Meant to Be

by Maggie McGinnis

  “All right.” Hayley sighed again. “I guess we’ll just have to make something up.”

  “Cooper calls me the exiled princess of Neverlandia, if that helps. You could go with that.”

  There was a sudden silence in the room, and Shelby watched all four women trade quick glances they were obviously hoping she wouldn’t see.

  Then Jess smiled softly. “Cole used to call me princess, too.”

  “And look how that worked out.” Kyla winked.

  Hayley looked at Shelby, then hopped up and went to the kitchen, coming back thirty seconds later with a full glass of water. All of the other girls laughed as she waved it under Shelby’s nose.

  “Drink up, princess.”

  —

  The smell of Cooper’s grill the next night jolted Shelby out of a long, hot bath that she hadn’t—thank you very much—taken in preparation for his arrival back home from the trail.

  She hadn’t.

  Also, she hadn’t used her best bubble bath, or painted her toenails, or put a bottle of wine in the fridge just in case.

  She hadn’t.

  But the sizzle of burgers on his grill had her hopping out of that tub like it was on fire. The sound of his contented whistling made her smile like nothing had in weeks. And the thought that maybe tonight he might possibly kiss her had her stomach in quivery knots.

  I mean, she had no idea, but a girl could hope, right?

  Of course, he’d just spent three days with guests who—according to Hayley and the others last night—could be pretty intent on adding a cowboy to their scorecards while they were out here in Montana, but Cooper wouldn’t do that.

  He wouldn’t.

  Would he?

  She sighed, roping her hair into a ponytail and pulling on one of the sundresses she hadn’t wanted Nic to pack.

  Then she took it off. Too obvious?

  She put it back on. It was cute, dammit.

  She stopped short of putting on perfume, then took a deep breath before pushing open her back door.

  “Took you long enough,” Cooper said, a smile on his face.

  “Are you using burgers to lure me out here?”

  “Absolutely. It worked.” He lifted a bottle of beer toward her. “Can I treat you to drinks? And dinner?”

  “Do you have extra?”

  He laughed. “Really? Do I know you? Would I be out here cooking hamburgers and not have enough for you?”

  Shelby felt her stomach warm at his Do I know you? Because, of all the people she’d ever been around, he actually…kind of did.

  She walked across the lawn and settled in his chair, earning an eyebrows-up glance that made her laugh.

  “I’ve earned the right to your burgers, but not your chair? Is that it?”

  “I think I’ve been pretty clear about that chair.” He smiled. “But since you complimented my spaghetti, I’m gonna give you a free pass. You can sit there. Tonight.”

  “Thank you.” She put her hands together like a martial artist, tipping her head forward. “I will respect the chair.”

  “See that you do.”

  She laughed. “So how was the trail ride? Did you bring back as many guests as you left with?”

  “Don’t know. Counting wasn’t my job.” He flipped the burgers, and she tried not to glue her eyes on his wrists as he did so. “It was good. Fine. The usual.”

  “He says, like someone pulled his teeth without novocaine while he was out there.”

  He shrugged, then put the grill lid down. “I don’t know. It was—a little strange. I’ve been doing those rides for weeks now, and I love being out there. It just felt different this time.”

  “Different how?”

  He looked at her, tracing her face with his eyes. “Different because…I wanted to be here.”

  “Oh.” She swallowed, trying to break her eyes away from his. Failing. “Well, I mean, naturally you’d miss your…burgers. Trail food probably leaves a lot to be desired.”

  “Yeah, Shelby.” He smiled, rolling his eyes. “It was the burgers I was missing.”

  She pointed lamely at the grill. “Well, good news. Burgers.”

  “You know what I kept thinking? While I was riding?”

  “I can’t imagine.”

  “I kept thinking—about that kiss.” He shrugged. “The one you probably already regret, or wish had never happened in the first place.”

