The Perfect Homecoming (Pine River)

by London, Julia

  Emma picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Look, I’m sorry if anyone was offended,” she said, but she wasn’t really sorry at all. It was reflex, old habit, to say sorry when she wasn’t. You think you’re so cute. That used to be one of her mother’s favorite lines to her when Emma said something she apparently wasn’t supposed to say. You’re not that cute, girl. You better watch that mouth. You better lose that tone. She wasn’t sorry for something she couldn’t seem to change about herself no matter how she tried. And for the record, Emma never said anything to be cute—she’d said what she had today to be helpful. Emma liked Dani. Was it the way she’d said it? That she didn’t couch it in the vague, touchy-feely language of women?

  Story of her life, assuming people wanted to hear the truth.

  Emma walked down the hall to the entry. She took a coat off the rack and donned it, belting it tightly around her. She picked up a pair of earmuffs from the communal basket and donned them, too, and was sliding her hands into her gloves when the sound of the doorbell startled her. No one ever rang the doorbell. Until this moment, Emma didn’t know they even had a doorbell. The people who came to the ranch generally just walked inside.

  “Will you get that?” Libby shouted at her.

  Emma pulled her earmuffs off and let them rest around her neck, then opened the door.

  She would never know how much time actually passed before she managed to speak. Later, she would remember how her heart hitched with a little thrill of excitement at the sight of Cooper Jessup on the other side of that screen door, peering down at her, his dark hair hidden under a ball cap, the scruff of a beard on his chin. And then the panic, the sheer panic.

  Her mind raced through all the improbable reasons he would be standing there in a canvas coat, jeans, and hiking boots, patiently taking her in, top to bottom. She hadn’t seen him since almost a year ago in Beverly Hills. For a brief moment she wondered if it was coincidence, but that was impossible—how could he even know about this ranch?

  She stared up at his dove-gray eyes, his almond-brown hair, and at last said the first word that came to mind, a truncated question of how or what had brought him here, what spirit had divined him, if he was in fact a ghost or a figment of her imagination. But all that she could manage to get out was a singular, impatient, “What?”

  “Well, hello to you, too, Emma,” he said, unaffected by her brisk greeting. “You remember me, right? I was hoping I’d catch you here. Have you got a minute?”

  A tingling sensation began to crawl up Emma’s spine. As thrilled as she was that he should come in search of her, there was no way that this could be good. No way could this be anything but very, very bad.

  At her lack of response, he arched a dark brow. “Hello?”

  Emma snapped out of it, retreating quickly into her turtle shell. “I don’t have a minute. I’m on my way to work.”

  “Really?” He looked surprised. “Not even a minute? Because I’ve come all the way from LA just to talk to you.”

  “Hello?”

  Libby had appeared from thin air to stand behind Emma. She peered at Cooper curiously, as if she were trying to recall him from some long-forgotten function.

  “You don’t know him,” Emma said. “But take all the time you need to get acquainted. I have to go.”

  “One minute, Emma,” Cooper said as she pushed open the screen door, forcing him to step back. “Like I said, I’ve come a long way.”

  “Oh?” Libby asked, her voice annoyingly full of delight. “You did? Are you a friend of Emma’s?”

  “Don’t, Libby,” Emma warned her. She stepped through the screen door, brushing past Cooper.

  “Slow down,” Cooper said. “Please.”

  Emma stopped on the top step and glanced back at him. “All right, what do you want?” she asked, and looked at the man’s watch she wore loosely around her wrist.

  “Emma!” Libby exclaimed, horrified as she always was by Emma’s abruptness. “You don’t need to be in such a hurry. It’s not a real job—”

  “Yes, it is a real job,” Emma insisted with a withering look for Libby. Okay, so she’d had to talk her way into it and she wasn’t being paid for it. But it was where she wanted to be, and it was honest work. It was important work. It wasn’t a White Party for Chrissakes.

  “I mean, it’s not like you have to punch a clock,” Libby clarified. To Cooper, she said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—Emma, can’t you at least introduce us?”

  “Introduce who?”

