Cooper looked at him. “What do you know about heavy thoughts?”
Old Archie grinned and opened his mouth to say something, when his old lady, Anita, slid onto the stool next to him. Old Archie immediately frowned at her. “Woman, what are you doing here?”
She grinned and shrugged. “Thought I’d join you tonight.” Anita turned that lopsided grin of hers on Cooper. “I’ll have what he’s having. He’s paying.”
Cooper grinned and started to pull her a draft while he watched Old Archie’s reaction to Anita showing up.
It was fair to say that Old Archie was an alcoholic. He liked his drink and he made no apologies for it. He’d been married and she left him, taking their kids with her when she drove out of Hartwell for good. Things had gotten bad for Archie for a while, but then he’d met Anita. Anita didn’t care that Archie liked his drink. All she cared about was that he was loyal to her and he loved her.
Cooper knew Old Archie loved Anita.
But there were days, like today, when Old Archie loved the drink more.
As Anita talked about some television show she’d been watching, Cooper saw Archie surreptitiously lean to his other side where Anita couldn’t see, clearly counting the money in his pocket. He frowned and snapped up straight, shooting his old lady a glower. “Woman,” he said, interrupting her, “what have you done to your hair?”
Anita frowned back at him, her hand hovering over her head. “I cut it. Last week,” she snapped.
“Well, I don’t like it.”
“What do you mean you don’t like it? You didn’t even notice it until now.”
“And I don’t like it.”
“What’s wrong with it?” she practically yelled, and a few of Cooper’s other regulars turned to watch the older couple.
Cooper crossed his arms over his chest, suspecting he knew exactly what Old Archie was up to.
“It’s too short. You look like a boy.”
“I do not look like a boy, Archibald Brown.” She hopped up off the stool. “If you’re in a bad mood, I’m going home. Sleep on the couch tonight.” She stormed away.
“I like your hair, Anita!” Hug, a painter and decorator who had gone to school with Coop’s mom, shouted out as she passed.
“Thank you, Hug.” Anita preened, touching her hair. She threw a smug glower back at Old Archie, but he was too busy grinning into his beer to notice.
As soon as the bar door slammed shut behind Anita, Cooper shook his head at him.
Old Archie’s grin got bigger. “What? If she’d stuck around I could only afford two more beers. Not I got four more to look forward to.”
“And a cold couch.” Cooper turned away, laughing at the way Old Archie’s face fell boyishly at the realization.
“That was mean,” Riley, his bar staff, said from the other end of the bar.
Lily, one of his waitstaff, dumped a tray with empties on the bar and glowered at Old Archie. “It was beyond mean. Anita looked real upset, Archie.”
“Ah, she’ll be fine.” He waved them off, but Coop saw the flicker of guilt in his eyes before he lowered his gaze to his beer.
“Quiet tonight,” Riley said, strolling up the bar to him and Lily. “Can’t wait for the season to kick in.”
Cooper had four bar staff working for him—Riley, Kit, Jace, and Ollie. Riley and Ollie worked nights, Kit and Jace worked days. There was Crosby, his cook, and four waitstaff—Lily, Isla, Bryn, and Ashley. During high season, everyone, including Cooper, worked more hours.
It was a lot of responsibility, but he didn’t mind. He was good at that shit.
But it could get tiring.
Which made the thought of dating a woman who didn’t need him to be responsible for anything more than making their time together enjoyable very appealing.
As if he’d conjured her, the door to Cooper’s opened and in stepped Jessica Huntington. He drank in the sight of her.
Her long blond hair was now dry. There really was a lot of it. It spilled down her back in thick waves. Those big gorgeous eyes of hers moved around the bar, drinking in the sight of the locals, who stared at her curiously. She smiled at them and then looked over at the bar, and that pretty smile widened when she caught sight of Cooper.
He nodded at her.
His heart beat a little faster, a little harder.
“Hi, Cooper,” she said.