  “Oh.” Shelby pressed her lips together, trying not to smile. He’d been thinking of her while he’d been gone? While he’d been hanging out with a ream of single ladies probably wishing they could have him for a night?

  “Oh? That’s all you’ve got?” He winced. “I tell you I can’t get you out of my head, and you say…oh?”

  Shelby felt her whole insides heat up at the consternation on his face. Good lord, he was adorable, and somehow, he didn’t even realize it.

  She made her face as serious as possible before she spoke, then crossed her arms. “So what you’re saying—if I’m hearing you correctly—is that you missed me?”

  “Hell, yes. And I’m sorry if that’s a problem, but—there it is. Yeah, I missed you.”

  “Huh.” She nodded slowly, like she was considering whether it actually might be a problem.

  “Are you enjoying torturing me with these one-syllable responses?”

  “Maybe? A little?” She smiled. “It’s just…I definitely wasn’t missing you, that’s all. I didn’t watch the ridge all afternoon, waiting to see you come up over it. I didn’t check the clock—like—eighteen times today, wondering if the batteries had died. And I definitely didn’t spend any time at all reliving that kiss a hundred times, dying for a do-over.”

  “No? None at all?”

  “Didn’t think of you even once, actually.”

  “Huh,” he said, putting down the grill tools. “Well, that’s unfortunate for me.”

  “I know. Sorry.” She shrugged. “But, you know, if it’ll help you clear your head, we could—I mean, it’s a nice night.”

  He didn’t speak, just raised his eyebrows as he took a slow step toward her. His eyes were intense, but his smile was amused.

  “What do you have in mind? Because—now that you mention it—my head could definitely use some clearing,” he finally said.

  “I, um, figured.” Her voice shook, and she fought not to clear her throat.

  “Any idea how I might go about it?”

  She licked her lips as he came another step closer, and she saw his eyes dart to them. Then he reached out a hand, and the only thing she could do was slide hers into it, and then, before she knew she was moving, he’d pulled her against his body, clamping one arm solidly around her back.

  “I have a couple of ideas,” she whispered.

  “I bet you do.” He traced her jaw with a fingertip, sliding it slowly from her earlobe to her chin, then up the other side. Her legs felt like Play-Doh had moved in to take the place of her bones as his dark brown eyes drank her in.

  He cradled her face, sweeping his thumb slowly across her lips as his other hand slid down her back, pulling her closer.

  And then he kissed her.

  It was a kiss both tentative and possessive, hot and yearning, careful and authoritative at the same time, and she was powerless to do anything but kiss him back. Her hands slid up his chest as his slid downward, and their breaths mingled as they shortened.

  “Jesus, Shelby.” He pulled away just slightly, resting his forehead on hers, holding her still when her hips rocked toward his.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “You’d better not be.” He smiled. “Because holy hell, girl. This is all I’ve thought about since I left.”

  “Really?”

  He backed up another inch. “Why are you surprised?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged carefully. “I mean, you’re all super-hot cop-cowboy with a whole ream of hottie guests at your mercy every week. I’m a mess of a washed-up pop star with a Titanic-sized load of
baggage. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist, and all that.”

  “Ah.” He nodded. “I see what you mean. I should probably think this through a little bit harder.”

  “You probably should.”

  “Okay.” He pulled her tight again. “Thought about it. I’m in.” And then he kissed her, but this time it was all about the possession and authority, and none of the tentative.

  Long, gorgeous minutes later, he lifted his head, kissing her on the forehead as he hugged her to his chest.

  “I really want to say something profound right now, but the stupidest, cheesiest lines are all I can think of.”

  She giggled. “Like what?”

  “No. I’d lose any ounce of credibility I have if I uttered one.”

  “Come on.” Shelby pulled back to look into his eyes. “Give me your cheesiest.”

  He rolled his eyes. “The words ‘Where have you been all my life?’ come to mind.” He grimaced. “For instance.”

  “Wow. That’s pretty bad.”