  Good God, here came Madeline to gape at Cooper, too. Emma was not going to do this. She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t going to watch hopeful Libby and disapproving Madeline study Cooper. She wasn’t going to watch Cooper smile and chat them up. She wasn’t going to pretend that Cooper was some old friend and introduce him around. She didn’t owe Cooper Jessup money. She’d never slept with him. She hadn’t asked him to come, and she wasn’t going to stick around now just to be polite. What was the point of that? In the end, he would—well, who knew what he would do or why he was here, but Emma could hardly catch her breath, and she wasn’t going to stay and find out. “There went your minute,” she said to him, and started jogging down the steps.

  “Where are you going?” Libby shouted.

  Emma turned to answer and was startled to find Cooper practically on her heels. “What’s the hurry?” he asked in a silky, cool voice. “You’re running off like you just robbed a bank.”

  “The hurry is that I’m in a hurry,” Emma said. She began to stride across the drive to her car. The four dogs that resided at Homecoming Ranch crawled out from beneath the porch with dusty fur and their tails wagging furiously to impede Emma’s progress as they sniffed around her feet, delighted to have company.

  Cooper leaned over and scratched the biggest one behind the ears. “You’re in such a hurry I’m wondering if you’re trying to avoid something,” he said, and smiled.

  It was a startling smile, and it reminded Emma just how devastatingly sexy he was. It knocked her off center a moment, but she quickly righted herself. She never allowed herself to sway off the precarious point that had become her center. The fall was too great.

  “You’re not trying to avoid anything, are you, Emma?” he asked, stepping closer. “You have nothing to hide, right? Nothing that maybe belongs to Carl Freeman?” He watched her closely.

  Holy shit. Emma’s heart began to pound painfully in her chest. Carl had sent Cooper up here? He’d finally stopped calling her, and she’d thought . . . she’d thought it was over, the whole ugly thing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her calm tone amazing her.

  “You know Carl, right?” Cooper asked, his gaze laser sharp and completely fixed on her.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So he says you have something of his, and he asked me to come and get it back.”

  Now her heart was absolutely leaping about with panic. It was just a stupid old medal! It had been dusty and shoved off in one corner of his messy dresser, and it had looked as if it hadn’t been touched in years! Why was he making such a big deal out of it? “I don’t have anything of his. I hardly know him. How did you know where I was, anyway?”

  “How?” Cooper glanced over his shoulder at Libby and Madeline, who were standing together at the top of the steps like two extras in a film, eagerly awaiting their cues. Cooper turned his gaze back to Emma and leaned in so close that she could see the stubble of his beard beginning to emerge. “Seems you mentioned Colorado during a little pillow talk. I did some checking around.”

  “Pillow . . .” Now Emma could hardly draw a breath. “Wow, and here I thought you Thrillseeker guys were more on the ball than that, Cooper. I hardly know Carl Freeman. He’s obviously confused me with someone else, because I definitely don’t have anything of his.”

  “You sure about that?” Cooper asked. “Because
judging by how sure Carl is, and how all the color has gone from your pretty face . . . plus the fact that you appear to be shaking a little, I’d say that you do have something of his. So why don’t you give it to me, and I’ll disappear from this quaint little town and this scenic mountain dwelling, and you can go back to your not-real job or whatever it is you’re doing up here.”

  Emma was going to faint. She squatted down and petted the four dogs who were absolutely nuts for attention from anyone, just so that she could find her breath. When she had it, she rose up again, fixed her gaze on Cooper as she’d fixed it on a thousand other men, and smiled. “Like I said, you’re talking to the wrong person. Now, I really have to go to my job. My totally real job.” She turned around and walked to her car. She had to fight the strong urge to sprint, and moved at her usual, languid pace. She climbed into her car, turned the ignition, and started down the caliche road, headed for Pine River.

  She never once looked back.

  Her hands were shaking so badly she had to grip the steering wheel with all her strength to keep from shivering her way off the road.

