But, tonight is different. We’re leaving the Legacy Inn grounds.
Alone, and after dark.
I wonder where he’s taking me? And how on earth did he manage to talk Kade into this? I chuckle at the mental image of Cooper giving his dad puppy-dog eyes.
After too long spent agonizing over my wardrobe, I settle on a lacy, white scoop-neck shirt, a jean skirt with brass buttons on the front, and delicate gold sandals. The outfit feels comfortable, and neutral enough for most scenarios. But then again, this is Cooper Monroe — for all I know, we could be flying to Tahiti.
I look at myself in the mirror and add hoop earrings. I apply a touch of eyeliner, mascara, and cherry red lip gloss to complete the look.
My stomach is in knots as I sneak over to the parking lot, trying to avoid bumping into anyone I know. I don’t need to worry, though — the sounds of laughter and piano music carry from the Inn’s gardens. Tonight’s garden party is already in full swing.
I dart around the main building and my breath catches.
Cooper is waiting for me in the middle of the parking lot, leaning against Kade’s fancy Escalade. He’s wearing a slim-fitting black button-down shirt, dark designer jeans and expensive sneakers. His hair isn’t an unruly mess but, instead, is perfectly tousled and stylish. A hint of five o’ clock shadow lines his angular jaw.
“Stef.” His voice is soft, gravelly. “You look amazing.”
I smile, speechless for some reason.
He steps forward to hug me and I lean my head against his chest, breathing in the spicy scent of his cologne. I notice the way his body folds perfectly around mine, my head resting comfortably beneath his throat. My heart is beating like crazy and I hear the soft tap of his heartbeat.
He’s so close, holding me so tight. It starts to feel a little much.
I step backwards before I get too dizzy. I scramble to find my voice and appear normal. Deep breath, Stefi.
“You clean up nicely yourself,” I say, hoping he doesn’t notice how breathy my voice sounds. “I’d forgotten what you look like when you’re not in pajamas.”
Cooper smiles and, even in the dim light, I can see the twinkle in his eyes. He opens the passenger door for me and gestures towards his chest. “You’ll be pleased to see that I was able to locate a shirt.”
“Must’ve taken a thorough search of the bottom of your suitcase.” I get into the car. “No Arnold tonight?”
“Nope,” he says proudly. “You’ve done quite a number on Daddy Dearest, Stef. He’s not only letting me go out with you tonight, he’s actually trusting me to drive his car.”
“Progress.” I giggle.
“Progress, indeed.”
Cooper pulls out of the lot and onto the highway. As we drive, I’m so wrapped up in our conversation that I barely notice where we’re headed. We chat about school, comparing Edendale High with his fancy private school in LA. After swapping multiple, very similar stories about scandals at our respective high schools, we arrive at the same conclusion — no matter where you go to school, teenagers are defined by their actions, and their reputations aren't always deserved.
I’m doubled over laughing at one of Cooper’s stories when we pull into a parking lot. A parking lot I recognize.
We’re at the Edendale Arena.
I frown in confusion. “Wha—?”
My voice dies as realization hits me like a shock of electricity.
I bite my lip. No way.
No way.
“Is this...?” I trail off, my voice a whisper.
Cooper’s dark eyes smolder in the evening twilight. “It is.”
Cooper pulls up to the valet parking area and hands the keys to the attendant. Then, he crosses around the vehicle to open my door. He extends a hand to help me out of the vehicle but I’m frozen in shock, my mouth dry.
“You coming?” He teases, his gaze playful.
My body kicks to life and, instead of stepping out of the car like a normal person, I throw myself onto him. My arms wrap around him in the world’s biggest hug. “THANK YOU! Thank you, thank you!”
His strong arms encircle me and he squeezes me tight, laughing. “It’s nothing.”
“I can’t believe it… I can’t,” I sputter, my mind fuzzy with excitement. “We’re going to the Robbie Cohen concert? But, how?!”
