Million Dollar Baby. Janice Maynard

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      “Not at all.” He eyed her mural. “This is your work? It’s fabulous. You’re very talented.”

      His praise warmed her. Other than Alexis, few people knew what she was capable of doing—at least, few people in Royal. “Thank you,” she said. “I still have a long way to go.”

      “Which means I’ll get to watch as I build the stage.”

      Her heart stuttered. He didn’t mean anything by that statement...did he? “Austin, I—”

      He held up his hand. “You don’t have to say a word. I can see it on your face. You’re afraid I’ll spill your secret. But I won’t, Brooke, I swear. You had your reasons for what happened in Joplin, and so did I.” He cleared his throat, then went on. “The truth is, as much as I like you, we need to leave the past in the past. I’m done with relationships, trust me. And in a town like this, you clearly can’t do anything without the whole world knowing your business.”

      He was saying all the right things. Exactly what she needed to hear.

      So why did she have a knot in her stomach?

      “I should get started,” she said.

      “For the record, I was damned disappointed when I woke up and you were gone.”

      “You were?” She searched his face.

      He nodded slowly. “Yes.”

      “It was an amazing night for me, but I didn’t have much basis for comparison.”

      He chuckled. “Your instincts were spot-on. If I were in the market for a girlfriend and you were five years older, we might give it a go.”

      Her temper flared. “Do you have any idea how arrogant you sound? I’m getting very tired of everybody in my life thinking they know what’s best for me.”

      “Define everybody.”

      Brooke looked over his shoulder and grimaced. “Here comes one now.”

      Margaret Goodman was dressed impeccably from head to toe. Though she was well into her fifties, she could easily pass for a much younger woman. Her blond hair, sprinkled with only the slightest gray, received the attention of an expensive stylist every three weeks, and she had both a personal trainer and a dietitian on her payroll.

      Brooke’s mother was ambitious, driven and ice-cold. She was also—at the moment—clearly furious. A tiny splotch of red on each cheekbone betrayed her agitation.

      “What are you doing here, Mama?” Brooke stepped forward, away from the cowboy architect, hoping to defuse the situation and at the same time possibly avoid any interaction between her mother and Austin.

      Her mother lifted her chin. “Are you trying to spite me on purpose? Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to know that my only daughter is grubbing around in the gardens of the Texas Cattleman’s Club like a common laborer?”

      Brooke straightened her backbone. “Alexis Slade hired me to do a job. That’s what I’m doing.”

      “Don’t be naive and ridiculous. This isn’t a job.” Her mother flung a hand toward the partially painted wall in a dramatic gesture. “A child could do this. You’re avoiding your potential, Brooke. Your father and I won’t have it. It was bad enough that you changed your major in college without telling us. We paid for you to get a serious education, not a worthless art degree. Goodmans are businesspeople, Brooke. We make money, we don’t squander it. When will you realize that playing with paint isn’t a valid life choice?”

      Her mother was shouting now, her disdain and reproach both vicious and hurtful.

      Brooke had heard it all before, but with Austin as a witness, it was even more upsetting. Her eyes stung. “This is a real job, Mama. I’m proud of the work I’m doing. And for the record, I’m planning on moving out of the house, so you and Daddy might as well get used to the idea.”

      “Don’t you speak to me in that tone.”

      “You don’t listen any other way. I’m twenty-six years old. The boys moved out when they were twenty-one.”

      “Don’t bring your brothers into this. They were both far more mature than you at this age. Neither of them gave us any grief.”

      Brooke shook her head, incredulous. Her brothers were sycophants and weasels who coasted by on their family connections and their willingness to suck up to Mommy and Daddy. “I won’t discuss this with you right now. You’re embarrassing me.”

      For the first time, Margaret looked at Austin. “Who is this?” she demanded, her nose twitching as if sniffing out an impostor in her blue-blooded world.

      Before Brooke could stop him, Austin stepped forward, hand outstretched. “I’m Austin Bradshaw, ma’am...the architect Gus Slade hired to build the stage addition for the bachelor auction. I’m pleased to meet you.”

      His sun-kissed good looks and blinding smile caught Margaret midtirade. Her mouth opened and shut. “Um...”

      Brooke sensed trouble brewing. She took her mother’s arm and tried to steer her toward the building. “You don’t want to get paint on your clothes, Mama, and I really need to get back to work. We’ll discuss this tonight.”

      Margaret bristled. “I’m not finished talking to you, young lady. Put this mess away and come home.”

      “I won’t,” Brooke said. She felt ill, but she couldn’t let her dislike of confrontation or the fact that they had an audience allow her mother to steamroll her. “I’ve made a commitment, and I intend to honor it.”

      Margaret scowled. When Brooke’s mother was on a rant, people scattered. She could be terrifying. “I demand that you come with me this instant.”

      Brooke swallowed hard as bile rose in her throat. She wasn’t wearing a hat, so the sun beat down on her head. Little yellow spots danced in front of her eyes, and her knees wobbled.

      This was a nightmare.

      But then, to her complete and utter shock, Austin intervened. He literally inserted himself between Brooke and her mother, shielding Brooke with his body. “You’re out of line, Mrs. Goodman. Your daughter is a grown woman. She’s a gifted artist, and she’s being paid to use that talent for the good of the community. I won’t have you bullying her.”

      “Who the hell are you to talk to me that way?” Margaret shrieked. “I’ll have you fired on the spot. Wait until Gus Slade hears about this. You’ll never work in this town again.”

      The whole thing might have been funny if it wasn’t so miserably tragic. Brooke’s mother was used to getting her way with threats and intimidation. Her face was ugly beneath her makeup.

      Austin simply ignored her bluster. “I’d like you to leave now,” he said politely. “Brooke and I both have work to do for the club, and you are delaying our progress.”

      Margaret raised her fist...she actually raised her fist.

      Austin stared at her.

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