“Of course you care,” she said instantly. “You asked me, didn’t you? And then I asked around. The least you could do is listen to what I learned.”
He shrugged, looked up. “If you insist on sharing.”
After a silent moment, Sophie’s eyes narrowed. “I see what you did. But since you agreed to pay the entire tab for the piña colada song band, I’ll forgive you.”
“When did I agree—” He sighed. “Whatever. Just get on with it.”
“It’s not much,” she admitted. “Sorry. But word is, he was a Marine, and recently got out of the service.”
So yeah, as he already knew, a military man. A fine, upstanding citizen. “No additional gossip? Like he’s cheating on her or something?” The words came out of his mouth and he wished them instantly back. Willow didn’t deserve that.
“Not a peep,” Sophie said. “Nice guy, nice family, nice—”
“All right, I get it.” He wouldn’t let all that “nice” bring him down.
“Well, gotta go,” Sophie said. “Walk me out?”
“Sure,” he said, aware he might run into the designer. But he agreed anyway, because pre-Willow that’s exactly what he would have done. And after all, he’d accomplished that boxing of inconvenient feelings so there was no need to hide from the woman. Cooper Daggett didn’t duck.
Hmm. Kind of a catchy phrase to live by.
With a wave, Sophie bopped out the front door before he’d even caught sight of Willow. He glanced around, then his heart slammed against his ribs.
Because she was perched on top of a ladder, he told himself, not because she was in tight jeans like he’d imagined, thin denim cupping her curved ass like a lover’s hands. Maybe he made a noise, because she suddenly glanced down and around, causing the ladder legs to wobble.
His stomach too. “Careful,” he said, leaping forward to steady the device. He fisted the metal edges instead of running his palms along the sides of her thighs like he wanted. “What do you think you’re doing up there?”
“My job.” She returned her attention to the wall and he saw that she was applying painter’s tape to lines penciled on the boring white wall. Her plan, as shown by the sketch shared by Georgia, was to add a black grid background then scatter over it some retro-styled fluorescent shapes—a good match for the popular pinball machines and classic video games that brought in his customers.
“I didn’t know you’d be doing this yourself,” he said. “You should have asked for help.”
Over her shoulder she sent a smile.
Unsteadying him once more, damn it.
“I don’t always do the hands-on work,” she said, “and I have a couple of guys who’ll paint the concrete floor for you after hours, but this is fun for me.”
“Nice,” he muttered, which reminded him of her fiancé and he felt guilty for the fact he was staring at her ass again, in all its high-and-round glory.
Forcing his gaze away, he gave himself a mental shake. Then cleared his throat. “I should have said congratulations.”
“Oh?”
“Best wishes,” he corrected himself, remembering the manners his mama had taught him. “Regarding your engagement.”
“Oh.”
He glanced up at her, noting her back was straight and her hands were still. “I hope you’ll both be very happy.”
“Brad’s right for me,” she said, her voice quiet. “My early childhood…for a long time I felt I wasn’t important to anyone.”
Could such simple words pierce a man’s gristle and bone and find a soft center he didn’t even know he had? Could it be that easy to gut him?
Cooper swallowed, then pulled in a breath, trying to ease the ache inside. “You deserve to be someone’s one-and-only,” he said. “I’m glad for you.”
She began to pull on the roll of tape, then smoothed a length down with practiced movements. “We want the same things, Brad and I.”
“Right.”
“Security. Belonging. Marriage and family.”
“I get that.” He saw it all so clearly. “I get you.”
Now she turned her head. Their eyes met. “I think you do.”
“I want all those things for you,” he heard himself say, and couldn’t regret how personal that sounded…how intimate. How it also indicated that he wasn’t the one who could provide for those deep, serious needs of hers, no matter the heat that pumped through his veins when she was near.
“So you really have yet to set a date?” He had to ask.
“Soon.” She turned her head to keep working on the wall.