Cooper raises an eyebrow. “Come on, Stef. You don’t think that we’re going to just a regular concert, do you?”
As if on cue with that cryptic statement, a side door to the venue flies open. A security guard with a walkie-talkie approaches us, greeting Cooper by name. Then, he hands us each a red lanyard with an all-access, VIP pass.
“This has to be a dream,” I murmur numbly.
Cooper’s mouth twitches, like he’s trying not to laugh at me and my starstruck antics. “I thought you might like it if I introduced you to Robbie after the concert. It’s easier to do with a backstage pass.”
I stare at the pass, speechless. I meet Cooper’s eyes and his mouth is twitching even more. He’s loving this. Heat races through my body and I feel lightheaded with excitement. A VIP pass to a Robbie Cohen concert is something I could only ever dream about. I could never, ever, expect anything like this to happen to me.
But… This sort of thing happens to Cooper. All the time.
“Coop,” I ask seriously. “Are you sure that this is how you want to spend your night out? You can see a Robbie Cohen concert at any time. Isn’t there anything else you want to do tonight, now that you’re ‘free’ and we have the car?”
Cooper bows his head, looking shy and vulnerable all of a sudden. “Honestly? Tonight, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
A slow smile crosses my lips and I find that I’m holding my breath.
With a confident nod, Cooper indicates to the security guard that we’re ready to go. Within moments, security is escorting us through the back of the venue and past the dressing rooms. They take us all the way to the side of the stage, where the concert is already underway.
Robbie Cohen stands not ten feet from me. He’s softly strumming on his guitar while singing to the audience in his dulcet tones.
A moment later, he looks in our direction and gives Cooper a nod and smile.
My breath catches.
This can’t be real.
A photographer steps up beside me to get a better angle for a shot, almost knocking me over. Cooper wraps an arm around my waist, catching me. He draws me closer, and angles us away so that the photographer won’t recognize him. He holds me close, his body warm and firm against mine. A shiver runs down my spine as I catch another hint of his cologne.
It feels good to be this close to him.
When the photographer leaves, Cooper doesn’t let go. We stay connected, slowly swaying to the music together. I close my eyes, my heart full of happiness, and let the moment carry me away.
For the next two hours, I’m on cloud nine. For the first time in recent years, my worries, stresses and problems float far, far away. I allow myself to live in the moment, to appreciate this incredible experience for exactly what it is.
But the best part is the sensation of Cooper Monroe’s body, so close to mine, his arms wrapped tight around me.
18
Cooper
The morning after Robbie’s concert, I wake up with one thing on my mind: Stefi. The shock on her face when we stepped out of the car at Edendale Arena, the blush of excitement when we watched the concert from backstage, the glow in her eyes when Robbie came to speak to us after the show.
Robbie and Brody have been best friends for as long as I can remember. Watching him play music on-stage felt like another school concert or open mic night in LA. But, seeing Stefi’s reaction, the happiness on her face, I couldn’t look away. Sometimes, with Stefi, I feel like I’m enjoying a show or movie just for myself. She’s easily one of the most genuine, honest people I’ve ever met.
I roll over in bed, basking in the morning sunlight filtering through the bl
inds. There’s something about waking up at Legacy Inn, surrounded by fresh mountain air, that feels so... good. I realize that I haven’t had a single migraine since I got here. That might be a new record.
Then, I hear something familiar — the opening chords of one of Robbie’s hit songs. And a beautiful voice singing along.
I recognize that voice.
I check the clock — 10am. With a smile, I hop out of bed and grab a shirt. But, at the last second, I fold it away. Stefi and I are at the point now where she just laughs or rolls her eyes at my antics.
The music comes from my dad’s room. I walk to his door and Stefi is turned away, facing the windows. The in-room speakers are turned up just loud enough to match Stefi’s singing. But all I can hear is her.
“Didn’t get enough at the concert last night?” I ask when the song wraps up.
Stefi whirls around, her mouth open. Her cheeks turn pink and her dark eyes are wide.