Damn it, his name had never sounded so good. “Hey, Doc.” He gave her a small smile back. “Nice to see you again.”
She didn’t smile. In fact, she looked a little nervous. He tensed as she leaned over his bar toward him. “Do you have a minute to talk?” Riley, Lily, and Old Archie all leaned in toward them in curiosity. Cooper ignored them, but Jess looked bemused by all the attention. “Perhaps in private?”
“Yeah, I’m thinking in private would be best.” He gave Riley a look. “Watch the bar. I won’t be long.”
“Sure thing, boss.” She grinned knowingly at him.
He ignored her, more concerned about what was up with the doc than about being subjected to his staff teasing him. He gestured to Jess to meet him at the end of the bar. She walked around, smiling at Old Archie, who grinned at her like a pubescent boy, and met Cooper at the end. He placed a hand on her lower back and guided her through the Staff Only door. “We can talk in my office.”
Once they were inside the small, cramped space, and the door had closed behind them, Jess moved away from his touch. She turned to him and he couldn’t help taking a moment to enjoy looking at her. She wore a fitted black leather jacket, a dark pink shirt underneath it, and black skinny jeans. She was also wearing those sexy-as-hell high-heeled boots again.
Her pretty features were taut with tension.
Cooper immediately stopped thinking about how good she looked as his earlier concern came back. “What’s going on, Doc?”
“Uh . . .” She glanced around. “Can we sit?”
“Sure.” He gestured to the chair behind her and he strode by her to sit on his desk. “Now, what’s going on?”
Jess stared up at him and he tensed at the compassion he saw in her eyes. “I mostly came here for my vacation, but there was another reason I chose to come to Hartwell.”
Curiosity definitely piqued, Cooper nodded at her to continue.
“As you know, I work at the Women’s Correctional and Rehabilitation Facility in Wilmington.” She paused to open her purse and pull out four little envelopes. “A few weeks ago I found these letters inside a book from the library. They were written by your mother’s cousin, Sarah Randall.”
Shock froze Cooper to the spot.
“I didn’t know she was your mother’s cousin until last night. Bailey told me of the connection.”
Sarah Randall. Jesus Christ. He hadn’t known her—she died before he was born—but his mom was only a few years younger than Sarah and they’d been close. She’d thought of her as a big sister. Coop knew from how choked up his mom got when talking about her cousin that the crime she’d committed, killing her husband, had had a huge impact on her. It changed his mom.
He didn’t have the most positive feelings toward the woman because of that.
At his silence, Jess leaned forward in her chair. “These letters are for George Beckwith. You will of course know the story there.”
Everyone in Hartwell did.
“I’m not sure it’s right for you to read them. It wasn’t right for me to see them, I guess, but I did. Now I feel it’s only right that George gets them. But Bailey also convinced me you had the right to know the truth at least.”
“And what truth is that?”
“That Sarah was blackmailed by Ron Peters into marrying him. He had evidence that George’s father, the senator, was involved in criminal activity. He said that if he was exposed George would lose everything. Sarah was just a kid and naive and
she stupidly gave in to Ron. He was very abusive. The night she shot him, it was because she knew he was going to kill her. It was self-defense. These letters . . . She wanted forgiveness, Cooper. From George and probably everyone she loved. She needed forgiveness and she died before she could mail them out and get what she needed.”
Cooper narrowed his eyes on Jess. There was a lot of passion in her voice for someone she didn’t know—it was almost like she was defending his mother’s cousin. “No one knew why Sarah married Ron. Now we know. But my mother and Sarah’s family knew something wasn’t right in Sarah’s marriage. They suspected he was abusing her and they tried to help her. My mom said Sarah was so changed by the marriage that she kept everyone at a distance. This . . .” He waved his hand at the letters. “Look, my mom was a good woman. She would have forgiven her because she’d already guessed that Ron was abusive. But she was hurt that Sarah cut them out, that she didn’t go to them for help. It changed her. I didn’t know Sarah, but I can’t forget the way my mother got when she talked about her. I believe, no matter how hard things were, she had other choices available to her. My mom and our family were one of those choices. Sarah made the wrong choice.”