“I see a beach wedding in your future,” he said, the image of her in bridal white taking over his mind. “Bare feet. And one of those dresses with layers and layers of that ballerina stuff…what’s it called?”
She threw him an amused glance. “Are you talking tulle, Cooper Daggett? This must be a first.”
The teasing sparkle in her eyes didn’t deter him, not when he could picture it so clearly. “And a big wedding bouquet,” he continued. The vision even had a scent. “An armful of white roses and orange blossoms.”
“So trad—”
“Have I lost track of time?” a voice boomed out, interrupting Willow. “Because my younger son rarely rises before noon.”
“Dad.” Keeping one hand on the ladder, Cooper turned. Despite their oft-expressed differences, he was happy to see the older man looking no different than when he’d left on that long vacation those months ago. “I thought you and Mom weren’t due back until tomorrow.”
“Why not keep pushing through, I told her,” Randy Daggett said. “We got in around midnight.”
“Welcome home.” He held out his right arm, and gripped his father’s hand. “You’re both well?”
“Perfect. Your mother’s sleeping in, and I expected that you would be too. I just happened to be walking through town.”
Checking to see if Fun & Games was still in business, Cooper thought, mentally shaking his head. “I’ve got a few more employees, including a manager now, which means better hours for me. Not so many late nights.”
His father didn’t look impressed, not that he expected that of him. “Ah.” Randy inspected his son up and down. “I’ll tell your mom you seem to have survived the last months without her cooking.”
“Please don’t,” Cooper said. “Because I’m dying for her stew, Dad. Chocolate chip cookies. That pasta thing with the cheese inside.”
“You don’t change, do you, son?”
Cooper’s hackles instantly rose. Maybe it wasn’t intended as a criticism, but damn, he heard the faint thread of condemnation in his father’s voice. “I’m still not Beau, that’s for sure.”
The older man’s expression closed down. “I didn’t bring your brother into this conversation.”
“He remains the corporate golden boy and I remain the guy who—”
“Never takes anything seriously. Who puts his money into a bar.”
There it was. Cooper narrowed his eyes. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“But it was some laundromats that one time and then the wine business and after that—”
“As a matter of fact, I’ve got another idea I’m pursuing,” Cooper said, working to keep his tone even and his temper in check. He tried reminding himself his dad was of the mindset that success was only guaranteed by working for The Man. “This place is going well and I have some extra cash—”
“You should put it into a retirement fund or buy yourself a couple of suits and start applying…”
“—for a new business.” Cooper spoke over his father. “I’m going to buy a vintage vehicle and retrofit it as a roving cocktail truck.”
“You’re going to what?” His father didn’t pause for an answer. “That sounds risky.”
Cooper shrugged. “No risk, no reward. Sophie might want to get involved too. It’s a nice fit with her catering side gig.”
Randy sputtered. “Your sister caters, yes, but she’s working on her MBA part-time.”<
br />
To prepare herself to turn her catering side gig into a full-time concern, maybe even a chain of restaurants someday, Cooper thought.
“You shouldn’t involve your sister in your…schemes.”
Cooper closed his eyes. His “schemes” made real hard cash, but his father wouldn’t rest until his sons’ paychecks came courtesy of some stuffy corporate entity. “Dad…”
A rocking movement under his hand sent his gaze upward. Willow. He’d half-forgotten her in the usual, frustrating ebb and flow of conversation with his father. Cooper tightened his grip on the metal rail and watched her back down, his free hand hovering over her in case she took a wrong step.
“Who have we here?” his dad asked, his tone turning warmer.
“You might consider this in the category of putting lipstick on a pig, Dad, but Willow Ray, an interior designer, is adding some style elements to Fun & Games.”
“I wouldn’t say lipstick on a pig,” his father murmured in token protest. “Hello, Willow.”
Feet now on the floor, she turned and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Daggett.” Then she smiled at Cooper. “I ran out of painter’s tape. I have some errands, so I’ll pick up more and return this afternoon.”