“Coop! I wasn’t expecting to see you. I mean— your door was closed, I thought you must be out with your dad.” She shakes her head, but she can’t hide the blush coloring her cheeks. “I’m just reliving the moment. Wondering if it was all just a dream…” She trails off and her gaze travels up and down my body. “Apparently it was just a dream. Because you wearing a shirt simply isn’t reality.”
I laugh. “And here I was thinking that you’d be dreaming of me with my shirt off.”
Stefi’s cheeks turn even brighter pink and she turns away. She fiddles with the huge pile of pillows and blankets on my dad’s bed. The interior decorator here at Legacy clearly loathed the thought of any guest being without multiple pillows at all times. I would bet that there are enough pillows on my dad’s bed to cover the entire bedroom floor.
“Can I help with something?” I ask, wandering over.
“Yeah, actually,” she says slowly. “This bottom sheet is a nightmare, mind tucking it in?”
I grab one end of the sheet and frown at the bed for a moment. It’s been a long while since I made my own bed. I remember my mom trying to instill “good values” in Brody and I when we were kids by making us do random tasks around the house. That kick lasted all of two weeks. Preferring everything to be pristine, Mom hired Daniella and her team to clean our mansion daily, and I was out of a job.
I liked making my own bed, being responsible for picking up after myself. A part of me was disappointed when Mom insisted that we didn’t have to do it anymore.
I tuck in the corner of the sheet closest to me, wrapping it firmly under the mattress. Then, I reach out to tuck in the other corner. But, the first corner comes loose. I frown and do the first corner again before carefully reaching to tuck in the second.
The first corner whips back towards me.
“Having trouble?”
I hear the laughter in Stefi’s voice. I look at her and she’s smirking at me with her arms crossed. The sun casts a warm, soft light across her face and it strikes me again how beautiful she is. Even in that shapeless Legacy Inn uniform.
“No, I got this,” I say defiantly.
I bite the inside of my cheek in concentration and stretch to tuck in the corners.
They both boomerang back out from under the mattress.
Taunting me.
Stefi chuckles.
“Maybe you could give me a hand?” I suggest, laughing.
Without a word, Stefi grabs one corner while I grab the other. Together, we manage to tuck the stubborn edges under the mattress once and for all.
“Thanks,” she says, her full lips in a smile. She begins to fluff some pillows. “I do also want to say thanks for last night. The concert. You didn’t have to do that.”
I pick up a pillow and follow her actions, pressing the sides together to fluff it. “It was nothing. Really. Like I said, I’ve known Robbie for years.”
“It wasn’t nothing to me.” She looks at me then, and her hazel eyes seem endless.
My heart thumps in my chest, my words sincere. “It was my pleasure.”
Stefi smiles and picks up another pillow. A comfortable silence falls between us as we fluff the pillows, laying them one by one on the bed.
“What should we make for lunch today?” Stefi eventually asks.
“Lunch? I haven’t even had breakfast.”
She turns to me with her mouth open. “Tell me you weren’t sleeping. Did I wake you up?”
I turn away, trying and failing to keep the smile from my face. “The Stefi alarm clock never fails.”
Whomp!
Something big and fluffy hits me in the face.
I turn around in shock and Stefi has a pillow in her hands. A mischievous grin spreads across her face.
“Did you just...?” I smile wickedly and pick up one of the biggest pillows on the bed. “You’re going to pay for that.”
I lunge towards Stefi with my pillow raised. But she’s too quick. She squeals and dances gracefully around the side of the bed. I follow her, raising my pillow, but she darts around me before whipping around to get me square in the stomach.
“Ooh, two-nothing,” she says in a sing-song voice. “That’s gotta hu—”
She gets a pillow to the side of the head and I burst into laughter. She blinks a couple of times and laughs with me.
“You’ve asked for it now, Cooper Monroe!”