  THREE

  As he watched Emma’s white Mercedes bounce down the road, Cooper was reminded of that over-the-top bat mitzvah last year, that deserted kiddie lounge, and the expression in Emma’s eyes. He’d thought many times about the way she’d looked at him that night—like she wanted him and loathed him at once—wondering what it meant, what was going on in her golden head. With some hindsight, he’d decided it was a strange mix of want and trepidation.

  He’d just seen that look again.

  He felt a touch to his shoulder and turned around. Two pairs of blue eyes were staring up at him. The women bore a slight resemblance to each other in the color of their hair and eyes.

  “I’m Madeline Pruett,” said the one with straight, long, black hair and bangs. Her eyes were vivid blue. She extended her hand. “And this is Libby Tyler,” she said of the other, whose eyes were a lighter shade of blue and her dark hair very curly. “We’re Emma’s sisters.”

  “Sisters?” he repeated, a little surprised by that. He’d uncovered a stepsister in LA. Laura Franklin was starring in a soap opera, and she’d laughed a little when he asked if she’d seen Emma. “No. Would you think me a really horrible person if I told you I don’t know or care where she is?”

  Cooper had assured her that was none of his business, and had assumed the sisters had a rocky relationship.

  “She’s very difficult,” Laura had said. “Something isn’t quite right about her, you know? Buy me a drink, and I’ll tell you about it.”

  Cooper had thought it an odd thing to offer—someone was looking for Laura’s sister, and she was casting around for a date. “Let me take a rain check,” he’d said. “So no idea where she might be?”

  “No idea,” she’d said, smiling prettily.

  “Your mom?”

  “She hasn’t talked to her, either. They don’t talk so much.” Laura had stepped closer to him. “Like I said, buy me a drink.” She’d smiled in a way that made Cooper think she was offering more. But he’d left it vaguely open, having no desire to have a drink with her.

  He’d had no idea Emma had more sisters. No one had mentioned them.

  “Half sisters,” the one with curls clarified, as if reading his mind. “I’m so sorry that she, ah . . .” She winced a little, as if searching for the right words.

  “Took off,” Madeline finished for her.

  “She was in a rush,” Libby said apologetically.

  Madeline looked at Libby sidelong, then at Cooper. “So! Are you two . . . ?” She made a swirling motion with her fingers. “Connected?”

  “No,” Cooper said.

  “Then—”

  “Oh, hey!”

  None of them had heard Danielle Boxer walk out onto the porch. Cooper knew her because he’d taken a room at her lodge. The Beaver Room, to be exact, the creepiest room in the history of quaint inns. It had been fashioned to look like a beaver den, he supposed, with thick pine planks in the walls and a bizarre pine-stacking around the fireplace that looked like giant pickup sticks.

  Ms. Boxer was the one who had told Cooper where Emma was staying, but he was still surprised to see the innkeeper here. This ranch seemed pretty far from the business of running her establishment, which, to this point, had appeared to be a one-woman endeavor. He wondered if Ms. Boxer had come up here to warn Emma he was asking about her.

  “Mr. Jessup!” Ms. Boxer said cheerfully as she walked across the porch to join the sisters. “If I’d known you were going to come out so early, I would have offered you a ride.”

  “He’s a friend of Emma’s,” Madeline said as if it were impossible to believe, while eyeing him curiously.

  “I think “friend” is a little optimistic,” Cooper corrected her. “I know Emma, but only casually.”

  “Oh!” said Libby brightly. “Are you a wedding planner, then?”

  That question was so far beyond Cooper’s ability to absorb that he could only stare at her.

  “Of course not,” Madeline answered for him. “I’m guessing law enforcement.”

  “Oh my goodness, she’s not in trouble, is she?” Ms. Boxer asked. “We’ve had enough trouble with Libby here—”

  “Dani!” Libby cried.

  Now his curiosity was aroused, wondering what sort of trouble that curly-haired sister might have had. “I’m not law enforcement,” he said.

  “Whatever you do, why don’t you come in for some coffee?” Madeline asked. “Maybe we can help.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t have a lot of time. Would you mind telling me where she’s working?”