“Right. Great.” He ran a hand through his hair, wishing she hadn’t witnessed the scene with his dad.
“Interior designer, huh?” the man asked now, with a smile of approval for Willow. “My wife and I watch a lot of those home renovation shows. We’re always amazed at what the professionals can do.”
“She’s not going to be able to renovate me, Dad,” Cooper muttered under his breath. And in any case, she had a man who was perfect for her and those things she wanted. Those things Cooper wanted for her.
Willow glanced at him. “I’m intrigued by your idea of the cocktail truck, Cooper.” Then she turned her attention to his father. “Your son is a very creative businessman, Mr. Daggett, as I’m sure you agree.”
“Er…” His dad wore the expression of someone boxed into a corner. “He’s always gone his own way, I can tell you that.”
“And I admire him for it,” Willow said. She cast her glance back at Cooper. “Well, see you later.” Then she leaned in, popped onto tiptoes, and pursed her lips, aiming for his cheek.
He saw it in slow motion. The lean, the pop, the pursed lips.
Maybe his brain was trying to protect her from his two-day old scruff of beard. Maybe his sexual instincts took the reins. Maybe his heart provided the final nudge—Cooper Daggett didn’t duck.
In any case, at the last instant, he angled his head and their mouths met.
The vestibule lit with a white hot light. Angels belted out a heavenly note. His fingers cramped into fists.
And then she was gone. Leaving him looking at his father and pretending his ears weren’t ringing and the nerve endings in his lips weren’t singed. Leaving him pretending his and Willow’s unfinished business, which he’d securely boxed away, hadn’t just sprung from its container to make front-and-center trouble for him once again.
Her call was answered almost immediately, and relief rushed through Willow. “You picked up,” she said, smiling at the interior of her car, parked outside the Sawyer Beach hardware store. She’d spent an hour there selecting several items she needed.
“I picked up,” Brad said, sounding puzzled. “You called my phone.”
“I…” Now she felt foolish. “I just wanted to hear your voice,” she finished lamely.
“Is something the matter?”
I kissed a guy. But she couldn’t say that, because it wasn’t as if she’d intentionally gone for Cooper’s lips. She’d aimed for his cheek, and the man moved his head just at the wrong time.
Except it felt so right.
“Willow?”
“Maybe you could meet me for lunch?” she asked. Spending more time with her fiancé would calm her and put that incidental moment far behind her. Spending enough time with him to set a wedding date would set her course straight once again.
“Ah, honey, sorry.” Brad’s voice sounded contrite. “We’re having a working lunch, the entire office.”
“Of course, of course,” she said. “No problem.”
He hesitated. “I don’t like disappointing you. I’ve never wanted to disappoint you, or anyone.”
“Oh, Brad.” She rubbed the spot between her breasts. He’d intended—a goal heartily approved by his father—to be a career Marine officer like the older man before him. “This change of plans is not your fault.”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Sure.”
A diagnosis of Meniere’s disease had caused his separation from the military. Of unknown cause, the bouts of recurring vertigo had been impossible to ignore. And even under control with medication as it was now, that control wasn’t reliable enough to allow Brad the life he’d planned on as long as he could remember.
It had been a life she’d planned to support and live as well, but when he’d been forced to seek out something new, she’d been secretly glad. It meant her man would be safer and more often at home with her and the children they’d planned. Brad, on the other hand…
Nothing had been the same between them in months and months and months.
Still, she granted him the physical space he seemed to need from her while giving him her loyalty and love. The love she’d felt for her best friend that had grown since the day they’d met when she was twelve years old.
A love as sweet as that sugar cookie she’d been given in Brad’s kitchen.
“Maybe we can have an early dinner,” he said now.
She jumped at the offer, since she’d been the one suggesting all the lunches and dinners they rarely managed to arrange. “I’d like that.”
“Okay.”
