Page 10 of The Nook for Brooks (Mulligan’s Mill #6)

“See? A man who knows what he wants. Be more like him, Brooks.” She tapped the bar with her nails. “So? Live a little. What’s it gonna be?”

I sat straighter. “Soda water. With lime.”

“Fine. Vodka lime and soda, coming right up.”

I knew this was a fight I wasn’t going to win, so I just let Bea fix the drinks.

In all fairness, I actually enjoyed a vodka on the odd occasion.

I just didn’t intend to enjoy one in front of Cody, in case I loosened up a little too much.

If nothing else, I was intent on keeping my guard up and my wits about me.

“There you go, my peach blossoms,” Bea said, sliding the drinks across the bar to us.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to tend to the bane of my existence.

That naughty boy, Bo Harlow, has had one too many tipples, which means I’m off to squeeze some nipples.

Play nice now. That means you, Brooks darling. ”

She moved around the bar and across the floor with a shimmer of authority. A few moments later we all heard a squeal of pain from Bo.

“Wow, nobody messes with Aunt Bea, huh?” commented Cody.

“Absolutely not,” I said. “She puts the fear of God into God himself.”

“My kinda gal,” Cody said. “Not that I’ve ever had a girlfriend. I love dick way too much for that.”

I spat up the first sip of my vodka, partly because it was the strongest vodka I’d ever been served, and partly because—“You Australians really do say it like it is, don’t you?”

He shrugged. “No point beating around the bush. Life’s too short for polite chit-chat. You didn’t come here for chit-chat, did you?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure why I came here.”

“Because you like me.” And there was that grin again. It was the very definition of charisma. “What’s not to like?”

“Direct and modest,” I remarked. “Is there anything else I should know about you?”

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Well, considering you’re such a connoisseur of the written word, I should probably tell you my favorite book of all time. No, wait. Why don’t you try to guess.”

I nodded, taking another sip of my drink. I was already feeling the buzz of the booze and was instantly intrigued by his challenge. “All right then, let me work this one out. You obviously love to travel. From the tan and the slightly disheveled clothes—”

“Disheveled?” he said, feigning offence. “I’ll have you know these are my best khaki shorts.”

The curl of my lips into a smile betrayed me for a second.

“As I was saying, from the slightly well-worn clothes, you’re obviously drawn to adventure.

You also told me you live on a tropical island, so you clearly love the sand and the sun.

Yet your literary prowess is evident as well, meaning you’re no doubt drawn to the classics.

I’m going to say your favorite book of all time is… Treasure Island .”

“Oooh, good guess. And you’re right, I do love that book. Lots of swashbuckling fun. But no, it’s not my all-time favorite. Guess again.”

I took a gulp of my drink. I was liking this gameshow quiz more and more by the minute.

I drummed my fingers against my lips and eyed him closely, looking for clues on his face, although all I could see were those twinkling eyes and that soul-melting smile of his.

“All right, then. I’m going to stick with the traveling theme.

Still on the high seas. This time I’m leaning toward more of a satire, something that makes a comment on the world, something that mocks how seriously we take ourselves.

You’ve clearly got a rebel streak, I expect you question power and politics too. ”

“Indeed, I do.”

“Then my second guess is… Gulliver’s Travels .”

“Oh! Another great pick, but no cigar I’m afraid. You get one last chance.”

I drew a deep breath, ready to solve the mystery of Cody Cameron. “Mmmm, I can do this.”

“I know you can. I believe in you.”

He did? We’d only just met.

I took that as a clue. “You’re a man of instinct, and with it comes conviction.

You’ll travel far for what you believe in.

You’ll create stories along the way and take the hard road to find the life worth living.

” I wriggled my nose like a rabbit as I tried to figure out my last guess, then suddenly realized—“It’s Watership Down ! ”

“Boom! You got it!” he bellowed so loud the whole bar turned to look. “Fuck me, that was some awesome detective work. I’m impressed! You’ve clearly read way too many mysteries.”

I grinned with pride, something I never did. Of course, the moment I did, Bea materialized behind the bar. “Brooks! Precious! Is that a smile I see? Someone call a medic, it must be a grimace of pain that simply looks like he’s grinning.”