  “Told you.”

  “Would you hate it if I admitted I actually think it’s adorable that cheesy pickup lines are all you can think of right now?”

  “Little bit, yeah.” He shook his head. “I mean, come on. I’m the big, bad alpha cowboy here, right?”

  “Definitely.” She made her face serious as she nodded fiercely. “The alpha-est.”

  “Fine, princess. Make fun of me. What are you thinking right now?”

  Shelby felt her cheeks go pink, because really? There was only one thing she could think about right now, and that was how to get this particular cowboy inside his cabin and out of his clothes.

  “You’re blushing.” He touched her cheeks with his thumbs. “Which I find adorable. Here you are, the big, bad pop star who has—by all media accounts—had more men than anyone can count, and yet…you’re looking kind of undone by one little kiss.”

  “Wasn’t little. Not undone.”

  “Right.” He nodded. “Of course.”

  “Hey, Cooper?”

  “Mm-hm?”

  “If I pretend to be cold, would you maybe offer to take me inside and warm me up?”

  Cooper’s eyebrows shot upward as the corners of his mouth curved into a slow, dead-sexy smile.

  “Are you cold?”

  She mock-shivered. “F-f-freezing.”

  “Huh. And you think I can help with that?”

  “Well, you mentioned a big bed, a huge hot tub, and—you know—other things.”

  “It is a big bed.”

  “And the hot tub? Also big?”

  “Perfect for two.” He winked. “If you were interested.”

  “I might be. What else ya got?”

  He groaned as he pulled her hips closer. “I did spot some intriguing bottles in the bathroom.”

  “Oh-h.” She let her fingers slide across his nipples. “Like…oils, maybe? For…back massages? Because I could really use a—back massage.”

  “I’m sure we could find something.” His hands circled her bottom, squeezing gently as he rocked her against him. “I’m pretty good at…massage.”

  “Oh, God.” Shelby sighed as he kissed a hot trail down her collarbone. “I’m sure you’re good at a lot of things.”

  He chuckled against her skin, and the vibration traveled at warp speed to her lower half. “I do my best.”

  Shelby groaned softly as his hands slid under her shirt. “Cooper?”

  “Mm?”

  “So, so freezing.”

  He lifted his head, smiling as he slid one hand under her legs and lifted her like she weighed no more than a fluff of cotton.

  “Come inside, princess,” he whispered. “Let me show you just how much I missed you.”

  Chapter 20

  Late the next day, after a night that would be seared into his memory till his dying day, followed by a long afternoon nap with Shelby spooned against him, Cooper stood once again at the grill. Last night’s burgers had gone to charcoal while he and Shelby had tangled in his bed, and he assumed she must be hungry by now, though to look at her, nobody would ever know. Curled up in his chair, with his sweatshirt hooked over her toes, she looked gorgeous, sated, hellishly beautiful.

  And happy.

  He’d never intended to take her to bed. Hell, he’d never intended to kiss her, but once he had, it was like his brain had fled the coop completely. When he should have been pulling back, because Jesus, his life could totally be about to implode again, he’d been pulling her closer. When he should have been walking her back to her cabin, he’d been chest deep in bubbles, knowing he could totally die happy at that moment.

  And when he’d rocked with her as dawn crept softly through the windows, the tips of her hair brushing against his face, he’d never felt more sure that there could never, ever be another woman more perfect for him.

  But sometime late this morning, the guilt had started clawing at him. Who was he to start something here? Who was he to drag her into a web she’d hate him for eventually? She thought his case was over. She thought he was a free, innocent man.

  Unfortunately, she was the only one who did.

  A momentary thought hit him, at the same time it had him scanning the hillside above him, the lodge behind him, and her cabin beside them.

  If someone with a camera got wind of her location, and that someone had the potential to be paid a boatload of money to take incriminating pictures, Shelby Quinn–slash–Tara Gibson—sitting on the back porch of a Montana cabin with a disgraced cop, looking deliciously sated and wearing his sweatshirt—would give that paparazzo a big frigging story.