More than that, Cooper knew what it was like to see a woman be beat down in every way by a man, and at no point in all his own mom went through would she have ever considered taking the road Sarah Randall did.
Jessica stared up at him with those big eyes and he saw something change in them. He didn’t know what it was because he didn’t know her well enough, but he got a feeling that it wasn’t good.
That was made clear when she abruptly stood up, shoving the letters into her purse. “Okay,” she said in that quiet voice of hers. “Bailey just . . .” She shrugged.
Sensing she might be feeling foolish for coming to him, Cooper cursed himself and reached out to touch her arm to halt her departure. “Thanks for telling me, though. I do appreciate it.”
When she lifted her gaze to his, he frowned. Something was missing from her expression. Something warm that had been there before was now gone. She gave him a tight smile. “I should go.”
Shit.
He’d fucked up. He must have sounded too harsh. “Doc, you obviously feel compassion for the woman.”
“You disagree with me, though.”
“Yeah, but compassion is not a turnoff.” He grinned.
Flirting with her didn’t work. She gave him another weak smile. “I really should go.”
Annoyed by her retreat but determined to prove to her he wasn’t some unforgiving asshole, Cooper touched her arm again. “I was hoping you’d be free Tuesday night to grab some dinner with me.”
Jessica gave him a pinched smile as she moved away from his touch. As she pulled open his office door she said, “I can’t. I have other plans.”
Before he could say anything to change her mind, the doc was gone.
And Cooper was confused as hell.
If Jessica Huntington hadn’t known Sarah Randall, why did she feel strongly enough to be pissed off at him for not . . . what exactly? He knew her crime wasn’t completely black-and-white, but still . . .
Yesterday Jess was interested in him. He could tell. She’d felt the connection that pulled at him.
Now she was retreating over a few letters written by a woman she didn’t even know.
What the hell was that all about?
EIGHT
Jessica
The sun spilled out over the water and the sand, transforming the boardwalk from a soothing gray to a vibrant scene. It also brought out dog walkers and sunbathers. High season hadn’t quite hit, but tourists were starting to appear.
I sat on the balcony outside my room staring out over the ocean. The sea breeze moved through my hair and I reveled in the peace.
Seriously . . . I’d had no idea how much I was missing a sense of serenity in my life. I’d never have absolute peace, yet I was soothed by the knowledge that few people ever would. But back in Wilmington I never had anything like these quiet moments, these little ocean drops of contentment. I honestly hadn’t even known it was a possibility for me. Maybe because I hadn’t been actively seeking it for fear I’d find something more ominous in the quiet.
After Cooper’s disappointing reaction to the revelations from Sarah’s letters I found myself enjoying the peace more than ever. His lack of compassion had cast a pall over my attachment to the boardwalk town and I wanted to be like the sun and blast the grayness out.
It was difficult and I couldn’t work out why. Why was I so disappointed and affected by his grim dismissal of Sarah’s complicated situation? I barely knew the man!
My phone rang, pulling me from my frustration. It was Fatima.
“Hey. Aren’t you supposed to be working?” I said in greeting as I wandered back into my room, closing the balcony doors behind me.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation? You sound depressed. What’s up with that?”
I made a face. I even sounded depressed? Well, that was just wrong. “I’m fine,” I chirped.
“That was so fake my teeth hurt.”
“Your teeth hurt?”
“Yeah. Like too much sugar in fake frosting.”
“Okay, strange lady, what can I do for you?”
“I was just checking in to see how the vacation was going, but I can tell it’s going well. Not.”
Sighing, I flopped down on the bed. “It was going well. I really like it here. It’s peaceful. Pretty. The people are nice.”
“So what happened?”
With another heavy sigh I found myself telling her about Cooper and his reaction to the letters.
