“Absolutely.”
Phoebe narrowed her eyes. “But you don’t know if you want it?”
“It’s a lot to take in. I’m thinking.”
“Huh.” She sat down on the foot of the bed. “Interesting.”
“Interesting, why?”
“Because the Cooper I know would have headed straight from his attorney’s office down to his old stomping grounds, grabbed his badge, and demanded to be put on the schedule.”
“Well, it’s all still a little fresh, Phoebs.”
“But it’s your badge, Coop. It killed you to turn that thing in.”
“I know.” He took a deep breath. “But they’re not going to rescind the offer if I wait another twenty-four hours, so you can relax.”
“Is there a reason it’s not an easy decision? Like, anything in particular?”
“Um, no. Just need to think things through.”
“So, like, there isn’t anybody in particular you’re thinking things through about?”
He paused. What the hell was she talking about?
“If you could speak English here, I might be able to answer your questions.”
Phoebe laughed. “You’re being purposely obtuse, and we both know it. Did you meet someone this summer who’s maybe making your decision harder? Someone maybe you’d like to be with? Who maybe doesn’t live in Boston?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Cooper made himself busy straightening up the papers that had seemed to take over the motel room. Of course he had. And of course she was the reason he had no frigging idea what to do right now.
He knew she was in town. He knew where she’d been every day since he’d left her Whisper Creek cabin—had even looked up footage of her two concerts this week—and he’d been dying a little bit inside every hour he wasn’t with her.
He’d done the right thing, letting her go. He knew he had. Her tour had ramped up nicely, her ticket sales were up, and he had to admit, she’d looked like her old self in the videos he’d been playing all morning. Her Tara self, that is. If she wasn’t happy to be on that stage, belting out those popcorn lyrics, he sure couldn’t tell by looking.
Yes, he’d done the right thing. She’d recaptured the hearts of America, she was going to tour the country and make the money she needed to get out from under whatever debts held her strangled, and eventually, she’d forget all about her few weeks at Whisper Creek.
Eventually, she’d probably forget all about him, too.
He’d done the right thing.
“That pile’s already straight, Coop. Just saying. And also, you’re avoiding the question.”
“Maybe I don’t like the question.”
“Fine. No more questions. Instead, I’ll tell you I’m going to a concert tonight.”
“Which concert are you going to, Phoebe?” He made his voice robot-like, just to annoy her, even though his stomach was ping-ponging around inside his skin. Was she going to see Shelby? Tara?
Phoebe snorted. “Seriously. You know exactly which concert I’m going to.”
“I would know this, how?”
“Because even if you were trying to be obtuse, your spidey-cop-senses would have sniffed it out by now.”
“Nope. Sorry.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Can you look me in the eye and tell me you don’t know who’s in town tonight?”
Cooper sighed. She knew he knew. In a fit of optimistic delusion, he’d even thought about trying to figure out how to contact her through her tour personnel last night, because the only person he’d wanted to talk to after he’d heard Lionel’s news was…her. He’d even dialed a number he’d found on her website, but he’d chickened out before it had rung on the other end, because really? What would he possibly have said?
Hey there. Case closed and I’m a free man. Any chance I can rescind all of that nonsense I spewed before I left, and convince you to take another chance on an ex-cop who never should have said goodbye?
Yeah. Probably not that.
He took a breath, setting his jaw. “I don’t know who’s playing tonight.”
“You’re not looking in my eyes.”
“Am too.”
“Are not. You’re looking at my eyebrows. It’s not the same thing.”
“Phoebe?”
“Yes, Cooper?” She smiled devilishly.
“Shut up.”
“I love you, too, moron. And also, I need a ride to the show. But good news! I got you a ticket, too.”
“I’m not—no.” His gut twisted painfully. “I can’t do that, Phoebs.”
“It’s okay. My friends can deal, as long as you don’t act like a big dork. You won’t, right? Because I already promised them you wouldn’t. Also, I told them you’d never let me go, unless I had a police escort. But bam! You’re police again!”
“Phoebe—”
“Coop, you’ve had her music on nonstop since you got back here a month ago.”
“Not true.”
“Looking at my eyebrows again. Just saying.”
“Can I repeat the part about shut up?”
“Sure, but it never works.” Phoebe stood up and pinched his cheek. “Come on. It’ll be fun. You know you’re dying to see her.”
“In a stadium with how many thousand screaming teenagers? No, not exactly what I had in mind. I’d prefer something a little more personal, thanks.”
“So you do want to see her.”
Cooper took a deep breath through his nose. “You are absolutely insufferable.”
“It’s a gift.” Phoebe grinned, then sobered as she looked at him. “Holy crap.”
“What?”
She felt dramatically for the bed, then sat down. “You—omigod! Cooper! You totally fell for her, didn’t you?”
“No idea what you’re talking about.”
“My. Eyes. Are. Right here.” She pointed to her face. “Oh, wow. Oh, my God. My brother’s in love with Tara Gibson.”
Cooper shook his head. “Now that is not true.”
“I can see it in your eyes, moron. You are—like—in deep, aren’t you?”
He tipped his head, closing his eyes in mock pain. “Insufferable. Did I mention that already?”