Cody laughed and lightly slapped my knee.

He slapped my knee… not his.

And then he let his hand rest there a moment.

My heart gave a flutter, and that smile… I couldn’t seem to remove it from my lips, even after Bea had made her cheeky little quip at my expense.

“No need for a medic,” Cody said. “We’re in the middle of guessing each other’s favorite books, and Brooks here just hit a home run.”

“Sounds like you boys need another round.” Bea was already pouring.

I threw down the gauntlet to Cody. “So, you think you can guess mine?”

Of course he smirked with confidence. “Too easy, lemon squeezy.”

“Actually, it’s a squeeze of lime that goes in with the vodka,” Bea chimed in, before realizing. “Oh, you’re speaking Australian again, aren’t you?”

Cody laughed, and before I even realized it, I was laughing too.

His smile took on a new angle, something more than just charming and handsome. It was a smile of approval, that he liked the way I laughed, that he liked watching me open up a little.

Bea also noticed and momentarily joined the conversation as she slid the next round toward us. “I have a favorite book. Any guesses?”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” Cody answered, the look on his face begging for an answer.

“ The Valley of the Dolls by Jacqualine Susann, of course. Three women, pills, booze, and Broadway. Honestly, it’s like my memoir, but with worse wigs.

” Sharp as a hawk, something across the bar caught her eye.

“Is Bo Harlow about to change the song on the jukebox? He knows he’s banned from that cave of wonders.

And nobody interrupts the tracks of Smokey Robinson’s tears.

If you’ll excuse me, my literary lamb chops. ”

With that, she stormed over to Bo once more.

Cody turned his attention back to me. “Right-o then, time to pick Brooks Beresford’s all-time favorite book. I’m guessing there’s only one or two thousand to choose from.”

“That’s being conservative,” I said.

“Don’t even try to psych me out. I’ve got this. Piece of piss. You watch.” He sat back, drumming his fingers against his beer bottle, and stared into my face the same way I had stared into his.

“So, here’s the thing. You, Brooks Beresford, are precise.

You’ve got your little tower, your bow ties, and your cinnamon tea, which I’m pretty certain you drink from a cup and saucer.

You love order. You probably alphabetized your teddy bears as a kid.

So, my first guess has to be something perfect, polished, respectable.

A classic that never goes out of style, with a leading man as tightly wound as you.

Yet there’s a clever wit about you, so this book needs to be smart, funny, but still nicely buttoned up.

It’s all about manners and appearances, and people pretending they’re not into each other until—spoiler alert—they absolutely are. Tell me I’m wrong.”

I braced myself.

“Your favorite book, Brooks Beresford, is Pride and Prejudice ,” he announced with a flourish.

I sniffed. “Predictable.”

“And correct?”

“Close. But no.”

He slapped the bar in mock despair. “Unbelievable. You’re Mr. Darcy in a bow tie! It’s basically your autobiography. Stiff, broody, secretly romantic—”

“I am not broody,” I cut in sharply.

He hitched an eyebrow.

“Or secretly romantic,” I added quickly.

“Oh, come on. You’re the dictionary definition of broody,” he fired back. “And as for secretly romantic, well, time will tell.”

“Fine,” he said, eyes narrowing in concentration.

“Let’s take another crack. You’ve got a dramatic streak, Brooks.

Don’t even deny it. You turn a dropped bookmark into a Shakespearean tragedy.

You treat dust jackets like they’re national treasures.

You’ve got gothic energy written all over you.

So maybe you’d go for something darker. Something with shadows, obsession, and a bloke who hides away in his castle, convinced he can make something perfect if he just works hard enough at it. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

I folded my arms. “I don’t like where this is going.”

“Of course you don’t. Because it’s dead-on. Your favorite book of all time is Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. ”

I sit with a smug smile on my face. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Look at you, locked away in your tower, building your masterpiece of a bookstore one stitch at a time—except instead of body parts, it’s book sections. Mate, you are Victor bloody Frankenstein.”

“I am nothing like Victor Frankenstein!” I spluttered. “For one thing, I don’t dig up corpses.”

“Maybe if I knew you a little better.”

“You assume everyone you meet is a grave-robber until you get to know them a little better?”

