted her so badly in that instant, and she seemed to want him just as much. Brook took as good as she gave, their passion leaving them breathless. They’d both instinctively needed each other, no words necessary.

After they’d shared the most amazing experience of his life, she’d asked him to take her home. She hadn’t wanted to talk when he tried again, so he’d driven her home in silence. Every time he’d run into her since that day, she was sarcastic and tried to start arguments with him, but he wouldn’t take the bait. The more he smiled and had patience with her, the more infuriated she became, and he had to admit he was having the time of his life.

“Not so bad?” Vicky said on a whine. “She’s horrible from what I heard. Besides, have you seen her? She looks positively scary.”

He once remembered when he was younger—before his mother became all concerned with her social standing—she had taken him to the playground. There was a little girl who kept shoving him and calling him names, trying to get him to chase her around. He got upset, and in a rare moment of public affection, his mother had hugged him. She’d told him that was what girls did when they liked a boy.

He smiled again, thinking, oh yeah, Brook likes me. She’s just too stubborn to admit it. She simply had no clue just how patient he could be.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” he replied to Vicky, thinking, you look like an angel yet you’re a spoiled brat.

Brook was a gorgeous woman. Tall, athletic, striking features, jet-black hair cropped short, and the most amazing eyes he’d ever seen. A sparkling sapphire blue that took his breath away every time they met his. She wasn’t fooling him with her nose ring and tattoos and rock star attire. She tried to act so tough and independent, like she didn’t need any help or anyone, period, end of story. But he had a feeling there was a whole lot more to her “story” than she was letting on. She didn’t have to say a word. He knew a cover-up for pain when he saw one because he lived it every damn day. He just wasn’t free to rebel like she was. He envied her that freedom.

She didn’t have to please a single person except herself.

“I hope you’re right,” Vicky whined, “because here she comes right now.”

Ty’s gaze met and locked onto Brook’s, and his stomach clenched the same as it always did every single time he saw her. She smirked and then turned to her partner, Scott Worthington the Third. The poor sap didn’t stand a chance against a woman like Brook. He was much more suited to Victoria. Scott actually looked nervous as he shook Brook’s hand.

“Take a moment to stretch and warm up. That will give us time to scout out our competitor’s strengths and weaknesses,” Ty whispered to Victoria.

“I don’t want to die,” she responded dramatically, and it took everything within him not to cringe.

“Never mind. Let’s just get started. I’ll be right back.” He pulled a quarter out of his pocket.

“Where are you going?” she fairly shrieked.

“To do a coin toss with Scott to see who goes first.” He spoke as though he were speaking to a child: slow and carefully.

“Oh, okay.” She took several deep breaths as Ty jogged off.

Moments later, he returned. “We won, so we serve first. Remember, the server starts from the baseline on the right hand side. Strike the ball diagonally to the left side of the court into the service area on the receiver’s side. We will rotate serves. It takes a minimum of four points to play a game and you have to win by two. And to win the set we have to play a minimum of six games with a two game advantage. Got it?”

“No.”

He took a breath and mentally counted to ten. “You will. Don’t stress about it. Let’s just start. Do you want to serve first?”

“No.”

He spoke through his teeth, “Just try, okay?” then gave her his most charming smile, until she became putty in his hands.

She nodded, then proceeded to take forever to adjust her white tennis skirt and matching pink and purple checkered shirt. He couldn’t help but glance over at Brook. She would never be putty in his hands, and that was half her appeal. She stood in a ready stance, swaying back and forth on the balls of her feet. He had to fight a grin as he took in her cut-off denim shorts and tie-dyed tank top.

“For the love of God, hit the ball already,” Brook snapped.

Vicky’s mouth fell open on a gasp, and Scott smiled apologetically at her. She straightened her spine and bounced the ball a couple of times. Then she swung her racket and missed.

“It’s okay,” Ty encouraged her. “Try again.”

She took a breath and tried again, hitting the ball with an underhand serve, sending it sailing high in the air. When it finally hit the court, Scott yelled, “I’ve got it.”

But Brook jumped in front of him and whacked the ball hard, sending it sailing straight for Vicky. She let out an ear-piercing scream and just stood there, staring as the ball rocketed straight for her as if in slow motion.

Ty shouted, “Head’s up,” but she stayed frozen and let the ball clock her in the forehead, sending her flat on her back. She’d had plenty of time to move out of the way. Tyler sighed. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she did that to get out of having to do any actual work. God forbid she break a nail or mess up her hundred and fifty dollar haircut.

“Are you okay?” he asked her as he knelt down beside her with the expected expression of concern glued to his face.

“No.” She let out a little sob.

“Do you want to continue?” He strove for patience and had to work hard not to let his irritation show.

“No.” A tear trickled down her cheek. He had a feeling she was good at crying to get her way, and he could tell right from the start she hadn’t wanted to play tennis. Her daddy had wanted her to.

Ty helped her to her feet and patted her back, stifling another sigh. Yes she got hit in the head, but the woman was about as dramatic as they came. Damsels in distress were a big part of his world. He knew that came as part of the territory when playing the chivalrous knight.

Scott rushed to her side and stepped between them. “You poor thing. That’s quite a bump forming already. How about we go get you some ice?”

She nodded and let him lead her off the court. “You didn’t have to hit the ball so hard.” She glared at Brook.

“It’s called tennis.” Brook snorted. “What else did you expect me to do?”

“Hit it softer.” Vicky looked down her nose at Brook. “More like a lady.”

“Sorry.” Brook grunted. “Maybe next time try moving out of the way? More like an intelligent human being.” She smirked at her.

This time Scott glared.

Brook held up her hands in defeat as she looked at Ty. “Come on. Out with it.”

“Out with what?” Ty asked innocently, biting back a grin and trying for a stern expression as he met her in the middle of the court by the net.

“You know you want to say something belittling to me like you always do.”

“I’ve never belittled you, Brook,” he said her name softly and damn if his grin didn’t win the battle. He couldn’t help it. He loved sparring with her and hadn’t had this much fun in the past decade. She intrigued the hell out of him. One way or another, he was going to break down her walls. He twirled his racket in front of him.

She rolled her eyes. “Like hell you don’t.”

“Such language,” he tsked, “and at the club of all places. Not very ladylike indeed. Didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners?”

Her face hardened, and he could tell he’d struck a nerve. She wasn’t playing anymore.