“You have to come with us tonight. You have to.” Phoebe tapped her foot, her eyes squinting as she undoubtedly came up with a capital-P Plan. “Ooh! I know! First, go pick up your badge. Then you can flash it at the security peeps and get backstage after the concert!”
“Can’t do that. There will already be uniforms on-site, and they’ll know which uniforms are supposed to be there.”
“Okay. Hold on. Ooh! We figure out where the backstage entrance is, and we wait there afterward for her to come out.”
“I’m not going to accost the poor woman in a dark alley, Phoebe. I don’t even know if she’d want to see me.”
“How could she not want to see you? You’re—you!”
Cooper pulled her into an awkward hug, then rubbed his fist on the top of her head in brotherly noogie fashion.
“Thank you. I appreciate your loyalty.”
She batted him away, fixing her hair as she rolled her eyes. She stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment, then crossed her arms.
“Do you want to see her, Coop? Pretend I’m an adult, not your annoying fourteen-year-old sister for a minute. Answer me like I’m all grown up, not just a frighteningly mature teenager.”
He paused, counting three long breaths in and out, then he closed his eyes.
“Hell, yes.”
Phoebe clasped her hands together, a huge smile breaking over her face. “Language, buddy.”
“You started this.”
She got up and started pacing, door to window, window to door. “But you really don’t want to go to the concert?”
“It’s not the right way, Phoebs.”
“So where would she be today? Before the show? Think we can figure out which hotel she’s staying at?”
“No. Sh
e’ll be there under an assumed name.”
Phoebe’s eyebrows went up. “And there’s no chance she would have picked a name that only you would figure out?”
“You really need to stop watching so many romance movies, hon. No, I would have no idea what name she might pick.” Or if she’d even see me.
“One of the horses at Whisper Creek, maybe?”
Cooper laughed. “No. Definitely not.”
“And we have a crap-ton of hotels in this city, anyway. Damn. No way we would find her in time.” She looked at her phone. “Concert’s in five hours. She’s probably sitting in some gorgeous suite on the top floor downtown, longing for her Whisper Creek love. You can’t let her just leave town tonight, can you?”
“I don’t want to, but I’m not sure I have a choice, Phoebs.”
“Somebody has to know where she is.”
Cooper looked out the window, shifting so he could see past the brick next door to a little swath of green. It was one of the city’s tiny parks, a hidden gem among tall buildings, and he’d sat here for a lot of hours wishing that patch of green was the kind of rolling, endless green he’d learned to love in Montana.
“What are you looking at?” Phoebe came to stand beside him.
“Just the little park across the highway. Breaks up the cement-and-brick view, if you lean just right. Helps me think.”
“Charming.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to be critical here, but time’s ticking, and you staring out a window isn’t getting you any closer to Ta—Shelby.”
“I know.” He sighed, then stopped his breath halfway out.
Holy—
“What’s wrong? You look like you’re about to have a stroke.”
Cooper felt the edges of his mouth tip upward as a slow realization crept through his body. He nodded slowly, and the smile grew bigger as he tapped on the window frame with his fist.
Maybe Shelby wasn’t in some downtown hotel suite.
No.
If she really wanted to see him, she’d be in the one place only he would look.
“Hey, Phoebs?”
“Scared to answer. Just saying.”
“Want to go for a walk?”
“Depends. Why?”
He rolled his eyes, slapping a Sox hat on his head as he grabbed his room key. “True love, kiddo. Or something like it.”
Chapter 30
Shelby picked a spot near the river—off the paved pathway and quiet enough to be heard, but still open enough to be found, if anyone was looking.
Please, Lord, let someone be looking.
She’d snuck out the delivery door behind the hotel, a city map in one hand and her guitar in the other. With her floppy hat and big sunglasses, she was pretty sure nobody would recognize her, especially if they were looking for Tara Gibson’s dark hair and glitter, but her nerves were jumpy, all the same.
In New York, she’d made a pact with herself—throughout the remainder of this tour, she’d go out onstage as Tara, but she’d be damned if she was going to lose the Shelby she’d found over the past couple of months. And that meant she needed to play her music, on her terms, to her audience.
And just like when she was a kid trailing along behind her daddy, that would mean sneaking out of hotels in disguise, traipsing to the nearest little park, and playing for whoever happened by. If they stopped to listen, great. If they didn’t, that was okay, too.
She wouldn’t be playing for anyone else, after all. She’d be playing for a mom she still missed, even though that mom had died from her own selfish jealousy. She’d be playing for a dad whose voice she still ached to hear—whose voice she knew she would always ache for. She’d be playing for memories, for lost moments, for love.
She’d be playing for her.
She sat down on a metal bench, wishing she’d brought something to feed the ducks that waddled close, hoping for a handout. The sun was bright, but the breeze coming over the water made her shiver, even though it had to be in the eighties. The path was busy with runners and walkers and moms with strollers, and she left her guitar in its case, unsure she was really going to follow through with her plan.
Yes, she was out here in this park in a valiant attempt to stay connected with her own self. But in all honesty, she knew she was really out here in an attempt to connect with a man who had turned her entire being upside down in the span of less than a month. After all, if he knew her at all, he’d know to look for her offstage.