He shrugged and chugged some more beer. “Everyone has their peccadillos.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “All right, then. Two down. One chance left.

He let the silence hang for a moment, then leaned forward, elbows on the bar, grin widening like a man about to land the knockout blow.

“All right, then. Here’s what I really think.

You’ve built yourself a little Neverland in that bookshop.

Safe, cozy, timeless. You don’t want to grow up—not really.

Because grown-up life means chaos, change, heartbreak, and you’d rather stay put with your books where everything is neat and safe.

You hide in stories, so you don’t have to face the mess outside.

And sure, you play the part of an adult in your pressed shirts and bow ties, but deep down?

You’d rather live in your own private world where nothing ever has to change. ”

I felt my ears burning. “That is a gross oversimplification.”

Cody’s grin sharpened. “It’s Peter Pan, isn’t it? You’re Peter Pan in a bow tie.”

I nearly choked on my vodka. “That’s ridiculous!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Bea chimed in, sashaying back just in time to catch Cody’s last guess. “All he needs is a little pixie dust and he’d be flying around this bar organizing the cocktail menu and slipping a coaster under every last glass.”

I simply shook my head. “Strike three.”

Cody slapped the bar, pretending to be outraged. “Unbelievable! Three guesses, all brilliant, all wrong. You’re a tough nut, Beresford. What is it, then? What’s your favorite?”

I smoothed my bow tie and sat back, enjoying the thrill of having the upper hand. “A gentleman never reveals all his secrets on the first drink.”

“That’s your second drink,” Bea pointed out. “And your third is coming right up. Now spill the tea.”

“Sorry. You’ll just have to stew on it.”

Cody leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “So, it is Pride and Prejudice . You’re just too embarrassed to admit it.”

“It is not Pride and Prejudice .”

“ Frankenstein then.”

“I told you, no.”

“ Peter Pan !” he bellowed, loud enough for half the bar to turn our way again.

“For heaven’s sake, lower your voice. And no.”

He groaned dramatically and turned to Bea for backup. “You hear this? He’s freezing me out.”

Bea leaned across the bar with a wicked smile. “Darling, if he won’t tell you his favorite, it’s because it’s something deliciously scandalous. I’m thinking smut. The sort with a cover they hide behind the counter and a title like The Duke’s Forbidden Petticoat. ”

Cody laughed so hard he nearly spilled his beer. “That’s it, isn’t it?! Smut! You like the spice!”

Suddenly he reached forward and tickled my ribs.

I flinched so violently I spilled what was left of the drink in my hand. “Don’t do that! I’m… I’m…”

“Ticklish!” Cody finished for me.

I put down my empty glass and tried to claw back my dignity. “Maybe. I don’t really know. Nobody’s ever tried to tickle me before.”

Bea gasped like she’d just witnessed the Second Coming. “Nobody’s ever tickled you? Oh, precious, you’ve been living like a monk in a monastery of hardcovers.”

Cody leaned back, grinning from ear to ear as he placed his hands behind his head. “Well, I’ll consider myself your first time.”

My ears burned so hot I thought they might ignite. “If nobody minds, I think that’s my cue to leave.”

I slid off the stool and almost lost my balance before Cody caught me. I didn’t realize just how tipsy I was.

“Woah, woah, steady on there,” he said, his arms tight around me for a moment. “You’re leaving so soon? We were just starting to have fun.”

“Sorry, I have to go. Those drinks seem to have gone straight to my head, and I need to be up early to open the store.”

“Then let me walk you home,” he said.

“No, no, please. I’m fine on my own. Contrary to many people’s beliefs, I’m actually fine with my own company. You must understand that with all the solo traveling you do.”

A look of respect came over his face. “Actually, yes. I do. I also understand that sometimes you need to balance out the alone time with a little human contact.”

Gently but firmly, I released myself from his grip. “I guess it’s about knowing exactly when you want company… and when you don’t.”

He nodded. “I get it.”

I turned and started to make my way toward the door, but was barely three steps away before he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll figure you out, Brooks Beresford.”

“Good luck,” I said, turning back. “I’m a hard book to read.”

He shook his head. “No book is too hard, Brooks. You just have to open the cover.”