Fatima huffed, “So her cousin’s son who never knew her doesn’t give a shit. Does that mean you let that ruin your whole vacation? Remember you’re there for you, not Sarah. So quit moping around and enjoy the fact that you’re not working in a place with too many bitches.”
“You know I hate that word.” I scowled.
“I know,” she said, amusement in her voice. “That’s why I said it.”
“Despite using that derogatory term,” I said, all uppity because I really did hate that word, “you’re right. I’m on vacation. I’m going to enjoy it. And that means getting off the phone with you so I can get dressed for the day.”
“Nice talking to you, too,” she said with no small amount of snark.
I grinned. “Are you and Derek well?”
“Yeah, Jess, we’re well. Now go va . . . cate? No, that isn’t right.”
I chuckled. “We’ll talk later. ’Bye.”
Once we’d ended the call, I threw my shoulders back with renewed determination. Fatima was right! I was on holiday. I needed to remember that, forget about Cooper, and enjoy the break away from the real world.
Bailey was nowhere to be seen at breakfast and a waitress named Natasha told me that it was the owner’s day off. I’d smiled. Good. I was glad my new friend had decided to take a day off after all.
I was going to spend the day walking around Hartwell and getting to know it better. Strolling out of the inn, I slipped on my sunglasses and enjoyed the gentle heat on my skin as I walked down the porch stairs. Hitting the bottom step, I smiled in surprise when I saw Bailey striding through the front gate toward me.
“There you are,” she said with a big grin. “I was worried I wouldn’t catch you.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Nope. Screw it, I said to myself this morning, I’m taking a day off. No one is checking in or out today, there are kitchen staff, waitstaff, and cleaning staff in and out all day if a guest needs something, and I have my phone on me if I’m needed.”
“Good for you.”
“So I thought we could hang out.”
My day was looking up. “I’d love that.”
“Great.” Bailey started leading me out onto t
he boardwalk. “I cannot tell you how much I treasure my day off.”
“You haven’t found anyone to cover the management job yet?”
“I’m sort of picky.” She shrugged. “I have to feel something from someone . . . you know, like, I can trust them.”
“Sure.” I spotted Hart’s Gift Shop and noted it was still closed. “Damn. Will that shop open soon? I really like the stuff in the window display and there’s a doll I want to get my goddaughter.”
“Dahlia’s?” Bailey smiled. “Sure. She’s on vacation, but she’ll be back soon.”
“You know her well?”
“Of course. She’s one of my best buds.”
“Wow. That must be nice. Working so close to your friend.”
“It is. Dahlia is a great person. She makes and sells her own jewelry. I’m sure you’ll love it.” She touched the silver necklace she wore. It had a long thin chain and the pendant was a beautiful silver cherry blossom tree. “She made this. My dad calls me Cherry,” she explained with a smile and I read the love for her friend in that smile. If I were to go by the craftsmanship and detail put into that little tree I’d say Dahlia loved Bailey.
“It’s beautiful.” I felt a wistfulness come over me. I didn’t have anything like a best girlfriend in my life. Matthew and I were close, but he lived so far away. Fatima was also a good friend but not the hang-out-on-the-weekends or share-deep-dark-secrets kind of friend.
“You okay?” Bailey frowned at me.
“I’m fine,” I assured her with a grin. “Where are we off to?”
“Well, I was thinking we could walk around and then— Oof! Jesus Christ!” Bailey stumbled back when a guy came barreling out from an alley between buildings and straight into her. He caught her, steadying her, and I watched as recognition lit both their faces.
He immediately let go of her and she glared up at him. “Tremaine,” she sneered.
He smirked. “Miss Hartwell.”
For a moment they just stared at one another, animosity pouring off Bailey. It was so the opposite of the version of Bailey I’d been getting to know that I was immediately taken aback and then intrigued to discover who the man was. I studied him as he stared back at Bailey in amusement. I raised an eyebrow as I finally got a clearer picture of him.
The One Real Thing (Hart's Boardwalk) Page 8