ANTE UP (7-Stud Club Book 3)

by Christie Ridgway

  With arrangements made, she headed back toward Fun & Games, a new lightness in her step. A dinner with Brad tonight, an afternoon of female fun the next day. What had happened between her and Cooper had receded, put in its place—accidental, inconsequential place—by other activities on her horizon.

  She pushed open the brew pub’s door.

  In one corner, a few patrons were gathered around a video game machine, cheering on one user as the others sipped beers. A couple of women played air hockey, laughing madly as they shoved the puck back and forth.

  Two men occupied a table away from the others. She recognized the profile of Hart Sawyer, wearing the green T-shirt owned by just about everyone, it seemed, in Sawyer Beach. A giveaway from the local grocery place, it read Duffy’s Does It Green & Local. Across from him sat Cooper, his face set in a serious expression that almost made him seem a stranger.

  Still, her heart gave a heavy thump.

  As if he heard it, he glanced over.

  Their eyes met.

  Memory bloomed again. That sweet heat. The spread of chills that ran down her neck and over her chest. Her entire body had hummed.

  Hummed now, just thinking of it.

  Proving that despite her fiercest wish, that kiss refused to be dismissed.

  Chapter Seven

  “You texted you were going to dinner with Brad last night,” Rachel said through Willow’s phone.

  “Right.” Slinging her tote bag over one shoulder, she shut her car door and headed in the direction of Harry’s, the no-surprise rendezvous point for her meet with Sophie Daggett. The other woman had volunteered to drive to the family lake house.

  “Well, how did that go?”

  “It was that new café on the sand. The burgers were awesome and Brad couldn’t stop talking about the thick-cut french fries.” It was practically the only thing he’d talked about, as a matter of fact. Though she’d intended to bring up the subject of their future, he’d clearly been so mired in the present that she hadn’t even bothered introducing the subject.

  She hadn’t felt very chatty herself, still trapped in her reaction to that kiss like it had been sticky paper.

  Rachel cleared her throat.

  Daughter instinct had Willow tripping on nothing. Her almost-mom was going to broach something uncomfortable.

  “I’m going to the lake today,” she said quickly. “Did I say?”

  “You mentioned something—”

  “How about my new sundress?” Rachel had sewn clothes for Willow when she was young, and though the older woman claimed she was too busy raising three kids and doing her job to continue now, she retained a high interest in fashion.

  Catching sight of her reflection in the dry cleaner’s plate glass window, she gave herself a quick inspection. “Slate blue with tiny white flowers, spaghetti straps, and a deep ruffle at the short hemline. The skirt wraps and fastens with a bow under the bodice on the left.”

  “It sounds very cute,” Rachel said. Her tone turned teasing. “Are there going to be any men on this lake trip to admire you in it?”

  She’d know Brad wouldn’t be there, Willow thought, frowning. “Better than men,” she said. “It’s a group of Sophie Daggett’s girlfriends.”

  “Sophie is the barista at Harry’s, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your new client’s sister.”

  She’d promised herself a Cooper-free day, so Willow changed the subject again as she continued down the main street. “I haven’t been to this particular lake before.” The area was dotted with them and they were popular spots for skiing, boating, and camping. Years ago, she and Brad had hiked near one close to their hometown of Curry. “Sophie’s parents have a cabin and a dock. We’re going to laze the afternoon away. I made your famous eight-layer dip.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” Rachel took the bait, heading off on the new tangent. “The dip never fails to please. And Will, I love the idea of you surrounded by a bunch of friends.”

  Well, Willow thought, Sophie’s friends anyway.

  Rachel continued talking, her voice lowering. “I wish I’d managed to help you to find a tight group of girls when you lived with me.”

  Willow slowed. “Rachel, you know that wasn’t something you could make happen for me.” Her self-esteem, damaged by neglect that was mostly benign yet devastating all the same, had held her aloof from others for a long time. Only Brad had managed to make her comfortable, with his solid character and quiet acceptance. A wave of warmth ran through her thinking of how he’d never demanded anything of her. How he’d made her feel she was perfectly fine just how she was.