  He turned off the grill. Maybe tonight they’d eat inside.

  “Think we’re out of gas,” he said, hating that he was lying. “How about we save burgers for another night?”

  “Sure.” She stood up. “You know, there’s a fridge full of food in my cabin, and I have no flipping idea what to do with any of it. Want to see if we can throw dinner together there?”

  Cooper blinked hard, trying to push his doubts and guilt aside until he figured out what to do about it all. Shelby was happy—really happy—and the last thing he wanted to do right now was extinguish that beautiful smile of hers.

  “If you’re comfortable letting a man loose in your kitchen, then…sure. Let’s do it.”

  “I’m comfortable letting you loose in my kitchen. Also comfortable letting you loose in other places. But definitely the kitchen. Yes.”

  A few minutes later, Shelby sat on one of the stools at her kitchen counter, sipping wine as she watched him pull ingredients from the fridge. He felt her eyes on him as he moved, and it made him feel like lasers of delicious heat were hitting him in all the right places. He’d be damned if they could possibly go another round so soon after the last, but his body was saying otherwise.

  “Stop watching me, princess.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re making me nervous.”

  She laughed. “You? Nervous? I wouldn’t have thought it possible.”

  “Well, here I am, wielding sharp objects, and you’re—you know—looking at me. I’m liable to cut something off.”

  “Just make sure it isn’t anything important.”

  “It’s all important!”

  “Of course it is. Sorry.” She sipped her wine. “You know, there’s something very erotic about watching a man make dinner.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Don’t chop off your finger, bozo.” She laughed, pointing his eyes back at the cutting board. “And yes, there is.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Hey, Cooper? I’m really glad Kyla picked you to live next door to me.”

  Cooper laughed. “Me, too, little bit.”

  “And also, I don’t think I want to go home.”

  “Well, that’s understandable. I mean, really. Look, you’ve got a sex slave and a chef.”

  She smiled, but it wasn’t the bright one he’d seen over the past few hours. “Exactly.”
>
  He cleared his throat. “What’s waiting for you at home?”

  Translation: who might be waiting for you at home?

  “I don’t even know. I mean, a big empty house, a big empty cabin, a studio who’ll want me back on the road, an assistant who’ll make it all happen…and a long stream of stages and hotel rooms. Tara Gibson awaits me, like it or not.”

  “And that makes you downright miserable?”

  “It does.”

  “I don’t understand. If you hate this so much, why do you still do it?”

  Shelby sighed. “Because I’m under contract.”

  “But you’re unhappy, you say your sales reflect it, and yet they want to keep pouring money into producing you? Why?”

  “Because I was…huge. And they’re hoping for a comeback. They’re hoping I’ll come up with that all-elusive summer hit that will play every forty-five minutes on every pop station in America. They’re hoping I’ll do a duet with a sixteen-year-old and shoot a video that makes me look like his eighteen-year-old girlfriend. They’re hoping that with enough makeup and glitter, they can cover up the fact that my ship has already sailed, and they should have contracted for one less album.”

  “And there’s no way to buy yourself out of the contract?”

  Her face fell, then shuttered, like there was still something she hadn’t quite told him. But he didn’t want to push—not now, when everything was still so…new.

  “I tried. Daddy tried. They weren’t interested.”

  “What about now? Would they have any sympathy whatsoever, with what’s happened lately?”

  “No.” Shelby laughed bitterly. “Sympathy is not an emotion this particular label understands, and honestly, I need the money. I need the album, and I need the tour, as much as it will kill me to go back out there as Tara.”

  Cooper felt his eyebrows pull together as his assumptions broke into pieces. The woman’s face was on posters all over teenage-bedroom America, and she was hurting for money?

  “I didn’t realize,” he finally said. “I just sort of assumed—”