“You could come to my place,” she said, already planning a menu for a cozy evening at home. It could strengthen their shaky ties.
“Let’s meet at the new café by the county beach,” Brad countered. “You said you wanted to try it.”
She didn’t bother with disappointment. At least they’d be together. “That’s fine.”
They agreed on the time, then she ended the call and let out a breath. Dinner was hours away and before that she needed to go back to Fun & Games. Before that, she at least needed a hit of caffeine.
The ever-popular Harry’s was directly across the street.
The temptation of a coffee beverage was too strong to resist, though she was fully aware that Cooper’s sister could very well be manning the espresso machine.
Willow was right on that score, but the place bustled, and Sophie barely spared her a glance as she handed over her coffee. Willow stepped to a seat by the window and sipped slowly, picking at the nuts in the small bag she’d also purchased, her gaze trained idly on the sidewalk.
The people-watching diverted her enough that she was surprised when Sophie dropped into the vacant chair next to hers. Looking around, she realized the crowd had lessened to a handful of patrons occupying tables here and there.
The lunch hour was over. Time to get back to work, she told herself.
But she didn’t mind putting that off when Sophie said, “My dad stopped in a while ago and told me he’d met you.”
Cooper’s father. She hadn’t been able to help overhearing the conversation—witnessing the tension between the man and his son—and she’d felt bad for them both.
“That’s right,” Willow said, her tone noncommittal.
“He wondered if something was going on between you and Cooper.”
“Oh.” Because of that kiss. Her cheeks burned as she recalled the accidental meeting of their lips. What had possessed her to initiate the affectionate gesture anyway? Why did the memory of it have her heart beating hard and her breath catching in her lungs? “We’re just friends, of course. I’m engaged.”
“Right. I heard that.” Sophie hesitated. “My dad liked you right away, though. He was worried. You don’t appear to be my brother’s usual type, bec
ause he, well…”
“He can’t even commit to a color of paint for his living room walls?” Willow said, remembering his words when she’d toured his condo.
Sophie smiled. “You understand, then. He doesn’t go for, uh, deep romances. He’ll be the first to tell you he likes to keep his relationships on the fling side. You know, simple and shallow.”
“Cooper’s not shallow,” Willow said, sounding defensive. She winced. “Sorry. I—”
“No, no, he’s not.” Sophie’s brows rose. “I’m glad you can see that. Women tend to look no further than his charming surface.”
“A man that hard-working? Who has been a part of more than one profitable business? I was surprised your father seemed so unimpressed with what he’s accomplished.” She put her hand over her face for a moment. “Again, sorry. They were talking this morning, right below my ladder, and I…”
“I get it,” Sophie said. “My dad has a big ol’ blind spot, my brother has a big ol’ chip on his shoulder. Consequently, they butt heads.”
“That’s too bad. Family is…everything.”
“They both know that too,” Sophie assured her. “I have hopes for them figuring this out. In the meantime, maybe it will be the making of my brother to have a woman in his life like you.”
“Like me?”
“One who appreciates him, who sees beyond his handsome face, but that he can’t distract with sex.” Sophie grinned. “If you ask me, he uses all that physical appeal of his to keep the ladies from getting too close.”
He had physical appeal all right, Willow thought glumly, and tried smothering thoughts of that kiss again. “Why would he do that?”
Sophie shrugged. “Innate male fear? You let somebody in, then they can break your heart?”
“Men,” Willow said, with sudden irritation. “Why do they make everything so difficult?”
“A question for the ages.” Sophie laughed, then tilted her head. “How about an escape from them with a girls’ afternoon? A few of us are heading up to my parents’ lake house tomorrow. We’ll swim, swill sangria, and solve several pressing issues on bathing suit styles, hair conditioners, and when the hell we’re going to take over the world.”
Willow hesitated for barely a second. “I’d really like that.”
ANTE UP (7-Stud Club Book 3) Page 8