  He deserved her loyalty, no matter what was going on with him.

  “And you should have dated more,” Rachel added.

  “I had Brad—”

  “You should have dated more,” her almost-mom said again.

  Guilt pinched at Willow. The older woman didn’t know about that first summer when Brad had been away. At the advice of the adults around them, they’d “broken up.” Brad hadn’t objected and after he’d left, she’d gone to those parties and experimented with those boys. But, of course, that hadn’t been dating.

  “Stop fussing,” she told Rachel. “I’m doing well, aren’t I?”

  “You’re doing well. But I have a feeling that good things will come to you today.”

  “Okay.” She laughed a little. Her almost-mom claimed premonitions, and that they always came true.

  “Be young, okay?” the other woman added suddenly. “Do that. Be carefree for once. Let go a little.”

  “Should I pass that along to Hattie?” she teased, mentioning the older woman’s twelve-year-old.

  Rachel ignored that, her tone turning nearly urgent. “Let go maybe more than a little.”

  Willow thought of Sophie’s description of the afternoon. 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.

  “That’s the plan,” she agreed, smiling.

  She was still mulling over the conversation as she approached Harry’s. Maybe she had a premonition like Rachel, because she had the sense there was something delightful on the horizon now too. Even more eager for the afternoon to begin, she slung her bag more securely on her shoulder and pushed open the door. Bells rang out and some of the patrons glanced over.

  Sophie spotted her and waved. “The car’s out back,” she called out. “Follow me.”

  Willow’s spirits rose even higher as she trailed the other woman through the kitchen and toward the rear exit. “I’ve been looking forward to this,” she told her.

  A smile flashed over the petite blonde’s shoulder. “Good. And I hope you don’t mind taking a few minutes to peruse the cabin in a professional sense too. When Mom heard about you, she got this notion to hire you to make some changes there—if you have time for another project.”

  “I’ll be happy to take a look.” That boosted her mood too. She and Rachel were both right. This was going to be a good day.

  Her feet stutter-stopped when she caught sight of an extended-cab truck and the man standing by the bed, placing a cooler inside. “Cooper,” she said. Pausing, he glanced over.

  Why did he have to look so good? Willow wondered. Today, he was out of his usual jeans and wore board shorts, a T-shirt, flip-flops. A man dressed for a visit to a lake.

  Uh-oh.

  “He’s our designated driver,” Sophie said, her voice bright. “That’s okay with you, right?”

  Yesterday afternoon, he’d never approached Willow again after her return to Fun & Games. She’d worked on the wall, nerves strung tight until the happy hour crowd arrived and she’d packed up her supplies and left.

  So they’d never spoken of that unintended kiss. Never spoken since that unintended kiss.

  But it was unintended, just an unplanned brush of body parts. Why did she have to feel so awkward about it?

  “Willow?”
r />   “Of course it’s okay,” she said hurriedly, though she didn’t take her gaze off Cooper as she tried to assess whether he experienced any discomfort. No, she decided, as he went back to packing the truck, smoothly lifting a basket filled with towels.

  He appeared unaffected.

  So why should her day be ruined?

  They arranged themselves in the vehicle, Cooper behind the wheel, Sophie shotgun, and Willow in the second row of seats.

  They were still adjusting their seat belts when Sophie half-turned to address Willow. “Cooper’s promised not to interrupt our girl time.”

  “That’s right,” he said. “Just there to ogle the bikini bodies.”

  His sister swatted his shoulder. “Stop. Your primary job is to kill spiders and then stay out of the way.”

  “I can kill spiders,” Willow offered. “We don’t need him for that.” Maybe he’d change his mind about going then. Her good day could proceed as previously imagined.

  “Ah, Willow, don’t say you want to steal my thunder.” In the rearview mirror, his laughing eyes caught hers. “I don’t have a lot of chances to play hero.”