She dives towards me, two pillows raised for combat. Within moments, we are in a full-fledged, no-holds-barred pillow fight. She launches pillows at me while I attempt to build a pillow fort on the bed for protection. Then, I dive towards her, but her reflexes are fast. She manages to elude most of my hits, prancing around the bed and hiding behind the gigantic wood vanity.
After a stand-off that ends with me getting a pillow to the face and Stefi tripping over a blanket, we collapse into laughter on the bed. We’re gasping for breath, our heads tucked into the mostly demolished pillow fort.
“You’re fast, Stef,” I wheeze.
She props herself up on her elbow, recovering quickly. “That’s what all those school extracurriculars do to you. And being captain of the girls’ dodgeball team.”
I prop myself up to face her. The pillows above our heads form a barrier, letting in the slightest amount of sunlight while protecting us from the outside world. I feel like I’m a kid again — wild and free and having fun. The usual pressure to be perfect — all of the rules and expectations — are gone. I just feel like… me.
“That was fun,” she says shyly, reading my mind. A ray of light shines through the pillow fort, illuminating the side of her face. All of a sudden, I have the strangest thought — a part of me wants to kiss her.
“I always have fun when I’m with you.” The words escape me before I can think them.
Stefi’s eyes go wide and her lips clamp together.
“I mean,” I stammer. Now I’m the one who feels flustered. “I mean that it’s fun hanging out with you. Because, you know, I’m trapped here and going kind of crazy. But, I feel like you make it better. I’m... glad I met you.”
A small smile cracks over Stefi’s lips and I can’t help but smile with her.
“I think I know how you feel,” she says softly. “I often feel trapped, too.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” She lays on her back and I lay next to her, just close enough that my pinky finger grazes hers. I’d make the argument that the pillow fort isn’t wide enough for me to move over, but I’m not entirely sure that’s true. “It’s different, of course. I’m not physically trapped at a mountain Inn for months on end. But my family situation is a little... interesting.”
“I thought you said you needed more interesting in your life.”
She exhales in a dry laugh. “Well, that’s one place that I wish would become more boring.”
I turn my head to see that she’s frowning, her mouth set in a grim line. She looks so sad, so upset, and a part of me hurts for her. I’d never considered that Stefi might feel the same way that I do.
I
open my mouth to ask her more about her family when her expression clears. She sits up, blasting through the top of the pillow fort.
“Yah!”
An explosion of pillows collapses around us and I burst into laughter.
“Come on.” She stands and holds out her hand, any hint of sadness gone from her features. “Let’s put this room back together and make some lunch.”
19
Cooper
“Order up!” I holler as I place a plate full of pork, vegetables and noodles on the kitchen counter. I switch off the stove and wipe my arm across my forehead.
“Lunch is served!” Stefi yells, bringing the plate to the dining table.
I wipe my hands on a dish towel and walk to the wall control for the kitchen speakers. I turn down the volume on Stefi’s playlist: “Robbie Cohen’s Greatest Hits.”
Stefi and I have been singing along at top volume while making a massive pan of my favorite food — Korean Japchae. This recipe is one that I hold near and dear to my heart. My mom is half-Korean and she used to make these noodles whenever one of us had a bad day or if we were feeling down. She called it her “comforts of home” meal.
With the music at a comfortable volume, I take a seat across from Stefi at the dining table. The table is tucked into an expansive alcove with big windows along three of the walls. Sometimes, you could almost believe that you’re suspended in mid-air.
“Bon Appetit,” Stefi says shyly, her French accent perfect.
“Jal meokkessumnida,” I reply. “According to my mom, that’s what they say in Korea. Fitting for your first Korean culinary experience.”
Stef grins and tucks into the Japchae. “This is so GOOD!”
She slurps up a long strand of glass noodle and then blushes, embarrassed. But it makes me laugh — she’s so unashamedly herself. We talk about everything and nothing as we enjoy our meal. Conversation always comes so easily with Stefi. I often wonder if we could ever run out of things to say to each other.
The Complete Legacy Inn Collection: Four Sweet YA Romances Page 40