  Madeline and Libby looked at each other. “Is she in some sort of trouble?” Libby asked.

  “No,” Cooper said, shaking his head. She wasn’t yet, anyway. “There’s been a slight misunderstanding, that’s all.”

  “What sort of misunderstanding?” Madeline asked.

  “You’ll have to ask her. I just hope to get it cleared up as quickly as possible so I can get on with some work I have in the area. If you could tell me where she’s gone, I’d really appreciate it.” Cooper smiled as charmingly as he could.

  Madeline and Libby exchanged another wary look, but before either of them could decide how to answer, Ms. Boxer said, “She’s gone into Pine River. She’s keeping Leo Kendrick in the afternoons.”

  Madeline gasped. “Dani!”

  “What?” Ms. Boxer asked. “That’s where she is, ain’t she? Leo lives on Elm Street, Mr. Jessup. I don’t remember the house number, but you can’t miss it. Little green house with a fence.”

  “Dani, please don’t say any more,” Madeline said, more forcefully.

  “That’s all I need. Thank you,” Cooper said. “Nice to meet you all.” He turned and strode for his rental car.

  In his rearview mirror he could still see the women standing on the porch steps, the lights of the Christmas tree twinkling in a window behind them. They looked as if they were arguing.

  He shook his head and turned his attention back to the road. He should have said no to Carl, he thought irritably, a straight-up, no. But after meeting with Carl that day, Cooper had gone back to the TA offices—offices that were littered with baby bouncers, stuffed dinosaurs, diapers, and baby wipes. Even the trash can that had once served as a makeshift basketball goal had been turned into a diaper pail. Cell phones were considered toys, and it didn’t matter whose cell phone, either.

  As Cooper tried to tell the guys about his meeting with Carl, he had to do it over the singing Elmo that was being persistently shoved in his ear by one of Michael Raney’s twin toddler boys, Braden or Brodie—Cooper couldn’t tell them apart most of the time. The twins had come only a year after Michael’s wife, Leah, had given birth to Daisy. It was a damn rabbit warren at their house.

  Cooper had been more
impatient than normal; he’d be the first to admit it. And he’d made a remark about the noise level in the office. He was pretty sure he’d said something along the lines of, “Elmo is distracting me,” but it might have come out, “Braden and Brodie are worse than the monkeys in Costa Rica. Get Elmo out of my face before I drop-kick him out the window.”

  Of course Michael had gotten his back up. “Hey! No one calls those two monkeys except me,” he said, pointing to the boys as they fought over a truck.

  “You know what you are, Coop? Jealous.” This, from Eli McCain, another of Cooper’s partners, and the father of little Maya. “I know what you want,” he’d casually continued in that West Texas drawl he’d never managed to lose after all these years in LA. “You want a wife and kids like the rest of us. Only you’re too bullheaded to admit it.”

  That remark had rankled Cooper even more. These guys assumed just because they’d started producing offspring like some Future Farmers of America program, he must want the same thing. It so happened that Cooper had no idea what he wanted, but he did not want to babysit on the job. “I’ve got nothing against your slide into a soft belly and endless TV, Eli,” Cooper said. “But we specialize in staging extreme sport outings for the rich and famous. This,” he said, gesturing around him, “does not convey extreme sport or rich or famous. This looks like a romper room.”

  “Chill out, Coop,” said Jack Price, the fourth and final Thrillseekers partner. “We get most of our business online or by phone. No one comes to the office. No one is tripping over strollers except you. And Michael’s boys only come once a week.”

  The twins came to the office on the day that Michael was “in charge” of them. Michael believed he was being a supportive father and husband, but in truth, he brought the tots to the office to be ruled by an inattentive committee of four grown men. It was remarkable to Cooper that Michael, who had always had such a sharp eye for detail, never seemed to notice the havoc those two wreaked. They were into every cabinet, every drawer. They liked strewing paper about and losing keys, and even that day, as Michael perused the contents of the fridge, Braden had lost interest in the truck and was laughing hysterically as he pummeled Cooper’s ass with his little fists. At least, Cooper thought it was Braden.