  What could she say to that? His amused gaze made clear a silly little kiss wasn’t going to ruin his day. “I don’t like mosquito hawks. You can take care of those then.”

  “Crane flies,” he said, starting the truck. “That’s their real name. I’ll shoo them away as well as the arachnids—but beyond that you’ll never know I’m there.”

  She was going to believe him because she wanted to be young, swill sangria, and let go a little. She really did.

  Upon reaching the Daggett lake house forty minutes later, as promised Cooper seemed to disappear. Sophie directed Willow through the rustic four-bedroom, three-bath cabin, with its large sloping lawn leading to a dock extending into the lake. “It belonged to my grandparents,” Sophie explained. “Mom says it hasn’t been touched, really, since their time.”

  Willow took mental notes, deciding the space could be improved with little outlay besides new window treatments to bring in more sunlight and new furniture for the great room. There was a long peninsula in the kitchen that could be removed and replaced with an island if the Daggetts were feeling more ambitious though, among other things. “If you give me your mom’s email address, I can write up a few ideas for her.”

  “Fabulous.” Sophie led her into the kitchen where an old refrigerator was covered with family photos.

  Cooper starred in many of them, as a child, as a teen, holding up a string of fish, flying behind a boat on a waterski. In one he was probably in his early twenties, his grinning face sunburned, his arms wrapped around two of a bevy of beautiful young women.

  “He looks happy here,” Willow murmured.

  “He’s always known how to squeeze the most happy out of every day.”

  Young and carefree, she thought. Cooper’s good at that.

  When the rest of Sophie’s crew arrived, he continued to stay out of sight. They laid out snacks and made an extra-large pitcher of sangria. Once changed into bathing suits, the group headed for the dock, where they spread towels on the warm surface, taking advantage of the shade cast by the awning laced onto a metal framework. They sipped at their drinks as the sun moved across the sky, chatting about nothing. Willow’s body went limp and she let her mind drift, not bothering to shift position when the sun’s rays managed to find her.

  Carefree didn’t mean she’d forgotten to slather on sunscreen.

  One of Sophie’s friends, Gemma, who owned a boutique in town, had brought out a stack of wedding magazines. Three of the six women were looking through them as the bride-to-be, under interrogation from Sophie, described what she envisioned for her big day.

  “Nothing too elaborate,” she was saying. “I don’t want to scare Boone.”

  “As if anything could drive off the big man when it comes to you,” one of the others told her. She glanced at Willow. “Crazy about Gemma, that man is. Sweet as can be.”

  “Nice,” she said, smiling.

  “He wanted a wedding within a week of our engagement,” Gemma admitted. “My mom and my aunt had to disabuse him of that notion.”

  She went on to tell them about the event venue, the menu choices she was contemplating, the table arrangements. Willow let the words lull her into a sort of daze, and she was half-asleep when a tossed ice cube landed on her belly. She shrieked, and sat up, laughing.

  “What’s that for?” she demanded of Sophie, who held another frozen square ready to be launched.

  “You ignored our question.”

  “What question?”

  “About your wedding. What are your plans?”

  “Oh.” Willow didn’t have time to make something up. “I…we…there’s nothing concrete as yet.”

  “Newly engaged?” a redhead, Willow thought she was named Lauren, asked.

  A flush joined the warmth of the sun on her skin. “Four years.”

  The redhead’s eyes widened. “Well.”

  They were all looking at her, with expressions of dismay or curiosity or sympathy, she couldn’t really tell. Suddenly care weighed her down and she felt like a million years old.

  Why had she and Brad taken so long to set a date? They hadn’t discussed ceremony ideas or even honeymoons. Never once had she imagined what she’d wear on her wedding day as she walked toward her groom. It had been about the state of marriage—family—for her, not about any exhilarated anticipation of the I dos.

  But her mouth opened now and words came out. Maybe to save face. Maybe because…

  Well, she couldn’t leave all those other women staring at her like that.