If he was looking.
If he even knew she was in Boston at all.
She lifted her chin and let the rays of the sun warm her skin. She hadn’t slept all night—had lain awake in a huge, sterile bed thinking about the one person who’d taken her dark world and poured paint buckets of color into it, only to pick up his brushes and go home—though not by choice—at the end of three weeks.
Three weeks.
She still couldn’t believe that was how long she’d known him. She’d heard of insta-love and insta-lust and insta-everything else, but she hadn’t believed in them. Not ever. Not even when she sang about those very things on the Tara stage.
Well, she believed in them now.
“This seat taken?”
A deep voice made Shelby jump, almost knocking off her glasses, and she looked up, dying to see Cooper’s amused smile.
But no.
The man who’d spoken was tall, lanky, and blond—with a smile that probably kept his phone blowing up with interested women—but he wasn’t…Cooper.
Shelby forced a smile. “Actually—I’m waiting for someone.”
Essentially, that was true, right? I mean, Cooper didn’t actually know that, but still. She was waiting.
“Oh.” Ken-doll’s own smile faded, then amped back up. “Need some company while you wait?”
“Thanks, but I’m good.” She shook her head. “Just going to enjoy the peace and quiet for a minute.”
“Okay.” He turned slowly, like he wasn’t used to being rejected, and Shelby almost felt bad for denting his ego.
“Have a nice afternoon,” she called as he walked away, but he just waved a hand at her without turning back around.
“Ouch.” A deep voice to her right had her spinning toward it, and again her stomach tried to launch itself up her throat. “He did not take that well, but I kind of liked it.”
She squinted, since the guy was backlit, but even in shadow, she knew this wasn’t Cooper, either. Wrong voice, wrong build, wrong everything.
Dammit. She was in a city of over six hundred thousand people. Had she really thought she could just find a random park bench in the middle of this huge metropolis, and somehow, he’d find her?
The guy stuck out his hand. “Thanks for meeting me. I’m Ryan. You must be Gwen.”
“Um, no. Sorry.” She cringed, realizing the guy thought she was his blind date of some sort. “Wrong bench, I think.”
“Oh-h. Seriously?”
“Dead serious.”
“So…Tinder? Hot cocoa in the park? Not you?”
Shelby shook her head. “Definitely not me. Sorry.”
“Huh.” He looked out at the water, then back at her. “Well, what’s your name?”
Seriously?
“Not Gwen.”
Ryan put up both hands and stepped back. “Gotcha. Good talk.”
And then he was gone, and Shelby looked around nervously. Maybe she’d made an epic mistake, coming out here by herself. She didn’t really feel any sense of danger—there were people everywhere—but the chances of Cooper finding her had to be just about nil.
The chances of random guys hitting on her were currently two for two, however.
Then an unsettling thought occurred to her. Maybe this was known locally as some sort of hookup park. Maybe—she shifted uneasily—maybe this was some sort of hookup bench she was sitting on. Thus the guys.
Great.
She looked at the watch Daddy’d given to her on her fifteenth birthday, then frowned. She didn’t have t
ime to figure out another place to go, and hookup or no, this spot was gorgeous. She just needed to take a deep breath, get out her guitar, and pray that the right person would come by.
She had one hour.
He had one hour.
—
“Cooper, my feet are killing me.” Phoebe grabbed his elbow as they left the third park he’d tried. “Can you please tell me why you’re trying to cover the entire acreage of Boston in one hour?”
“Because I have to find Shelby before tonight, and this is the only way I know to do that.”
“Why would she be in some random park in a city she doesn’t know? Is that a—like—thing for her?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, smiling as he thought about how her face had lit up when she’d talked about her father’s impromptu concerts. “If anything’s a thing for her, I’d bet my left pinky finger that this is a…thing.”
Phoebe pulled out her phone, tapping on a map, then almost tripping as she tried to keep up with his long strides. “There are a freaking lot of parks in this city. Just saying.”
“I know.” Cooper sighed, slowing down so he didn’t kill the poor girl. “That’s the problem.”
“We need a bigger search crew.”
“Well, we don’t have one.”
“We could have one.”
“I’m all ears.”
Phoebe tap-tap-tapped into her phone. “Don’t you have Boston PD at your disposal now?”
“Um, no.”
He might have a job waiting for him—and he did, according to his captain, who’d called this morning—but what he didn’t know was who might be waiting for him. Raymond had a lot of friends who’d profited from his little enterprise, and not all of them had been caught in the dragnet. Some of them might still think it’d be good to teach certain cops a lesson about going after fellow cops.
And Cooper didn’t need any more frigging lessons, thanks very much.
“Okay, no police network.” She nodded, then brightened. “How about a teenaged network?”
“No.” He shook his head. “If she’s out here somewhere, she’s out here undercover. Putting out some citywide teen APB is exactly what we can’t do.”
“Okay. I get it, but I bet you my pinky we’d find her before the police would, anyway.”
“You’re probably right.” He elbowed her. “And thanks for your help. But I think we’ve gotta do this the old-fashioned way.”
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