  “It’s going to be a beach wedding,” she said. “So I don’t have to wear shoes. And the dress—tulle. Layers and layers of that ballerina stuff.” A huge bouquet of roses and orange blossoms.

  But she shut her mouth to prevent the escape of additional words as in her mind’s eye she saw that beach, the dress, felt the sand beneath her feet. So real.

  She saw something else too. Someone. And no way would she confess that the man she suddenly imagined herself moving toward to marry looked a lot less like Brad Faber and a lot more like Cooper Daggett.

  Concentrating on his phone, Cooper exited the side door of the lake house’s garage and slammed into a small, heated body. His phone dropped, his hands found slender shoulders, his fingers tightened to steady Willow.

  “Sorry,” he said, taking her in. She’d changed, out of that dress she’d worn on the trip—allowing a glimpse of so-much thigh as she clambered into the truck—into a gauzy, white shirt-thing that he could see right through to a little swimsuit.

  He jerked up his gaze, deciding against cataloging its virtues, or those of what it revealed. “Um, hey.”

  She was staring straight ahead. At his chest. “You’re not wearing a shirt.”

  “It’s hot.” He let her go to swoop down for his phone. “I’ve been cleaning out the garage.”

  Straightening, he gave her face a second look. She was flushed. “Too much sun?” he asked.

  “Needed a little break.” One hand made a vague gesture behind her, the other held an extra-large plastic tumbler of fruit and wine. “They’re talking, and…”

  And likely gossiping about a bunch of people she didn’t know.

  He took a couple of steps to a flat of bottled water stacked against the outer wall and broke one free. “Need?” he asked, holding it toward her.

  “I’m good.” She sipped from the tumbler. “I should let you alone to do your thing.”

  “Or you can come sit in the shade while I try organizing the workbench. You look as if you could use a rest out of the rays.”

  After a hesitation, she nodded, and followed on his heels. Inside, he made her a seat by tossing a ragged cushion atop an old cooler the shape and size of a conga drum. He patted the stool he’d created.

  As she approached, he realized it was a little too tall for her to slide onto, so he put his hands to
her waist to give her a boost.

  And felt her flesh beneath his hands for a second time. Hot.

  He sucked in a sharp breath and the instant she settled on the padding he released her. His hand found his water again and he chugged half of it down in one go. No reason to wish he could usher her out of the garage. Surely a man with his experience could survive a little unwanted sexual chemistry.

  “This is a great place your family has here,” she said. “Sophie told me it originally belonged to your grandparents?”

  “Yeah. I haven’t found the time to visit much lately.”

  “You’ve been busy.”

  “Right. I took today, though, because my manager Grace has got a good handle on Fun & Games. I thought I’d tidy up before the summer season.”

  She glanced around. “Skis, bikes, mopeds, kites, bocce ball, horseshoes. It’s like a sporting goods store.”

  “We like to keep busy when we’re here.”

  Her tumbler came to her mouth again and she took another swallow of the sangria. “The perfect second home for a family.”

  “Not a perfect family, though,” he said, hesitated, then plowed ahead. “As you noticed from that conversation I had with my dad yesterday morning. Thanks for your contribution…sticking up for me like you did. But you didn’t need to do that.”

  And you shouldn’t have kissed me.

  Of course, it was he who had turned his head. He capped the now-empty water bottle and tossed it toward the recycle bin.

  “Maybe I should apologize—”

  “Don’t.”

  “—for my heavy-handedness with your dad.”

  “Oh.” All right. He for sure didn’t want her to be sorry their lips had locked. It had been a bad idea and he’d been unable to dismiss the resulting explosion completely from his head, but he hoped like hell she didn’t think it was something to regret, or worse, confess to her boyfriend.

  Fiancé.

  Damn.

  Cooper rubbed at his temple. “Please don’t give it another thought.”

  Good advice for both of them.

  “I would have said something yesterday after lunch, but you seemed to be in a heavy conversation with Hart when I returned to the pub.”